Gunshots echoed and missiles whistled under the great mirrorred dome of Jermani , accompanied by the death rattles of those too weak to survive in the hellish new hive. It had only been a short week since the forces ofbthe Lost and the Damned made their move  for the frozen planet. Only a week since the black, twisted battle barges appeared on the gorizon as they came into low orbit above the world. As the seeded cults below tore apart the then unaware PDF and enforcers great metal pods rained from the skies. They shattered the great dome on many places,  horrible wrenching sounds made as the strong homogenous adamentine collided with the steel walkways ofbthe hive,  smashing through bus digs and landing in every part or the once great city.<br/><br/>With the warmth of the plasma sun shining against mirrored glass gone temperatures in the city quickly plummeted into freezing and well below. Ice hangs on every structure and clings to men dead and piled in the streets. Some of these men are in flak,  their lifeless hands still clutching their precious imperial issue las guns. Others are in whatever they could gather,  sigils of chaos marking them along with signs of favor of their dark gods some ofbthese men andbwomen are clearly mutants , some are finely featured hive nobles,  all of them clutch a variety of weaponry from the battered mono edged sword to elegant and beautiful plasma guns weilded by the finely features folk.<br/><br/>The fighting is not done however; transports bring in more PDF and guard as they can from the other cities,  their Aquila pattern tracks crushing the bones or the lifeless below them. The men atop them all have young faces,  pale and gaunt like all the people native to this world. A few of them jump as a rocket soars past their vehicle ams hits a nearby building but as the rubble settles and the smoke clears no real assailant is seen. The young men steel themselves by clutching their issued weapons,  bog standard autoguns stripped of full auto fore and standard issue las guns,  empty prayers on their lips as they head down to the lower hive where all the real fighting is.  Only a cacophony of human suffering,  wails and gunshots greet them.<br/>----------------------<br/>the lower hive was a twisting maze of steel spires and small streets. Gunfire echoes and men can be seen fighting way othetbwith abandon. Bullets graze cover ans las discharges take limbs as people rush to and from. There are many praises to the Dark gods issued and many to the corpse on the throne as well in return.<br/><br/>It was truly a nightmare in the lower hives though. In the small streets and alleys astartes reined supreme,  their ceramite armored forms nightmarish and large in compwrision to they cultists besides them. The most zealous in their destruction are those in black ans gold,  spewing litanies of hate and murder as their Bolters roar and take theblives of surely lesser men. Every now ans then however. There is a corpse of one of these great warriors seen,  armor ruined by leak missiles or melta fire , having taken blows worse than what could fell a tank before expiring.<br/><br/>Currently the biggest center of engagement was a large chapel on the ubderhive. Inside the gothic arches and stained window exterior,  brave men clutched their las rifles and fired upon the massing heretics outside. Bullets slam into thebstone exterior and thanks to the direction of intelligent officers heretics fall ny the dozen before a charge ever reaches the door.<br/><br/>Among them all is a corpse of an astartes,  a odd looking weapon in his hands,  the gauntlets locked upon the exotic,  organically curved cannon in death. The rabble pays no heed to him nor the woman at his side. She seems to be a techpriest,  her small and mousey form clad in the robes of crimson and white trim of the Cult of Mars. However, that is where similarities end,  the omnissian axe at her side,  the cog headed tool and weapon bears the symbol of the Dark Mechanicus,  the half daemon half cyborg head sinister looking as the owner frantically searches for something on the armor. Her face is shrouded by the cowl , bangs hanging in her eyes as the womans hands find the panned she wishes for. From her back,  beneath the folds of her robes a slender robotic arm snakes out,  almost like the tentacle of an octopus except this appendage had three sharp prongs that made it suitable for gripping. They folded back and moved over the pannel , a beam cutting through some locking mechanism before the appendage totally dissapeared once more,  the woman's robotic hand moving to open the panel. It was clear the ark was of unconventional origin, it appeared to he made of some matte grey composite,  too organically rounded ans aesthetic to be of an Imperial design. Whispers urge under her breath,  her vox slurring them as she days her odes to the machine,  seeking to unlock the gauntlets.<br/><br/>Every now and then a low caliber solid round slams home into her,  a solid ricochet heard as the woman continues her arcane work,  the numbers of meat shields around her faltering.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>