The Marks of War

Chapters

Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXVI
Chapter XXVII
Chapter XXVIII
Chapter XXIX
Chapter XXX
Chapter XXXI
Chapter II
Chapter IX
Epilogue
Chapter I

Chapter III

48 hours before Apple Bloom’s arrival.

5 717 999.M41-Arconar

The jungle forest of the Feral world of Arconar was famous for a few things. The first, was that this was the location of the infamous Battle of Arconar; in which, in the year 861.M41, the Ultramarines, led by Marneus Augustus Calgar, fought off an alien enemy, and claimed the planet for the Imperium of Man.

The second thing these forests were famous for was its unspoiled beauty. Nothing could tame those forests, not the bronze axes of the natives, not the bulldozing tanks of the Imperial Guard, not even the flamers of the Ultramarines themselves could stop the forest. Anything that was cleared away, grew back within a few months. At this time is not known whether the plants or the soil itself were the sources of this amazing growth.

The third thing was that the jungles were also incredibly humid. Water constantly dripped from almost every surface, from the leaves of the trees to the boat-shaped huts of the tribal natives. Water permeated the air, to the point where some of the smaller lifeforms simply had gills rather than lungs.

This made the change from Equestria’s cool, temperate climate, to the humid jungle forests all the more obvious to Sweetie Belle.

She was spat out her portal, her hooves catching a thick limb that sent her spinning. “Ow!” She caught a trunk this time, which brought her around like a top. “Ow!” Finally, she landed, face-first into the largest mud puddle she had ever seen.

She lay there for a moment, before pushing herself up. “Ew...Ow…”

As she pushed herself up, out of the muck and grime, she felt the humidity hit. The curls in her mane went crazy and sweat began to soak her fur.

Her sore body groaned as she stood, and she looked into the thick foliage where the sky should have been. “Hello? Hello? Anypony there?”

The only answer was the buzz of a thousand insects, hiding just out of sight.

“Apple Bloom? Scootaloo? Anypony?” She called again.

Again, no answer.

“A-anypony?”

There would be no answer.

---=][=---

“Okay, Sweetie Belle,” she said to herself as she moved through the never-ending mud, hooves schluck-ing all the way. “You’ve just gotta keep going, if you keep going in one direction long enough, you’ll get out of the forest. Once you do you can find directions. Once you get directions, you can find Twilight. Twilight will help. She helped last time we all went through a portal, she can help us again.”

The memory of the last time they had gone through a portal, while a funny memory, provided no comfort. It was during their short campaign to become Cutie Mark Crusader Advanced Quantum Physicists.

They had, with the help of an unwitting unicorn, gathered enough magical energy to create a simple extra-spatial portal.

Or was it an interspatial portal? She could never tell the difference.

After creating the portal, with the help of a few devices that they really shouldn’t have gotten their hooves on, they did a little study and experimentation. This, of course, went badly.

After traveling the equivalent distance of 14,000 miles, and spending 15 bits (promised on the account of not carrying change on them) on a dragon-breath letter to Twilight, they found themselves waiting in Saddle Arabia, waiting for the purple alicorn to arrive.

“It’s just like last time, Sweetie Belle,” she said to herself. “You just need to find somepony, get them whatever they need for the letter, and then go home. That’s all you need to do. You just need to get out of the forest. Just get out of here, and when will this mud end?!”

She screamed at the mud she had been slogging through since her arrival. The wet ground unable to dry for the moisture in the air had provided almost no stability to her march, serving only to slow her down, as well as get her hooves dirty.

She sighed, before a slight smirk graced her features. “Rarity would hate it here.”

A low, deep growl answered her.

Sweetie Belle froze, before she very slowly turned her head to get a look at the thing behind her.

The monster had leaf-green coat of thick, moisture-absorbing fur, making it hard to see as it stood, crouched on a nearby branch, ready to pounce. It’s wide, hammer-like head swung back and forth as the small, u-shaped mouth beneath it opened hungrily, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth inside.

It approached with feline grace, its shoulders high and hunched as it tried to stay low to the ground. Its short, powerful legs ended in wide, stubby paws that promised sharp, flesh-tearing claws and a terrible end by them.

The thing got closer, moving slowly as it stalked her.

Sweetie Belle’s eyes snapped forward, and her gaze began to fly all across the forests, searching for some way out.

Her heart began to beat faster as adrenaline began to flood her tiny body. As her breathing began to quicken and her legs began to shake, her mind almost slowed to a crawl.

“I...I...I need...out...I need out.”

The hammerhead panther gave another, low, satisfied growl.

“I need out,” she thought again, her brain trying desperately to make sense of those three, simple words. “I need out.”

A long, spiny tail that ended in a long, curved barb snaked behind the panther, before slowly rising into the air.

Sweetie Belle’s brain screamed. “I. Need. Out!”

She bolted forward, mud flying up as her hooves came free of the massive puddle.

“Out! Out! Out!”

The panther leaped, missing Sweetie Belle by inches and splashing into the mud. The small unicorn filly leaped away, screaming as she did. She ran forward, up the branch of one of the nearby trees, running up the wood, and spraying mud behind her as she did so.

The panther moved to chase, only to have mud splash into its eyes, and its tail lashed out blindly as it growled in pain.

Sweetie Belle kept screaming, running much faster now that she was out of the mud. Her hooves clacking against the bark. A second after that came the roar of the hammerhead panther.

She ran, still screaming as the panther gave chase. Deeper and deeper into the forest.

She ran, losing all sense of direction under the massive green canopy.

She ran, into the endless forest of Arconar.

---=][=---

Sweetie Belle leaned up against one of the many trees, gulping down air as she rested against the solid trunk. Sweat dripped down her head, limbs, and back as the humidity kept her from drying.

Somehow, some way, she had lost the panther, and now she just had to catch her breath.

She had no idea where she was now. No idea which way she had been chased. Any sense of direction had been totally lost from running underneath the thick canopy. There was nothing that could even hint as to what was East or West. There was no North, no South, just endless trees.

At the very least, she had learned to travel along the interconnecting branches rather than the ground.

She just needed to get out.

She needed to get out.

She just needed to get out of the trees.

Out…

“Okay, okay…” she said, taking another deep breath. “I...I just need to go straight. I’ll get out eventually. I just need to—”

The shrill cry of a massive bird sounded, behind her, causing her to jump forward, and into the undergrowth. The thick brambles and tiny, claw-like branches grasped at her, catching her and scratching along her skin.

It held her.

It touched her.

It stroked her.

She wrestled free, coming loose of the bush and landing on another branch.

She wanted out.

She wanted out so bad.

Out.

She froze, only to realize that she had been running.

She looked back, unsure of where she came from and where she was going to. She had no idea.

She sat down.

“It’s...it’s okay...it’s okay, Sweetie Belle. Everything’s fine...you just need to get…”

Out…

She looked up, into the endless trees. They stood, silent watchers, staring at her with uncaring eyes. Their arms reached to the heavens, offering unheard prayers as they sacrificed her soul. Their mouths twisted in silent cries.

She blinked.

They were trees.

The darkness beyond them was total.

The world around her went silent, making her suddenly aware of the fact that the forest was alive all around her.

Breathing.

Hungry.

It was just so...hot.

It was hard to breathe. She felt like she was being smothered by a thousand blankets, all being forced into her face and around her body.

She couldn’t breathe.

So hot.

Soaked to the bone with sweat.

The forest roared to life. Roaring with insects and crying with birds. The roar of the panther and the growl of the bear echoed in her mind.

“Sh-…”

It was screaming. Filling her mind with words that had no meaning, and meaning that had no words. Her brain began to throb as pins of things she did not understand began to stab into her brain.

"Shut up..."

She shook her head, clearing every thought and trying to take command of her mind again. “Focus. Focus Sweetie Belle. We just...we need...we need to go…”

She looked left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Straight.

It didn’t matter.

She just wanted out.

Out…

OUT!

She ran.

Ran into the undergrowth, where the bushes eagerly waited.

The brambles grabbed at her. They grasped her.

They wanted her.

They needed her.

They thirsted for her.

She was screaming.

Howling.

Running. Howling. Screaming. Panting. Running. Screaming. Panting. Howling. Panting. Screaming. Howling. Running. Running. Running. Running. Screaming. Out. Howling. Running. Out. Screaming. Panting. Out. Running. Howling. Out. Running. Panting. Out. Out. Howling. Out. Out. Running. Out. Out. Out. Out!

Out! Out! Out! Ou—

A hand grasped around her mouth while another picked her up, off the ground.

Her back was pressed against cool, almost plastic-like armor, and a thin, strong, almost spindly hand grasped tightly around her mouth.

A face, hidden by a cloth mask glared down at her angrily, and a voice hissed in her head. “Quiet!”

She stared at him, eyes wide and lucid, before she struggled.

“Quiet, beast!” The thing’s mental voice said again. “You’ve alerted the mon-keigh.”

The thing holding her looked behind him, beyond the tree, motioning with his eyes.

Her eyes followed his gaze, and she saw a number of other, much stockier creatures searching the woods with broad, bronze axes and long spears.

“And they will not be as merciful as I.”

Sweetie looked up at him, fear shining in her eyes, before the thing mentally spoke again. “I will remove my hand, but stay silent, or I leave you to them, understand?”

She nodded, tears beginning to form.

The hand came away slowly, before reaching to an L-shaped thing at his side.

The creatures moved slowly, poking through the underbrush, before one of them spoke. “I can’t see anything, Harth.”

“Then it’s coming from the Dark part of the woods,” another said, pointing with his spear.

“We’re not going in there, are we?” A third asked, holding his ax in both hands.

“Are you crazy? No one goes in there!”

“So what do we do?”

“Nothing! Leave the Dark Woods and its tricks. Let’s go home, tell the chief what’s happened.”

There was a sound of agreement, and the creatures, the mon-keigh, began to retreat back into the forest, and out of sight.

The creature that held Sweetie Belle released a breath. “Ceiba-ny-shak,” the thing muttered under his breath. “You are lucky, you little beast,” the creature said, pulling down his hood to reveal a round head with long, pointed ears. “Lucky enough that I came across you first. Come, we must move from here.”

---=][=---

Oraban was his name, and he was something called an “Eldar.”

A “Ranger” to be exact.

She really didn’t know what that meant.

He was strange and wore a cloak that seemed to melt him into the forest around him.

A ghost given form.

“Save the rest of your questions for now,” he said, speaking into her mind. “I have my own after all.”

“How did you know I have more questions?” Sweetie asked.

“That is a question,” Oraban noted. “I suppose I must make my commands simpler.”

Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes. “I understood you, I was just curious.”

“Keep your voice down,” he said, before adding, “Curiosity is a dangerous thing, besides.”

Again, she rolled her eyes, as she sat in a pouch at his side. “Fine, just ask already then,” she said, quieter than before.

The ranger smirked under his mask. “You amuse me. Now. What manner of creature are you?”

“I’m a pony,” Sweetie Belle answered. “A unicorn, to be exact.”

Oraban raised an eyebrow. “Most interesting. Now, tell me, from which planet do you hail from? I have traveled all across this planet, and I have never seen one of your kind.”

“Um...I come from Equus, is that what you mean?”

The Eldar shrugged. “I am not familiar with that name.”

The Ranger then dropped to a lower branch, holding some strange, blue tube in his hands. “How did you get here then, I must ask?”

“I’m...I’m not sure. There was portal, and we were sucked through it.”

“We?”

“My friends.”

“And they are not here?”

“I didn’t see them.”

“Then they are dead.”

The words were cold, hard, and offered no other option.

They were dead.

It was a fact. A fact as hard and cruel as any other.

“W-What? No. They’re not dead!”

“If they did not come with you, then they either died on landing and if not, then you should wish they died.”

Sweetie Belle gasped. “H-How could you say that?!”

The Ranger turned his head, leveling his stare at her. “If you came through the Warp, and I assure you, you have, and you came without protection, then you are lucky to be alive and untainted. If your friends did not leave it, then they are doomed to wander it. Eventually they will be found, and then their very souls will be tortured and destroyed.

“If they are lucky, that will be the end of it. If not, then they will be turned, becoming monsters and daemons that will haunt the depths of the Warp, waiting to inflict unending pain and suffering on all life.”

The ranger turned his two, brilliant eyes to her as she sat in his pouch. “Hope they are dead. For it is the best thing that could happen to them.”

Sweetie Belle stared up at him, tears in her eyes. “But...but…”

And then those brilliant eyes softened, and he spoke to her with his own voice. “What is your name, pony?”

“S-Sweetie Belle…”

“Sweetie Belle?” he asked. “Such a simple name…”

The woods cried and echoed, alive with the voices of birds and beast alike.

“Sweetie Belle, I swear upon my Craftworld, my home, that I will care for you.”

---=][=---

“A mind without purpose will wander in dark places.”—Imperial Thought of the Day

Another chapter, a little shorter sadly, but Eldar was never my strong suit. I’m working on it, though!

“Working hard!”

Thank you, Pinkie.

“So what’s next?”

Back to Apple Bloom. The Imperium’s going to move forward, and things are going to change.

“Imperium? Change? When was the last time that happened?”

Roughly 10,000 years ago. Nothing big though, just a small thing.

“Hm...suspicious. I’m watching you, Miner.”

Keep watching, this is going to be good.

“That was a little more sure of yourself than usual.”

I finally watched all of Gurren Lagann.

"Ah."

Anyway, we'll see you next time, guys.

"Bye!"

Chapter IV

His name was Lazarus Briehl, Librarian of the Blood Ravens Space Marine Chapter. Not the Librarian that simply sorts books and watches a mere library; nay, Lazarus was one of the Chapter’s powerful psykers. His mind was a weapon that could mold matter, space and time to his will. He could look upon a man with his purple-blue eyes and read his thoughts as if it were a book. And he could read the thoughts of this small xeno with as much ease.

He walked down the halls of the mighty Omnis Arcanum, a ship which spanned 8,510 meters from bow to stern, clutching a cage decorated with paper and wax seals, describing many glorious and powerful litanies of sealing and security. Young Apple Bloom sat in that cage, staring at the darkness of the metal hallways with fear.

Lazarus could feel that fear, and he delighted in it. The small xeno would learn its place under the foot of mankind well with that fear. It would make breaking her all the easier.

But that had to wait. First study.

Knowledge was power, after all.

Lazarus walked open to a door, which slid opened as he approached, revealing a large room, inhabited only by a large machine with a glass tube, and another armored giant.

“Brother Gravius,” Lazarus greeted.

Gravius merely nodded, acknowledging him, but little else. Lazarus wouldn’t hold it against him. Gravius was a Techmarine, one of the few Space Marines that were trained in the use of machines, and the rituals of appeasing a Machine Spirit. Even now, Gravius was applying the holy lubricant to one of the many moving parts of the containment unit. He muttered under his breath as he did so, his ritualistic chanting never stopping as the massive, claw-like arm on the back of his armor held a censer of burning incense.

Apple Bloom looked between the two. The two seemed completely different. While the giant holding her had blue armor, decorated with red, the other seemed to be completely red; and while the blue giant had his face open and exposed to the world, the other wore a helmet, not unlike the giant she had first seen. In fact, after a closer look, the only similarity between them was the black bird logo that sat on their left shoulders.

Lazarus waited a moment or two, letting the Techmarine perform his ritual in silence.

Finally the chanting stopped, and Gravius stood, the large, bulky claw folding down to hang from his back.

“Is the containment unit ready?”

Gravius nodded. “Yes. Brother Kasbiel had offended the Machine Spirit, it only needed to be appeased. It should function perfectly now.”

Lazarus nodded his thanks. “Excellent. I shall begin my inquiry with the xeno then.”

“And I shall leave you to that,” Gravius said. “Do not push yourself, though. This Machine Spirit does not suffer the touch of the Warp.”

Lazarus nodded. “I shall do what I can.”

Gravius nodded, before exiting the room, leaving Lazarus and Apple Bloom alone.

The blue and red giant then approached a pad, covered in runes that reminded Apple Bloom of numbers. He quickly keyed in a series of digits before the glass tube lifted with a hiss.

Placing her cage down in the center of the tube, Lazarus opened it and dumped Apple Bloom into the containment unit. The tube quickly closed down on her, keeping her trapped inside.

“Now, little xeno,” Lazarus said as a different rune-pad slid up to his hand, “you are going to talk…”

“W-What do ya want ta know?” Apple Bloom asked.

Lazarus looked up, halfway surprised. “You speak Low Gothic?”

“Ah speak Equestrian…” she offered.

Lazarus raised an eyebrow, before returning to the rune pad. “Unfortunately for you, however, I did not mean talk in the literal sense.”

Apple Bloom stared up at him, with wide eyes, confused and scared.

He felt both.

“A proper interrogation would take days, even weeks. Lately we cannot afford such a luxury. Besides, this way, we will be able to tell if you are lying.”

And then his eyes burst into purple light.

Apple Bloom’s mind shuddered as a presence rammed into her consciousness. It grabbed at her mind, ripping into her mental walls and forcing its way in.

Images flashed through her mind, dragged up from the depths of her memory. Equestria, Ponyville, Sweet Apple Acres, the farm, her home, her family, and with each image came a burning, mental song that ripped at her very being like a fork.

The song filled her consciousness, drowning every thought and memory with a chorus that threatened to tear her in two.

She screamed.

But she could only hear the song.

The memories were starting to move faster, flying through her mind as the Psyker flipped through her life.

Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, Miss Cheerilee, Diamond Tiara, Silver Spoon, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Fluttershy, Twilight Sparkle, Ponyville Castle, Canterlot, Princess Luna, Princess Celestia, Manehatten, Babs Se—

The images froze, and the song went quiet.

Apple Bloom whimpered in pain.

Princess Celestia shot back into her mind, before a new image, one of a man she had never seen before, shot into her view. He stood, a giant among giants in massive golden armor, and long, flowing dark hair.

Back to the Princess.

The man.

Celestia.

Man.

Princess.

Emperor.

The word smoked in her mind, hissing like red-hot metal dunking in water. It was not from her, the meaning was from the force outside her, the one that was forcing itself in. His mind tied the word to the image of that man, not hers.

The song stopped, and Apple Bloom sucked air into her lungs as she laid on the freezing floor of the containment unit. Frost clung to glass and the machine below her groaned and rattled angrily beneath her.

Lazarus stared down at her from outside the glass, the light in his eyes dying and a headache coming on. Hopefully Gravius would forgive him.

“This makes things difficult…” he muttered.

Apple Bloom shuddered, and curled up into a ball, before a sob racked her body.

Lazarus rolled his eyes. "Silence yourself, xeno. Tears will give you nothing."

Apple Bloom heard him, but she really didn't care.

