Two Terras

Templars

Marshal Bellicose stared at the xenos gate, its blue light played over him, disgusting the Black Templar. The xenos artifact was the one thing he hated the most in the Halo Stars. He hated the xenos who writhed below the sight of his fleet, but they did not hide their blasphemy, this thing did. Subterfuge and perfidy where the watchwords of the Eldar, thus was their nature. He looked away from the gate and looked down at the designation of the broken Imperial ship at its feet. Augur scans showed it to be a cobra class destroyer, fleet identity unknown. Though, it had been left greatly intact save for the clear signs of tremendous gravitical strain on the vessel. the Marshal watched as a single Thunderhawk streaked towards the ship, Bellicose turned to his closest brother. Vanguard Veteran Piaz stared back. "What do you think?" Bellicose asked, his voice a harsh monotone. "I think we dally with an ancient xenos gate while greater prey remains. The xenos below are begging for death." Bellicose frowned and looked at the half complete star-map of the Halo Stars. "An Imperial designation, here of all places, warrants investigation. Lest we be killing xenos while traitors strike our flanks." The Veteran sighed and nodded. "So be it Marshall. How fare our brothers 'investigating' the vessel?" 

Sword Brother Morrad did not like this. At all. He hated all there was about this useless assignment. They were only at the very edge of the ripe Halo Stars and already were side-tracked. It was dishonorable at best, downright ridiculous at worst. The Emperor had no glory to gain from such foolishness, Morrad respected the Marshal  but could find naught but error in his current decision. Still, even Sigismund made errors and Morrad found it within himself to forgive the Marshal. After all, this quest should be short. The Thunderhawk hovered within the small hangar of the Destroyer and its ramp clattered open. Heavy Bolters mounted to the side of the craft swept side by side, heralding the arrival of the Sword Brethren Squad with metallic whining. Conus was the first out, his power axe crackling and helm raised. "It is still, the augurs were correct. This vessel is abandoned." Morrad joined his brother's side, and nodded. We continue nonetheless, you have heard the reports come from this spiteful place." Baldros strode in past them both, his chainsword revved loudly and the roar of the weapon echoed in the still hangar. "Don't fall behind Battle-brothers, lest the ghosts come and get you." Baldros laughed and proceeded into the gloom beyond. 

The Templars strode through the halls of the ship in cautious silence, their bootfalls rang throughout the metallic walls like the chime of a funerary bell. Each dull clunk was as a vanguard for the marines, sure to allow anything inhabiting the abandoned vessel knowledge of their approaching salvation. Or doom. Morrad and his men strode through the crew compartments, there was sign of rapid evacuation; ration tins left half open and beds left unmade. "I am sure someone must have been executed for their cot not being in standard uniform neatness." said the youngest of their number, Halbath, his statement producing a chortle from Baldros. "Do not be naive, the crew has most likely been killed. No-one was left to execute or be executed." Morrad scolded.  Halbath fell silent, concentrating on his levelled Heavy Bolt Pistol instead. The Astartes ducked through cramped halls and squeezed through the low cafeteria, Conus cursed as his ceremonial lantern smashed a ceiling light panel, the broken glass shattered like crystal raindrops along the floor. The spectacle drew Morrad's attention but as he stared down at the glass everything...shifted. The glass became liquid and rolled away from the Astartes following some bizarre path away from the confused men. "What in His name?" Halbath breathed, clenching his powerfist tight. They watched the now liquid glass roll away from them down a hallway lined with similar panels. Then all the white lumens shattered in sequence as if something where walking towards them. Its movement made obvious by the breaking of the light panels. "Witchery!" barked Morrad, raising his plasma pistol. The weapon spat vapors of heat before discharging a bright stream of blue light. The entity that approached did not waver in the face of the power the pistol commanded however. Instead it spoke clearly with an accent recognized by all. 

