The Proktor

The Proktor as of the beginning of the Horus Heresy

Born beneath the shade of dark mountains and touched but once by the light of dawn, the Proktor is the former Battle-Captain of the Dusk Raiders 7th Company that has found himself once more traversing the mortal realm of the 42nd Millennium.

His life beginning on Terra as the Wars of Unification ended and the Great Crusade began, the Proktor saw his first years as the only child in the care of two Auxilla soldiers. Settling down in a cliff city in old Albia, the Proktor recalls his life here and on; from the feigned end of the terrors that plagued him in the night to the very day the Battle-Captain and his men would enter the city gates.

Being taken up alongside another hundred or so young men and boys the Proktor would find himself eventually an aspirant of the Dusk Raiders 7th Great Company. From battle amidst the ruins of ancient forts, he would eventually find himself as the Captain Adjutant of the 7th before they would leave for the Crusade proper. Here among the stars would be where he would rise and fall, becoming Battle-Captain among the chaotic rampage upon the planet Vistul, leading the Great Company with distinction until the Raiders found their father upon Barbarus.

Fighting for his place in the galaxy and legion, the Proktor would ascend to become one of the greatest marines amidst the legion under command of his sworn brother, Nathaniel Garro. On the back of this ascension of rage he would slowly but surely not only become a challenge in duels for even those named amongst the brother legions, but also for the gene-father who he so loathed.

Though spurning his primarch and fellow marines many times, the Proktor would regain his earned respect as the Jorgall Execution began. Shattering the Jorgall fleet at the side of Garro and the Sisters of Silence, he would finally receive his earned commendations as Mortarion, for the only time in the history of the Death Guard, would allow for both him and Garro to partake in a celebratory drink.

Above the planet of Isstvan III, the Proktor and his best men would find themselves watching the planet below become wrapped in fire. Seemingly having abandoned the Emperor they would soon find themselves on the Southern end of the Urgall Depression upon Isstvan V. It would be here where the Proktor and his men would enact their own treachery upon the Death Guard, launching their scattered forces headlong in an attempt to disrupt and bring ruin upon the traitors.

Pushed back and off of the planet, the survivors would make a dash for Terra to seek aid at the heart of humanity. This would be in vain however, as they would arrive as the Siege by the traitors had begun. Fighting under the shade of the chaotic battle around them, they attempted to disrupt the traitors to the best of their abilities. Eventually pushed back from Terra as well, they would escape to the Eye of Terror alongside the traitors, for they had become infected by the rot of Nurgle.

Almost ten thousand years have passed, all of it spent in search of lost brothers and a cure for their affliction. Now finding himself spat out unto Monarch as the 13th Black Crusade beats on across the galaxy, the Proktor finds himself in the midst of unexpected allies.

### His Journey

#### Child of the Dusk

Born to a modest Auxilla family, the Proktor, whose name was lost long ago to records but to be later known as the Phantom of the Guard, Reaper of Fate and Father of the Novae Legiones; would begin his life in the shade of the ancient Cohaagen Steppe. Though his life began in the Dire North, he would live a simple and relatively peaceful life in the beginning as his family were not only protected by the grand armies of the Imperium of Man; but also because the Proktor would be born only a mere year after the end of the Terran unification Wars.

Although Terra had been, for the most part, liberated from savagery and brought together under one banner; the armies of the Imperium continued growing. The Emperor’s ambitions did not stop at Terra, but expanded far beyond the very Sol System itself. For this reason, in the Proktor’s youngest years from when he could first walk and read he was trained to become a soldier in the vast Auxilla of the Imperium as they reached for and beyond the most distant stars in the night sky.

While the young child had a life of happiness and a great future planned for him, in his mind it was all but well. From his earliest days the Proktor would receive near debilitating night terrors in his sleep. No doctor could diagnose his ailment, no matter where the family found themselves across Terra as they moved from city to city with the Auxilla unit they were attached to. Eventually the family could only hope that what plagued their only son would pass, attempting to hide the terrors as best they could whenever they could.

With no cure for his condition the family sunk into a deep sadness as they feared the worst for their progeny. With the Auxilla no longer needing to redeploy to possible troubled areas, the family would settle once and for all along a large mountain range in Albia, overlooking the Great Medi Basin. In this new home the family would find that in the peace of the southern mountains, though not fully, the night terrors would slowly fade into the past.

While a semblance of peace had been found, it would not last, as after a year of living in peace the Emperor’s newest forces would arrive in the upstart colony. These behemoths in steel were relatively new to mankind, but it was known that they would be the Emperor’s finest and first forces to take to the stars. This was to the dismay of many, not a simple passing unit, but a recruiting force.

The astartes passed from house to house, assessing the possible recruits throughout each house. After a short intense few hours the astartes would have the families of those deemed worthy of coming with them come to the gates of the settlement. Among those selected was the family of the young Proktor. The unit leader, a man named Sarthel Bruk, ensured the families that their sons would rise to be the finest forces fielded by the Emperor’s armies and that they would bring glory to their names amongst the stars; Bruk himself pledging to lead them to these acclaims and glories personally.

With great reluctance, the families willingly parted with their sons, watching as the figures of steel marched them away never to return again. After arriving at the Emperor’s laboratories by aerial craft after mere hours of travel, the young men and boys who had been brought in from various cities and settlements were separated and for an indiscernible amount of time tested upon. For what felt like months the boys were put through mental and physical tests everyday, given unknown and strange supplements that had no discernible taste or look and put through ever invasive surgeries and evaluations. By the end of it all only half of those chosen would leave their individual rooms; two of which being the Proktor and a young man named Nathaniel Garro who, throughout it all, had both shown the most prowess and adaptability of their entire group.

Given their equipment and unit designations under the command of Bruk, the recruits would endure one last exercise. Their final test would see the now aspirants venture out into the ruins of Mont-Thoros, a long since forgotten fortress in the swamp passage that bridged the ancient Southern Poles to the Ind. The fortress had been obliterated by atomic hellfire and what would be the last massed waterbound vessel bombardment on Terra years before the Emperor rose to power in the mountains to the North.