---=][=---

Lazarus had returned the little xeno to her cage and now carried her quickly to another section of the massive Battle Barge.

His footsteps echoed through the halls as he moved as quickly as he dared to his destination.

This little alien was proving to be quite interesting.

Too interesting.

Dangerously interesting.

This was a matter outside of his area of expertise. He needed help with this.

He chanced a look down at her, and he saw her curled on the floor of her cage, trying not to whimper as dull pain coursed through her body.

He shook the cage. "No crying," he ordered.

She wiped her eyes dry.

She was an odd creature, he decided. A child in her own world, and an outcast at that.

In many ways she was...much like another child he once knew...

He shook these thoughts away as he came up to the door he was looking for and knocked.

It opened to answer him, and a massive, black-armored figure with a skull-faced helmet filled the door frame.

“Brother-Chaplain Baltus,” Lazarus greeted, bowing as he did so. “I need your counsel.”

---=][=---

Gabriel Angelos stared at Librarian Lazarus Briehl for a long time. The Chapter Master's one, living, piercing green eye hardly blinked as he leveled his gaze at the young psyker, who tried not to shift under his gaze.

Chaplain Baltus Imam sat between them, staring between the two.

Apple Bloom sat on the floor, resigned to let these giants determined her fate.

Gabriel sighed. “Tell me again, one more time.”

Lazarus nodded. “I believe that this young xenos is, in her own way, a citizen of the Imperium.”

Gabriel nodded, his face impassive before his massive, armored hands met his face. “And the explanation, one more time?”

Lazarus nodded. “While I was scouring her mind, I came across something very interesting.”

“Another xeno…” Gabriel said.

“Unlike any I had seen before,” Lazarus continued. “She was taller than any other of her kind, and inarguably the leader. A princess, she was called. Princess...Kelastia?” he asked, unsure how to pronounce a word he had only seen in young Apple Bloom’s head.

“Celestia,” she corrected quietly. “Princess Celestia.”

“Yes, Celestia,” the Librarian agreed. “Now, this one xeno was quite powerful, and was credited with raising the sun on this planet.”

“And you said that she actually does raise the sun?” Gabriel asked.

“The evidence does suggest this is so,” Lazarus confirmed. “Which leads me to believe two things, the first is that this xenos is from a different universe, one where the laws of physics that we know and understand do not necessarily apply.”

Gabriel nodded. “Possible, I suppose.”

“The second…” Lazarus paused. “Well, I hypothesize that it is possible that this Princess Celestia is another avatar of the Emperor…much like the Omnissiah of the...Adeptus Mechanicus...”

Gabriel glared at him.

“I brought this idea,” Lazarus added quickly, “as well as the young xeno to the chaplains, to both ask for their guidance, and correction should I be wrong, but...well…”

Gabriel’s eyes focused on the chaplain. “Brother-Chaplain Baltus?”

The chaplain spoke for the first time, his deep voice rumbling through the office. “I and the other available chaplains listened to the young librarian, and upon hearing his description of both the xeno’s power and her personality, spent many hours debating his points. When we finished, we finally decided that what he had said is possible, but ultimately we cannot be sure one way or another. So we looked to young Apple Bloom, and we have found her soul to be pure. Despite her form, her soul is human.”

The Chapter Master turned back to the Librarian. “And the part about her belonging to the Imperium?”

“Well, it’s mostly hypothetical,” Lazarus said, “but if this Princess Celestia is an Avatar, then the kingdom which the young xeno belongs is a part of the Imperium.”

“Which means that she is, by extension, a citizen,” Gabriel finished.

“Provided I’m correct,” Lazarus added quickly.

“Provided you are correct…”

Silence echoed in the small office.

“This does not make the task of dealing with her any easier,” Gabriel said.

“This is why I’ve brought her to you…” Lazarus said. “Her soul is pure, her mind is clear, and her body is strong, yet to send her to a new planet to be a colonist would be the same as a death sentence from the ignorant.”

The Chapter Master nodded in understanding.

“We could keep her here,” Lazarus said, “but I am confident that any serf could do any job twice as fast as her. This is inefficient and therefore unnecessary on that front.”

Gabriel sighed. “Duly noted.”

“Placing her anywhere else in the Imperium would simply bring the Inquisition down on her, along with a painful, pointless death.”

Tears began to form in Apple Blooms eyes. These Giants, these Space Marines, they didn’t care about her. If they did they would take her, keep her in some dark corner of the ship, and do their best to keep her safe instead of just trying to abandon her like this.

She was going to die.

It took every ounce of control to keep a sob from escaping her lips, but she tried.

Tears were not looked upon nicely by the Adeptus Astartes.

Still, Lazarus saw.

He saw, and cursed himself for the pity he felt in his heart.

But the librarian was not the only one who saw.

“If I may, Chapter Master,” Baltus said, speaking up.

Gabriel turned to him.

“I would propose a test,” the chaplain said.

Gabriel’s brow furrowed. “Test? What do you mean, test?”

Baltus held out a hand towards the young pony. “Young Apple Bloom, I believe, maybe a gift from the Emperor.”

Both the Librarian and Chapter Master shot him an inquisitive stare.

“This young one is very brave, willing to stare down a charging Alpha Legion marine, and had the strength to dispatch him, a feat that many grown men are incapable of. She has a strength that even she may not be aware of.”

Gabriel nodded. “Fair.”

“On a side note, I believe that we are still holding onto a malformed gene-seed, correct? One that has not yet been thrown out? What a coincidence...”

And then the confusion returned.

“And the fact remains that Young Apple Bloom is the proper age for implantation.”

“What?!” Gabriel yelled, standing, and Apple Bloom fell from her seat in surprise as her ears started ringing. “You want to implant our Holy gene-seed into a xeno? Have you gone mad?”

Baltus was well aware that Gabriel’s hand was on his bolter pistol, but nonetheless he continued. “Oh, no. Not the holy gene-seed. That would kill her, if only because she is female.”

Gabriel sat back down.

“But the mutated gene-seed. Well, there is a chance she could survive that…”

Both Space Marines blinked.

“B-Baltus…” Lazarus said. “The...the chances of her surviving such a thing is infinitesimally small.”

“Not to mention a mockery of the Emperor…” Gabriel added.

“Under normal circumstances, I agree,” Baltus said, before looking at the pony. “But you can hardly say Young Apple Bloom is normal.”

The two Space Marines looked down at her.

“Thus the test I have in mind,” Baltus said. “If the chances of her surviving are so slim, then I am more than prepared to accept her survival as a miracle from the Emperor, and this Avatar Lazarus speaks of. If she dies, then we lose nothing, and will no longer need to worry about her. If she lives, we have both an answer to our question, and a new Marine to help our numbers.”

Gabriel blinked. “Injecting a xeno with a mutated gene-seed…” a part of him felt sick at the thought.

“As a test,” Baltus said. “She will most likely die, but if not...then we gain a new Brother.” He glanced down at the young filly. “Or Sister, as the case may be.”

Gabriel shook his head.

There was silence in the room once more, and Apple Bloom slowly stood, staring up at them with wide, confused eyes.

Gabriel sighed. “So, xeno, would you be willing to join us? Would you be a Blood Raven?”

Apple Bloom didn’t quite know what that meant.

She just knew that she wanted to live.

---=][=---

Apple Bloom watched as yet another giant, this one dressed in brilliant white armor approached her.

She had been strapped to a massive, metal table, which sat under a single light and a circular tool rack, armed with massive needles and saws that were connected to cables to keep them out of the way.

The man in white moved slowly and methodically, picking up various tools and drills while ordering a small crowd of white-robed men.

They were all shorter than the giant in white, by no small amount, but they followed his orders with complete obedience. They shuffled and glided across the floor quickly, adjusting dials and preparing tools with long, metallic tentacles that slithered from underneath their robes.

“Veritas,” the giant said, addressing one of the smaller men.

“M’lord?” he asked.

The giant handed him a needle. “Prepare the recruit.”

Veritas hesitated a moment, looking up at the giant. “M’lord?”

“Yes?” the giant asked.

The man hesitated a moment more before he bowed. “Right away, M’lord.”

Then he moved on to the table.

The shadow of the hood hid his face from her, but she could see the angry glint in his eyes. Another tentacle came up to her and injected the needle into her arm. He spoke, low and a step away from furious. “Emperor forgive me for this sin I am about to commit.”

---=][=---

Lazarus stared on at the implantation room, behind a wall of glass that separated him from the room where more than a thousand Space Marines had been born.

He himself had been in that room, where they had implanted the 19 different organs that now separated him from a normal man. He remembered those surgeries as if they were yesterday.

He watched as a long, flexible tube was then shoved down her throat.

It was as much to keep her from screaming as it was to help her breathe.

Gabriel and Chaplain Baltus stood next to him, watching as the small crowd began to gather around the table.

The Chapter Master’s face was impassive, but his living eye betrayed his interest. Lazarus understood, though. Ever since the Kaurava campaign, the Blood Ravens had been at less than half strength, a mere 432 marines. Any soldier to join their ranks was welcome.

Apparently even xeno soldiers.

He could feel the fear that was beginning to radiate out of her as the apothecary’s serfs descended on her.

He had known that fear first hand.

He quickly, almost automatically, squashed the sympathy that was rising in his chest. Sympathy was weakness. Weakness would not be tolerated amongst the Blood Ravens.

Yes, he knew that pain. They had all known that pain. It was that pain that gave them strength.

A metallic arm snaked upwards, grabbing a saw once they were sure the chemicals in her system were keeping her awake.

She would be awake, conscious, and she would never forget.

“At least she is young enough,” Gabriel muttered. “We’ve had too many that were too old. They can take their time with her.”

“Are you rooting for her, Chapter Master?” Baltus asked, a hint of humor in his voice.

“If she is a gift from the Emperor, then I will accept her,” he said. “If not, she dies, and saves me the trouble of pulling the trigger myself.”

The Chaplain nodded, satisfied with the answer.

Lazarus mentally agreed. Yes. If she is impure, then may her death be painful. That is how one is to deal with a filthy xeno.

Steeling himself, he sent out a tendril of consciousness to her panicking, fearful mind as her chest was being carefully cut open. “Remember this, xeno. This is what it means to be a Space Marine.”

---=][=---

“My armor is contempt.”—Imperial Thought of the Day

“Wow...that’s um...that’s kinda dark…”

Yes it is, your point?

“I...I thought they were supposed to be asleep when they did that.”

We’re not given any sort of indication as to what happens. Admittedly, though, I got this idea from C.S. Goto, and I thought this idea was perhaps the best thing he wrote in the Dawn of War novels, so I’m keeping that. Not much more.

“Goto? Who’s he?”

Someone you need not worry about.

“What, that bad?”

In said novels, he resolved the climax in a single paragraph, two pages from the end. And it was a pretty bad resolution at that.

“Huh…”

Yeah, don’t read him. Of course, most of this audience will know that by now, but I feel its something that’s worth repeating.

“Ouch…”

Anyway guys, be sure to comment and the like! We’ll see you next time!

“Bye!”

Chapter V

Lazarus nursed a cup of recaff as he stared down on the admittedly pitiful number of recruits in the training room.

Caffeine was practically pointless to a Space Marine. They did not require sleep as mere humans did, and their Preomnor typically filtered it out of their food before it even reached their stomachs. But the serfs needed it, and because the Librarian had a weakness for the smell of freshly brewed recaff, he typically indulged in a cup every now and then.

He brought his attention back to the recruits, that were being instructed below. Most were men by many standards, while a small few were young still. The youngest was 12 and was about ready for his second round of implants.

And then there was Apple Bloom.

She had survived, and not only survived but had taken to her new secondary heart, Ossmodula, and Biscopea with amazing proficiency. The latter two had already begun their work, growing her bones and muscle mass so that she was already another 12 centimeters taller, and getting stronger by the day.

Lazarus sighed.

She had survived…

Beyond all reason, all logic, and all possible explanations, she had survived.

There were still 13 rounds of implants to go, but still, she had survived this one. There were men, far better men that had failed simply that. Yet she lived.

Chaplain Baltus paced along the line of recruits, staring down at them as he gave them one of their first lessons on combat.

He shook his head, and sipped his recaff once more.

How, by the throne, had she survived?

---=][=---

Baltus walked down the line, his face drawn into a scowl behind the death mask of his helmet. His massive right hand carried a mace that crackled with electric power, which he swung and pointed with as he addressed the recruits.

“You are not Space Marines,” Baltus said, swinging his Crozius Arcanum over the heads of the recruits. “You are not even worthy of being a scout for our chapter. You are hopefuls, and nothing more. And hope will fail you.” He paused, standing at the end of the line and glaring down at Apple Bloom.

She had learned after the first day that you look your Chaplain in the eye when he spoke to you, so she did, standing as straight she could, and too afraid of his wrath to shake.

He seemed pleased.

Baltus stepped away from the recruits, towards a table that sat nearby. He set his Crozius Arcanum down with a reverence that slightly confused Apple Bloom, but she didn’t dare speak up. With both hands free, he then lifted one of those cannons that Apple Bloom had seen when she had first arrived.

“This is a Holy Bolter,” Baltus said. “Specifically, it is the Standard Astartes Mark Vb Godwyn Pattern Boltgun. It is the largest and most devastating boltgun of its type. This variant contains a built-in ammunition counter, which will show you how many bolts remain in the sickle-pattern magazine. Each magazine holds thirty rounds, or bolts, which are .75 caliber, self-propelled explosive slugs which detonate upon puncturing the enemy. The Godwyn Pattern Boltgun has no stock, nor does it need one, as a Space Marine’s power armor will negate any recoil, and keep his aim steady. It is not used by the imperial guard, despite being obviously superior, because of both its heft, and its need for careful maintenance. In every other way, it is almost self-evident that it is far better than the Lasgun.

“The Godwyn pattern bolter has won billions of planets, exterminated the life of countless enemies, and has been used to deliver the Emperor’s Judgement and Peace across the galaxy. This is the Bolter.

“Now,” Baltus said, as he cradled the firearm in his hands, “what is a Sacred Bolter?”

One of the recruits on the end saluted. He stood, straight and proud with his nose slightly pointed in the air. “Sir! It is the weapon of the Adeptus Astartes! Sir!”

Baltus walked up to him. “Is that so?” he asked before his massive armored hand slapped him across the face, sending him sprawling and fracturing his jaw. “Wrong!” He yelled. “An Adeptus Astartes is his weapon.” He spun to the other recruits. “And that is why you are all going to become killing machines before you even think about touching a bolter!”

Baltus strode back to the table and set the bolter down before picking up a single sword-length knife.

“A bolter is a tool,” Baltus said as the recruit stood back up. “It makes your job easier. Just like a flamer, a power sword, or a knife.” He dropped the knife, point-first into the ground, and it stuck. “But before you can use that tool, you need to learn how to use your weapon. Stand and fight the man next to you, use your fists, your feet, legs, arms, nails, and teeth. Fight for the right to use this tool,” he said, before pointing to the knife.

The line of recruits erupted into chaos as each man turned on his neighbor. They transformed perfectly into a mound of violence as they punched kicked and bit at each other, ripping at each other to try and fight for the knife.

Apple Bloom stayed out of it.

“Damsel!” Baltus roared, pointing at her.

She jumped, and stared at him with wide eyes.

“I ordered you to fight! Now get in there!” He roared.

She nodded and gulped.

She had learned that disobedience was not something that was tolerated on this ship.

With another quick, deep breath, she leaped into the fray.

---=][=---

Lazarus shook his head.

This Xeno was such a coward, it sickened him. She wouldn’t fight, she barely obeyed orders, and the fear she radiated every single moment made him want to retch.

How was this pathetic little thing a gift from the Emperor when it could not even fight properly?

It was a mistake to save her.

He shouldn’t have bothered the Chaplains, and shouldn’t have even suggested the need to save her. Any concern over her well being should never have even crossed his mind.

Yet it had.

He cursed his sentiments. May they bring him a quick and early death for all the help they had done. Saving a pathetic xenos, what was he thinking? It matters not that she lived on a farm, and grew apples…on a planet where the sun shined and...the wind would carry the faint scent of fresh fruit and honey on the air…

He looked back down to the pile of human beings, and the single xenos as they now fought for a single blade.

He shook his head.

She wasn’t worth it. He should have put a bolt through her head as soon as he had seen her.

Even if he did enjoy seeing the never-ending sea of trees one more time...

---=][=---

The chaos that filled her head blinded her. Pain erupted on all sides as the other recruits battered against her. Nails and teeth dug into her sides and flanks as she was thrown through the mess, striking blindly and instinctively with her forehooves and teeth while she bucked uselessly in the air. Her mind spun, and could not grasp reality around her as everything transformed into agony.

She was suddenly thrown from the fight, followed by three more recruits, leaving only three standing. Two recruits were locked in a fight, while the third, one of the older boys whose organs had grown to be a towering 6’6”, charged her.

His shoulder rammed into her, forcing her back once more, and sending her flying past the knife. She hit the ground hard, rolling as she was sent landed from the blow.

Her attacker, meanwhile, approached, taking the knife by the hilt as he did so. “You are a disgrace,” he said, speaking directly to the little xeno.

Baltus took a step back, watching with interest.

Apple Bloom’s attacker held the blade up, pointing it at her and glaring with hatred as intense as the stars themselves. “You are weak,” he hissed, as the pony slowly got back up.

The fight quieted.

“I and every one of my brothers have fought and killed for a chance to be a Sky Angel. We have done everything we could for this chance becoming our worlds’ greatest warriors.”

Apple Bloom got up, and stared at her attacker, as did every other recruit.

He turned to them and spoke. “Did we not win our Blood Trials? Did we not earn our places here while she, this alien, was simply allowed in? Where is the justice in that? We have proven ourselves in battle, and what has she done? Nothing! She is nothing compared to us! She is a weak link in our chain, and must be purged!”

He then turned to Apple Bloom and leveled the blade at her. “And I will be the one to do it, and make us stronger. Know this, xeno. I am Ramiel, and I will destroy you!”

Destroy…

The word echoed in her mind. He wanted to destroy her…

He wanted to end her life. He wanted to kill her. He wanted to end the life she had sacrificed everything to save.

He wanted to destroy her.

Her eye twitched.

Ramiel yelled, charging as he swung the knife like a sword.

Apple Bloom dug her hooves into the ground and began to spin.

And she bucked.

Her hind legs made contact for the first time since her surgery, and Baltus could swear he heard thunder crack.

Ramiel felt his enhanced, bullet-proof bones crack and the knife slipped from his hands as his feet were lifted from the ground.

He flew backward, rocketing towards the far wall.

