The Warp was your home, now you are being called forth to take part in a Crusade considered most dire. No matter where you were you are on the Flagship of a mighty fleet.The past hour seems like a haze as you had been in one place and now you are in a completely new area you have never rested your eyes upon before, but the gods are fickle like that putting you where they please and you have submitted to this in your worship The room is cavernous enormous at least 30 feet high, and fifty yards across. On either side men and women are melded into machines that control the ship their bodies and ugly and twisted with the corruption of daemons. Balconies raised high over the large circular platform you stand on in the middle of the room loom like they might be used to judge someone who was not worthy of being here. The once gilded and beautiful ship built by the imperium had lost all it’s former glory to statues of the most depraved scenes, paintings the likes of which would instantly bring death upon any who would show them in the Imperium. This was not the Imperium, no this was Chaos pure and simple, and the cultists who skittered about their chores to keep from becoming the next masterpiece in this chamber made sure to keep out of the way. A enormous man stood on a balcony that was only ten feet above the circular platform. He was in a ancient set of armor, his bald head shimmered in the dim light words tattooed across his scalp. He grins down at those gathered before him and raises a single hand. “Welcome, followers of the true gods. Welcome to the Vengeful Spirit. Warmaster Abaddon let me borrow this Vessel for this Auspicious occasion.” He suddenly turns and descends a small staircase which the rails of seem to be made of bone. As he steps onto the platform which those gathered he puts his hands on his hips and smirks a bit. “I am first Chaplain Erebus, and you my friends have been chosen by the Gods themselves to lead with me your people into the Glory of destroying the Dead Emperor’s Imperium. WE are called forth to shed blood and crush the bodies of the fools who would dare challenge us! i know this is probably very confusing. What are we doing here?” he laughs and slams a fist into his chest plate “YOU ARE here to cut a bloody swath to holy Terra. To leave these misguided fools burning in defeat. We are here to kill the Emperor.”

Siegemaster Atreides stood calmly in a room filled with ancient warriors, sorcerers, and legends of the past as if it was a normal occurrence for the armored human to see on a regular basis. Operate with the forces of Chaos long enough, and it was after awhile. He may not rely on the blessings and aid of the dark Gods like some others might, but he was more than aware of their place in his life, and how they were effectively the very top of the chain, a place that would not take kindly to failure. The Siegemaster calmly stood, arms linked behind his back, standing in the front of the group. His armor was annointed with symbols of Chaos undivided, as was many of his men, those that believed as he did. Others followed the Gods of their choice, as long as they did their job, he didn't care which god they followed. He wore his full ensemble, gas mask, helmet, armor, as if he had just walked in from a tour of the siege lines. He very well might have, considering how fast he and his own were pulled here. But the past was irrelevant, instead, he heard out the Dark Apostle as he spoke and was the first to respond to the giant, speaking calmly, with a slightly mechanical accent. "Break open the carcass, so you can feast on the barely beating heart. So be it, it will be done."

The Plague Terminator, Lord Ligarius was the next to respond, his voice heavily distorted and disturbing from the ravages of the diseases festering inside him. His voice was deep, yet menacing, and his wounds festered. Blood poured from various orifices, as did pus and other instruments of the Plague Lord. It took barely a glance to recognize whom he sided with; as he was firmly, and devoutly a follower of Nurgle. In his six centuries however, six centuries of wars, petty squabbles, and service furthering Grandfather Nurgle's cause, he had never met the Dark Apostle, nor had he ever set foot in the ship he now stood on. Having heard of tales about the Chaplain Erebus, he was at once honored to meet such an early follower of Chaos itself. However, just because he was honored, did not mean he bowed prostrate or even acknowledged the Dark Apostle, save for a reverent tilt of his head. When the man finished speaking, he turned his head to the Great Unclean Ones who always guided him, always appeared to him, even if the others never saw them;He turned and spoke to them. "Great Unclean Ones, you have heard the Chaplain Erebus speak. I would heed your advice, if you give it." "Follow him. Serve the Cause of Nurgle, and rip out the False Emperor's heart!" Grimegal was the first to speak, the most enthusiastic of the three. "Mmm, if it fits the cause, why not serve?" Bleaz, the second spoke, always the more apathetic of the bunch. "Rip the head off of the False Emperor, and claim it in the name of Grandfather Nurgle! Spread virulent disease across holy Terra and make the people cry out to the Grandfather for salvation only HE can provide!" Zaeleaz said, the most violent of the three, and the one to hold the most sway over the Plague Terminator. Their piece said, their voices faded into the background, and the Plague Terminator raised his head and raised his mace above his head. When he spoke, his deep voice boomed off of the walls, resounding with a kind of devotion only found within the forces of the Plague God. "Dark Chaplain Erebus! We, the Forces of the Plague God, will carve straight to holy Terra, and rip the head from the body, spreading disease to a dying empire. It will be done."