The fort no longer held significance or strategic ability and was seen as a mere landmark to the folly of man as so many others did. Though it was unimportant strategically, Bruk and the other Company Commanders of the Dusk Raiders saw it, like many other abandoned forts and cities, as a perfect testing ground for their marines. Throughout and deep within the ruins of the so-called “Steel Dome”, were said unbound stores of unscathed equipment not touched by scavvers and the wastes, protected by the noxious environment and the ruins themselves.

After a short journey using transport ships, the fresh faced aspirants would be dropped off with the little equipment they had received before arriving. With the aspirants all deployed and in their ranks, Bruk and the marines with him would board their transports and return to the listening post at Point Malo.

On their own and with nothing but their weapons and armour, the aspirants marched onward through the marshes of Aufrais-Ind. Past decayed buildings and ancient armour and vehicles they couldn't comprehend, the aspirants would reach the base of Thoros after a two day slog. From the raised base they could see behind them the bottomless glowing pools and scant overgrown mangrove patches they’d once passed, but those mattered not now, for before them was the behemoth that billowed from its halls the gases that had wrapped itself around them from the moment they had arrived.

Quickly breaching the walls of the ancient sandblasted defensive lines the aspirants, led by Garro, the Proktor and an aspirant named Falkos, would storm into the Dome itself. As they entered the fortress area, it would be found that the halls were filled to bursting with a highly concentrated version of the gases that had been found upon the lower fields within the swamps.

As they ventured deeper into the ruined complex, the gas became ever more present. The walls themselves at points had been so saturated that patches of the wall had been encased by solidified gas. The blocks of the walls crumbled at a mere touch, the fragments splattering like sand upon hitting the ground.

Ordering caution at the revelation, the three aspirant leaders would split up with an assortment of men between each of them. The Proktor would take his men to the ancient Cromon Wing, the portion of the citadel that was once the docks of their ancient seafaring vessels. Meanwhile, Garro and Falkos would lead their men deeper into the main fortress itself.

Clearing their way into the docks, the Proktor would order his men to fan out and seek a way to open the blastgates in order to allow for easier extraction. Whilst the aspirants under the Proktor searched the area, the Proktor himself would find his attention elsewhere. He would wander onto one of the vessels that had become one with the docks over the years.

Aboard the vessel, he would find visages and spirits of the past still chained to their bones which had been turned into the same material that ever brought the walls closer to breaking. He would make an attempt to reach out to these shadows, physically and verbally he tried but to no avail. To his horror, as the gates were brought to life and opened, he would see the skeletons turn to dust as the sun touched them for the first time in centuries and the shades disappeared; screaming in pain and fear as the rays of Sol found them through the cracks of the vessel.

Shaking off what he’d just seen, he took note of the now slow decay that the vessel was experiencing from the exposure. Exiting it, he made for the gates edge where some of the aspirants stood. Before they could truthfully converse on the situation their vox transponders roared to life.

Through the crackling and distorted sounds that came from the transponders they heard the screams and yelling of their brothers as they were assailed deep within the bowels of the fort. Rallying the aspirants to him, the Proktor would lead them forward and further into the depths.

Rushing along the path of Garro and Falkos, the Proktor and his men would soon find themselves falling upon a beleaguered battle in the cramped spaces of what appeared to have been an old barracks of sorts. Seeing the aspirants under Falkos engaged in close combat the Proktor ordered his men to engage in close-quarters combat to aid in relieving them.

Crashing upon their enemies, the Proktor and his men crushed the foe before them and cleared a path to Falkos’ group. Upon approaching the Proktor would find that Falkos had been slain, his body mutilated by the figures that had assaulted them.

Wasting no time, the Proktor would reorganise the men and join the forces together, pushing ever onward to find Garro and his entrapped men. Room by room the contingent would search for their brothers, taking ever withering losses as they went. Their foe were concealed behind every corner and doorway, appearing as if spawned from the very fog that filled the corridors they fought through.

Eventually the remaining troops would arrive in a large reactor room, positioned above the room on a platform that had catwalks leading all around the large room. The engines roared with foul life as their red lights illuminated the room; the green fog that plagued the land bellowing from them as gunfire and sounds of clashing would echo alongside the engines. Quickly dividing the force once more, the Proktor would take eight men to personally find Garro as the rest followed the sound of combat.

Smashing away the motley undead that stood before them eventually the group, alongside a few aspirants who they’d found, would arrive to find Garro locked in mortal combat. The Proktor would watch as Garro diligently dodged and parried ferocious attacks brought upon by a vile conglomerate of flesh and machinery. The being before them appeared to be wired to the engines and machinery around it, the flesh bloated and tearing at all ends, giving the appearance that even the malformed mask it wore was being overtaken by the plague of skin that scorned it.

Wasting not a second, the force of men under the Proktor leapt into combat alongside their battle brother. To the right and left the aspirants rushed to fill gaps that could produce more of the foe for the battle. The Proktor alongside two others, Mercer Phal and Enmar Lan, would head to aid Garro personally as he battled the hammer wielding beast.

The first to strike would be Phal who, with a blade he had earlier taken up from the dock area, would strike the beast in one of its extra arms attached at its waist, severing it instantly as he then jabbed the blade between where its ribs should be. Following this, Lan would take a place at Garro’s side and aid him in striking the beast head on. With Phal and Lan in their own positions, the Proktor launched his form upon the beast itself, his weapon that of a large and sharp metal bar that had been taken from a barricade. Making his way up further he would stand atop it and, with a mighty force, plunge the bar deep into what appeared to be a sort of cooling device moulded into its back.

Pink steam bellowed from the hole as the bar was removed and rammed into another area of the device. The beast reeled back and began to contort and twist in all manner of ways attempting to fling the Proktor off of its back. Its extra arms and claws would attempt to pull and grab him as it howled out for help.

With the Proktor kicking away its grabbing hands and fighting to stay on, the three others started their attack in full force. Phal would tear through till his blade slid from the beast's midsection after hitting what must’ve been a sort of inner metallic plating. Garro and Lan would propel each other ahead, Lan aiming to take an arm as Garro would sheath his blade and equip the explosive he had on his belt.

As Garro placed the explosive in the open wound made by Phal, he and the others would rush away before the explosion could consume them as well. As the beast let loose a howl of despair it fell upon its back, what was its body now sprawled and torn apart as it still moved and let out the sick, mechanical sound of weeping. Without a second thought the Proktor would approach the mask and stamp out the cries with his boot.