He met it with a meaty thump, before sliding to the ground in pain.

She spun again, ready to attack with hooves and teeth, only to blink as she stared at Ramiel who now lay on the other side of the room.

Silence met her.

She blinked, before scrambling over to the foot-long blade and grabbing it in her mouth.

No one else moved.

And that’s when Baltus laughed. Clapping, he shook his head and said “Well done, Damsel. Well done. Go get something to eat. You earned it.”

She nodded, still not entirely sure what had happened, but happy she didn’t need to stand in line anymore.

Baltus chuckled once more. “Before you go, Damsel,” he called.

She paused, turning to him, knife still hanging in her mouth.

He threw her a metal sheath, which clanged on the floor next to her. “Keep the knife.”

She nodded, taking them both, and heading out.

Baltus smiled behind his helmet and looked up to the Librarian on the catwalks above.

Lazarus stared, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Baltus laughed again.

---=][=---

He couldn’t believe it.

That...that strength was...inhuman…

That was the only word for it.

She sent that man flying, and he could feel the pain in him that spoke of broken ribs. But to break a Space Marine’s bones like that, without power armor at that…

There weren’t words for that...horrifying strength.

Her Biscopea, the organ responsible for increasing her muscle mass must’ve...must’ve been malformed...there was no way...no way for her to simply…

Perhaps...she was...a gift…

No! No! There was no way! She couldn’t…

She…

He needed another cup of recaff.

---=][=---

Apple Bloom was lost. Again.

The Omnis Arcanum was a maze of boring steel —sorry, Plasteel—corridors, that stretched from one end of the ship to the other. The labyrinthian layout was confusing at best, and downright malicious at worst.

She had, just the other day, left the training room, wandered for two hours, and then came back to the training room.

Now, at the very least, she knew she wasn’t heading back that way, but she still had no idea how to get to the cafeteria.

The knife, strapped to her back, clattered as she moved, trying to find her way and failing. Sighing, she moved down one of the other corridors, figuring that one was just as good as another. “Where in Tarnation is that corn-shuckin’, worm-eatin’, pig-feedin’ cafeteria!?” She half-yelled, half mumbled to herself as she turned a corner, and ran straight into a wall of armor.

Tonk!

Shaken from her thoughts, Apple Bloom suddenly found herself staring up at a massive marine, his armor blood red, and his helmet colored bone white.

“Um...Ah’m...sorry, sir...” she offered.

“Hm,” the marine said. “So you must be the xeno that Lazarus found.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” she answered quietly.

He looked down at her, and the knife along her back. “Where did you get that blade?” he asked.

“Sir, Chaplain Baltus said Ah should keep it, sir.”

“Did he?” the marine asked with a smile behind his helmet.

“Sir, yes, sir,” she answered.

He nodded, before speaking again. “Where are you headed, recruit?”

“Sir, Ah’m—”

“Enough with the formalities, recruit,” he said, raising a hand, “I’m not the Chaplain.”

She nodded but stayed quiet. “Ah’m trying to get to the cafeteria, but...Ah’m a little lost.”

The marine nodded. “I see. Well, recruit, if you want I could lead you there.”

She looked up at him, hopeful, before catching herself. That kind of look could get you in trouble here. “Th-thank you, sir.”

The giant knelt down, offering his massive hand. “Aldwil Trilion, Blood Ravens, First Company,” he spoke, introducing himself.

She looked at his hand, before looking up at his helmeted face. “A-Apple Bloom, Blood Ravens Recruit,” she answered, putting her hoof in his hand.

He gave it a shake. “A pleasure to meet you, Apple Bloom,” he said. “Now let’s get you something to eat.”

---=][=---

Aldwil led the filly through the bowels of the ancient vessel before finally, he brought them both to the massive, Space Marine galley. As they entered, Aldwil quickly pointed to one of the normal men that hugged the wall and called him over. “Serf! Follow me.”

“Yes, M’lord!” he answered, shooting Apple Bloom a look that she felt more than saw.

Aldwil came up to a counter piled with golden trays, decorated with raven heads and wing-shaped handles, and took two. “Hold this one for her,” he said, nodding at the pony recruit.

The serf looked at him, before nodding. “Yes, M’lord.”

Aldwil handed him a tray and began to walk down the line. “You eat meat, don’t you Apple?”

“AB is fine, and not really. We can, but we don’t like to.”

“We all make sacrifices for the Emperor, AB,” Aldwil said, before throwing a massive Grox steak onto her tray. “Some bread, I’m sure you will appreciate,” he listed, giving her a roll as big as her head. “Vegetables as well, I imagine that is your mainstay,” he continued, giving her something that looked green onto her plate. “And some water, I imagine the wine would be a little strong for you…”

“Wine an’ water? That’s it? Y’all don’t drink anything but wine an’ water?”

“We drink it for the flavor,” Aldwil explained. “It is still a common wine, so it doesn’t affect our minds at all. The water is for the serfs, although I’m sure they get into it every now and then, correct?” he asked, smiling at the servant who held Apple Bloom’s tray.

The serf said nothing but did not meet Aldwil’s eyes.

He laughed, before pulling away from the buffet and leading the little filly to one of the massive, wooden tables with its throne-like chairs.

“Come, sit with me and my squad, AB. We have some questions.”

“If you say so...” she nodded, following along.

Aldwil then pulled up a chair next to nine other soldiers, their white helmets sitting next to their trays as they dutifully ate. “Greetings, Brothers!” he greeted, setting his tray down.

“Aldwil!” one of them greeted. “Late as usual! Where did you get to?”

“I ran into one of our new recruits!” Aldwin answered proudly, before picking up Apple Bloom. She yelped, before being dropped into a chair.

“Ah, the xeno I’ve read about,” a second space marine said.

“Indeed! Squad, meet Recruit Apple Bloom,” Aldwil said.

“It has a name?” a third one asked, sounding almost scandalized by the prospect.

“Enough of that, Icarthus,” Aldwil warned. “Chaplain Baltus trusts her, and as such she is deserving the respect that we would give any recruit.”

“Fine by me,” another said. “I don’t give recruits respect.”

“Not even ones that have won their knife?” Aldwil asked, pointing to the blade that was still slung to her back.

A marine three seats down leaned forward. “Now that is interesting…”

“It is?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Only Baltus’ best recruits get their own knife that early,” Aldwil explained. “I still have mine right here,” he said, pointing to the blade which lay sheathed across his left shin.

“He must think you have a lot of promise, recruit,” another marine said.

“Now gentlemen, let’s not forget our manners,” Aldwil spoke. “We know her name, it’s only fair she knows ours.”

Introductions were made, and Apple Bloom was then interrogated more ruthlessly than when Lazarus peeked into her mind.

“Truly another dimension?”

“Have you met this Avatar of the Emperor?”

“What is your homeworld like?”

“Have you never seen a man at all?”

“Brothers, brothers,” Aldwil interrupted, taking off his helmet as he lifted a massive drumstick to his mouth. “She is not some monstrosity with a mouth for every question, one at a time please. Bezra, let’s start with you.”

The marine smirked. “My question remains the same, did you truly come from another dimension?”

Apple Bloom shrugged. “That’s what Librarian Lazarus said,” she said, “but Ah couldn't really tell ya. Apparently it’s something about how the laws of physics don’t really match up er sometin’.”

“That’s it?” Bezra asked, obviously disappointed. “Pah!”

“Hameal,” Aldwil said, “you next.”

“Um...actually, sirs,” Apple Bloom interjected, “could I perhaps ask a question?”

The marines looked between each other, yet no one spoke up. “Seems fair,” Aldwil said, “go ahead, recruit.”

“How did you know about me, already?” she asked.

“Oh, you’re on every data-slate from bow to stern,” another marine, named Haldrig said, pulling up a golden tablet, and revealed a long scrolling line of text, complete with pictures of her and a documented list of various bodily functions that quickly made Apple Bloom uncomfortable. “Chapter Master Gabriel wanted to be sure that you weren’t killed until we were sure you were going to bring some xeno taint with you.”

Apple Bloom nodded, still incredibly off-put by how readily they admitted they would kill her if ordered to.

“Now, may I?” Hameal asked.

“Oh, sure, go on ahead,” she said.

“What is your homeworld like?” Hameal asked. “From the report, we can tell that it’s a feudal world, but that doesn’t offer much in the way of climate, environment, flora, and fauna. So, what is it like?”

“It...uh...it’s cool, kinda nice. A lot of grass, and a lot of trees. An’ Princess Celestia works hard at keeping us safe…” she said.

Hameal tried to hide a grimace. “Is that everything?” he asked.

“Oh, by the throne, you’re not…” Icarthus said.

“She deserves to remember that at least, Icarthus.”

“She does not need to remember anything! She is a filthy xeno that deserves a bolt through her head! If it were not for the fact that our Chapter Master purged the Chaos taint amongst us, I would have branded him a heretic!” He stood, taking his tray and helmet. “When you have decided to stop humoring this descent into madness, let me know,” and with that, he walked away.

The squad watched him go before Apple Bloom spoke up. “What did ya mean by ‘remember?’”

“Oh...um…” Hameal began, “it’s just...at one point to become a space marine, you’ll have to go through hypnotherapy to learn how to use some of your new organs, and...well you might forget some things.”

She blinked. “W-what?”

“It’s true,” Aldwil said, seemingly without a care. “I can’t remember the home I grew up in. I know it was there, but I couldn’t tell you what it was like.”

Bezra nodded. “Typically you remember things like names, smells, and images, but beyond that, not much. What Hameal is trying to do is remember for you. He has a soft spot for the new recruits like that.”

“I do not have a soft spot,” Hameal hissed. “I simply feel that the loss of any knowledge is a crime against our chapter. Knowledge is Power, Guard it Well, that is our motto, and I am simply living by that.”

“I’m sure,” Bezra said.

“Ah...Ah could get forget?” Apple Bloom asked. “Ah could forget home?”

Aldwil nodded. “This is your home, anything before belonged to a different you. Once you become a Space Marine, you become a son of the Emperor, you have no past.”

Apple Bloom stared at her tray, tears hugging the edges of her eyes. “Ah could forget mah family?” she asked.

She could forget her sister. The one who had helped raise her when her parents had died. She could forget her brother. The silent giant who was as gentle as a kitten or as vicious as a timberwolf when the situation arose. Or what about Granny Smith? Would she forget all those times they had worked together to make Zap Apple Jam?

“Ah...Ah’ve got to go,” she said, leaping down from her chair.

“Apple Bloom?” Hameal called.

“Let her go, Hameal,” Aldwil said. “She’ll need time, I’m sure.”

---=][=---

Apple Bloom lay on a bed that was far too big for her, in the large room that had been assigned to her.

She didn’t want to forget.

She didn’t want to lose that.

Not that.

She couldn’t lose that.

A knock sounded on the adamantium door, and Aldwil poked his helmeted head in. “AB? Recruit Apple Bloom?”

“Ah don’t want ta forget…” she said.

Aldwil and Hameal pushed their way in, and they both took a knee to stare into her eyes.

“If you are to become a Space Marine, you must,” Aldwil told her.

“But Ah can’t,” Apple Bloom, said, choking on a sob. “An Apple ain’t nothin’ without her family. Ah can’t forget mah family!”

“But we are your family now, Young Apple Bloom,” Aldwil said.

“But mah sister always told me that ya can’t forget where you come from!” she cried.

“And I will make sure you don’t, Young Apple Bloom,” Hameal comforted. “I will remember for you.”

“But what if ya forget?”

Hameal smiled behind his helmet. “I can’t forget. Photographic memory is part of being a Blood Raven. Once you have forgotten in Hypnotherapy, you never forget again.”

She sniffed. “You’ll never forget?”

“Never again,” Hameal said. “So tell me, and I shall remember for you, recruit.”

“O-okay...okay I’ll tell you…”

She took a deep breath, and pushed herself up. “Ah...Ah have two best friends, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo.”

---=][=---

“An Empty Mind Is A Loyal Mind.”—Imperial Thought of the Day

Next up, Sweetie Belle and Oraban, as well as expanding on the Eldar a bit, hopefully, I’ll do them justice this time.

“Hopefully.”

Thank you for the vote of confidence, Pinkie.

“You’re welcome!”

Well, I’m glad you enjoyed. Now I’m going to go and develop my own chapter now.

“You can do that?”

Sure. There are rules for it.

“There are?”

…*le sigh* here.

“Ooh, cool!”

Yes it is, Pinkie. Well, anyway guys, hope you enjoyed the chapter! Be sure to comment and let me know what you think.

“Well see you next time, guys! Bye!”

By—uh...Pinkie...what are those?

“The cupcake legion! The chapter whose main weapon is baked goods and—”

Um...Pinkie...we gonna need to talk…

“Sure! We’ll see you soon, guys!”

Bye.

Chapter VI

The jungles of Arconar never slept.

And between the heat, humidity, and constant croaking, buzzing, and cawing, Sweetie Belle was sure she’d never sleep again either.

Oraban found a strip of cloth that served as the worst hammock ever but considering that her friends probably had it worse off, she wasn’t going to complain.

They were alive, she decided. Alive and out there, somewhere, in this wide, vast galaxy. She was sure they were alive, even if Oraban said that almost every creature in the universe would kill them on sight.

They were alive.

They had to be.

She stared up into the canopy with her large, sad, green eyes, wishing that she could see the stars. She had snuck a single glimpse at the night sky once on Arconar, and found herself searching wildly for familiar stars once more.

Oraban told her she would find none. Each planet has its own sky, their own stars, suns, and moons. The Sky would be as unfamiliar to her as the jungles themselves.

Sweetie Belle didn’t like that.

“Belle,” a voice said into her mind, and she sat up in her hammock to see Oraban, having returned from his hunt with his kill on his shoulder. “It is time to eat.”

She nodded, staring at the carcass of something that looked a lot like a deer, before asking. “Can’t you...clean it before you come to camp?” she asked, detesting the word “clean” in that context.

The meat had taken some getting used to, but it was better than starving, so she took it. Her real issue came with the source, her stomach turning whenever she saw the body of a once noble creature hanging limply from his shoulder.

Oraban shook his head. “If you are to survive in this world, you must grow accustomed to the sight of blood.”

“I am not afraid of blood,” Sweetie Belle said.

“No, but you will not take death, and more often than not, they go together in this world. Now, sit, watch, or do not eat.”

She sat, perched on her hammock for a moment or two longer, before conceding and leaping down onto the large branch which Oraban had situated himself on.

He said nothing, but nodded, before taking out a large knife.

Sweetie Belle took a deep breath, and gulped as the Eldar went to work, skinning the creature and beginning to cut the meat.

Organs were removed, and arteries removed, leaving only bloody, red, clean meat to eat.

Sweetie Belle gulped again, feeling her stomach pit and her lunch try to escape. She really didn’t want to watch this. Looking up at the Eldar, she then did the only thing she could to keep her lunch down, she changed the subject. “So...why don’t you ever talk to me?”

“What do you mean?” Oraban asked, confused.

“Like, with your voice. All you do is talk with your mind, it’s kind of creepy.”

Oraban looked up at her. “You’ve never had someone speak into your mind?”

“No! Again, it’s creepy.”

“Hm...odd. I could have sworn you were a psychic creature.”

“A what?”

“Nevermind. Your kind has not yet learned yet how to properly use your talents. Would you prefer if I spoke with my voice?”

“Yes! Please! Why wouldn’t you?”

“It’s quieter,” he said simply.

Sweetie Belle blinked and sighed. They went quiet again as the Ranger continued his work, cutting up the meat and setting it aside.

“Where do you come from?” Sweetie Belle asked, trying to get her mind off of the death in front of her.

“My home is Craftworld Alaitoc,” he said, simply.

“What’s a craftworld?” she asked.

He looked up at her, pausing as he regarded the small unicorn. He blinked, before shrugging and continuing on with his work. “I’m sorry, I’ve never had someone ask me that...a craftworld is a planet of sorts. It is a massive ship, created by my people to keep us safe.”

“And why aren’t you there now?” She asked.

Oraban stopped once more, and this time set his knife aside. “That...is complicated…”

“Is it?”

He nodded.

“Well...we’re not really going anywhere…”

Oraban smiled behind his mask. “I suppose not.” He stabbed his knife into the carcass and gave Sweetie Belle a long, hard look with his brilliant, vibrant eyes. “Tell me, what do you know of the forces of Chaos?”

“Um...nothing?”

Oraban nodded. “Alright...well, all of this galaxy's problems start with a creature of Chaos. She is…” he paused, and checked over her shoulder. “Her name is She Who Thirsts.”

He said those words quietly, and whispered them with a hint of fear hiding in his voice.

“She who thirsts?” Sweetie Belle asked.

Oraban nodded. “She...she was born from our own decadence, greed, and lust, and at her birth, she destroyed us. Our Homeworld was destroyed and our gods were killed, all at the hands of She Who Thirsts, or Slaanesh as the mon-keigh call it. She then brought together the other gods of Chaos and woke them. Together, they have spread their taint across the galaxy, and rule in the own realms of the Warp. Even now, she sits and waits, eager to consume any soul of the Eldar that wanders too close to her, and we dare not think of that fate.

“We do everything we can to avoid her in two ways,” Oraban said, as he reached under his armor, and pulled out a small amulet with a tiny blue stone. “The first is through Spirit Stones, which absorb our souls the moment we die to keep them from entering the Warp, and away from her. The other is the Paths of the Eldar.”

“The paths?” Sweetie asked.

Oraban nodded. “She Who Thirsts feeds off of the emotions of the Eldar, and while we try to keep them in check, sometimes there are times when we cannot contain ourselves. So the Paths were created, ways to walk through our lives to keep the extremes in check. There are the Paths of Awakening, the Mariner, Command, Healer, Artisan, the list goes on, and they all ask that you die to the self that walked the previous path, and walk this new one as though you were a child with no previous experience and no knowledge of anything that came before.

“Now...Alaitoc, my home, is especially strict concerning the Paths. A servant who was once a healer cannot use what he knew to stabilize a friend so that the Healers can arrive in time without being ‘corrected’ by the Council for fear of bringing that beast down upon our heads.

“So I joined the path of the Outcast,” Oraban said. “I can act as I need without having to worry about those back home, and they do not need to worry about me corrupting those around me, and bringing the end of the craftworld to us. I am not there, because I want some freedom, even if it means letting my soul sit before our enemy, bare to her sight, but out of her reach.”

Sweetie Belle blinked.

Oraban smirked. “I told you it was complicated.”

“So...you’ve stopped walking the paths by walking a different path?” Sweetie asked.

“You never stop walking the paths,” the Ranger said, going back to the carcass. “Once you stop walking, then you are truly vulnerable to the Prince of Pleasure, and there is very little you can do to save yourself.”

