[@Dusty][@BCTheEntity][@Andreyich]


The objective toward which the Grey Knights now propelled themselves was none other than the entrance into the subterranean labyrinth of tunnels, dug over thousands of years in anticipation of this very moment, that all lead to the sacred chamber of the Cult of Anash'Ra – a vile and demented subordinate of the Prince of Pleasure, said to have enticed and corrupted more religious figures, aristocrats and foolish Aeldari than any other of her servants save the Masque – a chamber in which the summoning ritual was close to reaching a zenith.

Covering the entryway (which itself was no more than an opening in the basement) was a solid bunker-like structure of rockcrete, barbed wire wrapped about it, and various slits beginning to brighten as heavy weapons fire sought out the servants of the God-Emperor; within was a garrison of purple-clad cultists, of a higher quality than the peasant rabble fought thus far, armed with Imperial constructed las-guns and armoured in carapace, expertly trained humans... but still humans nonetheless. 

Sand was swept into the air around the rapidly moving formation, bullets whipping about them as they moved, armour of unadorned ceramite causing gleams and glints in the hot noon sun of Anairu, Justicar Kallikles forming his squad into a living arrowhead of gene-enhanced fury with himself as the tip of the projectile.

“I am the hammer...” began the Justicar, reciting the sacred words of the six-hundred-and-sixty-sixth Chapter of Astartes – widely unknown outside of the most clandestine of organisations, unheralded as heroes and lorded as such by none, their own dead forgotten by all save their own brethren - “I am the right hand of the Emperor,” his voice lifted as those of his brother joined him, Kallikles lifting his left arm and sending blessed bolter rounds into the unholy mass of human and half-formed neverborn that opposed them over the sand, “the instrument of His will...” those of mere flesh were blown apart with ease, their remains ground underfoot by the Knights or by their comrades, those of more unnatural flesh screeched as their bodies burned, “... the gauntlet about His fist …” a fanged face without a nose reared up before the Justicar, only to be cut in twain in an instant, “the tip of His spear, the edge of His sword!”

A mass of devoted followers and summoned minor daemons crowded round the Grey Knights as they came, unable to stop the arrow now that it has been loosed, perhaps slowing them somewhat – buying more time for their master to be risen, no doubt – but not fully able to halt their momentum.

“Basilious,” voxed the Justicar as his legs continued to grind forward, “you will find an exit for us once inside, put your incinerator to good use, while Bieito will hold the entrance tunnel. Brothers Olympio and Salazar will come with me, together we shall cease the summoning itself.”

Picking out multiple targets within his helmets HUD, the Justicar shared them with his squad, targeting reticles closing over the weak points of the enemy fortification.

“We must break through and descend into the tunnels, from there we can force our way to their 'temple', and bring this to an end.”


[hr]


[i]In the Temple-cavern of Anash'Ra...[/i]

Magister Mordegan Arakane could sense that time was running out, his body shivering and shuddering as he spoke the ten-thousand material names of his Lord, sweat making his hook-beaked mask slick with perspiration and his lips moist with his own lather, eyes of shifting colours half closed as he attempted to blot out all distractions and concentrate on the matter at hand... but how could he?!

The Corpse-Emperor had sent his servants, and now a millennia of work was going to be wasted because of it... because of [b]them[/b]... he would not, [i]could not[/i] die here. He must survive to bring his master back into real space, something he could not accomplish if he were stripped of life.

Yes... yes... he knew now what he had to do.

He waited until he could hear the approaching enemy, until he could hear the roar of their bolters and the radiance of their armour, until he could visibly see them from the other side of the cavern acting as his stronghold, then he leapt from the far side of the granite plateau!

Before his body could his the floor it burst into spectral flame, his form disappearing even as the two Beastmen stood dumbfounded and turned to the Magisters assistant – this man was equally flabbergasted as they, attempting to take up his masters ritual chanting even as the Grey Knights bore down on them.