Last among the kill team to board the shuttle, was brother librarian Artenius Farius of the Iron Hands chapter. He was a hulking brute of a space marine, far broader than the normal marine and draped with a pitch black robe that stretched to just above his armoured boots. He was clad in midnight black mark five pattern power armour, the 'Heresy' pattern and had the imposing figure of his force sword at his side. He made movements that seemed to be purposefully practised to show off his chapter's strengths, that of bionics. The right arm was replaced with a gleaming bionic replacement. His very form seemed to emanate a raw aura of stoicism and unshakable faith.

Artenius paid the utmost interest to the words of the High Inquisitor, taking aboard every single word he uttered no matter the relative importance of it. He steeled his very soul at the inspiring speeches and litanies of hatred that the fellow loyalists spoke, allowing himself to be overtaken by the zeal and passions of war. It was with keen interest that he took note of the Inquisitor's gait, a potential weakness should the man become a heretic and stray from the Emperor's light... 

Artenius was last among those to board the shuttle, before him strode the firepower of the kill team, two devastator marines, battle brother Bacara of the Raptors, and the other of the Space Wolves. He allowed them to pass without incident, a kind as distrusted as his did well to not stir up hatred among the ranks, that held doubly so for the two Space Wolves in the group. 

Sitting close to the door, he took a look at those around him, gauging their mettle and minds for all manners of warp taint. He took a particular liking to the Dark Angel among them, a man of his own heart by the sound of his irritation at the prattle happening around them. However, Artenius shied away from the two Sons of Russ, their distaste of psykers and general savagery was well known to him. 

With a voice just barely above a sibilant whisper, though amplified by his helmet's vox systems, he spoke, “Brothers, I trust that you all have fought the Tau, however, it is better to recount their tactica rather than personal glories. Perhaps those young among us would do well to remember that the Tau falter in the grind of melee, but at range they excel.”

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With your kill team sanctified and readied, the shuttle doors slam shut with the hiss of pressurisation and seal themselves for the hellish journey that awaits. The lights within the interior brighten at the sudden lack of light, while outside you hear multiple alarms signifying the deck staff to make haste to sealed areas. With a great shuddering as ancient technologies engaged themselves and engines, that may perhaps not have seen flight for decades, started up. 

There was a deafening silence within the seating banks during this first take off, the only sound that could now be heard was the soft humming of the ancient engines that propelled your craft through the void of space. The pilot was, as ever, without either word or sound thought it very clearly was doing its job. With a crackle of a vox in use, you hear the monotone voice utter these words. 

“Planet fall, in thirty minutes.”

These words rattle about your heads, perhaps the more anxious steel themselves against the coming storm, or perhaps the pious among you will utter chants and prayers. You will need them.