“Prince of Pleasure?” Sweetie asked.

“Yes, She Who—”

“No, no, I get it. But why is She called the Prince of Pleasure if she’s so bad?”

Oraban blinked.

Sweetie waited.

He waited a moment longer.

“Well?”

“H-how old are you, Sweetie Belle?”

“I’m ten.”

The ranger nodded. “And how old do you need to be in order to be considered an adult?”

“Well, Rarity said it was 18. She had a really big birthday that year.”

Oraban nodded. “I’ll explain then.”

Sweetie Belle blinked. “What? But—”

“No more. It is time to eat. After that, we move,” he said.

Sweetie Belle grumbled as Oraban lit a small stove and began to cook the meat. “It’s always ‘when you’re older.’ Even in a completely new galaxy…”

---=][=---

Oraban sat in the tree he had picked for the night, cradling his long rifle in his lap as his sharp eyes surveyed the canopy around them.

He said nothing, nor did he move as he watched the world around him.

Around him, there was nothing but noise, the insects, amphibians, reptiles, and birds that all hunted in the night. Yet still the loudest thing of them all was the snoring filly hanging in the hammock next to him.

He turned to face her once more, curious about the small creature that hung asleep beside him. She was a psychic creature of sorts, even if she didn’t know it. Her abilities were there, they were obvious, she even had a touch of something else entirely behind her, and it was as strong as a few Seers he had known when he had walked that path all those years ago.

Yet despite this, despite how strong with the Warp she was, she seemed unaffected.

Opening oneself to the Warp was always a dangerous thing. It could swallow you whole just as soon as obey you, and even when it did obey, it’s power was strong enough to rip through some of the most powerful materials in the galaxy.

Yet the daemons of the Warp simply let her pass by.

What’s more, she wandered into the Dark parts of the forest. They were the areas that Chaos had tainted with its touch, twisted by Tzeentch, the schemer of schemes within schemes, and made hungry by She Who Thirsts. Yet, even still, she had barely been affected and had recovered almost instantly.

She rolled in her hammock, muttering worriedly to herself.

Dreams, he was sure. Nightmares probably.

It would be easy, to look into her mind. He had learned how during his time as a Seer, and could probably even look without her even noticing.

But he dared not. He did not dare commune with the Warp while exposed to Slaanesh as he was. He might as well give her an embroidered napkin to clean her lips after she consumed him.

So he listened, watched, and waited.

“S-s-Scootaloo...App-Applebloom…”

Oraban sighed.

Poor creature. Her suffering had probably just begun.

---=][=---

The Eldar moved through the jungle forest, perfectly silent.

Sweetie Belle rode in his belt pouch, yawning in the early morning light.

Oraban held his rifle up, and ready, checking the optical pan-spectral sights every few steps for a little extra security.

They moved slowly, the ranger hopping from branch to branch, as they made their way through the jungle.

Sweetie sat, sleepy from waking so early as well as bored from having nothing to do but sit in a bag. She sighed, before looking up at the Ranger. “Hey, Oraban?”

“Quiet,” he said in her mind.

“But I have a question!” she said.

“And I do not want to get eaten,” he told her.

“So what am I gonna do then?” she whined.

Oraban rolled his eyes. “You are aware that I can read your mind, yes?”

Sweetie blinked. “Um...no, I wasn’t…”

“Just surface thoughts, and you can shut me out fairly easily. But I can read it.”

Sweetie Belle blinked once more before her face screwed up in concentration. “Can you hear this?”

“Yes, I can hear you.”

“Cool!”

“Quiet.” He ordered firmly.

“Oh...sorry…” she thought.

Oraban read the passive thought without much trouble and felt the sincerity behind it as well. Still, she needed to learn.

A ranger lived or died by silence.

“What is your question. Quietly.”

She nodded. “Well...why are you here?”

The Eldar furrowed his brow. “I do not understand your question.”

“Well, I know why you aren’t at Altioc.”

“Alaitoc,” Oraban corrected.

“But why are you here? Aren’t there other places you could be?”

Oraban paused. “That is a difficult question to answer, Little Belle.”

“Is it?”

The ranger nodded. “I cannot tell you everything. There are too many secrets on this planet, and this is not the right time for you to learn this one.”

“Oh,” came the disappointing thought from Sweetie Belle.

“Here is what I can tell you,” Oraban said as he came around another tree trunk. “My people were on this planet eons ago. Yet, we had to retreat, leaving this place alone for centuries. In our absence, the humans, the mon-keigh, took our planet from us, not knowing what they did.

“So, when we returned and found our planet infested, they had already called it home. So they saw us invade, and called for their Adeptus Astartes for aid. The ones called the Ultramarines, and they fought us fiercely. An alliance of the craftworlds could not keep us on the planet, and we had to flee.

“Yet we could not. Not fully. For there is something on this planet that we dared not lose. So my craftworld, Alaitoc, said we would watch this world, protecting a secret which we have hidden from the mon-keigh for more than a century. So I am here, to guard it above all else.”

Sweetie Belle sat in the pouch, silent for a long time. “W-what is it?”

Oraban shook his head. “I cannot tell you. Not yet. One day you may see it, but not now.”

Sweetie Belle nodded. That, at least, gave her something to think about.

---=][=---

Sweetie woke with a start, having drifted to sleep in the pack somehow.

Immediately, Oraban spoke into her mind. “Stay quiet. There are mon-keigh are here.”

She sat up, searching for the humans that had the ranger on high alert.

Oraban already had his long rifle out, the small arm in front of the trigger whirring as it steadied his aim perfectly.

Sweetie found them, following the barrel of the rifle until she spotted the small hunting party.

Three men poked through the undergrowth, using their long, bronze spears and their short bronze axes to check the muddy ground beneath the all-encompassing plant life. They were talking to themselves, but they were far out of earshot for Sweetie Belle to hear.

“W-what are they doing?” she asked.

“Searching,” Oraban answered.

“For what?”

“It doesn’t matter. If they are searching for anything, they may find that which needs to be kept safe. They must die.”

“What?!” Sweetie mentally cried, barely catching herself from screaming.

“I cannot risk discovery. They will have to die.”

“B-but-but-but what if they’re just hunting?!”

Oraban shook his head. “When these mon-keigh hunt, they use the branches. These are searching for something.”

“Well, what if they’re not searching for...whatever that thing is?”

“It matters not. This cannot risk discovery. My people. All of my people, our very existence, needs this to remain secret. If these mon-keigh find it, they could bring war to our very homes. We would not survive. I must kill them. There is no other choice.”

Sweetie Belle looked up at him, horrified. “But...but…”

He looked away from his scope to stare her in the eyes. “It’s not my choice, Sweetie Belle. It is what must be. The mon-keigh are dangerous creatures, wild and barbaric. There is good in them, but it cannot be trusted. And when that is gone, there is only their hate and need to destroy.

“They must die, so that we may live.”

Sweetie Belle looked up at him, her eyes wide and confused.

But...but they didn’t need to die…They could be scared away.

“For how long? They might come back, with more of them.”

They...they could…

He could…

But…

“They...they don’t need to die…”

Oraban sighed, and shook his head, looking back to his scope.

There was a quiet snap-oom, and the first human went down. A perfect shot to the neck, tearing his throat open with a beam of pure, focused light.

The others were soon to follow.

---=][=---

Chief Shu looked out into the forest from the door of her home.

The sun was setting behind her, and the night was about to begin.

The party she had sent out was still out there somewhere.

Lahri, her husband was with them.

He had promised to be back by nightfall.

She had hated this decision. But the high-chief had told them that they needed to find more tribute to offer to the God-Emperor, or they would have to offer soldiers.

Soldiers, or slaves.

Shu’s tribe was too small. She did not have the warriors to meet the High Chief's demands. Her entire tribe would have to be taken away and trapped into one of the massive sky-ships of the Emperor if they did not offer something.

And so Lahri made the offer. He and his best hunters would go out and search for more metal. If they found it, then the tribe was saved.

If not…

He promised he would be back by nightfall.

Shu kept her eyes to the jungles, hoping, praying to the Emperor, and her house gods for his safe return.

The sun was getting closer and closer to the horizon.

Still no sign of him.

She didn’t want him to go. She could take being in one of the sky-ships as long as her husband was with her, but...but…

The sun was starting to disappear behind the trees.

Please...please Emperor…

And then the sun slipped away.

Shu stood out in front of her door until midnight that night.

But Lahri never came home.

---=][=---

“Blessed are the Gun Makers.”—Imperial Thought of the Day.

Alright, guys...there you go!

“So what’s next?”

More Eldar!

“Really?”

Yup! But it’s going to be a little more...interesting next time.

“Oh?”

Yup, let’s just say, little Sweetie is going to find the Eldar relic.

“Ok...that sounds...like you have something planned.”

I most certainly do.

“Alright, so what’s after that?”

Well, we’re going to find out what Scoots has been up to this whole time.

“Yay! More ork!”

Yup, but until then, you’re going to have to deal with the Eldar.

“Alright, can do, captarooni!”

We’ll see you all next time guys.

“Bye!”

Chapter VII

Oraban slung his rifle behind his shoulder as he knelt down next to his kill. Yet another human messing with things he did not understand.

He shook his head, before checking the body for anything that would be of use.

Sweetie Belle watched in silence, having learned almost a month ago that nothing was going to keep Oraban from killing any of these strange human creatures. The Eldar tossed the bronze ax aside with little care, and casually glanced at the massive wound that had all but disintegrated this man’s neck.

“Ah...food,” Oraban said aloud, as he pulled a small loaf of bread from a pouch on the man’s belt. “Here, enjoy!” he said, tossing it to her.

She stared at it.

“Come on, eat,” Oraban said as he continued to search the corpse’s bags.

She shook her head, and took the bread, but still did not eat.

Oraban glanced at her. “That is one of the few pieces of food that isn’t meat. Eat it now, enjoy it, and then we’ll move. After that it’s back to meat.”

“I know,” she said.

“Saving it?”

She hesitated a moment. “No,” she said.

The ranger paused his looting and regarded her. “Then what are you doing?”

She looked down at the corpse and took a deep breath. “All you do is talk about how the mon-keigh are worse than you. You tell me that they don’t have the weapons you have, they don’t have the smarts that you have, and they don’t have the morality that you have.”

Oraban nodded. “Yes, and they don’t.”

“Then why are you afraid of them?” Sweetie asked. “Why can’t you just let them go? Let them live? Why do you have to kill them all?”

Oraban shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Alright, let me ask you a question, Sweetie Belle,” he said, standing. “Do you have dangerous creatures on your world?”

An image of a Timberwolf popped into her mind.

“That will do nicely,” Oraban said, plucking the image from her mind. “Now, these creatures, these Timberwolves, they are dangerous, no?”

She nodded. “Yes, they’re dangerous.”

“Yet they cannot speak as you can,” Oraban noted.

“No.”

“They do not have the technology you have.”

“No,” she said, giving an exasperated sigh.

“They also do not build as you can, or think as you can, or much else, can they?”

“No,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Then how are they a danger to you?”

“I get it, thanks,” Sweetie Belle said.

“The mon-keigh are beasts compared to the Eldar,” Oraban told her, “to say otherwise would be a lie of the highest order. Even so, beasts can be dangerous, and while these mon-keigh are but cubs, they can call on stronger beasts that can tear my home asunder.

“Do not underestimate a beast, Sweetie Belle, no matter how small or how backward they are. All beasts carry a secret power. Even you.”

“Hey!” Sweetie Belle cried.

“What?” the Ranger asked.

She glared at him, offended by that last comment.

Oraban blinked, and then shrugged, before continuing to pick through the body’s belongings.

---=][=---

Oraban and Sweetie Belle moved through the jungle, with the former moving along the branches while the pony sat content in her pouch.

The Eldar had put the little pony on silence so that they might move unnoticed through the jungle.

Even still, Sweetie Belle made it known that she did not really appreciate it.

They moved quickly moved through the forest, the quick footsteps of the Eldar pushing them forward at incredible speed. So far, they had done well today and had made good progress according to the Ranger. Progress to what, Sweetie had no idea.

Still, he was happy with it, so she decided she should be happy too.

The two were shadows against the canopy, leaping from branch to branch, and sliding between the beams of sunlight.

Unfortunately, they were not the greatest hunters in the jungle.

Oraban froze suddenly, his fingers tightly gripping his long rifle.

“What? What is it?” Sweetie Belle asked.

Oraban shook his head, his eyes scanning the world around him. “I thought I heard something.” A beat passed, and the jungle offered nothing other than its deep, disturbing breathing. “I could have sworn…”

A roar erupted from the left, and Oraban turned just in time to see a massive, scaled insect, with six, long, armored muscular legs. Large compound eyes shone as the monster dived at the Eldar, revealing its long mouth and massive, pointed teeth.

The massive jaws snapped down as the creature’s large, leafy wings fluttered crazily, almost as if trying to blind the Eldar with its wings. Oraban just barely managed to jump back, narrowly avoiding losing his long rifle to the monster’s jaws.

The long, almost reptilian insect sat on the branch, opposite the Eldar. Its massive, powerful tail swished silently through the air as it regarded its prey with its compound eyes and wildly twitching wings.

Oraban, in answer, raised his rifle, while Sweetie Belle gaped in horror at this horrifying crocodile-insect hybrid.

Oraban shook his head as he took aim for the creature's throat. “Don’t worry...this’ll be over quick.”

The crocomoth leaped forward with horrifying speed, and its massive jaws slammed down on the rifle. It rolled along the branch, its wings unfurling to keep it airborne as it ripped the rifle from Oraban’s hands. The Eldar leaped back, suddenly disarmed, and suddenly found himself staring down a massive monster, floating through the air as its wings flapped wildly.

It landed back on the branch, before spitting the rifle out, where it fell to the muddy ground below.

Oraban said something in a language that Sweetie did not understand.

The crocomoth shot forward again, its massive, muscular tail pushing it as its mouth snapped open, ready to eat.

Oraban quickly pulled his pistol, and got off two quick shots, firing two disks, each 5 centimeters wide, and slamming into the armored back of the monster. The edge of the flying shuriken, just over a millimeter thick, eagerly bit into the thick hide of the crocomoth, yet not an ounce of blood was spilled.

Oraban repeated that word again.

Looking down, Sweetie found the knife next to her pouch and quickly grabbed it with her hooves.

The Ranger shot twice more, the shuriken pistol spitting its spinning ammunition as fast as it could, trying to find purchase in the monster’s hide.

The crocomoth’s mouth snapped shut, biting down on the ranger’s cloak, and keeping him in place. A forceful tug from the monster forced the ranger down onto the branch, and the crocomoth moved in, getting closer to the now prone Eldar.

“Here!” Sweetie yelled, tossing the blade up to the ranger. Oraban grabbed it from the air and dived for the monster’s eyes. stabbing down with all of his might.

The blade bit into its eye and ichor shot out the new wound, and the monster hissed in pain. It leapt backward, wings fluttering madly, as it took to the air. Ooze flowed freely from the wound, and both the ranger and the monster shared a glare between themselves.

A tense second passed.

And the crocomoth decided it could find easier prey.

Oraban watched it go, before letting loose a long, deep sigh. “That was too close.”

Sweetie Belle nodded. “Yeah, just a bit…”

“Thanks for the knife…” Oraban said, before sliding down the branches to the ground.

“You’re welcome,” she said, smugly.

“Stay silent.”

The smile on Sweetie’s face disappeared. “You’re welcome,” she thought, frowning.

“Better.”

The ranger hit the mud and carefully made his way to the rifle that lay in the mud. Removing it from the muck, he grimaced as he looked down at the scarred sides of the rifle. “That’s not good.” he thought aloud, the words reaching little Sweetie Belle.

“What? What is it?” Sweetie asked mentally, remembering the earlier order.

He opened a small chamber to the side of his rifle, before cursing. “The focusing chamber is out of alignment. The rifle is all but useless now…”

Sweetie Belle looked up at him from her pouch. “So...what are you gonna do?”

He took a deep breath, and let loose a long sigh, before turning to face the small pony in his pocket. “It seems you are going to see what I am guarding after all.”

---=][=---

Sweetie Belle looked at the odd, hook-shaped structure that seemed to grow from the ground. It looked like some sort of strange mix of bone and plant, growing with strange holes and long, tendon-like bundles of bone cord that disappeared into the green cap of the talon.

“So…” Sweetie began, having been told that this place was safe to speak in, “what is it?”

“It is a Webway gate,” Oraban said.

“Okay…” Sweetie said. “What is it?”

Oraban smirked, before he approached the massive structure, and began to activate it with his thoughts. “The galaxy is a vast place, and it would take many of your lifetimes to cross, most species use the warp to travel such distances, going through the timeless void to travel through space without moving through time. You follow?” he asked.

Sweetie Belle shook her head.

“Good,” Oraban said without looking back. “For the Eldar, such a thing is dangerous, so we use the webway, a thousand paths that crisscross the galaxy, connected to a thousand gates, allowing us to travel without a second passing between a million steps.”

“So...you have a different warp?” Sweetie asked, trying to connect the dots.

“Not truly. The webway is a dimension that is half warp, and half reality, stabilizing the former while folding the latter. We are safe there, though we skirt the edge of our doom. Now, come on, into the bag.”

Sweetie nodded, as she got up into the messenger bag-sized pouch.

“Now remember,” Oraban said, and he got her properly into the bag. “You do not leave the bag, understand?”

She nodded. “Right.”

Oraban nodded, and an ethereal, blue plane suddenly snapped into existence, contained perfectly by the talon of the webway gate.

And together, they stepped through.

The trip through the web way had taken only one hour for Oraban and Sweetie Belle, yet they arrived at their destination in half of that time from when they left.

Either way, the trip was too short for the little unicorn.

The tunnels of the webway had been healing to her. Calming and soothing her mind, body, and soul as they moved through it. Even the atmosphere of the tunnels was a relief to her, the cool air a perfect contrast to the never-ending humidity of Arconar.

Coming out of the webway was a disappointment to the little unicorn.

Yet this disappointment passed away as Sweetie’s eyes beheld a new sight.

Sweetie blinked.

Oraban smiled as he looked down at the pony in his bag. “Welcome to Alaitoc,” he said.

Sweetie Belle’s jaw hit the bottom of the bag, as she looked up at the horizon-spanning glass dome above her. The dome was held aloft with massive, branch-like buttresses while spindly towers sat beneath reaching for the starry sky beyond the glass. Thousands of Eldar walked the streets of this massive city with seamless buildings. Between the towers, floated a steady stream of personal anti-grav vehicles, carrying Eldar across the artificial sky to wherever they needed to go. Below the air traffic, a hundred tiny gardens sat, warmed by a hundred lamps, and tended by a hundred gardeners.

