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The sound of the engines roared as the Dark Angels Cruiser made haste towards their next destination. Dulan, a planet that refused to follow the will of the Emperor due to a Tyrant called Durath....

Logan walked through the corridors of the space cruiser, its walls were thick and the damage to the interior was nothing as bad as the damage to the outside. As the doors opened his eyes caught a glimpse of the crew and their Primarch, Lion El'jonson leader of the Dark Angels. Jonson was one of the best tactical minds around... except Horus who had all the best skills of each Primarch. News of the Emperor return to Terra and Horus's promotion to Warmaster was a huge shock to the Primarchs, even worse he had command over all the Legions to continue the Great Crusade.

Looking upon Jonson, Logan was inspired by Jonson as his tactical prowness had defeated the enemies of the Emperor many times. Jonson frowned with a puzzled expression on his face as he caught a glimpse of Logan on the bridge. Jonson stood higher and relativily in the middle while surrounded by his fellow battle brother who worked the consoles of the cruiser. Logan continued towards the armory, his heavy steps connected with the floor as he procceded. As he passed the barracks he could hear mutter about the Tyrant Durath and how he sacrificed thousands of Imperial Priests which he delivered to one of the chaos gods, finding this relatively interesting, his eyes wandered before he walked into a fellow battle brother and not without noise.

The hulking Space Marine known to his superiors and subordinates only as Arc braced himself against the impact as Logan carelessly collided with him. With a low grunt, Arc stumbled back a single step, then furrowed his brows at the sergeant, the steely gaze of his piercing orange eyes drilling through his comrade. But Arc was not displeased. Frustrated by the disturbance, but not unhappy. The warrior's current expression was simply the face he wore at all times. It never changed.

"Steady, Sergeant," said Arc in a placid yet firm tone. "The thing you next step into may be a whirring chainsword."

As was standard practice for the current situation and its like, Arc was not encased in his sacred power armor, but he still wore a heavy crimson cloak, a smaller companion of the one that adorned his armor. It distinguished him from the lower-class marines on board the cruiser Azazael.

Raises a brow as the two brothers collide in the corridor just in front of him, walking up as silently as a 7ft + hulking giant can he bows his head at Arc and the Sargent "Brother's" he says softly as is his custom. Folding his hands behind his back Jag slips passed the battle brothers and carrys on making his way toward the chapel his heavy white apocathery robes swishing softly behind himself.

Bowing lowly before entering the holy place his runs a large hand though his shaggy blonde hair, while his ice blue eyes sweep the silent room. Seeing no other brothers here he makes his way toward the alter and takes a knee before the glorious bust of His Holyness. Settling into prayer Jag's mind wanders deep into the holy places of his mind.

From the collision Logan steadied himself as he glaced at Arc, the codicer was a powerful advertsery. Although he barely knew him, Logan recognised the heavy crimson cloak and nodded as Arc spoke. The corridors were active as the next misson to Dulan was on course, Logan was in one of the strike squads going to be sent to the planets surface to clear the area of any heretics that would threaten humanity.

"Will you be joining us on the next assault to Dulan?" Logan asked after allowing a fellow brother to pass. He quickly glanced in the direction Jag walked before looking back towards Arc.

After watching the solemn Jag pass in his usual manner, Arc nodded to Logan. "I will, indeed." He pivoted on one foot. "Accompany me to the armory, Brother."

The marines' heavy footsteps echoed through the narror corridors of the Azazael as they closed in on their destination. "Our respective squads will be working close together for this mission." Arc looked over at Logan beside him, then tilted his head, as if confused. "Did you not know? Hmph." He turned his gaze back straight ahead, pausing for a few moments. "This is no ordinary battle. We will assault the Crimson Fortress. The Tyrant Durath will fall."

The door to the armory slid open, and in walked Arc. He turned immediately to the left and took precisely twenty steps, and then he stood next to his armor. He spun so that his back faced it, then held out his arms. Three servitors appeared and walked over to Arc to assist in the donning of his armor. As they worked, Arc muttered prayers under his breath.

First, Arc's smaller cloak was removed. The dark green ceramite plates were then fitted to Arc's form. This procedure took most of the time. Once the armor was in place, the frayed white robe was wrapped around the bulky frame, and the rope sashe tied in place. The huge blood-red cloak with the white angel was then draped over Arc's shoulders, meaning there was just one final detail. The servitors locked Arc's helmet into place, and then the armor was powered on. The glowing eyes of the Mk IV helmet flickered to life, and the armor that had been dead weight moments earlier suddenly became a second skin for the Dark Angels Codicier.

The servitors scuttled away while Arc turned around and retrieved his weapon. He placed his bolt pistol in the holster at his side and using a leather strap hung his prized combi-weapon from his back, behind his cloak. Easily accessible, but out of the way. Arc then took hold of his force-partisan, the weapon that signified his status as a psyker. He inspected the blade to ensure everything was in prime condition.

Arc turned slowly and moved through the armory, catching sight of Logan and inspecting the sergeant's progress.

