The Castigation of the Apocrophyan Ravine

As mentioned in the recruitment listing, the players (i.e. you) will be given a chance to forge a binding story that unites your characters as a solidified team. This is both a chance to demonstrate your ability to conjure a good narrative background together, as well as give me a good estimate at how involved the party will be with this campaign. The fluffy title, 'The Castigation of the Apocrophyan Ravine' is completely a blank slate event, which you can embellish to your heart's content. If the party wishes to have any external elements added that they feel needs to be ratified, please post here for an answer from me. With that said, feel free to start tossing ideas around. The timeline to get this done is -NOT- by next thursday (first official session), but rather the day your characters take the lead as the main protoganist of this campaign (after the first mission).

The smell of fire and burning oil flood the air. The smell is so viscous that Bones is forced back into conciousness, gasping for air. The smoke is thick and the ash stings his eyes. She glances around hastily, ripping her pants to make a makeshift mask for herself. Sheets of metal, pipes, and wires all get strewn aside as Bones digs frantically in the wreckage. She freezes, in front of her lay the bodies of three human individuals with minor augments. Two pilots, cleaved nearly in half, and a pilot who is laying face down in the rubble. Near them is a series of cracked open containers, bullets strewn on the floor. " This can't be..." Bones says as she slowly reaches toward the ground and runs her fingers along the ground near the mechanics body. She quickly flips over the body, tossing it aside, and sees what she feared most. A rifle lay where the mechanic was, covered in blood and broken into a dozen pieces. Bones falls to her knees and says a quick prayer for her rifle, may it sleep well. Bones collects herself and searches the wreckage. She is only able to salvage a half working pistol and a rusted chain sword. She returns to the top half of the main pilot and checks his pockets. Inside is a data pad with a slightly busted screen. Luckily it still works. The data pad turns on with the sound of static. A map of a compound comes up. "Well atleast that still works and I guess these heretics just made my life harder, hopefully it will be fair now." A small smile can be seen on her bruised and bloody face, "Now I just need to wait for the other guys to hit the signal." Bones sits on the burning wreckage, staring at the data pad with anticipation.

The air tastes like smoke and blood in the ruined thoroughfare, and intermittent shouts and lascracks, along with deeper thudding sounds can be heard from all around the smoke-shrouded ruins. Four figures warily approach another, kneeling next to a fallen pillar of rockcrete. They have their lasguns aimed at the solitary figure. "Stand up!" the closest gunman commands, his voice breaking into a ragged cough in the hot air. The kneeling man freezes, and slowly turns towards the four, his hand to his ear. "You are not the ones I was to know. Who are you?" the man asks, his broken gothic slightly muffled by the rebreather wedged on his face under his helmet. "You know the men who crash now?" The three gunmen still behind the first one exchange puzzled looks, and one of them barks a harsh laugh. They walk closer to the kneeling man, who only has a baton of sorts slung and tied to his back. " How about you stand the frag up, 'fore we turn you into slag?" the gunman in front sneers, moving closer to the kneeling man. The lasgun is but inches from the kneeling man's face when it suddenly jerks upwards, and the gunman gurgles and falls to his knees. "You are the enemy." Aksai grins as he pulls his augmetic fingers from the first gunman's throat with an accompanying gush of blood "I am glad I have found you." Three alarmed shouts and several lasgun cracks echo around the ruined thoroughfare, the last shot followed by a bestial cry of victory.