As the beast let out its final cry, the sound of combat died with it as the hordes fell to ash and slop before the aspirants. The Proktor, Garro and the rest of the aspirants who survived would convene at the entrance of the room at the battle's close. Here, they would find that whilst a squad was clearing the catwalks they would find the untouched cache they had been told about. Upon claiming their own new weapons and equipment, the force moved to mark the remaining equipment stores but would quickly make for the outside as the engines began to overheat and shutdown.

Collecting as many of the dead as possible, the aspirants would eventually return and exit through the original breach. Just before the last aspirant made his exit, the other side of the Dome and other areas on the mountain would explode outwards and send smoke and debris flying into the air and black sea beyond.

The aspirants would begin their march back to their original dropsite, however they would instead stop on one of the few islands in the marsh as Bruk’s ship would land alongside another two transports. Being told of the events that transpired, Bruk would congratulate the men and bid them to board the ships. Once more the aspirants took flight, now set to become marines, the founding base of the 7th Great Company of the Dusk Raiders Legion.

#### Fall Untergang

The 7th Great Company marched out for its first battle in what would be one of the very last combat actions seen on Terra for centuries to come. Alongside forces of both the Terran Auxilla and the Maiyona Clan, the 7th would besiege the rebel hive of Ascension in the Great Atlan Desert.

Both arriving as the Siege began at nearly the same time, the 7th Great Company was met with the Mayiona Clan setting up their encampment for the battle and siege ahead. The leader of the Maiyona, the Ahau, Kukulkan would request a meeting with Battle-Captain Bruk so that the two could partake in the pre-battle traditions held by the Maiyona. The Battle-Captain, however, could not attend such an event as he had reservations with the Marshal of the Atlan Desert. Before the siege it had been determined by the High Marshal of the Sud-Atlan Theatre that Bruk would lead the planning and making of the siege.

Though Bruk could not attend such an event, his second in command, the Proktor, could. The Captain Adjutant would have his armour taken off and he would instead wear the cloth of the Maiyona. Under the moon's glow, the Proktor would make his way into the main camp of the Clan.

*Tents arrayed themselves across the sand dunes, far out of reach of any rebel weapon behind the black walls in the distance. The tent at the centre of the great camp was silent, a null bastion in the mass of great war chants, battle drums being beaten around raging blazes and blood of brothers being drawn upon the sands. Slowly the entry flaps of the great tent opened slowly, entering was the behemoth second-in-command of the Dusk Raiders, the Proktor.*

*He stood bare, nothing but small garments the Maiyona had lent unto him. Before him a contained inferno at the centre illuminated the armour of the five most prominent Maiyona. Their armour of obsidian black reflecting the flames as if their bodies had become living art pieces, arrayed at different positions of the flames extent.*

*The marine in the middle stood, “Kíimak 'oolal.” Stepping through the flames with ease he brought himself before the bare bodied Proktor and extended his arms, “Welcome.”*

*The Proktor extended his arms as well, allowing the hug, “Bruk informed me that the Maiyona had their traditions, though I did not expect such things.”*

*The marine laughed, his serpentine helmet causing a slight echo, “The Dusk Raiders have no such culture?”*

*“I fear not, our only ties are to that of doing battle under Luna’s glow.”*

*“What a shame, just as such that your Battle-Captain could not make it to partake.”*

*“Such are the woes of high command, I don’t envy him.” The Proktor said, a slight attempt at humour*

*“Well,” the marine said as he turned, “let us not waste time. Sit by the fire, and let us begin the ceremony.”*

*The Proktor followed before stopping on the other side of the fire, “My position?”*

*“Sit where you stand now.” The marine turned and sat facing him and the fire before them, “It is where you are to be for the rest of this.”*

*The Proktor sat, staring past the flames into the marines helmed eyes, “How will this work?”*

*“First, I must not forget myself here.” He took hold of his helmet and pulled it off, placing it with care at his side, “I am Ahau Kukulkan. Leader of the Maiyona.”*

*He looked deep into his eyes, his pupils almost as large as the eyes themselves, “A great honour it is to meet you, Ahau. I am the Captain Adjutant of the Dusk Raiders 7th Great Company, the Proktor.”*

*“Well met, Captain Adjutant.” Kakalkan raised his hands in an almost worshipful way, “Let us now commence the ritual.”*

The four marines in the tent stood. To the right, the two began to acquire herbs and tools from around the tent, placing the herbs into different bowls and upon papers. To the left, one of the marines acquired a large bag and began to slowly toss the contents of it onto the fire. Meanwhile, the second pulled from his belt a sleek obsidian blade and began to sharpen it using a stone with writings carved into it.

As the dust from the bag continued to be thrown into the fire, the smoke began to fill the room like a mist. The aroma it carried with it brought a new feeling to the Proktor, his tensed muscles relaxing as his limbs seemed to turn to liquid.

The marines on the right returned to their original places. The one closest to Kukulkan held in his hands a bowl of ground herbs as the other held in his hands a small paper appearing to be wrapped in small leaves. The marine with the blade ended his sharpening of it and approached Kukulkan.

Kukulkan nodded as the marine stood behind him. The marine leaned forward and slashed him across his forehead. With the marine stepping back, Kukulkan put his head down and began chanting in his native language. The Proktor, even in his calmed state felt a sense of dread appear as he witnessed the event.

The marine holding the bowl quickly knelt and allowed the blood to fall freely into it. In seconds he stood once more and turned to the marine next to him. In turn the one holding the paper used a small tool to place multiple ounces of the bowls contents onto the paper. Once it was all on, he proceeded to roll up the paper and secured it once more with another few herbal leaves.

Putting on his helmet, Kukulkan stood and spoke to the marines in their own language. The marines, except for the one who held the paper wrapping, returned to their positions and knelt with their items at their sides. The last marine standing approached and laid the wrapped herbs at his feet and returned to his place and knelt as well.

Kukulkan began to step forward into the blazing inferno, his armour negating the flames as feathers along his armoured arms would be set aflame. Kneeling as well, he brought his hands to the wrapped herbs and lit it.

The Proktor picked up the wrapping and took a breath before beginning to take an extensive drag of it. Letting the smoke fly from his nose and mouth, it was only a blink before the Proktor saw his entire shift. Before him the flames became the cascading colours of a rainbow, the figure standing within it no longer resembling the man he’d seen before. Kukulkan had morphed into a serpent in all but its anger, his scales gleamed with every colour that shot out of the flames as he would lead these same flames to wrap around his arms and body.