Since when the Astartes rest they remove almost most of the armor except a carapace which condoles the enhanced build of the space marines. The power armor gave them good protection and also excelled in other areas, as the space marines basically have two set of each organ in their body, this lead to the enhanced feats of strength, accuracy and tactical prowness to create the perfect soldier.

As Arc geared up, he seemed bigger from Logans view, although he would go through the same procedure as the codicer it seemed quicker. After the main body legguards and boots was on it was simple from there, attatch the gauntlets and and arms before finishing with the shoulder paudrons and the powerpack.

Logan perfered to go without a helmet, said it resticts the view and easier to spot enimes trying to flank him. The finishing touch when the servitor completed the attatchment of his power fist, it crackled with some energy as he made a fist.


"I guess if this is no ordinary battle then we will need defenders like you Arc"
Collecting his Bolt pistol swiftly he continued
"Yes he will fall and The Dark Angels will have claimed another planet in the name of the Emperor."


"I also hear that we will be meeting with our fellow brothers the Space Wolves and their Primarch Leman Russ."

Before walking back to the door as they would touchdown on the planets surface in a thunderhawk with their Primarch El'Jonson. The planet was ravaged by war, destroyed buildings, bunkers, only controlling force was the heretic Durath. He had emerged and refused the Emperors will, It was also said he sacrificed thousands of Imperial priest to a chaos god.

"Your kind words honor me," said Arc. He followed Logan out of the armory and began heading in the direction of the hangar. Yes, a Thunderhawk transport ship would take Arc and his five-man team of veteran soldiers down to the planet's surface in a reinforced Rhino. Only lightly armed, the tank would do little more than get Arc's squad further into the fray before they were forced to disembark and take to their own weapons.

Arc whispered a short prayer. It was truly an honor to be carried into battle alongside his Primarch. A rare honor.

Then Logan spoke of the Space Wolves and their enigmatic leader. "Russ... that man is little more than what he seems: a killing machine. And for that he is inferior. I do not see why we have accepted his assistance."

It was true that most, if not all Space Marines excelled in the art of killing, but it seemed that Leman Russ had sacrificed tactics and intelligent warfare in favor of simple, brutal meyhem. Lion El'Jonson was a true tactician; he had the brains to back up the brauns.

The hanger lay on the opposite side of the ship, and therefore took a long while to reach. Arc met up with his second-in-command along the way, and the other four memebers of his team awaited their leader's arrival beside their dedicated transport.

"The time is almost at hand," Arc said to Logan.

Raises from his prayer, his mind full of his holy duty to the golden throne. Walking into a small side chapel he slides his fingers along the smooth walls before reaching his gleaming white apocathery armor stored within the small chapel, flexing his muscular arms wide 2 adepts of his order step forward and help him to don his armor, all 3 mutter the needed prayers for the armor to function properly.

Once sheathed in his holy power armor he hangs a gleaming chain sword about his waist while slipping his bolt pistol in the holster on his left side, he then takes hold of his apocathery kit and muttering another prayer he straps it to his person, lastly he takes his gleaming helmet and settles it upon his head, the screens come alive in the helm giving him a perfect 360 degree vision.

Leaving the side chapel he makes his way across the main chapel collecting several others of his order as well as a chaplin, making their way toward the hanger Jag speaks softly "Brothers may the spirit of Him on Terra guide you though our holy task this day, tend to your battle brothers and uplift their spirits when needed". As he enters the hanger he nods to his fellows before heading toward the command squad and their thunderhawk, his eyes search for the holy figure of the primarch, as it was a huge honor to be riding in the same Thunderhawk as the holy man.

Arc was right soon they would touchdown on the planet with their primarch who would lead them to victory, the heretics that followed the tyrant would be killed by the holy bolters of the astartes as they cleansed the surface. Logan made sure he was set before Lion El'Jonson walked through a large steel door, accompanied by two other marines.

"May this battle be swift." Logan said to Arc as their leader walked ever so closer to the thunderhawk they stood by. Jonson boarded the ship before the rest and entered the Rhino, after the rest of the squad except Arc were in Logan motioned for Arc to hurry.

Arc's team piled into their own designated Rhino, adorned with both Dark Angels iconography and the squad's own insignia, and Arc wasted little time in joining them inside the tank's hull. Once the six marines were situated in an anything-but-comfortable interior, the Rhino was driven beneath the Thunderhawk, and then attached to the gunship along with two others, one containing Logan, the other, Lion El'Jonson.

Seconds later, the hangar was opened to the vacuum of space, and the Thunderhawk departed. Arc could see nothing beyond the metallic walls of his transport, but when the ship hit Dulan's atmosphere, he felt it. The entire ship rumbled, and the Rhino threatened to tear away and free-fall to the surface, but everything held, and the ride smoothed out when they were finally through the atmosphere.

The squad of Dark Angels was silent throughout the ship's flight. Even Arc's battle prayers were not mouthed. Silence was the team's tradition. They spoke only what was necessary to be communicated. They worked more effectively that way. Companionships between the marines were not formed. At least, not beyond the standard bonds of battle brothers. It was easier that way. When one of them fell, there were no emotions. There was simply fighting.

As the ship drew closer to the planet's surface, Arc could almost taste the blood of the traitors on his lips. And what a decadent flavor it was.