The whirl of the gunships engine fans on the topside of the transport drowned out Barbosa's hymnal of readiness, his equipment spread out in front of him, incense filled the back of the transport, the few imperial guardsmen that remained in the transport that flew overwatch gathered at the opposite side of the disembarkation section. "The other gunships are down, we need to land or go back into orbit!" The voice of the co-pilot came over the vox-net. "The rebels are swarming the crash sites!" Barbosa stood his mechadendrites rising with him, he ignited the plasma cutter and fired all six of his piston injectors and flexed the eye on his optical arm, he gathered his autogun and checked the magazine one last time. Striding to the front of the gunship Barbosa passed the gunnery position as they opened fire on the ground. "Land" Barbosas, low grainy voice surprised the pilots as they jostled the controls. "We are outnumbered" Barbosa cocked the slide on his autogun and a round entered the chamber "Get me to my brothers" The transport vessel landed at a speed it was not meant to, original purposed to carry an entire company, now it had only the 2 pilots, Mordicai and 5 guardsmen. The ramp dropped and Barbosa strode out into the darkness, his crimson robe flowed behind him, his mechadendrites flexing above him, the 5 guardsmen at his back. "Secure the crash sites!" his voice intruded on the guardsmen's closed vox channel " Nullius in Verba " The enemy had come to welcome them, Barbosa and his rag tag squad spread out, as one they raised the weapons and opened fire....

High upon the elevated pillars of dirt and stone, the very air was dry and unwelcoming. The bright flames cried out on defiance with crackle and spit, only challenged by the High Gothic chanting coming from the only being left. There were figures in the flames, three of them, their faces, equipment and very identities stripped by the entropic touch of the dying inferno. "Go now, may the Emperor judge your souls in the Immaterium," the survivor finished his prayers, his great cloak and occult ornaments proving either too heavy or too tight for the gentle breeze to manipulate. Staff as support, the Sanctioned Psyker climbed to his feet once more, surveying the destruction beyond the immediate flames. Overseer dead, Astropath receiving of the Emperor's Mercy and their Guardsman companion long gone, Scythius was without supervision for the first time since his voyage upon the Black Ships. "Emperor guide us in these dark times," concern and doubt was crushed from his voice by a tempered will, a driving force to see the Imperium's victory this day. His hand reached out to the skies before him, senses that only a Psyker or Mutant could possess opening themselves to the world beyond...

I thought the last job would be enough for them. One tick on a nob, a little left for the wind. I thought Jebiden's death was enough for them. A minuscule squeeze in his finger, barely enough to be called a twitch. I thought that wiping out an entire asteroid post would satisfy them. A roar, a shock, a savage jab in his shoulder. I thought they would leave me alone after that bastard Inquisitor died on that rock. An emptiness, recovery, the sight fallows the shell. But I can't hate it too much. This isn't the same bastard who killed Jebiden. These aren't the fanatics who put the Gadston to the torch. I can do the job. I can travel with this man. I can see the galaxy with these people beside me. This is a new Inquisitor. He hasn't wronged me yet. But if he does.... A mile and a half away a man's head explodes into a cloud of pink mist. Silas smiles, speaks into his vox collar. "Got the fracker. You're clear to move up." Near the dead man's headless corpse, A group of figures moves through the shadows towards a pile of wreckage. At least the job is interesting