Lord Ghroul's arrival was not a gentle one, heralded by the cry of the Headsman's Axe and Warpfire as he was pulled through the warp. The fires of his rage didn't die down until the closest cultist felt the teeth of his axe. Surrounded by the remains of an enemy that barely fought back killed his mood, bringing his fire back to ice. Giving a dismissive grunt, Ghroul left the meat to the scavengers and looked upon the being above him. "Erebus." he rasped through a ravaged Vox com, this wasn't the first time he had met the Dark Apostle. Lord Ghroul had seen the man several times throughout the Heresy, always by Horus' side and whispering secrets into his ear. At the time Ghroul couldn't appreciate the Architects methods, being a slave to the Butchers Nails as he was, but with clarity came appreciation. His scheming lead to many battles against the Corpse Emperor, none of which have matched the scale of the Battle for Terra. Back then he was behind the betrayer, Kharn, when the World Eaters broke through and the real slaughter began. What the Architect now offered, a chance of redemption for his fellow legion and honor for Khorne. Well, he wouldn't disappoint. When the Plague Lord spoke it ground against his frayed nerves, hitting every point and saying all the wrong words. Bringing the spiked end of his axe into the floor, Ghroul rasped [i]"Your rotton god will not claim the Corpse Emperors head plague worm, the skull throne will have his skull even if I have to pry it from his shoulders!"[i] His fist tightening around the haft in preparation for battle should the plague worm wish it.

Captain Axe sat sharpening his skinning knife, it had been a few days since he had cleaned a skull for Khorne, and spilled blood in his name. The act of sharpening his knife was almost a religious experience for it was the tool used to please his god. As he slid the whetstone across the blade he felt an odd feeling in the pit of stomach. That old familiar pull he received as he was drawn to another place to shed blood and harvest skulls once more. Standing in the back of the room he listened to the large, bald man run his mouth. The details didn't matter to Axe, all he cared for was getting back into battle once more. His interest was piqued finally when the man said that they were there to cut a bloody swath to holy Terra. Finally a battle to fight once more. He drew his knife and kissed the blade, pledging once more to spill blood for Khorne and gather skulls to decorate his throne.

