Well, sorry for the delay. I was tied up in the real world for the past two weeks so I hope this was worth it. Just a few more chapters until the finale. Enjoy!

"Inquisitor! No!" Ivan pushed past Brand and leaped through the open hatch, slamming his eremite boots into the ferrocrete that made up the landing pad. The Sorcerer disappeared into a cloud of ethereal blue smoke before Ivan could strike him down with his chainsword. He pushed the thought to the back of his head as the bullets flew all around him. Using his body to shield Astrid, he examined her injury.

The most obvious, and the one he was using his spare hand to keep pressure on while he fired off his barrage plasma pistol, was her left arm. It was completely sheered off from the shoulder down. Blood flowed through his fingers and he tried to apply pressure to the wound. Damned witchcraft, he would have slain the psyker before he could have escaped. He would not know if the damned thing would sow his face again. Ivan prayed with all of his soul that he would so he could return the favor in kind.

Brand was next off the Thunderhawk and fired his bolter into the assembled massed army. "Blessed storm, move Ivan!" Ivan let go of the wounded Inquisitor, knowing that he couldn't do as much as Brand could for Astrid. Raising his plasma pistol and chainsword, he activated his jump pack and leapt into the fortifications. Scatter shot pelted his armor as the heretics tried in vein to shoot him out of the sky before he came crashing down. He rose beck to his full statue and swung his chainsword to the nearest enemy, disemboweling three in a single swoop. The others began to amass around him, much to his satisfaction. Here he would make his atonement for putting the Inquisitor in such a state.

He wasn't the only one who thought that way. Cain and Ha'sen were off the Thunderhawk and each one was beginning their assault. Ha'sen used his fresh multi-melta ammunition to take out the heavy stubber emplacements while Cain lunged head first into the fire, bolter and combat knife in hand. The Dreadnoughts were next off, each one of them applying their full fury, though the enemy level fire was impressive, their weapons were weak on penetrating the armor the Space Marines wore.

While his brothers fought all around him, Brand tried to stabilize Astrid. Her body was going into shock and soon, blood loss would claim her if he did not do something. He checked his chemicals and knew that he couldn't use any of his pain killers or stabilizers on her. She was, after all, a human. Those that he carried were designed with the Astarte in mind. Even a cubic centimeter would have devastating effect on her body, if not kill her out right.

Thankfully she was unconscious due to the pain. He had to stop the bleeding first and foremost. He hear the whirring of chainaxes and looked above some cover to see red armored space marines leaping from the fortifications. There were chain axes in their hands and he knew who they were. "Goremann, cover me while I attend the Inquisitor. Berserkers are coming from the north."

"Understood, brother. None shall find us wanting." Goremann rallied the rest of his compatriots to stand with him. Brand turned his attention back to Astrid. He knew that if he didn't act fast, she would be at the right side of the Emperor before long. Selecting a can of synthetic skin, he shook it and sprayed a liberal amount over her wound. He used his armored form to shield it from the rain so the mixture would solidify and would stop the bleeding.

The sounds of battle raged all around him and he drowned them out with his helmet's auto-senses. She lost a lot of blood and needed to be stabilized until he could give her proper treatment in the medical laboratories at Erioch. With the synth-skin, it was a purely temporary solution until she could be brought back to the Watch Fortress, where the Techmarines were craft her a bionic arm. But for now she needed rest. He pulled her body near cover and took off his cloak. He draped the blue and silver cloth of his Chapter over her to keep the rain out of her.

Standing back to full height, he embraced the sounds of battle once again. Pulling free his bolter from the mag-lock on his chest, he slammed a fresh magazine of Vengeance rounds. The red armored berserker of the Blood God were charging towards the forces of the God Emperor of Mankind, decimating their allies in their way. Such was their lust for blood to be shed. Brand aimed his bolter and breathed in and out slowly.

Taking care to take his shots with the extremely volatile rounds slowly and accurately, Brand fired the Vengeance bolt rounds. The unstable flux in the bolt shells gave them a much better armor penetration rather then the normal bolt shell. Fittingly named, they were designed to combat Traitor Marines. His bolter shells found their mark and mere milliseconds after they impacted, the rounds exploded and sent chunks of cerimite and flesh in all directions.