" Well this is getting out of hand " - Grendel mumbled to himself. The statement was as true as it was unnecessary. One didn't even have to look outside the cathedral like windows of the Administratum Primarum, the thousands of protesters outside where making such a racket that was hard to ignore them even if you tried. Still, some tried harder than others. And Akustus Okane, chief of this Administratum Departamentum, was really good at ignoring problems in hopes that they will go away. Well this time it didn't seem to work his way to say the least. Anyway an angry mob of almost twenty thousand recently laid off workers was the least of his concern, as there were more pressing problems to worry about. His Statisticum Departamento just finished the blessed calculations and concluded that the Hive’s population of mutants was approximately 1,7% higher than a forecast from 10 years ago expected. One point seven percent ! This was unacceptable. Maybe someone made an error in the calculus? A sense of dread started to creep into him. He was just considering the finer points of his defence speech, one that would surely be worthy of ancient Socrates – holy Terra’s saint of all wrongfully accused, when a huge explosion l brought him back to reality, straight onto the marble parquetry the building was famous for. Covered in lyres of dust and rubble Grendel was about to conscribe his soul to the Immortal Emperor when the ever vigilant Lord of Mankind chose to save his most loyal subject. As if from nowhere dozens if not hundreds of people appeared, all equipped with crowbars, pipes and other useful tools. Shortly he was released from the constrains that a moment ago seemed to become his tomb. Still deafened and shocked by what has just transpired he thanked his saviors with all the blessings and dignity a nobleman could have. Certainly they were all lowborn scum, their angry faces and dirty clothing testament to that, but their willingness to save him was the best proof that the Emperor sometimes smiles even on the lowliest of His servants. Communication was difficult but even in his less than perfect condition Grendel’s keen intellect was able to discern that those simple men and women wanted to get him away from this dangerous ruin of a building and he gladly followed. It was a warzone outside. The once beautiful gardens were cut for wood, buildings sacked, adepts beaten and humiliated. Everywhere he looked there were armed workers drunk on violence, ready to kill all would dare to opposed them. Rushed by his captors he ended on a dais, Okane’s blood covered body giving him all the insight into what was about to come. - Speak! – shouted the man who dragged him there, Grenedel’s hearing finally coming back - Tell my hungry, homeless brothers why have they been thrown out of their jobs. WHY the Emperor smiles upon us all you blue blood piece of shit! He looked from the dais into a large pond right in front of it. At least there will be good acoustics –was the last sane thought he could conceive. A young paleface man stared back at him, his clothes all covered in white dust, making him look more like a vengeful ghost than whatever he was now. - So this is how it ends… - the man said silently. Blessed God Emperor, my defense was not worth of Thy grace. But please listen as I cry out in defiance against all who trespass Your domain. And he started to speak. No one knows what exactly happened that day, the street pic recorders all but destroyed, the arbiters scattered before the mass of low hivers drunk on blood. But once the frenzy ended thousands were arrested, hundreds interrogated. Each gave a confession of their own. All spoke of a myriad things but agreed on one. It was an angles of the Emperor who commanded them to purge the mutant from their hive. To cleanse their factories and return to Him as His chosen flock. And that the angel was as white as snow. Grendel Vasquez, firstborn son of House Borgia calmly waited in solitude for many days in one of the Adeptus Arbitres darkest prison cells. When a masked man armed with a boltpistol entered he was almost relieved and, despite his many wounds, stood up to face his fate. -Why did you start the mutant pogrom? - a hoarse voice demanded an answer as the gun centered on Grendel's face. -The deviation from the forecast is now within the acceptable range.-

The fit of a respirator was slightly tight, more so than the snug fit he was accustomed to. The pull must have been the result of a hasty grab from his possession, tugging on the bands slightly before he placed it on. When the seal was formed, regardless of his physical comfort, Yvonne Mengsk was relieved by the rhythmic breathing of the auto-filters. "We have confirmation of the cult present, my grace," the Arvus Lander's pilot chimed through the micro-bead in-built in his fully-enclosed respirator "The reports are streaming across the vox-net now." "Patch me in," Yvonne breathed, his voice dark and menacing from the vocal-simulators. "I need to see with my own eye, trooper." "Affirmative, my lord," The stormtrooper operator returned. It had been over a decade since last he had come across them , and he had hoped against the pit in his stomach that this had just been another worker's revolt. He knew better. He had requisitioned the Inquisitorial Stormtroopers from the fledgling Fortress being built on Phaenon Prime on a hunch, a feeling. As the stream of data fed into his auto-senses, he clearly saw the tell-tale signs of corruption that few others would have noticed. His own acolytes did not comprehend the true depth of madness they found themself in. He caught scenes of resistance, but soon fading as the madness spread. "Send an order to the Lord-Captain," Yvonne breathed, weighing the decision he was about to announce. "Tell her to prepare the Life-Eater torpedos." The pilot did not respond immediately, hesitating for the briefest of moments. "My lord...The council will not approve...." He responded tentatively. "It must be done, for the sake of the sector itself," Yvonne said, noting the faces of his Acolytes as he spoke. Each had served him for some time, each had proven their worth a thousand bolter rounds over. And yet, he would have to sacrifice them all to ensure this madness did not spread. "Wait...," Yvonne said suddenly, when a he saw the face . "Amend that order. Time-delay two-hours. Secure a private-line to my acolytes." "Understood my lord," The pilot responded. The balance was shifting. He saw the live feed from the local pict-corders and his acolytes, suppressing the revolt, ignorant of the moment he had almost condemned them to the fate of traitors and weaklings. In a brief exchange their mission parameters had shifted, and their target was now known. The risk had not been worth the chance of corruption - but now it was worth anything to him. Capture him , prepare for extraction. "May the Emperor guide my hand, always," Yvonne whispered to himself once the exchange between him and his servants had concluded.