"Astartes" it said in a distinct tone, one of sorrow, hatred, arrogance, and curiosity. "I know your kind, crusaders you are named, but as brutes you are known." The entity seemed to move amidst the shadows, surrounding the Black Templars. "Begone xeno witch, lest you suffer the fate of all those you slew upon this vessel." Baldros roared, stepping forward. His bravery was rewarded by three cafeteria tables launching themselves at him, though they became liquid mid-flight and at the same time hardened to form points. The spears of crystal material slammed into Baldros, but his ceramite armor broke the sorcery and they fell to the ground in shards. "Show yourself xenos!" Morrad demanded, firing another wash of blue plasma into a wall he registered movement along. "I will not reveal myself to you, I recognize your competence in battle." Halbath growled and let loose a salvo of bolt shells into a corner of the room, this time the voice came out as a sharp gasp. Audible in the minds of those present. "Ha! Halbath you have wounded the witch! Go boy, claim your kill." Baldros said, gesturing the younger warrior forward. Halbath charged into the encroaching shadow with a bellow, he was lost from sight to the other Astartes, though his life signs remained active in Morrad's display. The warriors heard loud grunts come from the direction of Halbath's advance and soon the shadows that clouded the room receded into the recesses of the ship. There in a far corner stood Halbath, his power fist clutching the midriff of a struggling Eldar witch. Halbath sneered and tossed her towards the others, she rolled with a sharp crack towards Morrad. 

He knelt and inspected the xeno. It still breathed though Halbath's power fist had broken her spine. "Where have the occupants of this vessel gone?" Morrad said in a commanding tone, his voice raised to rise above her agony. "Your people trespass our sacred ground, they meddled with a device they cannot hope to know. Their fate is to be decided by the whim of powers beyond you or I, Astartes." The witch responded, her lips sealed though she was heard clearly by all. "Are you alone?" Baldros asked, his red eye lenses already peering into the gloomy hallway from which the Eldar entered. "No." She responded, a statement that was proven correct when a sudden vox communique burst across Morrad's display. "Sword Bretheren! Extract immediately, we have contact with several xeno ships." The voice of the Marshal pushed Morrad to his feet, and he looked to his men. All had heard the communication and began to stride to the exit back where they came. Halbath passed the witch before looking down, and casually firing a bolt shell into her head.  

A Battle Barge is often the centerpiece for any Astartes fleet, its turret mounted bombardment cannons meant for orbital strikes to support ground forces, its macro cannons meant more for the same. The massive hangar holds transport craft and strike aircraft for supporting an invasion, in short the Battle Barge appears just like its namesake. A Barge. However, in combat it shows its true power. In the hands of the Legendary Black Templars who live aboard their star faring steeds, the Battle Barge becomes an altar of death. Its compliment of Strike Cruisers and Gladius frigates make the massive vessel even more formidable, formidable enough to render the alien fleet attempting to close with the Venerable Sword doomed. Marshal Bellicose rode with the movement of his vessel. Every roar of the Macro Cannon a sermon, every shell spat by the turrets a prayer. His bridge crew were calm at their stations, they were sanguine in moments like this. Laxity had a heavy price. The bridge was like a chapel, servitors grafted to organs played them with clinical fluidity and precision. Cherubs flittered above the mortal crew, incense belched from vents in their fat bodies. Constant prayers to the emperor blurted out of a Vox Hailer mounted to every corner of the bridge. Marshal Bellicose closed his eyes for a second, it was at moments like these that he was truly at home with himself. "Enemy Cruisers moving for a flank, weapons batteries requesting orders." A gunnery serf said from his station, Bellicose opened his eyes. His eyes played across the tac map. "Target lead cruiser with a bombardment cannon, ready salvo of macro cannon for the one that lagging behind. Set fuses for a deep detonation." The gunnery serf nodded and repeated the order to the cannon decks. Within a minute the shells were spat from the vessel and blew both targets to pieces. Pieces of burning wreckage rebounded off of the indomitable armor plating of the Venerable Sword. Bellicose ran his hand along the tac map, and sneered. "All vessels, enemy flag ship sighted. Adjust attack pattern to target that vile ship. Morrad? I have a new target for you."