One of the Berserkers turned to face Brand and charged with his chain axe. The enhanced madman dodged Goremann's flame torrent and power fist, and raised his axe up in a decapitating swing. Brand barely had enough time to bring his bolter up to block the blow. It set his footing back and the two strained against each other. Brand knew that his enhanced muscles and endurance, while fresh from rest, could not last against the murderous intent of the butcher. He hand to level the playing field.

Using his foot, his slammed it into the kneecap of the World Eater, who howled in pain and was pushed back into empty ammo crates, toppling to the ground. Brand unsheathed his claymore, a weapon that was passed down from his ancestors who were deemed worthy of joining the Storm Wardens before him. The Berserker was on his feet in and instant and began panting with rage. "MAIM KILL BURN! MAIM KILL BURN! MAIM KILL BURN!"

"Starting with you!" Brand responded as he charged with the claymore. Gripping the weapon with both of his hands, though he could have easily done it with one, Brand slashed out with it. The blow drew a fissure across the chest of the power armor. The chain axe swung around, catching him on the side of his head. The teeth tried to eat through the helmet, but Brand slammed a closed fist under the jaw of the chaos dog.

Twirling his claymore, Brand beckoned the traitor to attack him. The World Eater was all to willing and raised the axe again. Brand braced himself for the blow, but was just readjusting his footing when the Marine slammed into him. Losing his footing, he slammed his back on the landing pad, and the berserker was on top of him. Brand's claymore was out of his reach and the axe was as well. But the World Eater drew his combat knife and drove it trough Brand's chestplate. Growling in agony, Brand slammed the reductor against the helmet of the berserker. Smirking under his helmet, he activated it.

The lance of metal pierced the helmet, skull and gray matter. The Berserker wanted to continue the fight but with many of his nerve connections slashed. Taking the stunned Traitor up off the ground, Brand beckoned him to the ledge. "May the Emperor give you luck surviving this." With a heave, the Apothecary tossed the spasming marine from the spire, down a three kilometer fall. He pulled the knife out of his injuries and tossed it as well. The moment passed and he was back in the firefight, his bolter spitting death.

Soon the numbers of the fallen began to dwindle and the Space Marines quickly slammed fresh magazines to their weapons and tended their wounds. Ivan scooped Astrid up and brought her back onto the Thunderhawk. While the airborne steed would still be in combat, she would not be an additional worry on the ground. The massive gate that would lead them into the Crown was before them. Examining it, Ha'sen spoke. "Solid metal, at least a meter thick. I don't think even knocking this time would open it, old one." Goremann let out a mechanical chuckle.

"I will handle it. Stand back." Darnak began to overheat his plasma cannon and the Kill Team took two steps back away from the Dreadnought. Firing his plasma cannon, the superheated hydrogen found its mark on the door and a bubbling pile of metal slag was at he base of the door. Still, there was still plenty of metal. Firing again, the same result happened but the metal was now extremely malleable.

Ivan dashed forward, activating his jump pack and he lunged forward, using all of his built and his momentum to drive through the thin layer of metal that was left standing.

He ruptured a hole n the door, though it was only big enough for his brother warriors to enter. Cain and Ha'sen were the next through, and Brand shortly thereafter. The metal passed its heat on over to their armor, making it slightly uncomfortable. The rain sizzled when it pattered their armor. Raising his chainsword and plasma pistol, Ivan charged into the swarm of cultists that were surrounding him,, embracing himself into the combat once more. "Brothers, you need to cut the counter weights and the gates open. We need the support the Dreadnoughts can give us. Cain, help me fight off this scum!"

Not needing to be told twice, Cain readied his assault shotgun and fired into the fray. The two warriors, a scion of Vulkan and one of Sanguineous had their backs together, and each one shored up their defenses. Ivan's chainsword at through cultist flak robes and flesh, while Cain peppered the incoming swarm who were eager to die.

"As I may not get another chance Cain, may I ask something?" Ivan asked as he batted away a slender serrated combat knife before decapitating the obese heretic who tried to attack him with it.

"I will answer your question the best I can, Black Dragon. Cover me though, I need to replenish my assault drum." Ivan did so and fired his barrage plasma pistol while the Flesh Tearer slid massive shotgun shells into the open drum of ammunition.

"Earlier this mission, you left your squad vox link open. I heard all what you said in your confrontation of the fallen Dunn. You said: and I will end our heresy, in Sanguineous' name." Cain bit back a retort but knew that he gave his word and he would have to follow it through. "You can speak to me freely, this is on a closed link. The others will not hear the words that pass our lips."