Every square inch of the city seemed to be made of the same, off-white material that the gate had been built from. That living, almost breathing, stone that grew in massive bundles of cord-like pillars, leaving natural, organic holes in almost every surface.

The city walls seemed alive to her. Almost...familiar to her.

“Well, here it is,” Oraban said, as he began to walk down one of the many pathways that wandered through the gardens. “Welcome to the Dome of the Starlit Path. One of the four minor domes of Alaitoc,” Oraban said, before slinging his rifle across his shoulder. “How you say, home, sweet home.”

Sweetie gasped as she stared at the towering spires and the tall, alien trees that reminded her of the ones she saw in her school textbook from Zebrica. “Wow…” she said.

Oraban smiled. “You like it?”

“It’s huge!” she said.

Oraban smiled, despite himself. “It is a masterpiece, isn’t it? Grown from some of the best wraithbone in the galaxy and tended to by its best bonesingers, and as much as I hate being here, I still love it.”

Sweetie said nothing but merely gaped at the walls around her.

Oraban chuckled to himself. “Come on, let’s head to the Artisan’s quarters.”

A thousand red and blue gems decorated the walls, while giant murals of bygone plains reminded Sweetie Belle of Sweet Apple Acres.

She was starting to like it here.

---=][=---

Oraban stood in front of a strange Eldar with a strange flute.

They stood in a large, open room, decorated with small statuettes of various figures, all Eldar, and most did not hold Sweetie’s attention.

The two Eldar spoke with each other in their odd, musical language that Sweetie didn’t even try to follow after the first few seconds of listening. She tried, to her credit. Yet considering that many peoples of the Imperium dedicate decades of their lives to understanding the Eldar Tongue, it was no surprise that Sweetie was quickly lost between the two.

This left her bored.

She sat, in her bag, chin resting on the edge of the bag, and gave a long-suffering sigh as she stared at the blank, off-white, far wall.

That one wall was perfectly bland, not a painting, nor a mural, not even a shelf holding more sculptures. All that sat by that wall was a single pedestal with a wraithbone tiara set with a large, round, teal stone. The stone was beautiful, she would gladly and readily admit that. She could practically see Rarity drooling over it, thinking of a thousand different outfits to go with the off-white crown. The issue was that it was not extravagant enough to entertain her long.

Sadly, it was the only thing in her field of vision. The only other wall she could really see was the one where they came in, and that was mostly occupied by a series of arches that served as doors.

She sighed.

Oh, she was bored.

Scootaloo could not reach this level boredom.

“I’m bored,” Sweetie thought to Oraban, only for both Eldar to pause in their conversation and look at her.

“You know everyone can hear that, right?”

Sweetie blushed. “Oh...sorry…” she thought, pinning her ears back.

Oraban shook his head, before turning back to the Eldar behind the counter, apologizing before continuing on.

Hiding her face in her bag, Sweetie instead turned to focus on anything else she could.

Which happened to be the tiara.

That dumb, plain tiara with its dumb green stone.

Wait, green?

Sweetie blinked, taking a long hard look at the gem set into the crown.

She could have sworn that the stone had been teal, but...but now it was quite obviously emerald green.

That...that couldn’t be real…

Could it?

Curious, Sweetie shuffled in her bag, leaning over the edge to try and get a closer look. It was still too far away though...

She looked up at Oraban, and could only remember his explicit instructions to stay in the bag.

She looked back to the tiara. “Well,” she thought to herself, “let’s see if I’ve gotten any better with my magic.”

She stuck out her tongue in concentration as she brought all her focus onto the piece of jewelry. Her horn began to glow, and the ring of magic was heard in the room. Then, with every ounce of control that she had, she reached out for the tiara.

And the room exploded.

The wraithbone grew outward into a thousand spikes, piercing into the walls of the room at incredible speed. Statuettes exploded as spears of wraithbone slammed into them. Half of the columns of the arches that lead outside were split almost in half, the long spines of the tiara rammed into them with such power that they made the room shake. Oraban just barely missed having his head impaled as Sweetie yelped in surprise.

Her magic went dead, and the room went still, the tiara freezing, now supported by a hundred spikes that stuck into various walls and pieces of furniture.

“Well…” Oraban said aloud. “That’s interesting.”

---=][=---

They had been lead to the Hall of Atherakhia, the center of judgment on Alaitoc.

The artisan, the injured party, stood before a well-dressed, ornately-jeweled, lady Eldar, ranting in his almost musical language to what had to be Sweetie’s judge. The bonesinger continued, singing his grievances to the judging Eldar, while Oraban rolled his eyes.

Of course, she didn’t need the Ranger’s eye roll to tell that the artisan was whining. Having grown up with Rarity, she knew a whine a mile away, and even apparently in a literally alien language.

The real trick was figuring out when he was complaining.

“He wants you to pay restitution fees,” Oraban told her.

“What?!” Sweetie thought. “I can’t pay for anything! You don’t even take bits!”

All eyes went to her, and the artisan went silent.

“We can all still hear that…” Oraban thought with a sigh.

“Oh...sorry…”

The Eldar judge smiled before standing. “So, Benelion,” she said, speaking aloud in a language that Sweetie understood, “you wish to have a creature that has no services or gifts to provide, pay you for the loss of your crown? What do you expect her to pay in?”

The artisan said something in his own language.

“I speak so that the accused may understand me, is it not fair for her to know what is at stake?” she asked.

Benelion grumbled. “Farseer Elahina, I hardly need anything that this pathetic creature could offer me. Yet the laws of this craftworld state that restitution must be made. I could hardly care what she offers me, but something must be offered.”

“And so it shall, but first, we need to know what she can offer,” the Farseer said, before turning to Sweetie Belle. “Now, little beast, tell me, what can you offer him?”

“Um..well…” Sweetie began, “I...guess I could help make more statues?”

“What?!” Benelion said. “You caused the last piece of wraithbone you touched to explode! I didn’t even know wraithbone could explode! And you want to be around more of it! I knew you lesser lifeforms weren’t quite developed in the mental sense, but by Isha that is dumb!”

"Hey!" Sweetie said.

“I think that sounds fair,” the farseer said, which caused the artisan to gape at her.

“Wha-wha-wha…?”

“The punishment should fit the crime,” the Farseer said, before turning to the artisan. “Don’t you think?”

Benelion stared into the eyes of the Farseer for a long moment. “Y-yes...yes, Farseer Elahina.”

“I’m glad you agree,” Elahina said, before turning back to Sweetie Belle. “I’m going to need you to follow me.”

---=][=---

Oraban watched behind a wall of wraithbone glass, watching Sweetie Belle as she “practiced” working with wraithbone.

So far every piece she had touched with her non-psychic telekinesis had reacted much the same way as the crown had, exploding outward with enough violent force to crack and chip the wall that separated the two of them. Sweetie herself stood behind another transparent shield, protected from the more dangerous explosions.

Elahina, the farseer, stood next to him before speaking to him in the tongue of the Eldar. “She is dangerous,” Elahina said. “Any contact from her energy can cause wraithbone to grow and expand at a horrifying rate.”

“So is she to be put down?” Oraban asked.

Elahina shook her head. “No, no I do not think that will be necessary.”

Oraban nodded. “Good. I would like to keep her, she is entertaining.”

He watched as Sweetie tried once more, only for a blade of wraithbone rammed into the glass, the slightest tip of the blade just breaching the glass.

“So what’s your plan?” Oraban asked, moving away from the hole in the window.

“Well,” Elahina said, “I had her blood looked at, and I found that her DNA is rather pliable. It will adapt to whatever new material comes in contact with it.”

“Malleable DNA?” Oraban asked.

“That is what they saw. I have no explanation, simply that it is. However, there is where we will find our answer. We can alter her abilities by implanting wraithbone into her being. This way, it will make her safer, give us power over her, as well make her more useful.”

“Useful?” Oraban asked.

“She’d be able to grow wraithbone at an incredible rate, and she would able to provide maintenance of wraithbone items as well.”

“So, she’d be able to fix my rifle?”

“Rifle, armor, knife blade, whatever you need,” Elahina said. “Not to mention her own abilities and lifespan would multiply exponentially.”

Oraban nodded, and turned back to look at the little the pony as she tried once more to work the wraithbone.

“How long would it take?”

“Roughly thirty standard years.”

Oraban nodded. “Very well, I’ll see you then.”

---=][=---

Sweetie concentrated on the last lump of wraithbone, and just barely touched it with her magic before it reacted, turning violently into massive spines that suddenly bit into the glass on the far wall and split apart, letting it shatter to pieces.

Elahina poked her head into the testing room, a mess of wraithbone spikes and blades, and spoke. “I think that’ll be enough for today, little one.”

She pinned her ears back as she came out from behind her protective shield. “Sorry…”

Elahina shook her head. “Worry not, little one, come here. I have a plan to help you.”

---=][=---

“Listen not to the alien, look not upon the alien, speak not unto the alien!”—Imperial Thought of the Day.

Wow...sorry that took so long guys. I just had a lot of things to look up.

"Like what?"

Well, apparently, the Eldar either don't have a currency, or they trade in arrogance.

"...What?"

It's a joke.

"Oh I love jokes! How does it go?"

Um...well...okay, from RPG.net.

The more Arrogance an Eldar has, the more products he is provided by the Craft-World.
Arrogance is measure in Conceit Points, or CP.
CP is acquired by associating with lower life-forms, giving them cryptic and useless messages, and then dismissing their capacity to understand it.
The CP increases by the level of the lower-life. Saying to an Imperial Guardsmen "You mong-keigh waste time chasing us, ignoring the TRUE threat" would net an Eldar around 50 CP
Saying to a Space Marine "Such knowledge is not meant for your primitive mind" would get an Eldar over 500 CP.
The wealthiest Eldar can express contempt for a whole civilization with just a single raised eyebrow.

"That's the joke?"

It makes more sense in the grand scheme of things. Anyways hoped you enjoyed the chap! Be sure to comment and stuff.

"See you next time!"

Bye!

Chapter VIII

9 532 029.M42

Morning rose on the small planet that had been the home for the Deathskullz orks, and, in proper orky fashion, was announced with an explosion.

“Yeeeaah! Ah’m gonna be a Stormboy!” an ork cried, holding his choppa above his head as he rode the largest rockit he could find up into the sky.

“Oi! Cut dat out ya bloody git!”

“Stuff it! Ah’m tryin’ ta sleep!”

“Zog off, ya grot!”

The rockit exploded in the air, killing the ork riding it, and showering a small grot camp below in gore and debris.

Nabrot Stub-fingers was already up, staring up at the rising sun and scratching his massive belly with his damaged hand and bit back a yawn. He had learned a long time ago that Warbosses should never sleep in. He still had the scar from when that choppa had stabbed into his shoulder.

Most orks didn’t have to worry about that. While most warbosses had to fight challengers in the biggest, orkiest fights Nabrot had ever seen, the Deathskullz bosses had to, more often than not, watch their backs.

The Deathskullz were some of the most cunning orks in the galaxy. The only ones who got more cunning were the Blood Axes, and they were so un-orky that they used things like plans and tactics.

That’s about as unorky as you can get.

Scratching the flesh beneath his metal jaw, he then stood, before finding the nearest ork to yell at. “Oi, you! No lazin’ about!” he cried.

He had a meeting to be at.

---=][=---

A small collection of blue-painted Deathskullz orks stood at the bottom of a small ravine. The sun was high, and the small gang of orks was accompanied by numerous orky vehicles, most stolen from other peoples of the galaxy, and then re-armored with thick, rough-cut metal plates and decorated with orky symbols.

There was even an Eldar jet bike. The long, sloping curves of the anti-grav bike broken violently by the rough metal plates of the orkish design.

On the other side of the valley, a few other orks, dressed in yellow and black moved forward. The leader of which, had a massive pole on his back depicting a scowling yellow crescent moon.

Nabrot checked the rim of the canyon, where quite a few orks, both Deathskullz and Bad Moons, stood along the edge.

There was even a certain…“ork” up there, watching the pit.

Well, he didn’t have all day, might as well begin negotiations. “Oi! Ya Bad Moons git! Whatcha’ got for me?”

“Ah’m askin’ da questions ‘ere you grot!” the Bad Moons warboss said, stomping angrily forward.

“Ya might got the teef,” Nabrot said, also stomping forward, “but teef ain’t nofin’ wifout the loot!”

“Nah, dey’re still teef!”

Hm...that was some good logic there.

“So, whatcha want den?” Nabrot asked, his power klaw snapping loudly.

“Ah want da bike!” He said, setting his massive gun and his chainsaw ax aside.

Nabrot smiled. “It’s gonna cost ya.”

The two slammed into each other, Nabrot’s power klaw gripping the Bad Moon’s arms while he punched with the other. The Bad Moon Boss answered with his own blow, slamming into Nabrot’s gut. “‘Ow much?”

Nabrot’s massive head slammed into the Bad Moon’s in a vicious headbutt. Now stunned, the Bad Moon was in no position to defend himself from Nabrot’s tackle, bringing them both to the floor. “A thousand hundred teef!” he demanded, before his massive fist slammed into his buyer’s face.

As negotiations went on below, the orks above started their own bartering.

Large, fang-like, yellow teeth and looted “orkified” goods exchanged hands, the Bad Moons having far more of the former, while the Deathskullz had the majority of the latter. “Two ten teef” made a good trade for a brand new shoota, while a rockit launcha went for a “hundred and half-dat teef.”

Every now and then, punches flew between the clans, but that was mostly them paying up with the teeth that were still stuck in their heads.

It was about as civil as orks could get.

One figure in the mob slithered through the mass, orange fur standing proudly against the green crowd.

Scootaloo had grown a lot in the thirty years she had been with the orks. In fact, it could be argued that she grew a little too much. She was now far taller than most ponies she knew, and about as tall as the average ork. Her wings were now twice as long as they used to be, and her muscles were at least three times thicker than she remembered a pony’s should be.

She had a Cutie Mark now, the blue ork skull of the Deathskullz superimposed over a blood-red lightning bolt, which stood out brightly against the blue paint that covered half her body. Even her eyes had changed, yellowing along the edges, and the pupils narrowing to reptilian slits. They remained the brilliant purple they always were, yet she couldn’t deny that things had changed.

That and her skin beneath her fur was green now...

But that was probably normal.

She leaped over another Deathskull, her large, spiked, “knuckles” knocking a tooth loose for him. “‘Ey! Thanks, Shootaloota!” the ork said, before paying the Bad Moon for a new knife.

“No problem!” she said, clutching a bag of teeth in her mouth.

The knuckles on her hooves were actually one of the Mekboyz best work. Riveted to the sides of Scootaloo’s hooves they had been designed to slide down to the sole of her hoof for maximum punch and so they can stay out of the way when she walked.

And by Gork did that hurt.

Of course, those weren’t the only weapons on her. Slung to her back, a harness sat beneath her wings, connected to two Kustom Shootas that had been screwed into the leather. These weapons were some of the best the Mekboyz had come up with, complete with a bunch of worky gubbins and zappy bits that made the rifles all the more deadly. Of course, being the size of a rifle and slung under her wings, they tended to slow her down a touch, but that was the best the boyz could come up with at the time, short of riveting them to her back. As they were, however, her kustom weapons had proved useful in the numerous Waaagh!s to take the planet for themselves.

As her powerful wings flapped to take her above the crowd, Scootaloo’s eyes scanned for a specific ork. “Come on, where is he?”

The last time the Bad Moons had come was almost fifteen years ago, and she had been saving up teeth ever since.

“Where is he? Where is he?” she muttered around the bag in her teeth. “Where is he?”

Her eyes suddenly spotted a single Bad Moon, sitting on the biggest, reddest bike she had seen in her life.

“Skullrippa!” she called. “Skullrippa! I’ve got the teeth!”

The ork on the bike gave a lazy glance in the air up at the flying pony.

She landed, and those that did not make way for her became her landing strip. “I got all the teef, Skullrippa!” she said, before leaping to the ground in front of the bike-riding ork. “Two-ten thousand teeth!”

Skullrippa, an ork that had lost most of his body to various explosions and had been replaced mostly by machine, looked up at her. The cybork (yes, that’s what they’re called) stepped down from his bike and stared down at the pony. “Whatcha want?” he asked.

“The bike!” Scootaloo said. “Don’t you remember? You said you’d sell me the bike for Two-ten thousand teeth!”

Skullrippa gave a chortle. “Did Ah say dat? Ah don’t remember sayin’ dat…”

“What? No! Come on! That’s what you said!”

“Nah...nah Ah don’t fink it was…”

“Skullrippa…” Scootaloo said, her eyes narrowing.

Skullrippa smiled. “But if ya want mah bike, Ah won’t stop ya.”

Scootaloo perked up, and smiled, moving towards the big, red, wheeled bike.

“It’s just gonna cost ya four-ten founsand teef…”

“What!” She cried, glaring at the cybork.

“Nofin’s free, cupcake…” Skullrippa said.

“You dirty thief!” Scootaloo roared, and a ring of orks, Bad Moons and Deathskullz alike all stopped to watch.

“Thief? Me? Dat’s rich, comin’ from a Deffskull. You all loot more stuff den any other ork out dere. Yous is da thief, ya grot.”

“Shut your zogging gob, you sniveling git!” Scoots roared, as her wings flared, a revealing the kustom Shootas beneath, along with the two drums of ammunition below.

“Oh, whazzat? Is the little grot gettin’ angry?” Skullrippa mocked.

Scootaloo glared at him and her purple eyes narrowed. “Oh, I’m not angry…”

The Kustom Shootas both fired full force into cybork. The loud, fast reports of the firing rifles echoed in air around them as the orks watching the battle recoiled from the heat. In a flash, Scootaloo was on him, slamming into him with her knuckles out and ready. Skullrippa barely had the time to stand as the pegasus’ hooves slammed into him. “Waaagh!” she cried, letting loose the ancient ork battle cry as her hooves dug into the ground.

“Waaagh!” The Deathskullz roared, picking up the cry before a thousand other fights broke out amongst the crowd.

The orks transformed into a massive free-for-all, punching, kicking, stabbing, and shooting their way through each other. The only empty spaces left were the pit where the bosses fought and the space around Skullrippa and Scootaloo.

Skullrippa’s hands had just barely managed to grab Scootaloo’s hooves, and even then, one of her sets of knuckles had pierced his hand. The pegasus smiled, and spoke. “I’m downright grim.”

Skullrippa laughed, before pushing forward. “Wat? You? grim? Yer bout as grim as a gretchin, ya grot.”

