Crimson Slaughter - Into the Eye of Terror: As the voices inside their heads were quelled, the Crimson Sabres looked upon their deeds of slaughter with a rising sense of dread and foreboding. What had they done? What would become of them? After a lifetime of service dedicated to protecting the Imperium of Mankind, they were now outcasts -- hunted refugees. And then the whispers in their heads began anew. Shortly after the massacre upon Demetra, Librarians brought Chapter Master Sevastus Kranon messages intercepted from the High Lords of Terra. It was his worst fears confirmed: the Crimson Sabres had been declared Excommunicate Traitoris. They were now named as Renegades -- a standing order for all forces of the Imperium to open fire upon the Crimson Sabres on sight. Part of Kranon had known such a move was possible, but he had expected an inquiry, not excommunication. If he could only explain -- the acts had been extreme, but necessary. Even as he thought this, Kranon envisioned the faces of those they had massacred. An inner voice, perhaps his own, whispered that the Crimson Sabres' only real hope had been the Imperial bureaucracy overlooking the incidents. Deep down, Kranon knew he could never satisfactorily explain the violence that had overcome his Chapter, or the voices that followed. Inevitably the Ecclesiarchy would brand them as traitors and daemon-worshippers. Now every asset of the galaxy's greatest empire would be turned against them. He was not prepared for the crushing finality of it.Given their location, Kranon knew they would never reach Drogsh before the Imperial forces could. Kranon debated not sending a warning -- Exterminatus of their homeworld would be faster and more merciful than the cruelty that would doubtless descend upon those that remained within their fortress-monastery. Countless Chapter Serfs, Servitors, half-trained Scout Marines and more would be put to death by the Inquisition. Kranon thought of the old Veterans hardwired into the moon's defence guns, and the Scout Sergeants with whom he had long served. Violent death was an expected hazard for any Space Marine, but all had hoped to fall in battle, serving the Imperium and the Emperor. There was no honour in dying to the fiery blast of a Cyclonic Torpedo. Kranon had vowed to do all in his power to ensure the best for his Chapter. Now, like a weight lifted from his shoulders, he realised he no longer owed anyone anything. Yet he could not be wholly sure if this was his own thought or the whispering return of the hated voices. Already he felt like he could hear them scratching at his subconscious. Regardless of right or wrong, service was ingrained in him, a part of his fibre. Calling for Librarians, Kranon dictated an urgent message to be sent to Drogsh. In essence it read flee if you are able -- to remain on the planet or the old moon bases of Rhoghon, or to be affiliated in any way with the Chapter, was a death sentence. Whether they escaped or some other fate befell them, Kranon never knew. Bereft of sanctuary, the Crimson Sabres would now be hunted without mercy.After sending his message, Sevastus Kranon called together a Sword-meet -- a gathering of the Chapter. In the great Sabre Hall of the vast flagship Red Honour they gathered -- rank after rank of Battle-Brothers, bonded by vows and wars uncounted. All looked upward to Kranon, for they hoped to hear words of salvation even as unbidden voices began to once more echo inside each of their heads. Kranon spoke -- he spoke of the physical pain they had endured as new organs were implanted into their modified bodies. He spoke of their commitment, he spoke of the Chapter's honour, and he spoke of the Warp-borne curse that allowed voices to whisper into his mind. And finally, Kranon spoke of the choice that now lay before them. Only through battle and death could the Crimson Sabres rid themselves of the voices that haunted them. It was Sevastus Kranon's plan to steer a course into the Eye of Terror. There, they could attack the hell-spawned Traitors within that forsaken region and no further innocent lives would be lost. They might be branded as Traitors, but Kranon knew they were not. It would be a noble end -- a martyrdom fitting for heroes as in the tales of old. Any that wished to leave the Crimson Sabres could do so now. Beneath the great vaulted domes there was silence as each Space Marine pondered his ultimate fate.With a resounding cry that echoed off the vaulted ceiling, the Crimson Sabres shouted as one, raising their arms in the Chapter salute. They would follow Sevastus Kranon, they would remain in service to the Emperor. They would join him for one final campaign even if that were to be a last defiant charge into the very heart of their foe's realm! Bowing his head beneath the pride he felt swelling inside of him, Kranon dispersed his charges back to their warships and bade them all set course for the Eye of Terror. Yet, even as he did so, there was some other part of the Chapter Master, something deeper -- an almost unconscious lingering voice -- that said he was not leading his men to martyrdom and doom, but luring them. Some other fate awaited them, something far greater than an unmourned death. All journeys through the Warp are prone to anomalies, and the nearer a vessel approaches the greatest tear in the fabric of realspace, the more they feel the presence of the Immaterium pressing upon them. With their frequent travels through Warpspace, all Space Marines have mantras or battle hymnals that allow the warriors to maintain solid mental discipline upon such voyages. For the Crimson Sabres, these intonations were compromised. The swelling voices and whispers left the Space Marines vulnerable, their iron wills besieged by self-doubt. By the time they dropped out of the Warp before the Cadian Gate, they felt as if their very beings were under a barrage, their thoughts intertwining with the voices and suggestions of the slain.