MY ARMOR IS CONTEMPT
MY SHIELD IS DISGUST
MY SWORD IS HATRED.
IN THE EMPEROR'S NAME, LET NONE SURVIVE!

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The vox channel was silent. There was no need for communication if the xenos weren't going to fight back. Maybe they are smart enough to lay themselves on the emperors sword. That was the one interesting thought that crossed Isothon's mind. The teeth of his chainsword hacked through the horse-like xenos creatures. He was in a relatively peaceful state, but then he started to take notice of movements. Most of the aliens seemed to be frozen in shock, but some were wearing armor. And the ones in armor were taking defensive positions.

"Psyker!" Came a shout through the vox system.

The acting commander of the kill-team spun around, his chainsword swinging in a large arc that scythed through several xenos, and saw that the golden armored warriors were in fact pyskers. It was suggested by their preliminary scans, that this world had a very large psyker population but if every one of the golden guards had the power, they would need reinforcements. He also saw an aircraft trying to escape the warzone. It was excessively decorated and seemed to be of importance.

"Shoot it down." Isothon commanded.

Several hard bangs later the carriage-like contraption was falling from the sky in a cloud of burning wood and fabric. The Marine spun and brought his sword down on another group of stock still aliens. Chunks of meat collided with his armor, and a red mist started to form. There was already crimson cloud overhead, but the glint of golden plating was worrying. Suddenly he was enveloped by a dull grey aura, and felt his armor being pulled apart. He looked around to find that a guard had its horn lit up in the same color. Then the grey aura gained a hint of blue as another horn lit up, and the pulling became stronger. The aura gained colors until it was a blazing white light, and the pulling was strong enough to rip of one of his shoulder pads, exposing the weak joints and wires underneath.

"Kill-team! To me!"

Bolter fire left trails in the air as golden suits burst into pieces. The light faded and the acting leader could move again. Isothon's chainsword roared like a cage beast as it hacked through the crowd. The red cloud slowly expanded as continuos gunfire echoed off the buildings. Adamantium teeth chewed through golden armor as the morale of the xenos crumbled. The noise died down as the last of the horses fell, and the kill-team formed up around the palace door. Two marines ready to fire around the corner, and three ready to mow the xenos down where they stand.

"Let us pray." Said the leader as the marines dropped to one knee.

"Without the dark, there can be no light." Isothon led.

"We have purpose." They answered.

"Without the lie, there can be no truth."

"We have purpose"

"Without the war, there can be no victory."

"We have purpose."

"Without the death, there can be no sacrifice."

"We have purpose."

"Without the hope, there can be no future."

"We have purpose."

"Without the loyalty, there can be no one chapter."

"We have purpose."

"Without the Emperor, there is nothing."

"And we would have no purpose."

They all stood, and Isothon hailed the battle barge.

"two heavy bolters, two flamers, one jump pack, and one power fist." He said simply.

Moments later a small drop pod fell from the sky, filled with the needed equipment and ammunition necessary. The marines geared up, and reformed on the door.

"Cleanse, Purge, Kill!" He yelled.

The door flew off the hinges as it was kicked in and the flamers started to melt and blacken the stone interior of the fantastic building. Golden armor melted into burning flesh, and fur ignited in screaming masses of civilian and military personnel. Heavy bolters sent large shells thundering into into the firestorm of His wrath. The jets on Isothon's pack ignited, and the fist crackled with energy. The chainsword roared, and while going without a firearm was a strange choice, killing the Emperor's enemies by hand was giving Him more praise than anything else, in Grimote's opinion.

"Hold fire!" He yelled.

The firing stopped, and in a moment of perfect glory, he saw the xenos dying in dozens. Burning corpses, and maimed carcasses slept together in perfect silence over a bloody, melting crater of blackened marble. The jets on his pack launched him into the hallway at blinding speeds. The whine of acceleration was deafening, and he slammed into the wall above a gathering of golden armor, his powerfist digging into the stone, and holding him with ease. The other marines advanced, flames licking the walls and igniting elegant tapestries, shells hurling themselves down range and exploding inside the bodies of xenos creatures.

"Hold your ground!" Said a female voice as two figures stepped around the corner.

They were both large, about the height of a tall guardsmen, and Isothon recognized them as the matriarchs of this kingdom. One wore shining white and gold, and seemed to be leading, while the other wore pitch black and dark blue, and seemed to be readying for combat. Grimote released his electrified grip from the wall and launched himself forward. He extended his fist, and it connected with a skull made of blue and black armor. Lightening arced from the fingers, through the metal armor, and he was hurled backwards through crackling flames, and explosive shells. The helmet was torn from the face of the xeno, just as his other shoulder pad was torn from his arm by a bolter round. He flew through the door way and skidded to a halt a few feet away from the supply drop. His vision was black as the psychic blast had fried his helmets sensors. The helmet came off, and his vision was clouded from the disorientation caused by the sheer power of the blast.

"Fear of the Xenos, we need heavy reinforcements! Strong psyker presence, around thirty-three percent of the population!" Yelled Isothon into the vox.

He tore off the mangled, sparking powerfist. He ignored the pain of electricity burns as he waited for his armor to release stimulants. Grimote chose two bolters at random, and hauled them into a firing position. He walked forward at the ground eating pace that astartes love, and roared over the firing weapons.

"Fall back!"

The marines backed up as he pulled both triggers, and aimed at the two figures at the end of the long hallway. His bolters added to the beautiful cacophony, as the kill-team slowly backed out of the doorway, and dozens of drop pods fell in flaming glory from the now bright blue sky.

Author's Note

I realize that some instances here probably aren't accurate in terms lore, but I still haven't done much in the way of research. Sorry if it bugs you, but its very likely that it won't get better. I hope you enjoyed reading this.

Winter.