*The Proktor stood, the room now but an island floating amidst an ocean of abstract shapes backed by a kaleidoscope of every colour imagined and inimagined. The four marines he’d once been beside were now monoliths, their bodies painted with a history that told their peoples story; their stories.*

*Though amazed, his attention stayed upon the leviathan before him. Kukulkan. The serpent flew, speaking his tongue and creating a path of fire in its wake, “Come,” he said alongside another in his own language, “the fire guides the soul.”*

*The Proktor wasted no time and followed the path, only hesitating when he first came to the edge where the path began. Every heavy step brought a warmth through him, the areas where he stepped turning a different colour each time. In this aether he saw faces of hundreds pass on and through clouds of smoke and over distant islands.*

*Soon he came to a stop, amidst the ruins of a city suspended in this plain forever in perpetual destruction, “Where am I?”*

*Another voice rang out, “Where we began.”*

*A chilled wind blew through his hair as he pressed onwards in search of this new voice. Instead of a voice or Kukulkan, he found a battle locked forever in time. Before him were ancients of the Emperor, a band Thunder Warriors, and at their sides were men and women running rampant. This horde of humans had snapped chains and ropes about their dishevelled and tattered bodies, they held a horrible fury in their eyes as they were trapped in this state of butchery upon soldiers and what appeared to be humans of high social stature.*

*In the distance the city ended and jungle began, continuing on the Proktor would find himself being approached by another voice from amidst the damp and dense foliage of the jungle, “Liberation has its costs.”*

*He saw before him appear three Thunder Warriors executing a group of the once bounded men and women, “What was their crime?” He would as he passed between the behemoths.*

*“Break an oath,” the voice faded as another entered, “and you will pay its price in full.”*

*With the voice melding to another, the realm would buckle in the Proktor’s eyes. The trees and bushes blended together in a mush as the ground became fire, the figures before him became visages of his brothers; Bruk, Garro, all of them appeared to howl through the air as he fell to a knee. His breaths became heavy and laboured as he knuckled down, sweat poured from his body onto the ground as if it were raining only over him.*

*His head pounded like drums, drums, all he heard were drums. Pounding eternally and frequently all around him, he looked everywhere, far in the distance on the horizon of an endless plain he saw warriors dancing amidst a rain of blood; playing their instruments as if they were at peace, as if they weren’t without skin and sense.*

*He wanted to follow them but could not. He felt a hand upon his shoulder, looking, he found Kukulkan in his human form still wrapped in flames and covered in obsidian scales. The Ahau helped him to his feet, “This is not your path to take.” His smile brought the glow of the sun before the Proktor, “Let me show you who I am, who we are.”*

Amidst the melting world within this kaleidoscope aether, the Proktor was guided by Kukulkan. For what seemed like days the two would travel from island to island in the vast and endless ocean of nothing. Upon these islands were the Ahau and since dead enemies and brothers of Kukulkan, here for they had all had their blood tasted by the Ahau that led him onwards.

By the end of what felt like a month, the Proktor would find Kukulkan fading away from him upon the last island. This island was made of sand which, alongside the Ahau, faded away into the aether. For all his attempts to escape it, the Proktor would fail, himself falling into the bleak emptiness below.

Though he had expected never to see light again, when he opened his eyes once more the moon shone upon him like a great beacon beckoning him to rise. As he did, he would see that around him were the dunes of the desert, in his state he had wandered far from the tents of the Maiyona and found himself alone in the desert, or so he had thought. As he turned from his view of the moon he would come to find that the four marines from the tent had been with him all along.

After a moment, without a word being spoken, he would begin to walk towards them, to which they would walk as well in order to return to the siege lines. After a few hours, with the arrival of dawn the five would return to the encampment. The Proktor would speak with Kukulkan as his armour was returned to him, telling of how he would relay all he could to Bruk.

The two would part ways from here and return to their respective duties. The Proktor would tell Bruk of the events that transpired, informing the Battle-Captain of the Maiyona to the best of his abilities. Throughout the coming days he would act as a gateway between the leaders and officers, ever more indulging in their language as the week passed whilst the operational plans were built and worked on.

*Banners flew in the wind as Bruk made his way down the line of men in gleaming armour. To his right and left were, respectively, the Proktor and a younger Nathaniel Garro. Bruk had selected Garro to be the successor to the 7th Company should he or the Proktor ever fall in battle. The three soon found themselves at the end of the company line as the entrance to their battle lines as the Auxilla forces funnelled back through.*

*“They retreat so fast.” The Proktor said as he saw the mass of men push themselves up the slope into the earthworks.*

*“As they were ordered to.” Garro said, looking at him from a slight incline which put him to almost eye level with the giant.*

*“Garro is right, they were ordered to give up their assault, it was a waste of resources for them to push against the walls like they were.” Bruk said sternly, “The Emperor needs all of his troops for the coming campaigns and for them to die here in the Atlan would be less than pathetic!”*

*“When shall we begin the assault ourselves then?”*

*“When Sol falls behind the mountains and Luna rises at our backs. We do, after all, need to keep to the namesake, eh?”*

*The three chuckled amongst each other, as he stopped, the Proktor looked to the mountain citadel in the far distance. While the three stood at the precipice of the earthworks entrance, the general of the Auxilla forces approached, “You are the leaders of the Raiders, yes?”*

*“Of the Dusk Raiders 7th Great Company, I am its Battle-Captain. My name is Sarthel Bruk, to my right is my second in command and to my left is our auxiliary, should we both fall.”*

*The general bowed and then knelt, “I am General-at-Arms of Force Occidente, Lon Gui, and I lead its loyal soldiers.” With this the man looked up to the trio of steel giants, even through the yellowed glass on his visor caused by the Atlan sandstorms, he could see them clearly in their power, “I wish to apologise my lords, for my and my men’s incompetence. We could breach their defences only so much.”*

*Bruk, to the surprise of the general, knelt down as well, “You need not apologise Gui, the Emperor is pleased with your aptitude and actions this day. We will be the ones entering from the breach your brave soldiers made. The Emperor needs you in strength, you and your men.” Bruk put his hand on the shoulder of Gui, “Go with your men and tell them to take their defensive positions until I order otherwise, your advances are over.”*