In the midst of the chaos on board this and every other vessel in the fleet, from gabbering sorcerers who mumbled incoheriently to themselves and shouted questionable statements at any who wandered too close, to the cowering and ravenous mutants who scrounged for food and really anything on board. And were not above killing or eating their fellows if their mood called for it. To large Chaos marines that thundered through the aged and creaking halls. Dispassionatly killing those who stood in their way. And yet in an odd display, for chaos worshippers especially was a large company of men. Each one wearing matching uniforms and helmets. Standing with ramrod straight postures and in drill perfect lines and columns in perfect silence. Any muttering or unsightly movements and twitches were long since beaten out of them by the corprals and sergeants who already walked down the ranks and dealt blows and slaps to them men in preperation for this announcement. Their boots were polished to a sheen and their rifles were well kept and carefully cleaned. Another stark contrat to the writhing masses that worrounded them. They stood out as possibly the only show of discipline and proper order in a sea of disharmony. And at the head of this odd little display was the masked figure of major Varl. His smooth and featureless face ebtrayed nothing of what he may have thought about the boldness of the dark apostle's statement. Or the claims he was making. He found that he was not as prone to mood swings and following the illusions of emotion as many followers of chaos seemed to be. He may not be in the imperial military anymore but he still valued their insistance on thinking tactically and making a strike only when you knew you either had all the cards in your favour or taking the chance was worth the risk. And right now he was debating how this little crusade would end. After twelve attempts all made by the same commanders one would think they would shift tactics and try to compensate for their obvious shortcomings. One would think anyway..... While he was happy to lead his men into combat and victory he was less enthusiastic about leading them straight to their doom. And one of the few things he learned after turning to chaos was that most of their commanders didn't always think in the grande scheme of things. They became overly focused on a single goal and outcome to the point where they all but dismissed thoughts and suggestions that it could not be achieved. And if ten thousand years of history and wars against the Emperor were to say anything it was that these plans never suceeded.... ever. Most cultists and even chaos marines only thought about their next kill, their next sexcapade or injection of some foreign substance. They rarely planned for the long term. And in the case of Tzeentchians they planned too far into the long term. All but dismissing any short term complications that often arose that threw their careful planning into immediate disarray. And then there was the back stabbing.... As an imperial soldier he always wondered why the arch-enemy fought amongst themselves so often. Entire battles and wars were won because Massed imperial columsn smashed straight into quarraling enemy forces as infighting ran rampant. And after joining them and fighting alongside them for the last sixty plus years he still didn't have an answer to that question. Often they were petty disagreements or worse, over no cause at all other than the servants of one god really dislike the servants of another. Or simply boredom. Hell he didn't even declare any extreme loyalties that would give cause for others to label him as an enemy but still he had at least a score of assassination attempts made against him in the last two years alone! And the Bribes!.... oh dark gods below the bribes politics and bribery. As it turned out well equipped companies of trained and disciplined soldiers were in high demand and frighteningly short supply. And many minor and major lords have already made bids for his loyalty or at least support. Offering him all manner of gifts and lies in the hopes of securing his support and arms if they made a coup or move against a rival. He suspected at least a few to try and usurp his position in some way and try to assume command over his men. He would need to be extra watchful while he was on board this ship of both his men and his enemies. But he would remain resolute and independant for as long as he could. A difficult task but one he was determined to suceed in. But for the immediate future he would need to make sure that his men were prepared and trained to add yet another battle honour to the hallowed standard and name of the marauders. And not sacrificed or cast aside for the over ambitious zeal of some insane chaos lord looking to rise beyond his station.

Everybody on the ship took in the sight of the passing orks as if they were looking at a illusion or a mirage, this was the first time they had been released by Khorne and they were raring for a fight, but none stepped forward giving the orks a wide berth as if they were one of Nurgles own, the fact that orks following a chaos god was rare enough was just enough for them to be given that room but the sheer fact they were orks caused them to be avoided that much more. The orks walked into the room just as the conversation was dying they strode into the middle of the rooming regarding everyone around them. Then the biggest one spoke. "Gess Who? And if anyne is takin eads round ere eets us! Raaagh" The leader spoke and the two nobz that stood with him echoed his growl. The big one raised his hands and the nobz quieted down to a whimper as if afraid of the big ork. "We is going to take more eads becausz orks ar teh bestest!" The leader shouted, taking in everyone in the room the nobz echoing his "We ar teh bestest." Statement, but then a fist from the leader knocked one of the nobs to the ground effectively shutting them up. "And nun of you humies best git in deh way. WAAAAAGH" The Ork shouted and he let the nobz join him this time in his shout filling the ship with the sound of their warcry.

Ro'lithe moved out of the shadows, her long armor plated tail seemed to snake itself out of the wall as she glided elegantly forward, her bare hips swinging wide with each step as she passed the warrior named Captian Axe brushing her hand up his back side she let her purple eyes linger on his face as she passed him, the lust in her pupils made them glow a deep purple as she drug her gaze from his eyes. Leveling her large gold tipped horns she moved like liquid grace toward the group and to face Erebus, her body naked save for the meager gold plated bra and thong. Stopping just short of the bald legend Ro'lithe bowed deeply letting her long tail spiral outwards behind her and her long horns brush the floor before she straightened herself "the Chaos lord of Slaanesh is happy to partake in the death of the emperor, we are happy to strike the final killing blow and do what we like with his limp corpse" Ro'lithe's voice echoed through the room loud and landed upon listening ears like a lovers caress. Holding her staff by her side she gave a large mischievous smile before stalking back behind the group of gathered warriors.