Scoots smiled. “Don’t think I’m dangerous, huh? Well, you live and learn.”

“Well, you learn, anyway…”

She leaned to the side, dragging Skullrippa to the left and then bringing him face to face with her kustom big shoota. She fired the gun, and Skullrippa just barely had the time to dodge out of the way of the close range line of fire.

Scoots smiled. That’s fine. Didn’t want him to go like that anyway.

She pulled to the ground, wrapping her hooves around his big barrel chest, and let her harness fall to the ground.

And with that weight gone, she took the sky, passenger in tow.

“Oi! Whatcha doing?” Skullrippa asked as the ground and his bike began to get farther and farther away.

“Ever wanted to be a Flyboy, Skullrippa?” she asked, before laughing.

“Oi! Oi! Put me down!”

Scootaloo didn’t so much as slow down as she continued her climb.

“Ah’m serious, now, put me down!.

She went higher.

“Sh-Shootaloota...C-come on now, leeme down.”

Scootaloo smiled, before leveling out, and hovering above the ground at an altitude that no ork was really comfortable with.

“So how’s it going, Skullrippa?”

He whimpered something.

“What was that?” she asked.

“Could ya lemme down, please?”

“Well, that depends,” Scootaloo said. “I could just drop you and get that bike free you know.”

Silence hung in the air for a second.

“How’s one fousand teef sound?” Skullrippa asked.

“Honestly? That sounds proper orky,” she said with a smile. “The problem, though, is that Nabrot wants me to off ya.”

“What?!”

“You see, Nabrot figures if little ol’ me can take on a full-on Cybork, then the rest of you Bad Moons might think it’s a bad idea to fight us. And that means that Nabrot gets a few extra teef coming his way.”

Skullrippa’s eyes went wide as he suddenly realized what was going on. “You sneaky…”

“So thanks,” Scootaloo continued, “but no thanks. Thank you for your business, Goodbye!”

“You sneaky giiiiiiiiiiit!” Skullrippa screamed as he fell.

Scoots smiled, before gently gliding down after him.

He hit the ground with a splat.

She landed with every ounce of grace that pegasi had been blessed with.

The world around her was a mess of fighting, yet even so, she took a little pleasure in stepping over Skullrippa’s body as she made her way to her new bike.

---=][=---

Nabrot laughed as he came back to his tent, Scootaloo by his side. “Ya did a proper orky job, ya did!” he said, tossing his big bag of teef into the back of the room.

“Just trying to be helpful, Boss,” Scootaloo replied.

He nodded, before turning to face her with the biggest grin he could manage. “Yous is da most cunnin’ git I know! Ya make a Warboss proud, you do!”

She stood with her chest puffed out and her head held high as Nabrot continued.

“I knew! I knew it was a good idea ta keep ya! If you could turn a whole camp on it’s ‘ead looking for ya, then you could do some orky stuff once you’d be fully grown! And you did!”

Nabrot smiled, before sitting on a large throne made from an amalgamation of the largest chairs from the biggest vehicles he had looted. “Ya’ve done me proud, Shootaloota, done me very proud.”

Scootaloo shrugged. “It’s what I do.”

As Nabrot’s laughed died down, he found himself staring at the pegasus. And that when the old Warboss gave the biggest smile yet. “So, Shootaloota, since yous is so cunnin’, ya ready for another job?”

“Whatcha’ thinking?” she asked.

Nabrot reached over for a massive tankard, filled with the black ichor that passes as alcohol amongst ork-kind. “Ya know Nobgobba?”

She snorted.

Yes, she knew the unfortunately-named ork. She had been there when he earned it, by taking a massive bite out of an ork noble or “nob” as they were called. He was younger than her by a few years, but he was already gaining the reputation of being a rather brutal ork. He was gaining strength, influence, and had the ambition to match. She also thought he had the most hilarious name she had ever heard, which was completely lost on the asexual creatures she was completely surrounded by.

“I know about him,” she answered.

“He’s been sendin’ in grots to kill me.”

Scootaloo blinked. “Really?”

Nabrot nodded. “Send in da small grots, let ‘em say dey’re da warboss now, den kill dem. It’s an old, sneaky move.”

“So why don’t you kill him?” she asked.

“Da prophets of Gork and Mork,” he said.

Scootaloo frowned.

“Da prophets say dat Nobgobba is da chosen of Mork, and dat he should be leading some orks hisself.”

“Wouldn’t he be the chosen of Gork?” Scootaloo asked.

Nabrot shrugged, before leaning forward. “So, how do I get the grot ta zog off?”

Scootaloo went silent for a moment or two before finally speaking up. “So he wants to be Warboss, huh?”

“Roight.”

“So why not make him warboss?”

Nabrot blinked. “What?”

“Now, hang on, let me explain this,” she said quickly as Nabrot began to stand, menacingly. “Give him his own Waaagh!”

Nabrot raised an eyebrow. “Give ‘im a Waaagh!?” he asked.

“Right!” Scootaloo said, capitalizing on the fact that she wasn’t dead right now. “Look, he wants power, so give him some, make him a Warboss of a smaller Waaagh! and send him off to go take something, anything. But as long as he’s out there, he’s not here trying to kill you. And while he’s out there, the prophets think that you’re giving him a reward so you make them happy. And of course, if he's going to be un-orky and try to kill you with a grot, then you can always send someone in his Waaagh! to do the same. You see?”

Nabrot blinked again. “Dat...Now dat’s cunning.”

Scootaloo nodded. “It’s what I do. Now, since this is a very important, and sneaky thing, you’re going to need this to stay quiet, aren’t ya?”

“Roight...roight…” Nabrot said before his eyes glanced over at her. “Do ya fink ya’ll need ta go?”

Scootaloo smiled. “Do you trust anyone else?”

Nabrot broke into a grin. “Nevah trust a Deffskull. Whaddaya need?”

Scoots smirked. “Three Kommandos. Give me that, and Nobgobba will either die or never come back at all.”

Nabrot nodded. He could do that.

---=][=---

The three Kommandos of the Deathskullz Speshul Forces that had been assigned under Scootaloo stood at attention.

Or...the ork equivalent of attention.

Which was milling about while holding their gunz at the ready, or picking their teeth with the sharp whatsits on them, and the like.

Their proud, green skin was dyed purple with the occasional splash of Deathskull blue, and the night vision goggles made from bits and pieces found all over the place distinguished them from the average boyz.

The small, dark room was slightly cramped for the three “assassins” but they didn’t complain.

Out loud…

Much…

“So what’re we doin’?” one of them asked.

“Nabrot needs us ta do somefin’. We’s supposed to be talkin’ wif Shootaloota ‘bout dis.”

“You are,” Scootaloo said, as she stepped into the room. “Now, Nabrot’s got a very important mission, and it’s going to be a long one.”

“So why’s we talkin’ ta yous if Nabrot’s da one wif da mission?” a second one asked.

“Because it’s all very complicated, and I’m probably going to have to explain this several times. So before we get started, what are your names?”

“Ah’m Hellspitta,” the first ork said, a small burna weapon slung to the bottom of his shoota.

“Ah’m Facehacka,” the second said, covered head to toe in ax-shaped choppas, and his shoota came armed with a scope.

“And Ah’m Blooddagga,” the last one said, a large knife-choppa in his hand while his slugga pistol had a long silencer with a kombat-choppa bayonet.

“Good to meet ya, boyz,” Scootaloo said. “Now gather ‘round, and let ole’ Shootaloota fill you in.”

---=][=---

Nabrot roared before the gathered green horde, yelling at anyone and everyone that even looked like they weren’t thinking of paying attention. “Stuff yer gobs ya grots! Stuff it!”

Slowly but surely, the orks began to settle, and Nabrot then took center stage.

“Alright, ya snivelin’ gits! Lissen’ up! It’s come to mah attention dat we ain’t doin’ enough!”

“What?” A burna boy asked, his flame thrower sputtering as he lit a small gretchin alight.

“We’ve stayed on dis planet long nuff’!” Nabrot said above the piercing scream of the tiny orkanoid. “Dere ain’t nufin’ left ta kill!”

“So we pick a new planet!” An ork said from the back.

“And we are!” The warboss continued. “But we’re gonna do somefin’ different too!”

The horde, now intrigued and confused, gave him their full attention, and Nabrot gave a smirk. “We’s gonna split the Waaagh!”

The minds of the ork were blown. And a few of the Weirdboyz actually had their heads literally explode.

Those events were somewhat unrelated.

“Dat’s roight! I’m gonna take some boyz, and Nobgobba over dere is gonna take the others, and we’s gonna take two planets at once!”

“Waaagh!” The boyz cheered, thrilled by the very idea of taking two planets at the same time.

“Dat’s roight boyz! We’re gonna take dis Waaagh! and we’s gonna make it da biggest Waaagh! evah!”

---=][=---

“The justice of your action is measured by the strength of your conviction.”—Imperial Thought of the Day

Alright guys! Up next is another Ork Chap, and then we’re gonna see what Apple Bloom’s been up to for the past 30 years.

“Are Kommandos real?”

That seems an oddly specific question from you…

“Well, someone asked that earlier. So I’m just trying to get it out there...”

Well, I’ll tell you what, I’ll let this picture answer for me.

“Pffft! Bwahahaha!”

Yes, they do exist, they are actually fairly useful on the tabletop, and that’s a bunch of other stats that I’m not going to get into.

So, anyways guys, we’ll see you all next time, alright?

“Bye!”

Chapter X

Apple Bloom took a long, slow breath.

Massive, brightly colored, armored figures moved quickly in the vision of her M40 Targeter System. The thermal/night-vision scope all but set the monstrous soldiers alight, showing them clearly to her bionically-enhanced eyes.

The Stalker Pattern Bolter, a sniper variant of the Godwyn Pattern Bolter, sat carefully cradled in her hooves, the handle of her knife resting right above the trigger. A scout, new, maybe three months into training sat next to her, nervous.

She could smell the nervousness, and it disgusted her.

She had come a long way since she had been that nervous little rookie. Almost twenty-five years of actively scouting for the Honorable Blood Raven Chapter. She had even grown a mark on her flanks, a black bird surrounded by a crosshair.

The snow bit into her naked flank, the cold stinging the neural ports on her skin, and the wind howled into her ears. None of these bothered her, nor broke her concentration. Her enhanced mind had already identified the rock beneath her. It was a sedimentary rock, whose chemical compound was unique to this planet. It would support her nicely.

Even as her mind observed the nervous scout beside her, the hill beneath her, and the snow around her, she skimmed across the war between the Blood Ravens and the traitors beneath her, trying to pick her target.

There he is…

“Scout Sergeant Galaar, I have a visual on the target, requesting permission to give him the Emperor’s Peace?” she asked, speaking into the microbead that connected her to the vox systems.

“Scout Apple Bloom,” came the response through her ear, “the answer is the same as always.”

She smiled, and as she did, she pivoted her knife, the handle squeezing the trigger expertly.

There was a soft crack, and over one thousand meters away a Chaos Marine Sergeant fell, his helmet split in half by a well-placed bolt, and his mind shredded into jelly by the resulting explosion.

---=][=---

Gabriel Angelos sat in front of his desk, reading the reports he had received, of which there were many. The Blood Ravens were always meticulous when it came to records and reports. No sentence of knowledge was lost, and no period was out of place. The stack was growing larger and larger by the hour as more and more versions of the same battle came in.

It wasn’t something that he couldn’t get through by the end of the day, but it would take him a week, if only for the distraction on the other side of his desk.

“Gabriel…” Chaplain Baltus said in the fatherly tone that reserved for his spiritual lectures.

He tried to ignore him, and read through yet another report, his mind processing the words at an incredible rate.

“Gabriel…” Baltus called again.

The Chapter Master tried to bury his nose into one of the reports.

“Gabriel.”

“What do you want from me, Baltus?!” he cried, slamming the parchment down on his desk, and nearly knocking an inkwell to the floor.

The Chaplain sat down before the Chapter Master and spoke. “Honorable Chapter Master, I would request the same thing I have requested twice now. It is time to make Apple Bloom a Battle Brother.”

“She is under surveillance, Baltus. We need to be sure that she will not spread xenos taint amongst us.”

“She has been under surveillance for twenty-five years, Gabriel,” Baltus pointed out. “She has infected no one with any taint and has, in fact, abandoned many of her own beliefs for ours. She is no more likely to infect anyone than I am.”

“Then she is going to remain a scout until she proves herself,” Gabriel said.

“Proves herself?” Baltus asked. “Gabriel, she is the one being sent to kill some of our most high-priority targets. She all but has the rank of Scout Sergeant. In fact many of the Scout Sergeants consider her an equal in skill alone. She has over 9000 confirmed kills. That is almost a target a day.”

“And while that is very commendable, it is not necessarily—”

“One was an enemy Dreadnought, and she killed it by kicking a blade through its visor.”

Gabriel hesitated. “And...that is...quite commendable.”

“Commendable? Gabriel, you would give any other marine a promotion for such a legendary feat.”

“That’s not…” Gabriel began. “She can’t...We...we don’t have a set of power armor that she can wear,” he said.

“And it is unlikely we ever will,” Baltus said. “Of course you have neither tried to fix that issue nor given her the proper respect for her deeds. However, the fact remains that every other recruit I taught alongside her became Space Marines. Two of them have even become Tactical Marines.”

The Chapter Master lowered his head back down to the reports in front of him.

“Gabriel,” Baltus said, “we gave her a test. A test she passed nineteen times. If she is not a gift from the Emperor, then I know not what would be. To waste her talent would be wasting one of the Emperor's gifts. If she remains a scout, then so be it, but allow her to at least become a Scout Sergeant. She has earned that much at least.”

Gabriel sighed, and shook his head. “Baltus...I…” It just felt so wrong.

Baltus stood. “I will trust you to make the right choice, Chapter Master. After all, you have made such decisions before. I will leave you to your work now.”

Gabriel nodded and sighed after the door closed behind the black-armored chaplain.

It seemed that all of the hardest decisions were his to make.

---=][=---

Apple Bloom smirked.

The Scout Sergeant across from her strained.

The crowd of armored figures around her surged and roared. Aldwil the loudest among them. “No Marine can best her without armor! No arm can beat her! Even the mightiest of the Primarchs tremble at her name! Apple Bloom!”

The earth pony smiled. “Sorry about this, Sergeant Galaar,” she said, even as he strained against her arm, his hand tied to her hoof.

Galaar growled as his arm bulged and strained as he tried to bring Apple Bloom’s arm to the table. “No, you’re not sorry at all, filthy xeno,” he grunted between smiling, clenched teeth.

Apple Bloom smiled. “Yeah, you’re right,” she said, before driving his arm down to the table.

Many in the crowd groaned while others cheered. Aldwil swooped in, grabbing Apple Bloom’s arm. “Gentlemen! The winner, and reigning unarmored champion of the Barge, Apple Bloom!”

She laughed and gave a wave, as though it were to a civilian crowd, and Galaar stood next to her, holding her arm up as the victor.

“Captain on Deck!” A cry went out, and every marine quickly stood to attention.

Chapter Master Gabriel strode down the galley, escorted by a librarian, and a couple of techmarines.

The Chapter Master seemed to glide down the galley, his adamantium weave cloak billowing, and his mechanical eye glowing as he searched the crowd.

His armor, from the glit pauldrons down to the magnetic soles of his boots was covered in wards and litanies describing his many victories against Chaos, and the words “My Faith is My Shield” was written just above the belt and along the cuffs of his hands.

A massive hammer hung loosely in one hand, while his bolt pistol sat, magnetized to his side.

The only sound in the entire room was the thud of his approach.

He paused as he came to the table, and then spoke, his voice both soft and commanding. “Scout Apple Bloom, it seems that my bionic eye is malfunctioning, and I require your aid as an escort to a forge world for repairs..”

“Yes, m’lord,” she answered quickly, before falling in line behind the techmarines.

Gabriel glanced around the room. “As you were, brothers,” he said and then turned to leave.

The escort followed, with Apple Bloom at the back. Though, as she walked, she couldn’t help but wonder, “Why do we need to go to a forge world? Surely our techmarines could make repairs?”

But she was a Space Marine. She knew better.

“A questioning servant is more dangerous than an ignorant heretic.”

---=][=---

Gabriel Angelos and his escorts stood on the bridge of the Strike Cruiser Aquila Tonitrus. The ship, one of the many the satellite ships that followed the Omnis Arcanum, slammed out of the warp after a mere two weeks of travel.

Another two squads were on standby as they entered realspace in orbit around a large, desert planet. Dynax Primus.

Her enhanced mind already told Apple Bloom everything she needed to know about the green-sand world. Of Segmentum Tempestus, in the Amerikon Sector, Dynax Primus was the primary world in the Dynax system. A forgeworld, Dynax Primus was first considered for a forge world because of its high concentration of copper found on the surface, but otherwise there wasn’t anything noteworthy of the planet.

That changed when further samples found high concentrations of all the metals needed to create adamantium. The planet was instantly claimed, and the Adeptus Mechanicus, the branch of the imperial government in charge of the protection and upkeep of technology, allocated no small amount of resources to transform the planet into a massive factory.

Even from this height, Apple Bloom could see the massive clouds of smog that stretched from one end of the planet to the other.

“M’lord!” a serf said, hunched over a console. “We’re being hailed.”

Gabriel nodded, before glancing at the pony scout. “Scout Apple Bloom, stay out of the pict feed.”

She nodded, before dipping behind a console. “On screen.”

From her position, she couldn’t see the screen, but she could still hear.

“Attention Venerable Strike Cruiser, identify your passengers,” came a rather haughty voice through the vox speakers.

“This is Strike Cruiser Aquila Tonitrus of the Blood Ravens chapter. I am Chapter Master Gabriel Angelos, and I require an audience with the Fabricator-General. Immediately.”

There was a pause.

“I...I...ab-absolutely, m-m’lord...I’ll-I’ll notify him posthaste. Blessings of the Omnissiah unto you and your crew, m’lord.”

Gabriel nodded. “Omnissiah’s blessings indeed.”

The vox went dead, and Apple Bloom emerged from behind the console, her mind abuzz with questions. “This makes no sense. Why would he need to speak with the Fabricator-General? Why would he need to speak with the king of a planet-wide factory?”

Gabriel turned to a different serf. “What is the status of the Thunderhawk?”

“It’s ready m’Lord,” the answer came.

“Excellent. We’ll make planetfall. Have the remaining marines on standby,” he said, before taking a step towards the back of the bridge. The techmarines and the librarian followed. “Scout Apple Bloom, you are to come as well.”

She followed.