*Standing, Bruk turned to Garro and the Proktor as Gui nodded and returned to his men, “I hope you two, in time, come to follow such an example. Remember that we were made for two reasons, my brothers; to be the greatest soldiers in the universe, and to be protectors of humanity, their swords and their shields.”*

*Garro nodded, showing that he would follow such a path in his future. The Proktor looked upon the swelling horde of soldiers still funnelling back once more, then to Bruk once more, Indeed, it will be in my mind, brother.”*

Upon the earthworks of their positions the three remained for a while longer before, as Sol began to fall however, they made their way back to their central command bunker. Upon arriving the trio call forth the high ranking officers from across the 7th, ordering for a final briefing before the assault. The briefing would last only an hour, however by the end of it every officer would know their place and role in the assault. Thus, as the officers left for their designated units and positions, the trio would exit as well and make for their own position at the head of the assault.

Bruk, Garro and the Proktor found themselves in the recon trench at the head of the earthworks as Luna began to rise above Ascension. From this position the call to advance at march would be given out and within seconds the 7th would begin the slow and steady advance forward. Onward they went, passing along ruined buildings and ancient wrecks of ships and military vehicles; over temporary trenches and the fallen Auxilla forces of the assault before. Their figures all shrouded by the great shadow of the citadel upon the mountain before them, the marines of the 7th Great Company were like wraiths come to haunt the battlefield over.

An hour passed before the marines reached the openings in the lower wall, untold hundreds of Auxilla and their machines of war dead and burnt out at the mouths of these holes. Quickly small assault teams were assembled and began to scale the wall at speed with the goal of silencing the battered renegades positioned upon it. One by one the assault squads cleared the wall of rebels, with success atop the wall new assault units were formed up and rushed in via the holes in the base of the wall. These new units would raid the barracks and buildings inhabited by the rebels in the outer ring of the citadel; they would be led by a small elite cadre commanded by the Proktor himself.

While the Proktor led the raiding force Bruk would split the remaining forces between Garro and himself, with the main bulk being led by him towards the second wall whilst Garro and his force acted as a lightning support unit in reserve. After receiving his men, Garro would order an area of defence be enforced around the entrances through the wall for the next phase of the assault.

*The steel doors to the hab block opened with ease as the severed hand of the guard outside fell to the ground with a wet slap. The cadre entered silently, their blades gleaming in the luminescent lights of the building. Entering behind them and wielding the warscythe, “Ernte der Trauer”, which he had claimed within Thoros; the Proktor would command the marines to begin the slaughter within. Room by room, level by level, the cadre and their leader cleared it with a deadly and eerily silent precision.*

*With the building cleared, the cadre made their swift exit and rallied around the Proktor for the next move. Moving himself to the head of the group the Proktor knelt down, his warscythe acting as an armrest of sorts, “Our next target is the shelled medical centre and the ruined hab blocks adjacent to it.”*

*“Should we expect any sort of special resistance within?” Enmar Lan, now the cadre’s best swordsman, asked as he looked to the Proktor*

*“No. The soldiers were relocated elsewhere after the shelling. All that would be left are the militia guard.”*

*Mercer Phal, now the cadre’s second swordsman let out a laugh, “Worry not Enmar, I’m sure these guards will be enough of a challenge for you.”*

*“A challenge brewing?” Lan retorted as he tightened the grip of Harrower, his power sword*

*“Your challenges will wait.” The Proktor stated, standing and turning for the objective, “We have our goal now and we will take it.”*

*The cadre followed the Proktor through building after building on the road to their objective, meeting no substantial resistance or enemy presence as they went. Arriving before the centre in a destroyed plaza the cadre would split into four teams of two, with the Proktor being followed by the apothecary of the cadre, Seran Zod. They would be the ones to first enter the medical centre.*

*As the forces divided, the Proktor and Zod made their way into the centre through an opening that had been blown into the corner of the building. Clearing the first room with no resistance, the Proktor would enter the adjacent room to find an opening leading into the ground.*

*“Zod.”*

*The apothecary came to his side, “Brother.”*

*“Look.” The Proktor would say, gesturing his warscythe to the bottom of the pit*

*Zod took a knee and looked down into it, “They appear to have been civilians.” He said as he scanned the bodies and the area around them, “I see no signs that the shelling caused this.”*

*The Proktor grunted, the stench of their blood granting him visions of their fates, “They kill and rape even their own with such little remorse. I still wonder why Bruk insists we can’t just breach the damn walls and cut them all out to a man.”*

*“Battle-Captain Bruk has his own ways of war.” Zod said standing, “I imagine he doesn’t do it out of pure mercy, I’m sure the Emperor’s judgement will be ten times worse than anything we could give unto them.”*

*“Let it be so.”*

The Proktor and Zod would continue their clearing of the centre in good order. Meeting no resistance, say for that of a small three man group, the pair eventually made it to the roof. Here they would make contact with the other cadre duos who had made it to the roofs of their buildings as well.Coming down to regroup in the plaza once more, the cadre headed for the final point that Bruk had ordered them to reach.

Arriving at the rally point, the Proktor ordered his raiding force to form together in their lines. With the raiders in good order, the Proktor consulted each officer himself for any information they had gathered. With this done, the cadre closed ranks themselves and stood to the side as the Proktor met with Bruk and the messengers sent forth by Garro.

*The Proktor stood before Bruk and the messengers, “Speak.” Bruk said bluntly*

*“All points were cleared, their resistance was futile, weak at its strongest points.”*

*“Problems with civilians?”*

*“Long dead. Like this city.”*

*“I see.” Bruk looked to the leader of the messengers, “Gert, speak.”*

*“The Maiyona have reached the wall and wish to advance.”*

*The Proktor looked to Gert, “They’ve already advanced?”*

*“Kukulkan.” Bruk sighed, something under his breath losing itself to the wind, “Go to them and tell them they should advance now, we are preparing to open the gates. Inform Garro that he is to move forward with the rest of the company as well.”*

*Gert nodded and turned, leaving with his men. The Proktor looked to Bruk, “What now?”*

*“We will need to make stage three faster, I had planned for the Maiyona to arrive then, not now.” Bruk began to walk, “Come, we must ready the men for the new plan.”*

With the plan now needing a revision, Bruk called his officers present together for a meeting. During this meeting Bruk would outline his new plan. The marines would perform a  lightning assault on both sectors before them, opening the way for the main force to crash against the rebel citadel at the peak. In the midst of this briefing, Garro and his men would arrive as well, being filled in on the plan as well as the officers trickled in.