Cain slid the last shell in and chambered it. "Our versions of heresy carry the same general idea, but the details can very from individual to individual." He fired the scatter shot into the assembled crowd and watched as many were sent sprawling. Not killed perhaps, but at the very least wounded. "When I spoke of my heresy, it has been my own savage bloodlust that on occasions have put me no better then Angron's dogs. But the Purge of Acanthus is what I specifically referred to. "

Ivan nodded and winced in pain as a concentrated las bolt pierced his shoulder. "If you would allow me to be so bold as to ask why so?"

Cain slammed the but of the shotgun in the chest of an attacker, shattering the ribcage. "We were sent there on orders of the Inquisition. They insisted that there was a massive uprising on the planet, specifically in Hive Primus. We descended on the hive, slaughtering all who breathed on that hive. Nobel, worker, child... it did not matter. We were to drown the hive in their own blood, and in short order we accomplished just that. We did find that the hives were planning a succession from the Imperium of Man."

Ivan snarled under his helmet and realized they were being outflanked by the cultists who had the superior numerical advantage. Slamming his chainsword into the gut of one cultist and disemboweling another on the return stroke, Ivan responded. "Then what makes you feel as if you are no better the Horus? The slaughter was justified as there was proof that such was to happen?"

Cain grimaced under his helmet. "It was only the noble families who were planing such a move. If we cleared the upper levels that were devoted solely to those of wealth and privilege, it would not burden my soul. But we massacred the entire hive, all of the inhabitants put to our blades to be slaughter. Over eighty thousand died by my hand alone in that slaughter. I hesitate to call it even that, as a slaughter had some resistance against it. Butchery and cull would be better terms."

Ivan paused for the briefest of instances. He knew that the Flesh Tearer had his own dark stains of the past that haunted him in the Deathwatch, but nothing to that extent. Know he knew why Cain was always ready for battle in any shape or form. It was to avenge the deaths of the pure he slew, so that he may find retribution from the Emperor and his Primarch.

Behind them, the massive doors began to screech as they opened. The sound of assault cannon rounds filled the air as the dreadnoughts made their way to righteous war. Ha'sen and Brand rejoined them on the ground and began their forward advance. Ivan raised his chainsword to the heavens and fired his plasma pistol forward. "I have dug my grave on this world and I will fill it with my corpse or that of my enemy."

"NO MERCY!" The assembled Marines behind him bellowed.

"Let them suffer the wadges of their sins!"

"NO FEAR!"

"Forward, to glorious victory or martyrdom!" Ivan shouted as he slammed the Pistol in his holster and charged with both hands wrapped around his chainsword.

"NO RESPITE!"

Keeley moved as smooth and as graceful as she could for walking on wet roofs. Using her staff as some form of balance and grip, she had made quick work of the distance. She heard the sounds of battle not far from her and she knew she had to rendezvous with the Kill Team to warn them about the true scope of things.

With the sounds of the battle muffling the noise she was making she continued across the roofs. She glanced down and saw an amassing troop movement, mainly cultists and heretical militia. She did see some dark blue and green Alpha Legionaries amongst them, mainly with heavy weapons and a Predator Tank making their way to the four pronged attack.

Leaping from one roof to the next, she landed on the tiled roof of a hablock and moved forward. She tried to find the essence of Ha'sen she had grown use and accustomed to in the times she spent with him. He was here, but with all of the energies being devoted to the sacrifice flying in the warp all around her, she had some difficulty finding out exactly where he was.

She paused for a second as she looked over the edge and saw the possessed body of Chaplain Dunn, now possessed by a daemon she knew all too well. He was directing forces to an incoming Space Marine force. She knew not whom they were, but it was almost certain the Ha'sen was amongst them. She knew that the daemon was inside of him. In the current state he was in, he would easily kill two or three of the Deathwatch before he would leave his host. They might not get the chance to kill him again before he reincarnates on a different battlefield.

While she was thinking of what needed to be done, she shifted her weight with out thinking. By the time she realized it, she sent a tile falling down, landing not too far from the possessed Astarte. She scrambled back trying to get out of sight, but lost her support on the roof and began to slide of. She lashed out, trying to find something to grab hold of. Damn her clumsiness, all of her psyker abilities and she could not keep her balance on a wet roof.

