The bay was silent, if such a thing was possible on a warship of the Astartes. Even at rest a constant thrum of the active Plasma core vibrated through the steel bones of the vessel, the muffled sounds of crew ratings and hybrid servitors going about their daily rites of maintenance and the rumble of the ships soul, the Machine Spirit all came together to form the near unperceivable chorus of sound that passed as ship board silence.
As warships went the Whisper of Hate was not a large ship, in tonnage she matched a Gladius class rapid response strike vessel but in armament the black clad ship approached the firepower of a fully fledged Light Cruiser, her armoured flanks studded with gun batteries chased in dark brass swept forward towards a hammer like prow that housed the cavernous flight bay in which the group stood.
‘We should attack enforce, our way is not one of infiltration that is the realm of Corax’s pale whelps’ the speaker was a giant amongst the shadows, his form was augmented with a ancient suit of Terminator war plate. Adorned with dark midnight blue ceramite scored with lines of phosphor white lightening motifs his form almost seemed to blend with the shadows cast by the near by Thunderhawks and Stormbirds, the only source of light emanating from the speaker was two slits of blood red light spilling from his warhelms eye lenses and then reflected once again from the polished talons of his lightening claws.
‘Would you prefer we fall screaming from the stars with naught but destruction lain out before us? Sometimes I fear during the great war we may have inducted a son of Angron by mistake’ the second speaker was smaller although only by measure of his Power Armour, his livery matched in hue and pattern but where his Brother bore his claws unsheathed (by virtue of pattern the lightening could not be sheathed a fact the others often made jest of) he wore an ornate combi-melta mag clamped to his thigh and a wide bladed sword across his back. The giant Terminator growled his displeasure at his Brothers comment but made no response.
‘Our Brothers will follow where we lead the way, this world will not fall easily but the seeds of terror we sow will grow in the darkness until all we need do is push the teetering masses over the edge. That is our way, our Fathers way before us’ of the six warriors two stood slightly apart and it was one of these warriors that spoke now, his voice was strained and thick with the accent of their lost home wold.
‘Kargathal is right’ agreed another of the circle, his own armour swimming in shadow but unlike the hulking Terminator and his Power Armour clad brothers at his back and rising above his armoured gorget sat a powerful jump pack, mag locked to his belt hung his pistol and blade both crafted by his own hand.
‘We descend then’ urged the second removed warrior, his voice even filtered through a vox grill seemed to overlap its self and echo with multiple tones and inclinations.
The hulking Terminator moved the shadows lingering reluctant to release him from their grasp, his bloody eyes took in his gathered Brothers and with a single nod he turned to stalk his way into the waiting belly of the nearest Thunderhawk Gunship. Despite his size and the armours considerable weight the movement was near silent, the others fell into step and boarded the transport in silence.
‘We descend’ agreed Brother Xoal as he settled his Tactical Dreadnought Armour into the grav Thrones cradle, a series of pneumatic clicks sounded before he finished speaking.
‘We Descend, In Midnight Clad’
Well, I have my list ready to rock and over the next month or so I will be building and painting my Warband (along side my Legion for the doubles in Jan) so expect lots of updates and photos from me over the coming weeks.