As the last of the 7th’s captains was briefed, the Maiyona arrived. With the arrival of the Maiyona the 7th made their way into battle formation before the wall. Kukulkan met with Bruk personally as the Proktor made for his cadre. Reorganising his raiders into their lines, the Proktor handed them over to fuse together with Bruk and Garro’s forces, as he and his cadre had their own mission ahead of them.

The cadre scaled the wall where the forward assault forces had advanced and prepared to drop off onto the other side. Their mission now would be to infiltrate, mark and sabotage enemy fortifications and communications by any means necessary.

Dropping down from the wall, the cadre would push on past the first rank of the vanguard and shift silently into the dark once again. They had exactly an hour to accomplish their goals, an hour before the gates would open and the marines would advance without remorse. Their first target would be the Canard Battery, a row of artillery bunkers which were placed in the shadow of Akob’s Ascent.

*The red light blared like a siren amidst an ocean of silence as the door opened slowly. The console turned off with the cut of a wire by Phal, the light soon following it.*

*“Falk, move in.” The Proktor said as he stepped forward, “I’ll handle the guards.”*

*Huron Falk, the cadre’s heavy bolter carrier entered, ready to deploy the charges he’d been given to plant. As the Proktor entered behind him Phal, “I shall keep watch here and ensure the others do not alert anyone.”*

*“No.” The Proktor stated as he gripped his warscythe, “Follow Falk, he will need protection.”*

*“As you wish.”*

*Phal and Falk would make their way towards the ammo store and gun whilst the Proktor headed for the small guard station attached to the bunker. Approaching the small steel door, he heard laughter and talking from within. He came to a stop, peering in he saw seven men accompanied by what appeared to be their prisoners.*

*He sneered, watching the men toy with the men in bondage by pushing them about and beating them. Wasting no more time he entered fully and, with one swing, decapitated five of the soldiers. In an instant he was upon the closest, throwing him against the ground and crushing him with ease. The last attempted surrender but was felled by the bloody warscythe as well.*

*“Hmpf.” He looked to the three prisoners, they wore not the cloth of the Auxilla, but that similar to those who had been laid low in the medical centre, “When I loose your chains, you will run far and fast towards the lower wall. When they tell you to stop, do not hesitate, there will be no second chance.”*

*He snapped the bonds with his warscythe, following them out of the room in their escape. He however, would turn and head towards the gun position. Arriving he would find Falk attaching the explosive to the barrel of the gun as Phal gazed out of the bunker opening.*

*“See something Phal?”*

*Phal would turn his head to look upon him, “Looking to see if I could see the others in muster.”*

*“Well, can you?”*

*“No.”*

*“Good. That means the rebels can’t either.” He turned his head to Falk, “Is it done?”*

*“Aye,” Falk would say as he put in the code on his dataslate, “we can move on now. Four more explosives in the pack.”*

*“Two more batteries, let us hope for Ambros and Melios on their objectives.”*

*Phal let out a laugh as he stepped away from the opening, “Those two can handle anything, we should be fearing for Zevon if anything.”*

*“Zevon is fine, the observatory wasn’t manned by many guards anyhow.” Falk said, “It is best we go now.”*

*“I agree.” The Proktor said as the three made their way out, “Let’s get this over with.”*

The Proktor’s trio would move on, planting and clearing out their designated targets. Finished with their objectives, the Proktor’s men once more unite with Zod’s trio and move to meet with Ambros and Melios. Dodging roaming patrols and weary eyes of the rare civilian that would be looking out a window or doorway.

Arriving at the rally point next to the gate of Akob’s Ascent, the groups would join together and continue on to the observatory of Heln to fully regroup. The cadre would fully regroup just in time for the secondary gates to be raised. With the Maiyona Clan horns blaring and their brother marines fully advancing up the slopes, the descent into combat would begin.

Falk and Ranovar Seph, the missile carrier of the cadre, would begin the countdown on the planted explosives as the gunfire and battle began. Flares ignited in the sky, floating and falling like shards from the sun come to Terra. The cadre would take shelter in the observatory, knowing not only that they would have to hold the position from incoming rebels, but also knowing that as soon as the explosives were detonated, that the bombardment would begin again.

Alarms and sirens blared, soldiers rushed from barracks and civilians sunk away into their homes seeking shelter and safety. As the countdown timers reached their end, the sector was rocked as ammo dumps and command centres were swallowed in torrents of fire. Not but a mere minute later, the artillery bombardment would begin in absolute fullness, immolating entire areas of the second and third sectors in smoke and fire as rockets and shells pounded the ground with no remorse.

*Ambros and Falk had their position set, Seph Melios and Zevon awaited the order from on high as the Proktor stood in the middle of the hall, flanked by Phal, Lan and Zod. They all stood in silence, waiting, waiting for the rebels to take a knock at attempting to enter.*

*“Footsteps.” Remarked the Proktor, “Many, at least ten moving fast.”*

*Lan gripped Harrower and drew it longways down his chestplate, “Let us bring the rebels to heel here.”*

*Phal tightened his hands around the hilt of Blight-Scourge, the large power sword he had obtained in his trails, “Ten heads to roll at our feet, first blood to the finest!”*

*The Proktor blocked their banter out for a moment, attempting to reach out and see what was truthfully coming at them. Before him he did not see rebels approaching, but he instead saw civilians attempting to seek refuge in the observatory as it was undamaged in the moment. Seeing this he snapped away from his position and made for the barred door, “Civilians approach, not soldiers.”*

*Zod shifted from his position as well, coming forward to aid the Proktor in opening and unbarring the doorway. As the doors were opened a group of men and women who were carrying bags and children rushed in without a care as they made for the main hall. Multiple collapsed in exhaustion upon the floor, dropping whatever they carried as others fell to their knees and looked over themselves and each other.*

*“Zod.” The Proktor said as he closed the doors, only blocking on and leaving the other slightly open, “Go.”*