Pleading. A sharp crack as the shell shatters. Crying and sputtering, turning into gurgling screams of pain as the second strike falls. A dozen corpses litter the small corridor, some still standing, smashed into the walls. Aksai stands up from the broken corpse of the ragtag rebel, clad in stolen flak worn over worker's overalls. He doesn't feel happy or satisfied with such opponents. He looks outside from one of the small windows facing the now-ruined workyards, housing one of the crashed landers he was pursuing. A chill wind breaks over the corridor, frosting over the walls and corpses, their spilled blood flash-freezing in the unnatural breeze. "Yield!" a lone man yells at Aksai from the other end of the corridor, his hand stretched outwards to the warrior, his other hand on his temple. Aksai cocks his head to the side, looks at the gesturing man's forehead and smiles. "Yield!! In my master's name!!" the man shouts, his eyes squinting at Aksai, angry at him for not doing as he was told. It took him three precious seconds to turn from angry to horrified, as the warrior rushed at him with a booming warcry. "Yield!!!" the man shouted one last time, this time in raw panic and one faltering step backwards before a fist cracked his ribs to powder and stopped his heart. The witch's corpse slumped to the ground, the spiked symbol tattooed to his forehead glowing dimly as his lifeforce ebbed away, unnoticed by the blood-splattered warrior with his hand to his ear now. "Seventh dead." he grumbled to his micro-bead "Found lander." A pause. Listening to someone else. "I understand." he nodded, kicking aside the limp corpse of his prey "Others?" Another pause. "I understand, master." Aksai nods to himself and takes one last look at the corpse at his feet before continuing along the corridor towards his new objective.

Mordicai and his squad slowly advanced towards the crash site, engaging rebels as they attacked in ones and twos,they were unorganized and unskilled in the art of war. Mordicai had in-loaded the Imperial Guard combat doctrine to his -cant remember the implant- while on the drop ship, approaching the first crash site he employed the methods his squad would be used to from a Guardsmen. "Converge" Mordicai intruded into the IG vox again, he used their battle cant to convey his order to secure the crashed gun ship. Mordicai stooped into a low run and made his way to the rear of the gun ship, he took cover at the edge of what used to be the offload ramp. Glancing inward he quickly took in the scene, 3 dead, scattered munitions. Mordicai relays the information using the battle cant to the rest of his squad. "To the second crash site" Mordicai advanced towards the compound that appeared to be a rebel stronghold, the second crash lay half way up the incline that lead to the stronghold. "100 meters to target" Mordicai started the rougher sprint up the hill, the guardsmen were slightly slower but kept pace. A hail of bullets impacted the ground around Mordicai, the dust kicked up as bullets impacted the ground and then exploded. Mordicai lost all thoughts apart from finding cover, he made it to a rock-crete wall as the fire continued. The squad all hit the wall hard as their mad dash succeeded, apart form the final man who took a round to the chest which left a huge whole. Mordicai's optical mechadendrite snaked up the wall to peer over the top, the heavy gun had not stopped firing. Confirming what his ears had already told him, a heavy bolter position. "Such a holy weapon" Mordicai shouldered his autogun, the ammunition dry, his utility mechadendrite reached out and dragged the fallen IG towards him, he checked the integrity of the body, dead. Mordicai recovered the lasgun and charge packs. A Barely audible shot rang out, and the heavy bolter turrets gunners head turned to pink mist. Mordicai's vox chimed with confirmation of the kill. The advance began again, Mordicai gave more orders over the vox, he ordered the IG to split up, 2 to the second crash site, the other 2 to recover the sacred weapon and recover their fallen comrade, then to re group with him at the compound. Mordicai advanced up the final incline of the hill and disappeared into the compound.

