missed me?

[Red Angel]

the lights were dim, and when the door opended, the room was briefly only illuminated by the hallway outside, before the lights in the roof begun to power up, bringing the room to light instead of darkness.

Tritoni stepped through the door and it shut behind him, muffling the sounds of thousands of feets outside to a mere dull background noise. he walked forward, naked apart from a loincloth, and he stopped in the middle of the room, within the circle. as soon as he stopped, servants ghosted forth from the shadows, each of them half machine, half man, and while each carried small things, togheter they would form the greatest of the great.

they latched on his skin, piece by piece, the millenia old armor and slowly, the suit was being built around him. he grasped his gauntlets and flexed his fingers in them, imagining bones under them being broken, snapped under the strength of his superhuman muscles, the suits own power, and lastly, the favor of his patron.

he grabbed his helment, and carried it under his arm to his weapon stand. Tritoni grabbed the long pole, and hefted the doubble bladed chainaxe from its stand. he lifted the weapon, freezing for a moments notice so he, once again, took in the power of the weapon and that which it served, and silently whispered "blood for the blood god", waking the weapon up and the daemon inside it, bound to its teeths, and it started glowing in his hand. Tritoni turned around, and walked calmly outside, whispering to himself "blood for the blood god" over and over while the chaos fleet approached the system ahead.

[Red Angel]

walking through the giant ship, he was a force to be recognized. nobody, marine, mutant, human, or even daemons dared stand in his way. they all parted before his dark red armored form and bowed for their master warlord. he did not spare them a glance, eyes fixed on some unseen point which only he could see, his mouth silently whispering "blood for the blood god" in a automatic way, almost like it was recorded.

when he entered the brigde, it fell silent at first, not even machine men moved or made any noise. they all knew they were in the presence of a champion worthy of Khorne, and any mistake they made would give Khorne another skull.

slowly, work resumed, as the fear of lacking in his presence took control, and the buzzing chatter surfaced again, albeit slightly less noisy. he stared at the green and blue planet ahead, marking out its continents and oceans, with his mouth still wording "blood for the blood god".

"this will do, filled with skulls and blood for the throne, and where we will find more soldiers and rabble alike..." Tritonis mind wandered off into strategies and tactics he employed before in his life, and wondered which were to be used this time.

unlike most of his brethern, not to say all, Tritoni still possessed a strategists mind, and not just bloodthirst. and here, on this planet before him, he would test himself and his forces quality once more, fighting until either he died or the enemy did.

[Red Angel]

aboard the turrets that protected the planet, there was a nervous calm settled. all had their stations, and the guns were in working order and aimed at the approaching enemy fleet. the range indicator let out a beep, and all stations begain the firing procedure, sending shells flying through space towards the rapidly closing ships. torpedoes went soaring out from their launch tubes, and on burning engines they roared towards the enemy alongside the shells, giving a impressive spectacle for Tritoni. but he would have this fight his way, not how the defenders wanted it to be. he turned around and left the bridge, heading for a room fruther down the corridor. when he entered it, the warband that was his to command roared their praises to Khorne and lifted their chain axes high in the air, many of them roarding to life creating a thunderous cacaphony of noises.

he smiled under his daemon visaged helmet, and he tured to the side, pressing a button, then joined his warriors on the dais they stood on, drenched as it was in blood and gore. humming from some unseen engine could be heard, and it increased until it peaked, letting out a high pitch shriek and the many thousand candles around the dais were blewn out, leaving the room in total darkness.

then they were suddenly aboard the stations ahead, and the frightened milita looked on the Khorne Berzerkers as they were cut in two before they even knew it had happend. Tritoni lead the charge, through corridors and hallways, massacaring the enemy humans, imperial loyalists that held on to their corpse Emperor and he loved every second of it. his berzerkers were next to him, and they spilled out all over the station, bloodlust feeding them energy to hack through all squads they found. little resistance was put up, and what little did, was quickly torn down again by the massive onrush of chainaxes and other melee weapons. the superior armor, genetics and blessings of Khorne all combined to give the berzerkers a decissive advantage. and the slaughter was a true honor to Khorne, who drank in all the blood he was offered this day.

[Red Angel]

as his eyes were looking for any dangers, his body acted on instinct built on millenia of warfare, gruesome and against oponents that few ever had heard of, let alone lived to tell about. a mere lasgun was nothing compared to it, but luck had a way of irony over it. Tritoni had watched a champion rise to glory, defeated many powerful daemons, only to be killed by falling over and implaing himself on a spike on the ground that went right through his eyesocket. Tritoni was a tactician and strategist, and he wanted no mere lasbeam or bayonett to end his legacy.

his arms went through the crowd before him, each strike was calculated to bring maximum damage to the enemy while conserving as much energy as he was able to. his berzerkers were no where near his efficiency, one even picking up a militia man and throwing him on the ground until his spine broke. brutal, effective, but not at all efficient. the warrior took several hits from lasbeams, none of which penetrated his armor and when his toy had died, he grabbed a new one and kept slamming the new man into the ground.

as the battle, or slaughter maybe is a more fitting word, grind to a halt, all militia dead, wounded or simply knocked out, Tritoni simply walked on, while his berzerkers chopped up the bodies with their chainaxes, whirring and screams from not yet dead militia forces filled the corridor. Tritoni was left unmoved by the gruesome behaviour, having already seen it thousand times before. what concerned him was what was around the corner. as he quickly peeked out and back in, his eyes had trailed over the barricade ahead, taking note of all things there. the horrified guardsmen faces that showed of terror due to the screaming slaughter that was fruther down the corridor. what was most captivating about this barricade was probably the yellow pauldrons he noticed at some holes. the yellow fist that clenched air and punched upwards was a common sight on walls of the imperiums many thousand bastions. the Imperial Fists where here, and he had not know about them somehow.

[Red Angel]

he backed away from the corner, and walked over to his berzerkers that were desperate to find a new foe to grind down to nothing but meaty remnants. they all looked at him like he would magically bring forth a whole army of weaklings for them to fight, and Tritoni found it strangely amusing how such mindless killers could still think, even though, he had to admit, it was very basic thoughts.

he closed his eyes and he let the memories of the corridor fill his mind, the slaughter about to take place and, most importantly, the weapons that threatend to end the slaughter before it would even start. Tritoni decided it was not worth a headlong charge. of course, losses can be replaced, but theese were not easily replaceable ones around him, and he valued their efficiency, and wasting them by running into bullets were not going to work it out for him.

he simply started walking, his berzerkers tailing behind him eager to grip a foe by the throat but for now, under control and in the leash. he trailed alongside the barricaded corridor, looking for a way to flank it. and then he found a service hatch, which he broke and tossed aside so it clatterd along the floor. he bent down and watched into the tunnel, too small to fit himself or his berzerkers, but perhaps something more subtle could fit?

a smile spread across Tritonis lips as the plan began to form in his mind.