Sergeant Phrix of the Imperial Guard crept quietly through the shattered encampment at Point Phobos in the wan light of dusk. He clutched his lasgun tightly to his shoulder as he led the four guardsmen that comprised his command squad between the collapsible shelters. They had thought they were getting a brief respite, as the Orks and Chaos Marines had retreated from Point Phobos. The battle was now some distance away, where that insane Commissar was leading his armor against the Necrons…
But their respite had been short. The enemy had come as the light waned with the coming of night. They had appeared from nowhere, right in the middle of the encampment. They had stormed the bunkers from behind, slaughtering the men with wicked, barbed blades. The Ultramarines were nowhere to be found. Phrix cursed the genetic freaks that made up the Space Marines. They weren't even true human men anymore…they were genetically altered abominations grown in vats and trained from birth to destroy. All Space Marines were monsters…even those that still served the Emperor.
No wonder half of them had turned to the darkness of Chaos during the Horus Heresy.
A cacophony of throaty roars echoed in the alleyway and the five guardsmen spun around just in time to see a handful of Space Marine motorcycles riding past the entrance. They wore dark blue armor with red trim, the device of bat wings decorating them. Night Lords Chaos Marines. Thankfully, they had not seemed to notice the squad and rode on…looking for game to run down and slaughter.
If they could make it to the west gate, they might be able to find the 801st Cadians, or even the Iron Skulls. Even the crazy Commissar was better than having one's entrails ripped out by maniacally laughing Chaos devotees…
Suddenly they heard a horrible shrieking from above. Five Night Lords swooped down, bat wings extended as they glided down into the alleyway. Their bolt pistols chattered, striking down two of his men. They fired their lasguns but they ricocheted off the armored shells of the Chaos Marines. His last two guardsmen screamed as they were torn to pieces by the cruel, barbed weapons of the Night Lords, blood splattering across the alleyway. Sergeant Phrix had always considered himself a brave man, and he'd proved his courage several times in the face of the enemy. But looking into the gleaming red eyes of the monstrous genetic supermen in heavy armor, while his men were eviscerated before his eyes was too much. He dropped his lasgun and ran. He could hear the Night Lords laughing, "Run! Mortals Run! It makes the slaughter all the more Fun! We so love the chase, and then you're done!"
Phrix zigzagged through the alleys between the temporary shelters, stumbling over bodies as his boots slipped in gore. Around him were the screams of the guardsmen being tortured and butchered by the Night Lords. After an undeterminable amount of time, he realized the sounds were faded behind him, and he was surrounded by a stillness. The sudden silence was somehow even more unnerving. The only thing he could hear was his own rasping breath, and the thundering of his heart in his chest. Night had come, blanketing the world in stygian darkness.
Then there was a terrible wailing so loud he had to cover his ears to keep them from splitting. It was not sound a human mouth could possible make…it was the horrible scream of reality herself being raped and violated, her skin being ripped open so that the putrid malevolence of Chaos could be unleashed upon her. Before him, it seemed as though reality was painted upon a curtain that now fluttered upon a great wind. As the sound reached a crescendo, the fabric of reality tore asunder, parting like a curtain to something…beyond…
Instinctively, Sergeant Phrix scrambled behind a shattered Trojan vehicle, his heart in his throat. Gripped by an unknowable terror, he could not tear his eyes off the unnatural rip in space and time. From the layers of black flame a horde of misshapenthings emerged. First flying abominations shaped like manta rays with round, toothy maws on their bellies and barbed, stinging tails came forth, flapping their "wings" and floating upon eldritch winds. The Screamers of Tzeentch emitted ear-splitting screeches as they took to the air in search of prey.