*Zod nodded as he made for the civilians. Phal and Lan approached as well, their blades sheathed as they attempted to speak to the group, “Are you well? Hurt anywhere?” Phal asked bluntly as he stood over one of the women who cradled a baby in her arms, “The child?”*

*Before the woman could have a shocked reaction Zod bade him off and towards the door alongside Lan as he approached the woman as well, “Worry not.” He said as he took his helmet off and knelt by her side, “Let me see to you and your babe. I am Seran Zod, a doctor.”*

*Phal and Lan joined the Proktor at the door only to see another group approaching, “More civilians, sir?”*

*“No.”*

*Lan and Phal unsheathed their blades once more, “How many enemies sir?”*

*The Proktor tapped the blade of his warscythe against the door, “Four, they appear to be following them.” He said, gesturing towards the civilians.*

*“Are we to wait here for them to enter?” Lan asked as he saw them gaining ground up the small incline.*

*“Bruk would be livid if he found that I allowed them to get so close. Go out and slick the cobble with their blood.”*

*Phal and Lan nodded and with no further hesitation launched out and towards the advancing troops. The Proktor would turn and approach Zod and the civilians as the other marines reorganised their positions in the hall. Zod was still kneeling as the Proktor appeared by his side, “Report.”*

*Zod did not look at him, “She is dead. Bled out from shrapnel wounds, the mother has gone as well.”*

*The Proktor looked down to Zod, seeing that he cradled the child in his right arm whilst his left held onto the mother. He looked towards the other civilians and away from Zod, “The others may need you as well.”*

*“I know.”*

*“Indeed.” The Proktor said as he turned and made his way to Ambros and Falk’s position on the now far side of the hall.*

*Arriving he would find that the two had already set up the gun placement and new fortifications. Ambros would approach him, “What will we be doing with them.” He asked in his usual brunt, flat way.*

*“I need a separate room fit to accommodate the civilians. There may well be more that show.”*

*Ambros nodded as he turned and led Falk on into a side hallway in search of a suitable location. The Proktor watched them off and turned once more to the group. The child lay atop her mother on the floor, Zod’s helmet beside the mothers head. He let out a sigh, his indifferent face blocked by the helmet as he saw Zod laying yet another child atop a man who lay next to a woman.*

It would be an hour more before the first wing of the 7th’s assault would reach the observatory. Within this hour another two hundred souls would come to find the building as shelter, the cadre their defenders, their light in the burning dark. Assaults had been thrice repelled by the marines, the slopes surrounding the building running crimson with the blood of soldiers who would see the building cleared and used as a tower to do battle from.

The advancing marines would enter the building, seeing that too in the hour almost all those who had sought refuge within had been laid low by wounds sustained. The cadre would release the remaining survivors unto the reinforcements to be taken away to the command centre, a total of only thirty two would remain to be sent back. Before the cadre would depart, Zod would leave his helmet with one of the surviving children with no comment from his brothers in the cadre or the marines who had relieved them.

The cadre would join together with a band of Maiyona warriors, their combined group would split once more from the main force and enter the battle as a dagger in the side of the rebel force. Bruk would have this group slice up the side of Akob’s Ladder as the main gate was assaulted, they would not only sabotage the defences where they could, but would also be the first to strike the rebel command centre in the lords personal keep.

With the artillery now pounding the area behind the Gate of Maena, the marines would begin their climb. They would scale a portion of the wall untouched by artillery and unmanned by soldiers who had now been concentrated on the gate proper. After scaling the wall, the marines would set about entering the upper levels of the city and citadel itself.

Crossing streets, passing along and through alleyways and dodging hurried troops the marines would eventually come upon their first target; the Tower of Amonson. The Tower of Amonson acted as the rebels forward command centre, armoury and barracks for the soldiery; it was a platform for supplies, artillery and flak guns which had before and were now pounding the advancing Imperial forces. Their main goal would be to shut down the flak and artillery batteries to enable the Auxilla artillery guns to move forward, from this they would then use the skyrail attached to the tower and citadel to make their way into the keep.

Though they had tried, their passing through the shadows would be foiled as a lost unit of soldiers would find them as they attempted to find their way. Though the soldiers were torn apart where they stood by the marines, it was too late as the soldiers had used their communication devices to report to the unit command before being felled. With their position exposed, the marines made a dash for the tower, cutting down any in their way.

Through the carnage they went, blood flowing like an ocean riptide in their wake, indiscriminately they hacked, slashed and threw any and all before them out of the way; even those who held no weapons, those who wore not the drab of soldiers. By the time they reached the tower's base, only three of the Maiyona and all of the cadre save for Zevon came together.

While saddened by the loss of one of their own, the cadre moved on with their cousins from the Maiyona. Pressing on with advantage, the marines came to find themselves battering quickly regrouped greenhorns of the militia being deployed before them. With ease these troops were brushed from their path as they made their way up the tower. From platform to platform, stairway to stairway and hall to hall they fought like rats burrowing out of the way of a wildfire gone rogue.

Coming to the artillery and flak decks, the marines set themselves upon the defenders. Without remorse they slaughtered the crews and guards, the Proktor himself throwing off scores of men alongside their artillery pieces. Soon the decks fell silent of cannon fire, only being racked by hails of petty laser and ballistic fire that barely scratched the marines. With the first step of their mission complete, they would make for the rail station with great speed and violence.