She managed to grab hold of one of the gutters with both of her hands and held on for dear life. Her metal rod fell to the ground, but thankfully her laspistol and knife were still on her. She managed to pull herself back up and looked up to see the black armored figure that was Chaplain Dunn. "What's the matter witch? Could you not sense me with your cowardly gifts?" She was picked up by the collar and tossed against the roof, which gave way under the pressure. She fell down to a hallway where she landed hard on her right arm, and she could hear the bone strain with a wet sickening creak.

She cried out in pain as the daemon landed down with the Arcanium in his hands. He pulled herself to her feet while the arcanium came swinging down on her. Such blow would have killed her out right, but she shined with a bright light that was almost blinding. The daemon was sent a few paces back while Keeley dusted herself off. "You carry the pendent of the Chaplaincy... I thought this corpse felt a little lighter then usual. Tell me, witch, what gave me away?"

She laughed without humor. "For a follower of the god of slaughter, your attempts at covert are quite blunt and sloppy. You did all you could to provoke Ha'sen in to a fight, which he hopfully would have done. And you retain knowledge that only a Salamander could know, for example, how many Space Marines were lost from his Legion in the Drop Site Massacre. Only one who was at that battle would have known the exact number out side of the Chapter today. My final conclusion was Dunn himself, or rather the memories you left. Tell me, why did you torment such a noble soul?"

The figure laughed. "The noble blood angel is just short of the monster I am. He has spilled so much blood that he would rival many of my kin. It was only natural that I would attempt to seduce him to the eightfold path, after all. But the training of a chaplain proved that he had much mental conditioning to combat my promises. I tormented him for seven standard years before he was weak enough for me claim him. I was initially concern that I would be recognized amongst his brethren and there was still the Dunn inside this corpse who I told everything."

The daemon inside Chaplain Dunn twitched erratically. "Yet it worked. Dunn is utterly helpless and in return for disregarding me he can watch in horror as everything he holds dear is put to the torch. The fools of the Deathwatch and the Blood Angels believed the Chaplain was amongst them and I led to the slaughter of the Death Company. My work to my master is nearing finish here, and he will ascend to daemonhood before long. Ha'sen and the rest of his motley crew will burn. Their blood for the rivers and their skulls for Khorne's throne."

Keeley shrugged, something she always enjoyed doing thanks to her lack of armor. "Why him? You seemed to have gone out of your way to kill him."

The daemon came out of the body, the armored corpse held in place my the suit's auto stabilizers. "The Four play their games on a cosmic scale, and where even I am but a footsoldier in their schemes. Pacts have been made, and deals have been brokered. Some one who he slew long ago made a final curse that a the Angron himself would take his head, and the rest would be fore me to deal with as I see fit."

The daemon strutted forward, until it was about seven meters from Keeley. "But terms of the compact are left as circumstances dictate. Angron is not here to claim his skull. I am." With a speed that belied it's awkwardness, the daemon charged and Keeley with it's warp sword drawn, ready to cut through Keeley and her force shield to striker.

"I do not believe so Makoria!" At the mention of it's true name, the daemon froze in place utterly helpless. Like some bizarre living statue of neverborn flesh. "You will be the only thing slain here."

The daemon's eyes looked around and growled. "How can this be possible? My plan was perfect, you were to be slaughtered where you stood and the rest of your allies would suffer accordingly!You cannot know my name. It is impossible!"

Keeley laughed once triumphantly. "And yet here you are: bound to my will."

The daemon swore. "This must be some sort of sorcery or illusionist trick. You must have entered into a pact with one of Thousand Sons. Bartered away your soul for the reward of knowlage. That can the only explination."

Keeley took a few steps closer, her mind becoming clearer as the daemon's influence around her began to fade. There was still a massive maelstorm of energy from the chaotic ritual, but there was still some noticeable degree of relief from it. . She could communicate with Ha'sen if she wanted. But for the moment she ignored it. "This is no trick. I did not make an pacts with you or your ilk. Do you think that the Inquisition and Librarians are the only ones who can comprehend and understand the power of a true name? I am Astropath Transcendent and much of the Watch Fortresses' Libraries are laid open at my feet. And every minute I am not playing that part or at war is time I spent expanding the knowlage for the skirmishes yet to come. I am no fool, daemon."

"But how did you know my name?"

"Like I said, I am no fool." She smirked.