- Well, this certainly got out of hand – Grendal’s broken lips made him hard to understand. - What a’ yee saying brother ? – answered one of the Redemptionists from his “bodyguard”. Truth be said he was nothing more than a prisoner, a puppet that was shoveled a sharp stick in its back and carried around as a flag for the local splinter of the Cult of Redemption. These frenzied ultra-puritan zealots, who claimed to be doing the Emperor’s work, have been trying to murder every mutant on the planet for ages and would not pass the chance to be the “true force” behind the ongoing purge. In order to ascertain that everyone knew that they did it his new “friends” made a spectacle of dragging him to every hell hole imaginable, to instigate actions against the vile mutants in their name. One of their sympathizers from the Adeptus Ministorum even proposed to ordain him as a priest. Saying nay to a small army of flamer armed lunatics with the Ecclesiahy backing just didn’t seem a good way out of this. Now as Hierophant Grendel he was stuck knee deep in shit. As expected the angry workers, after killing a few thousands and maiming countless more, were getting tired of all the bloodshed and the government forces where regaining their confidence. He experienced the hard way not only PDF but IG and what could have been the dreaded Storm trooper, units respond to the unrest. On the other side however there was a new force emerging from the shadow of the rebellion, something that Grendel felt was there from the very start. Whatever it was it seemed to have decided that it was time to reap. One didn’t have to be a bloody Inquisitor to notice psychic marks all over the place. Small squads of government forces fried as if by lighting, bodies with hearts torn out by a daemon’s hand. The marks where obvious for all who wanted to see. Sadly the Redemtionists saw it quite differently. Their apocalypse dream finally coming true, they seemed to almost enjoy it. Grendel needed to ditch those morons and find someone who knew what the hell was going on. And fast. - B rother dearest would you kindly bring me the vox from over there? - he said with a well-practiced face of a saint. Seconds later an ultra-hot lasbolt went straight through the man’s back and left an inkblot like scorch mark on one of the walls in the derelict building. - And who says Storm troopers are all bad. – he grinned to himself. - Now, how do I operate this infernal machine…

Cazeraus II planetary data; An Excerpt Cazeraus II is the second habitable planet of the Cazeraus system, with a temperate climate and four large continents separated by a green sea with unbearable high sodium content. While the planet does not have a great amount of natural resource aside from salt, it does have a good enough climate and agricultural yield to support a great amount of Imperial citizens, making it a prime choice for a Hive planet. Since its colonization in M37.716, it has grown to be a prime exporter of salt sector-wide, although its considerable reservoirs are showing signs of exhaustion. Current projections show that the reservois will be utterly exhausted in M40.221 at the current rate of exploitation. Even without its reservoirs of salt, the planet is still marked as an important planet for its high population count, with the latest Administratum census placing its population at some 9 billion non-mutants. Its tithe to the Imperial Guard has been consistent, and many a world would have fallen if not for the Cazeraus Saltblood auxiliaries. Some of the Hive cities of the planet have seen a rise in the rate of mutation amongst their populace as of late, and a planet-wide cull has been considered by the Planetary Governor.