*Arriving in the hub, the marines forcefully commandeered the railcar that rested in the station and set off for the keep itself. As the car came to rest in the opposite station the marines would exit to meet face-to-face with the last line of defence propped up by the rebel lord.*

*The doors shuttered open and out they ran, before them were rockcrete bunkers and barriers made of scrapped and rusted metals. Within and behind them, arrayed in lines were the best of the rebel soldiery, they wore purple linen to mark them as higher and better than all other soldiers. But as the marines charged their lines, their blades swinging and guns blazing, these immortal beings who held so much power felt their knees buckle and pants wetten as they felt fear.*

*“They insult us!” Phal yelled as he tore apart the barrier before him, cutting down five men in his way, “I’ll have the lords head myself for such a slight!”*

*Lan strode forth and brought an officer and his men to heel, sending their heads rolling, “Is there weight behind your words Mercer, or will it be yet another moment like in the trials?”*

*The Proktor and Ambros pushed forward between the two and the barrier before them, “Should we find the lord,” Ambros took a soldier by the head and slammed him against another, killing both, “Battle-Captain Bruk has said we must take him alive.”*

*“Ambros is right.” The Proktor said as he slew another score of men, “He must be taken alive unless otherwise said.”*

*Phal let out a sarcastic weep as he spun round through a group of soldiers, sending them all to the ground in ribbons. From this opening made by the four marines the rest would follow, pushing onwards down into the halls which led away from the station. With the elite soldiers in tatters the marines had barely any resistance ahead of them, though as they reached a crossroads in the halls the Maiyona volunteered for reconnaissance.*

*Xelha, the officer, went down the right hall whilst Muun and Wayak, the last two marines who had survived the dash towards the tower went straight and to the left respectively. While those three scouted the halls ahead the cadre would reinforce their position in the case of soldiers passing through for the station. After putting up their defences, soon Xelha and Muun would return as the sound of combat drew closer to the tower and keep.*

*“Wayak’s still gone out.” The Proktor said as Xelha came to him, “What did you find?”*

*“Nothing. By the looks of it, brother Muun will say the same.”*

*The Proktor sighed, “Then this means that Wayak found the way.”*

*Muun approached, “I found no great hall, however I did disable a large gun battery.”*

*The Proktor and Xelha nodded in unison, “I will inform my brothers, we’ll leave at once.”*

*As the men moved from their position and down the left hall they would soon find themselves face to face with abominations of flesh that stood a league above them. First to combat would be Ambros who, with his hands, would crack open the head of one of the abominations, sending it reeling in pain to the ground for a moment before it rose again.*

*The Proktor and Xelha would launch forward together, taking on five of the beasts as the others would slowly move to encircle them. The Proktor would bring his warscythe up one of the abominations, splitting it open from groyne to head. As it stumbled backwards he pushed the advantage, kicking it down and stomping its head as he then swung right to the next abomination. Planting the blade of his warscythe deep into its hunched back muscles, he would pull back towards him, causing its arm to fall limp as it howled in grotesque pain.*

*Soon enough the marines had forced the remaining ten abominations into a circle, jabbing and hacking away at the mindless creatures as they attempted a breakout. While trapped and prodded, the abominations were still formidable, this being seen clearly as while commanding the men, the Proktor would be taken to the ground by one.*

*As the beast relentlessly smashed its fist against his helmet, the Proktor attempted to hack away at it but found his arm stepped upon by the thing's hulking leg. As his situation reached critical however, he would find safety in Zod as the apothecary launched himself forward in a fury. As the apothecary’s blade struck true between its spinal cord and throat, the abomination would reel in pain, allowing the Proktor to take its arm off with his warscythe as he stood up once more.*

*With their attempt at a breakout now dead in the water, the abominations were hacked apart where they stood. Swiftly moving on from this they would round yet another corner to find the savaged body of Mayak.*

*The Proktor stood before him alongside Xelha, “It is a shame he went in such a way.” He said, looking down the hall still, “Damn beasts.”*

*Xelha made no movement, “He was coming back, he had found something.”*

*“How can you tell?”*

*“The way he’s facing, and his weapon is undrawn.”*

*“Hmpf.” The Proktor looked to the walls for anything, “I can believe it only for the blade, his direction means nothing in such a state.”*

*Xelha did not answer.*

*After a moment more of peering about the Proktor would turn to face Xelha, only to be met with him feasting upon the blood and flesh of Wayak. He took a step back for shock had gripped him in it, “You gnaw upon your brother's bone?”*

*Xelha did not answer until he finished chewing the flesh, “All brothers know what becomes of their body upon falling.” He stood and put his helmet on, “We see through their memories, and in Wayak’s I see the path of a fool.”*

With the trail of the lord now found, the marines would resume their search in earnest. After wandering the halls and casting down the occasional guard patrol, they would soon find the great plasteel doors of the lord's high chamber. Breaching it with sheer strength from Ambros, the marines would enter to find a sight of horrific combat.

The guards and soldiers were strewn about like animals in the aftermath of slaughter. The bodies were mangled and eaten with barely any sign that they had once been men other than the cloth that clung to some pieces. The lord and his commanders were nowhere to be seen until further investigation led the marines to a side room. Within would be the lord and his three commanders.

*They clung to each other like children alone in the rain, their garments soiled and soaked in the same manner. Phal and Lan laughed amongst the two of themselves as Zod knelt before them, “Are you injured?” He would ask.*

*It was a moment before one spoke, “N-no.” Said one of the commanders, his eyes wide and shooting straight towards the far wall.*

*Zod nodded and stood, turning to the Proktor, “They are in heavy shock. By my estimation, the beasts weren’t exactly a complete idea.”*

*The Proktor shook his head, “Fools.” He looked to them, “Get them up, we’re torching the room.”*

*Melios and Ambros took the men up and set them forward as the marines went to leave the room. The marines would retrace their steps to the fortifications they had set up, leaving the rooms in ruins behind them with the aid of explosives provided by Muun. Upon returning they would find not only the spearhead of the advance waiting in their old position, but also Zevon. Here, the prisoners would be handed over as the Proktor would lock hands with Garro for the first time since the battle had started.*

*The cadre now complete again, they would bid farewell to their Maiyona cousins. Leaving the keep they were now bound for the command centre and Bruk to give their reports. Passing back down the tower they would exit it to find their shadows looming all the way to the Gate of Maena as the sun rose behind them.*

Having completed their mission with great success, the cadre were held above the 7th as the best of the Great Company. These words of praise sank deep into Phal and Lan who ate the attention up, whilst bouncing off of others like Ambros and the Proktor himself.

With the siege over and rebels put down, the Emperor would send forth a force of marines from the Jade Lions to aid in the “rehabilitation” of the city alongside the Auxilla forces present. Having seen true combat the 7th Great Company would fully join the Dusk Raiders, mustering fully at the spaceport of Tirdura in Albia.

From Tirdura the Dusk raiders would fully launch forward into the Great Crusade. Taking their place amongst the ranks of those Legions and Auxilla forces who had already gone forth, the XIVth would join the VIth in a campaign on the Solar Fringes alongside the forces of the 9th Expeditionary Fleet.

### What Lies Without

*Archives Incomplete....*

-D