The Eldar Craftworld of Ibrayesil was adrift in the void, but today it did not drift peacefully. The fleet of none other than the Bloody Host had assaulted the craftworld a mere fourty eight hours ago. The ferocity of the space marine fleet was unparalelled, and it was now that the powerful field protecting the craftworld fell. Tens of thousands of ships descended on the craftworld them, from strike cruisers to stormbirds they converged on their crippled prey, and disgorged their deadly payloads.

The Bloody Host descended as part of their own part of the assault. Dreadclaws fell in their fury, the shield spires damaged or destroyed by the attack of the fleet allowing the heavy pods to descend. In one Dreadclaw, the massive transports able to hold several squads, sat a lone marine no brothers by his side and a single weapon in his hands. A large, smoothe and elegantly curving the blade did not glow or ripple as power or force swords did. Instead it almost seemd as if it occupied an area of nothingness, the purple blade seeming to displace all around it. The Astartes himself was just as strange, his helmet was off and his face was covered in strange tattoos of vines covered in deep crimson thorns. His armor was covered in similar vines all silver with black thorns. As the Dreadclaw shook and descended he silently placed on his helmet, and offered a whispered prayer. 

It was then the massive Dreadclaws smatched into the midst of the Guardians, Dire avengers and Banshees massing in defense of their home, those not crushed to death stunned as the massive carriers collided with the ground. The first Dreadclaw to open was next to a Banshee exarch, one of her sisters had been smashed by the dropping boarding ramp. She screeched as the Banshees were want to do, turning to the figure now exiting the craft... and recoiled. This... beast that walked down the ramp, hefting a truly terrible blade, it hurt her mind just looking at it. Before she could try to fight it, and break herself from her fear, the blade cleaved her head from her shoulders. Her mind and soul screamed as the blade seemed to slice her very essence. Temelius wieilded the blade the way a boxer would his fists, it was him, attached and as much a part of him as his arm and hand. Exquesor Terminators were expunged from the other dreadclaws, pouring fire into their enemies as Temelius spoke through his vox, "We are Death! The Destroyer of Worlds!", as he lay about the stunned Eldar with Baleful Null blade.

An Eldar farseer stood nearbye, her anger growing as she watched these brutal mon-keigh cut their way through her kin. With her stood the Wraithguard, and she ordered them forth in her spectral voice, [i]"Go oh ancestors of this world! Go and defend your home from these brutish invaders!"[/i], she and her guard surged forth, their Wraithcannons firing into the ranks of terminators, tearing many apart in gory fashion. An Exquesor sergeant smashed his way through two of the guards, attempting to rush the farseer leading them. With a word lightning flew from the Psykers fingers, smashing into the Terminator, his armor scorching and buckling from the onslaught before he fell back, lifeless. BEfore the Farseer could gloat another Mon-Keigh vaulted over the corpse of his fallen brother, this one strangely in ordinary power armour and wielding a massive curved blade.

He felt... wrong. No matter, again she summoned up her lightning and flung it at the rushing Astartes.. and it did [u]nothing[/u]. The bolts seemed to fizzle around him as he sprinted to the witch, his armored servos whining under the thunderous weight of his steps. The Farseer attempted to marshal herself but did not have the time, as Temelius bisected her with his null blade, the psyker's death scream rattling through the ship.

Temelius observed the field before him. The landing zone had been secured, and hundreds of stormbirds began to land alongside the Dreadclaws which were beginning to stand and join their Astartes owners in the combat. Stormbirds in the Hosts regalia began disgorging there Astartes occupants. At their head strode a twelve foot monolithic man, his armor ostentatious with a black crown of thorns atop his helmet. Mon-Kal strode forth from his Stormbird, looking first to the many bodies of the Eldar mixed with his sons, and nodded proudly. "My sons, today we give the Eldar their due!", he declared, the Bloody Host taking up his warcry as they began to surge forth from or fortify their positions. Mon-Kal made his way towards the force commander on the ground, Temelius first. He stood before hus estranged son and addressed him as Temelius kneeled before the Thorn King, "Temelius, you have done well this day. But, yet another challenge awaits you.", Temelius looked up to his father, his voice filled with enthusiasm as he responded, "Say it and it will be done father! No matter the odds!", Mon-Kal nodded proudly to the blank before continuing, "There, lies the seers tower.", he pointed a massive finger to the tallest tower on the craftworld, it shimmered with a strange light and was untouched by the fleets barrage.

"That is the seers tower. We seek knowledge the Eldar hide from us their, and their most powerful withces reside within that tower. Take the Exquesor who accompanied you, and storm the tower. Bring me any knowledge you are able to recover my son.", Temelius nodded curtly, "It will be done father.", before marching off to the Exquesor Terminators. Mon-Kal smiled, today was a good day, and he could not wait to bloody his sceptre and claw.