Castigation flavour Of Resources and Faith - On culling of Mutants and Keeping up Production -High Scribe Tallistus Cadell While the current percentage of mutant to non-mutant is widely believed to be unacceptable, the viewpoints of the two major actors on Cazeraus II could not differ more on how to handle it: The Ecclesiarchy is pushing for a planet-wide purge of the mutants, but also insisting that it not affect the planet's capability to provide for the Great Crusade. This humble scribe would not dare call such demands ludicrous, but at its current state, the Administratum is hard pressed to provide for the crusade as it is. To divert forces to cull mutants, many of which are a part of the lower workforce, would essentially cripple the production-lines. It has been calculated that a 13% overall drop in production would result from the cull, which would result in famines and material-shortages which would further reduce production. As it stands such a drop is utterly unacceptable. It is the suggestion of this humble scribe that the cull be postponed until off-world assistance from Imperial Guard regiments can be called in to assist and expedite the purge, should the amount of mutants still grow. I beseech you, lords and ladies of the Ecclesiarchy: Please do not let your righteous holy anger cloud your judgment. Note by Assisting Arbite Balicus Oper: Dataslate found on a charred corpse outside of the Administratum offices amongst a hundred others tied to stakes. Pict-record recovered from an underhive warehouse: -The pict shows an empty makeshift podium, brightly lit by floodlights (warehouse? not the one the record was found from). An expectant crowd is standing near it, their silhouettes broken strangely (mutants). A murmur goes through the crowd as a hideous brute of a mutant takes the stage, dragging a struggling worker with him (overalls indicate salt-purification). The brute raises his voice into a guttural shout "It is time my -unintelligelible- blessed us with a sign!" the brute hoists the worker up over his head, the worker begins to scream. "This one told us to work! To suffer! This one -unintelligelible- !!" the crowd cheers and screams bestially, raising their hands and other limbs in the air. The brute grabs the the worker with both hands and rips the worker in half, cutting his scream short. The crowd goes wild in the rain of gore and blood. "We go! Up! To the sun! To slay our oppressors! To honour our benefactor -unintelligelible- your weapons! Take them and fight!" The crowd charges off-screen, some gunfire and cheering is heard. The recorder continues to record until it runs out of power, nothing on-screen changes during this time.

IDEAS, SOMEONE WORK THEM INTO THE STORY [17:06:19] RedemptionOmega: So far what I'm thinking is the Administratum, after finally coming to their senses, pleads the Adeptus Astronomica to send a distress signal, and our antagonist is a little too late, killing off the Astropaths just after the signal is sent. [17:06:46] RedemptionOmega: Most of the sector is far too busy with their resources and forces sent elsewhere to directly help, delaying the rescue effort by a few days [17:07:41] RedemptionOmega: The Ordo Bestillius catches wind of this signal, and decide to take things into their own hands, using their power to forcefully conscript agents from many of the sector's organizations to create their own rescue effort. [17:08:29] RedemptionOmega: Basically creating a temporarily Inquisitorial force of conscripts, volunteers and official forces from across the sector, including many of our characters. [17:09:20] RedemptionOmega: This leaves us open to decide our character's roles in the operation. Scythius in particular was sent as a guide and ambassador for the Psykana's Astropaths, sent to replace the lost ones upon the Hive World. [17:10:48] RedemptionOmega: Between the Inquisitorial Acolytes, remaining PDF and commandeered forces, the bloody war soon turns to the Imperials' favour. Which is when somebody comes out of hiding and Megnsk discovers something potentially more sinister going on. [17:11:51] RedemptionOmega: At the behest of some certain characters, the Exterminatus order is completely called off once many of the Mutant leaders are exterminated. However, our antagonist manages to escape. [17:14:53] RedemptionOmega: Through a mix of circumstance, heroism and request,, Megnsk recruits us as official Acolytes of the Ordo Bestillius, assuming any character isn't already a part of it. [17:17:15] RedemptionOmega: There's not much else to add beyond flavour and detail, if we go with that. [17:23:27] RedemptionOmega: This all could've happened some time ago. [17:23:34] RedemptionOmega: Maybe months up to a year or so. Villain the Inquisitor spotted on the planet: A scheming, smartypants leader-type with some mutation that is easily concealed (Toxic blood, forked tongue, retractable claws etc. whatever). She's the one who got the mutants all armed and united 'n stuff. Fate of villain: Escaped 'cos reasons. Nemesises are fun!

