You awake to the unmistakable roar of the combustion engines of a Valkyrie, those of you that sought sleep in such a damned place as this that is. You are all shoved into the cramped interior of the Valkyrie, illumination being provided only by the faintest of red lights that adorn the wall separating you from the pilots. The air reeks of stale sweat and the barely masked scent of caked in blood from the last crew of this blasted shuttle. Their ends were gruesome, slow, and painful – but the officers never told you that, they told you that their ends were valiant bastions of hope in turning back the tide of filth that would await you all in this hell-scarred behemoth. The actual battlefield is not the contemporary one you know, filled with wide open areas and perhaps even the odd patch of greenery. This is Iosturn Hive. This lumbering hulk of a hive has served as a centre of population for thousands of years since it was recovered in the dying embers of the Horus Heresy. Billions make their home in this shattered wreck of a spire, a squalid, odorous, sea of humanity who work day in day out for meagre food and bleak prospects. Crime is astronomically high with the average citizen being only somewhat more inclined to work than to outright join the masses of gangers that dwell in the core of the hive – some say more insidious things lurk deep in there, the stories are puzzling things and cryptic, but they forever mention of something lurking just bellow the surface...waiting... You are not expected to survive this encounter. You are simply expected to die a blood-soaked death at the hands of some chem'd up mutant rather than do anything productive, prayers be to you that your officer is of higher morals than simply that. Your briefing was a short affair, simply put you were told to join several other guard regiments as you assail a fortified town centre. A densely populated area where thousands live in absolute squalor and offal. The only reason you were even given support is because command realises that your squad may be overwhelmed by a tide of thousands of raving, rabid masses that seek nothing more but bloody vengeance – even if such causes their death. Those of you with the “privilege” of having window views would be appalled by what you saw. All around your column of vehicles both air and land, there was nothing but scorched earth and the occasional burst of fire as guardsmen fought for their lives against renegades and heretics alike. Every now and then, the column would be assailed by something more malicious, figures larger and broader than several men striking with stealth that only a fabled legend could even think of having. Hell, even your Emperor-forsaken vox sometimes lets out a short burst of daemonic laughter! Such is the vile repulsion of this place. Your, and several other, aircraft soon diverts from the column's immense yet ponderous firepower, however. Your mission is not to secure Ivanix Plaza, but rather Eir Centre – objective Hermes, as anyone with a rank above you petty grunts would call it. Your air column is a formidable sight, that is simply irrefutable. No sane man would stand before you! Sanity...being a resource in low supply among your foes... You have free time, though it is in a short amount. You do well to perhaps coordinate with your new found allies... or perhaps the warp will overtake you. For your sake, let us hope that does not occur... ----------------------------------------------- Winstanley rubbed his eyes with seemingly shaky hands, wiping away almost a mass of soot and dust that seemed accumulate just from existing in a place as ravaged as the hive. Clearing his throat with a soft cough, he scanned about the interior of the transport with a keen gaze at those about himself. He recognised none of them in the least, but they were now brothers in arms none the less, and they would be treated as such, though he secretly hoped that the Commissar-looking fellow was one of the more mellow individuals. Rubbing a hand across his lightly bearded face, he took note of their weapons, clothing, even appearance. It was perhaps presumptuous, but it always paid to know if any Penal-Legionaries stood among them. “I say, gentlemen, we're up to our necks in it this time.” He spoke aloud, allowing the barely audible words to echo about the metallic interior of the transport and fill the space before the deafening roar of the engines once more took over. “Though it would be most scurrilous of me to speak but a word of you without prior knowledge, and as such I ask in as non-boorish a way as possible, who are you all?”