"What is that suppose to mean?"

Keeley leaned in close to the trapped daemon. "You said that you tormented Dunn for seven years, and told him everything you knew."

The daemon would have arched an eyebrow if it could. "And? What of it?"

"You forgot... Dunn still lives in that body. And I as a psyker, I can communicate with a person without words." The Daemon's eyes wide and Keeley felt her smirk widen. "I engaged in communion with him and he gave me the very weapon with which to defeat you."

The Bloodletter growled. "Then be done with it, whore. Speak that name again and send me back into the warp or have your fun with your weapons on my flesh."

"I don't think so." Keeley closed her eyes and opened communion with Ha'sen. "Ha'sen?"

The response came back in an almost instant. "Keeley? Praise be to the Emperor and Vulkan, I thought you dead. What happened?"

"No time to explain that. But I need you to come to the silver hablock with the hole in the tile roof, there is someone I believe you know." She ended the communications and looked back to the daemon. "You will be vanquished daemon, but not by my own hand. I have a battle to get to, but there is someone who will cause you far more agony than I can ever hope to inflict upon you in more than twenty lifetimes."

Keeley turned her back to the daemon and rushed down the stairs, ignoring the daemon's cries of rage.

Ha'sen fired the melta weapon again at the Predator tank, but it's result was just the same as the first. The charged particles caused massive damage to the treaded vehicle, but was mainly superficial. Goremann swung his power fist yet again at the tank, crushing one of the hull mounted heavy bolters, but could do little more than that. It fired the twin-linked lascannons, colliding to the armored chassis of Goremann. One of the power fists with the under-slung flamer became a semi molten slurry. "Damn you old one, GET TO COVER!" Ha'sen yelled at the Crimson Fist, who reluctantly did so. "Ivan, take it out!"

Needing no further beckoning, Ivan took to the skies and jumped up high. He slammed down on the turret, which began to spin in an attempt to shake him off. He twisted the hatch open, flooding the interior with raindrops. The gunner looked up just as Ivan squeezed off three plasma shots, obliterating the head into a mass of superheated gel. He then took two krak grenades and tossed them down before he activated his jump pack again to leap back to cover as it exploded. With the local forces dead for the moment, Ivan walked back with a bit of contempt in his stride. "Sometimes you give our foes too much credit, Ha'sen."

Ha'sen looked around to the rest of the Kill-Team and saw how injured they were. Brand's helmet took a plasma shot point blank, but half of his face was a solid mass of burned tissue. Ivan was missing his right shoulder pad as he only just dodged the Predator's lascannons twice. When he tried to retrieve it, it was destroyed completely. Cain had several auto cannon rounds lodged in his chest plate, and blood trickled out of his side wound where a chain axe bit deep.

Ha'sen turned to see Keeley, showing the deep purple eyes he had seen only on a few occasions. All of the Kill-Team readied their weapons but Ha'sen waved them down. Keeley reached the kill team and sank to her knees, bowing her head. She was about to make some apologies, fearing that the rest of the Kill-Team would strike her down as being the weak link in the chain. Surprisingly, it was Cain who responded. "No apologies are necessary, Keeley." It was the first time he used her actual name.

She nodded and then directed the Kill-Team to the building. Along the way she began to explain what came to pass. With the Chaplain, the warp all around them, and most importantly the daemon. Ha'sen nodded and took Ivan's Chainsword and ascended the stairs.

When he reached the same level as the trapped daemon, Ha'sen let his gaze fall upon it. "I have waited long for this day... there is much of my forebears blood on your hands."

The daemon saw the chainsword and knew that if Ha'sen struck him down, he would not be any better then a warrior who died in his sleep. It was very frowned upon by his master. "It doesn't have to be this way, Ha'sen. There are many we can slay together, and the power mixed with the sweet taste of vengeance shall be yours. Set me free and we will bring these Alpha Legionaries to heel-"

"Enough of your lies, daemon. You almost slew my Chapter Master and I swore that I would bring your head as gift to the volcanic fires of my Homeworld." He activated the chainsword and took off his helmet. The baleful red eyes glared into the daemon. Where mercy once occupied, now only hatred and contempt resided. "That day has finally come."

"No... wait!" The daemon tried to persuade Ha'sen, Deathwatch Devastator and Scion of the Great Vulkan, even as he brought the chainsword's teeth down on the neck.