Gabriel led his small entourage down to the massive launch bay, where a large, almost boxy ship sat waiting for them. It’s engines purring as the Thunderhawk sat ready. “Are all systems ready?” he asked.

“Yes, m’lord!” came the reply from the pilot. “The machine spirit is prepared and ready for launch!”

Gabriel nodded, as he walked into the open rear end of the dropship. “Excellent. Twenty seconds to launch.”

“Yes, M’lord,” came the pilot's answer over the vox.

Apple Bloom followed quickly, not daring to let the door close behind the Chapter Master and leave her behind.

“Hurry Scout, time will not wait for us.”

She followed, strapping herself in as the door hermetically sealed behind her.

---=][=---

Dynax Primus was far more impressive from the surface than from orbit. Massive spires that scraped the sky, and enormous stacks that billowed smoke and steam from the billions of workers in the laboratories, factories, and mills below. Skulls in massive cogs covered the face of every building, and monolithic, copper statues of hunched figures wielding cog-shaped axes stood tall in every plaza. Massive, towering, gothic buttresses supported the four-miles-tall spires, whole towers in and of themselves, and were covered in pipes and wires that went from one tower to another in gigantic webs that spanned the smog-filled sky.

The Thunderhawk landed with only a slight jostling, and Gabriel was quick to unbuckle himself from the cargo bay of the ship and stepped out as soon as the door opened. Apple Bloom followed him down onto a large catwalk, with a wimpy, almost thread-like railing being the only thing that separated her from a three-mile drop to the surface below.

With that in mind, she stuck to the center.

The others quickly followed behind her, leaving her directly behind Gabriel, who continued to stride forward as if he were going into battle. Forward, unto the massive spire decorated with the Mechanicus skull where a door opened, and a red-robed figure approached.

The door itself was massive. A towering portal that would have easily accommodated three armored Space Marines stacked on each other’s shoulders, yet, even so, its presence was commanded by the figure that stood in it.

A tall, almost looming figure, one that would be downright terrifying to mere mortals, glided through the open door. His long, red robe trailed behind him, almost like a river of blood, while the very end of the train was held almost daintily aloft by a pair of skulls, floating above the ground, with a stream of mechanical arms descending from the upper jaw. Two other skulls followed the figure more closely, one with a roll of parchment descending from it, and an auto quill working furiously as he approached. The other skull ran ahead, and began scanning the visitors, a red beam descending from its right eye.

A network of metallic tentacles, ending in spikes, drills, quills, saws, and a thousand other tools, hovered from outside of the figure’s back, waiting for instructions. Meanwhile, the figure's face was hidden by his blood-red hood, but even so, Apple Bloom could see vox grill that had replaced his mouth and the glowing red light where his eye should be hinted that only one was still organic.

He stopped maybe one-and-a-half meters away and gave a slight bow. “Chapter Master Angelos,” he said, in a mechanized, almost tuneful voice, “you do me and my planet an honor with your visit. The friends of the Adeptus Mechanicus are always welcome here.”

“Fabricator-General Romulus Augustus, the honor is mine,” Gabriel said, offering his own, slight bow.

“While polite, that is incorrect,” the Fabricator-General noted. “I also notice that you seem to be in the company of a strange xeno. Do you wish us to dispose of it for you?”

“Actually, the situation is not so clear cut, I’m afraid,” Angelos said as he set the head of his hammer down on the catwalk. “Brother, come forward,” he said, motioning to Apple Bloom.

The title “Brother” confused her, but she obeyed instantly none-the-less.

“This xeno you see before you,” Gabriel said, “is actually one of my marines.”

The Fabricator-General went silent for one hundred and twenty milliseconds before speaking again. “This seems incorrect.”

“Sadly, it is the truth. We were facing heretic forces when one of the blasted creatures brought forth this odd weapon. That is when my brother was hit, and his body was transformed into what you see before you.”

“What!?” the Techpriest roared, his tentacles flying through the air and writhing in fury. “They created what!? What kind of heritek is this?! There are no words!” He said before his voice simply exploded into bursts of static. The servo skulls trembled at his tirade, and his tentacles danced in the air, threatening to smash the railing apart, or anything else that might get too close. “What did you do with it!?” he demanded suddenly in high-gothic. “What did you do with that vile monstrosity?!”

“We destroyed it,” Gabriel said, his voice even. “We were even so lucky as to find the template for that weapon, and we burned that as well.”

Romulus Augustus seemed to take a breath and sighed. “Thank you, Chapter Master, I knew you and your Blood Ravens would do the correct thing concerning this...heresy of the highest order.”

Gabriel nodded. “However, this does leave my chapter with an issue. My chaplains have evaluated this marine and found his soul to be human yet. Even still, this marine wishes to perform an atonement to purify his soul before the Emperor.

“Now,” Gabriel continued, “Normally this would be a matter of simply sending this marine on a most dangerous mission. Yet as of now, the Blood Ravens do not have the strength to allow such inefficiency.”

Romulus nodded, understanding.

“And so I find myself being forced to treat this Marine as any other, yet I cannot, for he is not properly equipped.”

Romulus had another long pause. “What are you suggesting, Chapter Master?”

“A trade,” Gabriel said simply, “with hope, perhaps you might find, amongst the many templates you have, one for a design that may perhaps fit him. In exchange, of course, we would be willing to dedicate some troops to aid you with the upcoming crusade for an STC.”

Romulus regarded Gabriel for a moment. “That is...most dangerous talk, Chapter Master.”

“How so?”

“Are you feigning ignorance? Or is your organic mind not privy to the obvious complexities of our order? If such a design did exist in our records, then the price for release would be high. If it did not exist, then you are asking for heresy, and the only way for it to feasibly pass to you without it existing amongst our records is if the Omnissiah himself were to bless me with a vision.”

“How high a price, if it were to exist?” Gabriel asked. “Hypothetically.”

“We would need a company,” Romulus said. “At least.”

“I cannot offer you that,” Gabriel said. “I can send you two squads,” he offered.

“Two squads?” Romulus asked, and Apple Bloom was sure that if he could sound offended by the meager gift, he would. “No this is not enou—”

“Of the First Company,” Gabriel finished.

Apple Bloom’s eyes went wide.“Two full squads of First Company Marines?!” Any one of the veteran Marines, is worth ten times that on the field of battle alone, but two squads? That was almost worth two companies.

Romulus was quiet for a full second.

He then turned to the scanning servo skull and released a burst of static from his vox. The servo skull then went to work, scanning Apple Bloom from nose to tail.

And then Romulus spoke. “It seems that both the Omnissiah and probability favor you, Chapter Master, I have been blessed with a vision.”

And then the Fabricator-General turned and simply said. “Follow me.”

---=][=---

With almost 10% of the planet's factories dedicated to this project, and this project alone, the creation of Apple Bloom’s Armor took five weeks.

It had taken fourteen different scans, twelve different “moments of clarity” where Romulus altered measurements and “gained insight” on the vision he had received.

But finally, it was done.

“Well? Is the Marine comfortable?” Romulus asked.

Apple Bloom tried to hide her eye-rolling at his insistence of talking to the armor.

So far the bright, freshly-painted, red plates neither complained nor whined as she was inserted and ritually sealed into the suit.

Other than the quadruped design, the only truly unique part of her suit was the pair of mechanical arms that poked out of her sides. Mechadendrites, they were called. She had learned from the techmarines that calling them metal octopus arms was frowned upon, so learning their actual name was worth the time.

With a thought, they moved and obeyed, grasping and waving around as she needed.

Romulus checked the length of the mechadendrites, making sure that the armored plates didn’t interfere with their movement or ability.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Romulus was satisfied. “Very well, it is finished, then,” he said, as a mechadendrite reached back towards a table, a helmet sat. It was a Mark VI Corvus Pattern helmet, with the very notable, beak-like faceplate. Personally, she didn’t like the aesthetic, but it was a helmet model that would accommodate her snout.

It slipped on, and with the proper rituals, was then hermetically sealed. She took a deep breath of canned, filtered air, and then watched in awe as her autosenses activated. Rangefinders, targeting assists, audio-filters, and tactical displays all hummed to life. A warning in the corner of her vision alerted her that internal oxygen supply was being used, and should be switched to the respirator vox grill from maximum efficiency. She could feel the mechadendrites move and respond to her commands.

She was also surprised to see that they showed up on her life signs monitor.

“Well Brother, is all well?” Gabriel asked.

Apple Bloom nodded, taking a moment to feel the strength in her hooves. “Everything seems in order, M’lord.”

“Very well,” he said before bowing to the Fabricator-General. “Thank you, Fabricator-General Augustus. Your generosity concerning this matter is most appreciated.”

“Noted,” the Mechanicus answered.

“I will send for my marines at once, and then we shall take our leave.”

“And my social protocols dictate that I must thank you for your generosity.”

Gabriel nodded. “You are most welcome,” he said before turning to the now armored Apple Bloom. “Come brother, we must return you to your squad.”

She nodded, and began to follow.

They moved towards the Thunderhawk, Apple Bloom’s every step echoing in her ears. Gabriel and his entourage quickly made their way into the waiting bay doors.

Apple Bloom stepped inside, and waited quietly as the door closed behind them.

“Well, Apple Bloom,” Gabriel said, turning to look at her.

“Yes, M’lord?”

“Congratulations are in order,” he said. “You are now a Devastator Marine.”

---=][=---

“You are not required to think, only to act.”—Imperial Thought of the Day

Alright guys, that’s another chapter done.

“Is there a reason the Mechanicus guy had to get a vision?”

Huh?

“Why did he need a vision to design armor?”

Oh, well, that mostly belongs to the idea that any new creation is not approved by the STCs, or the Standard Template Constructs.

“What?”

Essentially big blueprints.

“Oh.”

So for anything new to be made, and I mean at all, the Adeptus Mechanicus need to receive a vision from the machine god. Because those are automatically approved.

“Oh…”

Anyway, as a final announcement, I will be slowing down a bit. Mostly because I need to focus on my own story. I’ll keep going, it’ll just be slower.

Anyways, we’ll see you next time guys!

“Bye!”

Chapter XI

Apple Bloom took the brush carefully in mouth, letting it hover above her pauldron. The black paint that sat on the brush was thick, but not so thick that it dripped onto the floor of her tiny, spartan room.

Techmarine Gravius, the first techmarine she had ever met, supervised her, lest her brushstroke went awry, and offend the young machine spirit of her armor.

She carefully moved, tracing over the large black X that marked her as a Devastator, the five-man heavy weapons squads that were the designation just above the scouts. As well as holding the majority of the heavy firepower, Devastator squads also were the ones that taught the new marines how to use their power armor.

A careful stroke and the last coat of paint went on to her right pauldron.

Gravius nodded. “All seems well. Shall I prepare the rituals to seal you into the suit once more?”

“Please do,” she said, dropping the paintbrush onto a piece of cloth before a knock sounded on her door.

Gravius stood, and began to prepare the armor, while Apple Bloom crossed over to the door.

It opened to reveal Librarian Lazarus Briehl.

“Greeting Codicer Briehl,” Apple Bloom said, greeting him by his rank, something she knew he hated.

“Greetings, xeno,” Lazarus answered, complete with a scowl.

“Is there something you need, Codicer?”

“I am to introduce you to your squad,” he said with a growl.

“Are you being promoted from shuffling papers around?” she asked with a smirk.

“I would watch your tongue, xeno. The squad is under my leadership.”

Apple Bloom grimaced. “Of course,” she sighed, before staring up at the librarian. “I’ll need to get into my armor, but then I’ll be ready.”

He nodded, and waited in the corridor as Apple Bloom turned back inside her room. “The quicker rituals then?” Gravius asked.

Apple Bloom shook her head and smirked. “No, I plan on wearing it for a long time. If that’s the case we better do this correctly.”

Lazarus raised an eyebrow. Knowing without even reading her mind that she was just taking the extra precautions just to spite him.

After a short, thirty-minute wait, the armored pony quickly joined the librarian, bolter in mechadendrite.

Lazarus led the way, walking into the depths of the Omnis Arcanum. “We are to accompany Captain Burgolf Aren of the 4th company. We have heard of a large Tyranid force on Calderis. The 4th company is to be sent there to protect the recruitment world from danger. Any questions?”

“No, sir.”

“We are taking the hallowed Strike Cruiser Words of Clear Understanding, and we will be leaving posthaste.”

“I have not heard of that ship,” Apple Bloom muttered.

“It once belonged to the late Captain Indrick Boreale, when the name was lost in our records, it had simply gone unnamed for a long time. The Captain renamed it, against the recommendations of many of the techmarines on board. The ship has never been without incident since.”

“Boreale,” Apple Bloom muttered. “Isn’t that the marine that led five companies to their death during the Karuva Campaign, and is the reason we basically have no presence in the Imperium?”

“In short,” Lazarus answered.

“I will remember him as I go into battle.”

“I do every day.”

---=][=---

The Words of Clear Understanding shuddered and whined as the two marines crossed it’s length from the launch bay to what would be her room.

Lazarus had kept conversation to a minimum, something that Apple Bloom was quite thankful for.

She honestly didn’t know why she didn’t like him. Her hypnotherapy had told her that Psykers were a necessary evil, a tool that was liable to transform into a daemon as easy as it could help you, but that certainly wasn’t it. The Blood Ravens were known for their incredibly high number of Librarians, and so each marine had learned to be comfortable around their mentally powerful brethren.

Other than that, she couldn’t remember why she didn’t like him, she just knew it was mutual, so she kept the tradition going. After all, that’s what she did for—

“Oh wonderful, it’s the xeno, did they finally let you out of the 10th company and become an actual marine?”

Ramiel…

Sure enough, there he was, just inside the small common room aboard the monstrous ship. “Hello, Ramiel,” she said, barely giving the other marine a second look. “Firstly, I have seen scouts that can do far more than you certainly can, and second, I’m quite surprised to see you here. I figured that surely someone of your glorious record would already be a Captain, perhaps even Chapter Master.”

“None of that,” Lazarus warned, “We’re a squad, and we shall live or die as one. Therefore, you must act as a squad, a unit that cannot be broken. It is said, ‘Adamantium walls and plasteel bulkheads may seem formidable, but an unshakeable faith in the Immortal Emperor of Man can overcome any barriers,’ likewise, it is your faith in each other that will give you the strongest bond.”

Apple Bloom could tell that Ramiel was rolling his eyes under his helmet, and she was sorely tempted to follow his example.

“Now,” Lazarus continued. “You two know each other, but the rest have only heard of you, xeno. I will let you introduce yourselves, in the meantime, I will check to see if any further preparations necessary before we depart,” he said, before stepping away from the room.

Apple Bloom looked around the room, at the four other marines she’d be working with.

A long second passed in silence before one of them stood. “So there she is, the infamous Xeno Marine.” He held out a hand. “Karlon Thyras, Heavy Bolter operator.”

Apple Bloom took his hand in a mechadendrite, and gave it a good shake. “The honor is mine.”

Karlon gave the mechanical tentacle a good shake before revealing the two other marines behind him. “This is Coberos Virion, who works our Heavy Flamer, and that is Israfiel Merus.”

The last marine waved, but said nothing.

“He has trouble speaking,” Karlon explained. “A Tyranid got at his throat, just beneath the helmet, nearly killed him.”

Israfiel nodded, before tapping the large metal tube that Apple Bloom recognized as a missile launcher.

“And you already know Ramiel,” Karlon said, “he’s in charge of the Lascannon.”

Ramiel said nothing but simply stared at her.

“It’s an honor to meet you all,” Apple Bloom said. “I am to be your new assistant gunner until the time when I may wield one of these venerable weapons comes.”

“May the time come quickly, for the glory of our chapter,” Karlon answered before Coberos spoke up.

“It should not be long,” he offered, “I’ve heard that our generation of Space Marines are on a shortened training period in order to rebuild our forces.”

Apple Bloom nodded, when Lazarus walked back into the room. “Prepare yourselves,” he said, “we will embark with the half-hour, and then our warpdrive shall take us.”

Apple Bloom nodded, before heading towards what she assumed was her room. Without a word, she hopped onto the small cot, and sat, waiting for the time when she was needed.

---=][=---

The warp pulsated outside of the Strike Cruiser, and the daemons of the warp watched a realspace shadow pass them by, yet another oddity in the Realm of Chaos.

Safe inside the ship, protected only by the Gellar field that surrounded the Words of Clear Understanding, Apple Bloom carefully studied her new enemy.

As was according to their methodology, the Blood Raven’s began each assault by studying their enemy and formulating a plan. They even went so far as to use their many Librarians to divine the movements of the enemy, and plan and act accordingly. The study and preparation could take weeks at a time, which is why the Blood Ravens never had a moment’s rest on board any ship as they traveled.

However, Apple Bloom had to sit out for the beginning stages of the planning since she had to research the enemy yet.

So here she sat before a massive tome, Xenos and Their Horrid Kind, by Risa Herra of the Imperial Inquisition, and carefully, reverently read its delicate pages in the Librarium of the Strike Cruiser.

“Tyranids are an extragalactic composite species of hideous xenos that is actually a space-faring ecosystem comprised of innumerable different bioforms which are all variations on the same genetic theme. The Tyranid race is ultimately dedicated solely to its own survival, propagation, and evolutionary advancement. The Tyranids collectively form a monstrous superorganism that travels across the universe in their great Hive Fleets of biomechanical Hive Ships, systematically consuming all other biomatter to enable its own rapid evolution and reproduction.”

She sighed to herself, mentally bemoaning how dry Lady Herra was in her writing.

She honestly preferred Vehicula Inimicorum Nostrorum, by the Inquisitor that insisted on putting her entire name and title on the cover of her book. At the very least she knew how to write.

As she sat there, reading about the vileness of xenos, a stray thought popped into her head.

“I’m a xeno...am I vile?”

She squashed the thought with a strong, resounding, “Yes,” and moved on.

She was a xeno. She was inferior to the human form. Her only saving grace was that the Emperor had blessed this form with an avatar, but beyond that, she could never be as great as human being.

That was she was taught. That’s what she knew to be true.

She turned another page, and continued reading, learning once again that Tyranids could force their evolution and adapt their newest ranks to survive whatever new thing they had encountered, using the genetic material they had taken from the recently devoured.

It was a horrid thing, that disgusted her beyond reason. The very sight of its inhuman form forcing her brain to recoil in revulsion.

It had taken her nearly twenty years to look at herself in the mirror again.

She flipped the page, and continued to read.

And that’s when the klaxon sounded.

Sirens wailed, and Apple Bloom’s head popped into the air.

There was only one reason for the sirens to sound in the warp.

“The Gellar field…” she muttered, before running for the door, one of her mechadendrites grabbing the bolter as she leaped from her room.