Well, that's certainly large Silas watched the cybernetic barbarian kill 3 more rioters as though they were ants. He had finished his overwatch, and now was meant to find the rest of the new boss's team. Sure as hell hope this brute isn't who I think he is, better hang back till I know for sure. Or we all get killed. The brute lifted one if his bulging cyber-limbs. It turned the skull of the man it hit into pudding. Silas muttered a curse, an old saying roughly translated as "fate, why do you hate me?" than started off after the warrior.

The fingers on Aksai's hand groaned as he let go of the broken man, and he flicked his arm to get rid of the gore. He grimaced as he looked around, noting that none of his enemies were his assigned prey; New or old. He reached up to tap his microbead for directions, only to find that it had been knocked off, alongside his helmet, during the melee. An annoyed growl escaped his cracked lips. "Hey." an unfamiliar voice called from behind, causing the bloodied warrior to slowly face the man behind him. For Aksai, the lanky man wearing the armored bodyglove looked out of place, compared to the ones he had fought, which made the warrior hesitate. The fact that the stranger's long rifle wasn't pointed at him also gave him pause. After a moment of staring, the lanky man, seeming nervous, coughed "So are you with Mengsk?" The familiar name made Aksai cock his head to the side, relaxing a little "He is debtor and master. Who you?" Letting out a long breath, the sniper relaxed and nodded at the warrior "I'm with you guys. Do you have the new objective?" the lanky man tapped his commbead. The warrior continued to stare at the sniper for a moment before shrugging and going to retrieve his own commbead, picking the dented helmet from the ground. Upon examining the interior, he threw the helmet away in a bout of anger "Broken. Enemies where?" The sniper pointed at a half-ruined warehouse in the distance "There should be some of our guys that way, towards the objective." Aksai grunted in reply, striding towards the warehouse before the sniper had even finished. Enemies lay ahead, that was all that mattered. It took some time for the sniper to follow; Time he took to question everything about the situation and the life-choices that had led him there. But still he followed.

Well, he's not all bad. Sure he's an uneducated groundpounder with more muscle than a squad of ogrins, but at least he hasn't tried to kill me....yet. Silas and his new friend had been traveling in relative silence for several minutes, speaking only to confirm that they did indeed both work for the same person, and decide on a direction of travel. At first Silas had stuck to the walls and the shadows of ruined structures. He didn't like the open air, never had. Especial when it was constantly perforated by lasgun fire. The warrior, Aksai he'd learned his name was, had laughed at his duck-and-cover antics. "Little field rabbit." he'd called him "We are in battle. We not hide from war, we LIVE in it." For his part, Aksai walked fully erect, right down the middle of the street. Fracking berzerker. Crazy bastard better pray there aren't any decent shooters in those mobs or he'll- Silas froze. Comm-chatter on the boss's circuit. A set of coordinates and a timeframe being repeated by a very scared voice. Silas was about to write it off as another distress call and close the channel. Then he heard two words that made him wish he believed in the god emperor. With desperation bordering on madness he ripped out his nav-sheet and compass and started checking landmarks. "Why stop small one?" Aksai asked, almost annoyed. "Our objectives' been handled. Or at least it better be 'cause we sure as the black aren't handling it now!" "Why would we not?" "Because in less than an hour this whole planet's going to be dead! And so will we if we don't make the evac point!" As they started running, Silas screamed into his commbead for anyone from the retinue still alive: "Life Eater! Evac now, their gunna drop Life Eater!"

The gun fighting at the facility entrance was fierce, Mordicai counted nearly 30 IG, he surveyed the area looking for a point he could break through the line and infiltrate the facility when his vox-net brought the news of the planets end. Intruding onto the IG's vox-net he broadcast a global retreat command, maybe they would get out in time, but that was all he was prepared to do before putting his own survival first. Mordicai sprinted towards the evac point, with all the speed his bionic legs would give him.

The Castigation of the Apocryphan Ravine is now closed for further elaboration.