Crimson Slaughter - Salvation of Lost Hope: In order to carve out an existence as Renegades, the Crimson Slaughter needed to establish themselves in the most convoluted and hostile environment in the galaxy. To survive, they had to fight off their madness, establish a new homeworld and make strange new alliances within the Eye of Terror. No longer lapdogs of the Imperium, they learned to take what they needed. Although the Crimson Slaughter no longer wished to end their lives on a sacrificial deathquest, there was a very real chance that it might happen regardless. With numbers dwindling from casualties and desertions, their strength was rapidly waning. Their fleet had suffered damage -- several warships were listing from encounters with hostile spacecraft and the monstrous denizens that hunted the void around the Eye of Terror. Desperate to stop the voices inside their heads, the Crimson Slaughter could not tarry long between battles. This left them constantly on the move, forever seeking new quarry to slay so that they could avoid drifting so deeply into madness that there could be no return.Before their excommunication, the Crimson Sabres had been self-sufficient. Like all Space Marines, they were able to service and maintain their arms and fleet. No matter where they were ordered to go in the galaxy, behind them were all the resources of their homeworld back in the Brakatoa System. From Drogsh, and previously Rhoghon, had come a steady supply of genetically-enhanced replacements. The non-stop competition to be accepted by the Crimsons Sabres weeded out all but the most worthy of Aspirants from the feudal kingdoms of their home star system. What the Crimson Sabres could not source from their own system had been provided by the sprawling Imperium. It had been their Chapter's lot to collect a tithe of the most gifted of those pre-screened by the Scholastica Psykana. These were then trained as per the Codex Astartes to one day become Librarians, or perhaps join their psychic choir. To maintain their fleet, weapons and machines, the Crimson Sabres sent likely Techmarine candidates to Mars to be trained in the way of the Machine God, and at need they could call further upon the Forge Worlds. All that was now gone. Kranon and the Crimson Slaughter still had to learn the most basic of tenets for their new existence: to a Renegade nothing is given -- it must all be taken.Years previous, Kranon had been promoted to Chapter Master not because of his considerable martial prowess or tactical acumen, but rather due to his drive. Now, shaking off the malaise of doom that had hung over him since Umidia, he became a force of action once more. He was now Kranon the Relentless, and he was everywhere. Retracing their path to the floating Space Hulk Lost Hope, the Crimson Slaughter began to turn the drifting colossus into a new base of operations. Those not working on the Hulk were sent out to launch horrific raids, to relieve their madness by butchering any victims they could find. Many times the Renegade Space Marines prowled along the shipping lanes that led out of the Eye of Terror towards the Cadian Gate. There they sought prey -- whether dark pilgrims or lost travellers, it mattered not. Upon their return, they would switch places with their comrades -- helping to overhaul the Lost Hope, while their brethren set out to reap their own bloody harvest. It was during this period that the Crimson Slaughter began to leave the Eye of Terror, returning once more to the Imperium, bringing with them red ruin.When warbands of the Crimson Slaughter returned to realspace from the Eye of Terror, they did so to launch a series of minor, yet deadly raids. Some plundering took place during these incursions, but the unstated main goal was for the raiders merely to exorcise the voices that haunted each of them. It was the Chaos Sorcerer Mannon and Veteran Sergeant Draznicht who selected the sites the Crimson Slaughter would attack, for they were both gifted with prescient visions. Kranon insisted that all targets had easy access and weak defences rather than high value objectives. Although they may have been backwater destinations, there were no easy pickings. Even small moon bases were equipped for self-defence and any Planetary Defence Force that was given time to gather and deploy their substantial numbers could prove deadly.These raids were small compared to the genocidal strikes of their entire Chapter of old, but their effect was far more terrifying. This was due, in part, to the strange new phenomena that the Crimson Slaughter observed amidst their massacres. When they materialised out of the Warp, the Renegades were not alone. Their haunting was no longer confined within their heads. Strange and disturbing manifestations followed them as they methodically gunned down every soul they encountered. At first, the Renegades thought the howling laughter or screams of pain were just inside their minds, but they noticed their madness spread outwards from them like a bow wave. Previously, foes had fled before their onslaught -- now some were too frightened to do even that. Lights flickered in their presence, inanimate objects oozed blood or levitated in their wake. With eyes blazing with balefire, they were doom incarnate. In time, these unnatural occurrences would only grow stronger.How long this new routine lasted none could say, but slowly, the Lost Hope inched closer to becoming a protectable base. The Techmarines and their Servitors worked non-stop, never removing their Servo-harnesses. Already the nature of their mechanical skills was altering in this strange new landscape. They found that they could bind the living energies of the Warp into metal. Kranon looked upon his support crew, their betentacled gear writhing like living snakes upon their backs. He would have pitied them if there had been such a thing as pity left in him. Instead he urged them to work faster, adopting whatever means necessary. It had been Kranon's intent to fill many of the large empty holds on board the Space Hulk with prisoners. These could be turned into slaves and Servitors to aid the Crimson Slaughter. There was room to work with upon the Hulk, for it was a mighty size, composed of nearly a dozen different freighter-class spacecraft melded together through Warp-fusion. The problem arose with obtaining prisoners. The Crimson Slaughter were red-handed killers, eager destroyers of men who could readily unleash genocide upon even the most populous of planets. But as slavers, they were less disciplined than Orks, preferring to murder their prey. At best, the Crimson Slaughter could grab plunder after they had slain every living creature they encountered. Although they now had a base of operations, Kranon knew that the Crimson Slaughter lacked the ability to sustain themselves. Even as he debated over the next course of action with the voices in his head, Augurs buzzed and klaxons wailed in warning. As large as the Lost Hope was, it was as nothing in comparison to the enormous voidcraft that materialised alongside it.