Grey Knight
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With a tiny pop, barely audible from the city, a speck appeared in the air. It started falling, appearing to drift through the air like dust. Only a Tineye could have noticed the strange jets of air shooting out the object, pointing it directly towards the phoenix.
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My school device blocks Fandom, so I can't actually join this and help edit. But I could write up more detailed information for guilds like the DA and Newcago, who have literally hundreds of pages in them. And then you guys could add the stuff in. What do you think?
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There's always reporting the individual image. That's what I've done so far. Also, is this a new problem? It's the first time I'm noticing this many spam images on the gallery.
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A charred, smoking power sword swung towards Yzabet's head, humming through the air. Azrael, surprisingly, seemed to have survived the blast, minus one arm and much of her Shardplate.
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"Hurry," Drako said to DeVaan, staring at Hellbent's silent body. "The Blood Angels are facing a full-scale daemonic incursion, over by the Liebrary. They won't last long." Daemonic incursions, here. Storms. He'd thought, maybe, he'd find peace in the Alleyverse. A rest from never-ending war, with Chaos or aliens. And yet here he was- facing a dead Khorne worshiper, surrounded by the Chaos marines he'd thought dead. "While the enemies of the Emperor still draw breath," he murmured, "there can be no peace." He motioned in the direction DeVaan was heading. "Salamanders! Move out!" Azrael looked in horror as the highly volatile, extremely delicate plasma pistol was chopped in half. "Oh, fra-" was all she was able to say, as the plasma pistol decided to explode, and everything went black.
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Azrael flew through the air, her bloody tabbard streaming behind her before she landed in a pile of rubble. She rolled back to her feet, shouting incoherently as she raised her plasma pistol and fired again. Though nearly all of her left side had cracks in it, nothing was broken.
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Azrael grunted, the Shardplate cracking on her side. She slammed Jael aside with her power sword, firing the plasma pistol at Yzabet while she was open. "You're not listening," she snarled. "Isn't that the whole point of your 'order'?"
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Azrael, surprisingly, stepped into the blow, taking it on her (it's hard to tell with power armor) helm, but getting close enough to ram her power sword* into Yzabet's breastplate. "The Shard of Hate is but a plaything to Chaos," Azrael snarled. "And your own god couldn't beat him. What makes you think you have any hope of winning?"
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Azrael (for that was the Chaos marine's name) quickly pulled out a concealed plasma pistol, firing it at Yzabet's head while she was distracted by her memories.
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"Oh, please," the Chaos marine said, falling into stance as well. He was smaller than the other monstrosities seen in the city, with forest-green armor and a bloodstained tabbard. "We both know how much you want to kill me- how much rage you feel at my presence. Don't deny it. Embrace it- become one with Chaos."
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"Have I made you angry, child?"
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"I have lived over ten thousand years, girl," the Chaos marine said. "How old are you? One decade? Two? "And do you think I'm impressed by your 'glowing trick'?" he continued, stepping over the bodies of the spawn marines. "I know what you are, Radiant." He spat the word out, almost like a curse. "Despite what you may think, your kind die just as easily as the chattel you claim to 'remember'."
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A huge Chaos marine stepped from the shadows, calmly walking in front of the fleeing TUBA technicians. Dozens of twisted space marines followed it, spilling from the Alley and pouring bolter fire into the unarmored civilians. The Chaos marine, ignoring the slaughter, drew a rune-covered broadsword from his back. "Come, child," he said, pointing at Yzabet. His voice was surprisingly smooth, given the mutated state of his body. "Let us discuss this city's surrender."
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Drako definitely could not handle it. Despite the (relatively) weak force of the kick, he staggered back, falling to his knee behind a growing line of Salamanders space marines. He and the space marines showed all the signs of having gotten into a fight with God and lost- shattered Shardplate, broken or damaged weapons, and wounded barely able to walk. Despite all this, they were still space marines, and they were armed to the teeth. Bolt rounds, plasma bursts, thermal cannons strong enough to melt tanks- all were fired directly at Hellbent.
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"Me," snarled Drako, ramming his flaming sword through Hellbent's back.
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Inside the TUBA building, technicians rushed around the Terminal, preparing for the imminent arrival of the Stone Soldiers. Boxes were cleared away, ovens were unplugged, and everyone took one last cookie from the jar. The wall next to the nearest technician shuddered, then burst open, throwing rock shards all across the basement. Twisted space marines in black armor swarmed through the hole, coming from a tunnel dug right up to the basement. The twisted marines fired indiscriminately into the room, shouting blasphemous praises to the dark gods, or just screaming in insane pain. Beneath Storm, Mace, Elkanah, and Yzabet, the ground rumbled.