Her mind quickly cycled through anything that could cause the Gellar field to fail, and the first thing that popped into her mind was the Navigator. If one of the Psykers that was navigating the Astronomicon were to accidentally run the ship through a daemon, then the daemon would not need to get passed the field, and could simply make a possession.

That was good enough for her, and she ran for the bridge.

---=][=---

It, and truly that is the only word that really applies, was a Daemonette.

A pink-skinned, six-breasted monstrosity with long ears and a lithe, disgustingly graceful body, was making quick work of the human crew on board the Words of Clear Understanding, with its massive, scythe-like claw that it had for a left hand.

Impaling yet another man on the end of her claw, the daemonette moaned in infernal ecstasy, praising Slaanesh.

“So many mortals to kill, and not a single thing to stop me! Oh, thank you! Thank you god of excess for this pleasure you have given me!”

The monster swung its claw around, killing another serf, while a third was screaming into the vox controls. “We need support, my lords! A daemon is ripping us apart! We need—”

His cries were cut short as the daemonette silenced him, and shivered in orgasmic joy.

With a smile that wrapped around her head, the daemonette leaped in front of the door, blocking the escape of the remaining serfs, his claw dripping with blood.

And then the monster laughed, as its eyes went from serf to serf, picking her next target. “Oh, if only an Eldar were here. Then I could listen to their screams as I drag them into the warp with me.” He laughed before she began to sing.

“Give yourself over to absolute pleasure

Swim the warm waters of sins of the flesh

Erotic nightmares beyond any measure

And sensual daydreams to treasure forever

Can't you just see it. Whoa ho ho!

Don't dream it, be it...

Don't dream it, be it…”

Bolter fire ripped through the monster’s back, and a large red figure slammed into it, sending it sprawling forward into the bridge.

It quickly turned, hissing as Apple Bloom moved into her sight.

And then it blinked.

And stared.

Apple Bloom, however, did not hesitate, and quickly began unloading into the daemonette, emptying her magazine into the foul thing’s flesh. “For the Emperor!” she cried as the suit’s targeting system slightly corrected her aim.

The daemonette did not yelp, or cry, but only stared, even as the bolts ripped into her body. All thirty rounds penetrated his skin, exploding as they dug in, and ripping the body apart.

She reloaded, and the Daemonette finally spoke, her entire right side all but gone, and slimy with black ichor. “What...what are you?”

Apple Bloom slid a fresh magazine into her bolter, before she unloaded a few more bolts of her second magazine into the thing, starting from the head and working her way down, leaving only the legs and the torn, splattered remains of what was once her flesh.

A total of thirty-two rounds were needed to kill the Slaaneshi daemon and Apple Bloom shook her head.

She was blessed in that battle.

Her experience in battle against daemons was practically non-existent, yet even so, the monster seemed somewhat odd, and kind of docile, at least towards her.

“Are you alright?” she asked the serfs.

They nodded, shakily, just as other Marines began flooding the room.

“Where is the enemy?!” A marine asked, leveling his bolter at the empty air.

“It’s gone,” Apple Bloom, said, using one of her hooves to point at the black viscera around the pink flesh that lay scattered around the bridge. “I took care of it.”

A new marine stepped onto the floor. “And an excellent job you did at that, Apple Bloom.”

Apple Bloom bowed as the helmet-less marine entered. His armor was heavily decorated with purity seals and a large, metallic circle behind his head.

“Captain Aren,” she bowed, recognizing the Iron Halo as a sign of his rank.

“This victory shall be noted in the Omnis Arcanum’s Librarium, young Marine,” the Captain said, before taking command of the bridge. “Prepare a replacement navigator our course is unchanged.”

“Yes, m’lord!” a serf answered, before scurrying away.

The Captain looked back down at her. “Keep this up, Apple Bloom, and you shall make your chapter proud.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “‘Honor the Chapter, and you will be honored by them,’ quoted from Azariah Vidya’s Tome of Brotherly Valor.”

The Captain nodded, pleased. “Indeed, honor shall be ours.”

---=][=---

Lazarus was silent as the marines around him slowly worked on their plan, fixing any issues the Librarians foresaw, and carefully picking the relic they would choose to hold the centerpiece of their attack.

He was silent, and he was furious.

That filthy xeno had now impressed the Captain, which was the exact opposite of what he was trying to do.

He had hoped that when the creature was put into close combat it would falter, and its cowardice would become evident. Instead, she had proven herself to the single most important person on the ship.

Oh, curse that disgusting xeno! Curse its filthy ways to the Warp, and may the Daemons consume its soul for all eternity!

And the worst part, the part that annoyed him and angered him the most, was the singlar fact that it was all his fault.

The planning became mindless chatter as his thoughts turned to the single, horrid thought that she would not be here, she would not be a Blood Raven, if he had simply killed her when he saw her. She was going to taint the entire chapter with her xeno filth, and it would be all his fault.

He could see it now, the first greatest traitor would be Azariah Kyras, the previous Chapter Master before Gabriel Angelos, who was tainted by Chaos, and was only followed in pure evil by Lazarus Briehl, who brought the entire chapter to its knees by tainting the chapter with a single xeno marine.

It was a story that wrote itself. The warning of digging too deep into secrets bringing the downfall of everyone.

He sighed, and refocused on the plan at hand.

He could rectify this mistake another day.

---=][=---

Calderis was an arid world that had been torn by war on more than one occasion. The warm stones were home to one of the Blood Raven’s last recruiting worlds. The arid landscape home to hardy people and hardy plants.

Large swaths of land lay scorched and ruined, and small pockets of ruins marked the place where settlements once stood.

The population had recovered slightly from the attacks previous, yet they were still shaken, and hesitant to leave their tiny homes, especially as the Tyranids were beginning to migrate across the western hemisphere towards the inhabited east, consuming every living thing, from rock lizard to stone vine is its path.

Calderis was one of the last planets from which the Blood Raven’s took their stock. If this planet were to fall, the Blood Ravens may just disappear from the Imperium.

As Apple Bloom and her squad touched down, she knew this.

This wasn’t just a fight to save the lives of the men of the Imperium, it was also a fight to save the Blood Ravens themselves. This was a fight to save her family, and even when she had been a mere neophyte before she had all of her implants, she had a single law burned into her mind. A motto from a life that was all but forgotten.

An Apple ain’t nothing without her family.

As the Thunderhawk’s bay door opened, Apple Bloom was first to jump down onto sandy rock. Her squad followed behind her, weapons ready.

Her mouth opened, and her Respirator Vox grill let her voice rip into the skies with the Blood Raven’s battlecry.

“We will not be found wanting!”

---=][=---

“The Alien fails because it cannot embrace the Emperor.”—Imperial Thought of the Day.

Huh...that’s...slightly disturbing.

“Huh? What?”

Oh, hey, Pinkie. Well, you know how Apple Bloom’s a Space Marine and that one guy said it can’t happen because she’s female even after I said it shouldn’t work?

“Yeah?”

Well, I decided I might as well check 1d4chan to see if they have anything to say on the matter, and apparently, there are canon female Space Marines, just in all the wrong horrible ways that we should expect from Warhammer 40k.

“As in...?”

Well, according to this article Honsou of the Iron Warriors, a traitor legion of Space Marines, created a...let’s say a method of making more Chaos Marines using a very unlucky woman, who is now a bloated, twisted, undying, insane, mutated pregnant mother-slave only alive because she's in the Eye of Terror.

“I...oh...wow...um…”

Yeah, it's pretty bad. Other than that, it’s an interesting article, if technically NSFW.

“Well...anyway…”

Right! Next up, Sweetie Belle on Craftworld Alaitoc, meeting an old friend.

“We’ll see you then, guys.”

Until next time, Bye!

Chapter XII

Sweetie Belle hummed to herself as she sat in the blue-green grass that covered the floor of the Dome of the Wayward Sun.

She, too, had changed in the past thirty years. However, while the others had grown larger and bulkier, she had done the opposite. She was certainly taller, taller than anypony she knew from back home, yet she was also slender, adopting a form closer to that one model pony Rarity knew. Fleur de lis, if she recalled correctly.

Unlike the model, however, Sweetie had grown a series of ridges down the length of her back. Those ridges, made of off-white wraithbone, had been more than a little painful when they first grew from her spine, but it was one of the many sacrifices she had to make in order to be what she now was.

She hummed again, and a lone, spindly arm grew from one of her ridges, and with it, she carefully moved a tiny ball within a little square box with a clear lid. The lid had only a single hole, about half the size of a penny, and just small enough for the wraithbone growth to fit through.

Humming softly, she moved the wraithbone, using it to push the ball through various rings, letting them light up as the ball passed.

The final ring lit up, and a mechanical voice rang out. “0 minutes, and 57 seconds. New record. Congratulations, Sweetie Belle!”

She smiled to herself, content, before setting the toy aside, and turning to the wraithbone railing that enclosed the small grass garden, and smiled as she watched a tiny little arthropod run along the wraithbone before sinking into it and disappearing completely.

It reappeared on her wraithbone arm, running down its length before coming nose to nose with her.

She smiled, and nuzzled it, before speaking in a musical voice. “Hello, little Warp Spider. How are you?”

It gave a tiny screech, and reached out with two of it six legs, and grasped at her nose.

She laughed. “What, did you really think I forgot who you are?”

The small thing chirped happily, and leaped onto her head, and hid into her long mane.

“Hey!” She laughed. “Get out of there!” Her horn lit up, and small, gentle bursts of green magic fished through her mane, before pulling the tiny thing out of her mane.

It chirped again, as it hovered in the air, its long, six legs hanging down from its thorax.

Sweetie Belle gave it a long hard look, all the while trying to hold back a smile. “What have I told you about staying out of my mane, Button?”

Button the Warp Spider chirped, as though Sweetie could pick one from another without issue.

She gave it a very incredulous look, a hint of a smile still poking through before she set him down on her hoof.

She had given him the name Button almost 28 years ago when she first met the little warp spider. The name was that of a little colt that was in their class back in Ponyville. She had found both the name and, she would admit, colt to be incredibly cute, and so when she met the equally cute creature, it seemed like the perfect match.

She looked up at the starlit sky beyond the dome and sighed. “Well, it's about time to see the Farseer, do you want to come Button?”

Button chirped.

Sweetie smiled, and stood, bringing the small game with her as she made her way to the Hall of Atherakhia. As she walked the wraithbone arm sunk back into the ridges on her back, leaving only her thin, almost serpentine figure filling the road.

She had learned much in her thirty years' time. The first of which was the nature of the Warp. In a word, the Warp was hell. When a soul died, it disappears into the warp, forever held there until it was either eaten or destroyed by a larger monstrosity. At one time billions of years before, this was not so, and the Realm of Souls was a paradise of the immaterial to reside in peace. Now it was the realm of Chaos, and subject to the whims and wiles of four chaos gods.

This above all else is what made the Eldar fear death so much. To die without a soulstone, the soul-capturing gems that all Eldar wore, was to place themselves directly into the hand of She Who Thirsts.

There was an exception though.

Souls from this reality were unique, and had their own signature, as opposed to the ones from her reality. Anything that was not of this reality seemed...off in the Warp. She herself had been seen by the farseers through their visions as some kind of void.

And none of that was mentioning her more practical lessons about the Warp.

Button chirped as he sat on her head, before purring as she walked. “What’s that Button?”

He chirped again.

“Is that so?”

He gave another chirp, and Sweetie laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m glad we’re friends too.”

---=][=---

Farseer Elahina smiled as Sweetie Belle approached her. The little unicorn waited as the other Eldar spoke with her, waiting until she had a moment to breathe.

“Greetings, Farseer,” she said, walking towards her.

“Greetings, Sweetie Belle, I’m glad you could come.”

Sweetie smiled. “To be fair, Farseer, it’s not like I have much to do.”

“Is that so?” Elahina asked. “I thought the Healers never want you to leave?”

“They don’t,” Sweetie said. “But ever since the bonesingers have given up on me, they’ve made an excellent excuse to get away.”

Elahina shook her head. “I don’t know why they expected you to become a master of the craft so quickly. The fact that you can work wraithbone at all is a miracle of Isha, no matter how crude it is.”

Sweetie Belle took the back-handed compliment. It was the Eldar way.

“Nonetheless, I am glad you are here, Sweetie Belle,” the Farseer said, as she beckoned the unicorn further into the hall. “I have to ask you a few questions.”

“It’s not often you ask me question that need to be answered in a specific place,” Sweetie noted.

“You are paying attention,” Elahina noted, going deeper into the hall. “It’s a simple test of your abilities. Nothing more.”

Sweetie Belle didn’t believe that for a second.

The two of them came up to a familiar room. It was familiar mostly for two reasons, the first being that this was where her abilities and magic on wraithbone were first tested, and secondly because she had spent no small amount of time fixing it. The was one new addition, however, an Eldar lay on a table, his arm broken and ruined.

“He was in an accident earlier today," Elahina explained as Sweetie Belle walked up to the table.

Sweetie shook her head. “At least he survived,” she said before she began to hum. Two long wraithbone arms, grew from the ridges in her back, and slowly descended onto injured Eldar. Her wraithbone limbs carefully picked at the ruined flesh, injecting it with healing, soothing psychic energy as they moved down along his arm.

He moaned, and Sweetie Belle sent him a wordless, psychic message. A feeling of reassurance, confidence, and tenderness. The mark of a healer.

She worked quickly, stitching the flesh back together with pure energy.

The power of emotions was not to be underestimated, Sweetie learned. The warp, the Dark gods, daemons, and every power of every psychic creature was built from the ground up by emotions. Luckily, positive emotions, those of love, kindness, and others that Sweetie had in abundance, were the emotions tied to healing.

This, ironically, made her a better healer than the Eldar that had spent centuries doing the same thing.

It would be a lie to say that she didn’t have some jealous peers.

Elahina watched as Sweetie Belle began fixing the wound, reversing the damage at an incredible rate. In almost less than a five minutes almost all of the major damage had been undone.

It was incredibly impressive, even she would admit.

Sweetie smiled, and then the limbs retreated back into her back. “Alright!” she mentally said to the Eldar. “You’re done!”

The Eldar woke, suddenly conscious as the psychic anesthetic passed.

He shook his head, and looked around, before looking down at his hand. He blinked, before saying the Eldar words for thank you.

Sweetie recognized the sounds coming from his mouth, and smiled, before showing him the way out.

He said thank you again, before leaving.

“Excellent work, Sweetie Belle! Now, as a test of your combat abilities.”

Sweetie Belle smiled, as four new limbs grew from her back, each one thinning to the width of a nanometer. “Always a pleasure.”

A bag of sand, previously unseen, and hiding in the shadows of the ceiling released, swinging down along a rope. It flew down towards her, and as soon as Sweetie laid eyes on it, she gave a soft frown. She raised a single blade, and let it catch the rope.

The blade perfectly cut the rope, and the bag went sailing into the air. The wraithbone blade then shot up, stabbing the bag before the blade seemed to explode in dozens of spikes that pierced the bag so heavily it stuck in the air.

Sweetie Belle let it drop as she scanned the room for any more signs of an attack.

A long moment passed.

“I-is that it?” Sweetie asked, keeping her wraithbone blades out and ready.

“It is,” Elahina said with a smile. “We’ll move on to the next test.”

“That’s it?” Sweetie asked again. “Really? You know I can do more.”

The Farseer gave her a smug look through the clear wraithbone window. “I do, in fact, know that you can do more.”

Sweetie Belle raised an eyebrow and Button chirped, sensing her confusion.

“Behind you,” Elahina continued, “in the corner, you should find a damaged shuriken rifle. If you could repair that, please.”

Sweetie Belle turned, eyebrow still raised, before all but two of the wraithbone limbs retreated back into her body. She picked it up, set it on the table, gave one last, questioning look at the Eldar behind the glass, and then got to work.

Her long, wraithbone fingers slipped into the barrel, sliding through into the thin, almost inaccessible parts of the rifle. They clicked and worked meticulously, and Sweetie Belle quickly found the problem. A few of the inner mechanisms were off-kilter, and there was a large mass blocking the long, flat barrel.

She had it back in working order with twenty minutes.

“There we go,” Sweetie said, raising the rifle, and firing a single shuriken at the far wall. It stuck with a satisfying “thunk” and Sweetie then set the ancient weapon aside. “What next?” she asked.

“Nothing, Sweetie Belle,” Elahina said. “I am sufficiently impressed. What about you, Oraban?”

Sweetie’s eyes went wide at the name. “Oraban? Here?”

The ranger seemed to materialize out of the shadows behind the Farseer.

“It is him!”

“She seems more useful,” Oraban said, “that’s for certain.”

“That spineless, uncivilized, motherbucking coward!”

“Can she psychically speak?” he asked, as though he were asking about the features of a dishwasher.

“You can ask her,” Elahina said.

“Can you speak, Sweetie Belle?” Oraban asked, unaware of her psychic defenses that hid her absolute fury from him.

She took a short breath, exhaled, and replied in an almost pleasant voice. “I can, in fact, speak psychically to you. I can speak to anything I want.”

“Excellent,” Oraban said. “Now you can ask all your questions without giving away our position.”

“You didn’t even say goodbye you heartless, dim-witted, beast of an Eldar!”

“Are you satisfied?” Elahina asked.

“I am,” Oraban nodded.

“I am not some sort of carriage up for sale! I am a living being that I thought you might have cared about!”

The Ranger nodded, and unslung his rifle from his shoulder. “Come along, Sweetie Belle, our mission awaits.”

“Your mission you pig-faced, snot weasel,” she thought to herself.

Oraban began walking away.

And Sweetie just stayed there.

She stayed exactly where she was, watching as the man that abandoned her thirty years ago walked back into her life and just expected her to follow.

A part of her said that it was standard Eldar behavior. She was a dog in their eyes, she was supposed to return to her “master” with all the loyalty she could muster and not even second guess him. She was supposed to be happy to see him. Everything they knew of her said that she should follow him. It’s what he expected of her.

It’s what they all expected of her.

The other part of her told her that he could have at least said goodbye.

Oraban disappeared from view, leaving only her, the Farseer, and Button in the room.

The Farseer began to frown as she watched Sweetie Belle stand there.

Button gave an inquisitive chirp.

“Is...something wrong, Sweetie Belle?”

Sweetie didn’t answer. She simply stared at the empty doorway, glaring at it as though it were the Ranger himself, and she could bore a hole through him with her gaze.

“Sweetie Belle?” Elahina asked again.

“Yes, Farseer,” she said, before finally moving forward. “Something is definitely wrong.”

---=][=---

It had been thirty years, but Arconar was exactly as she remembered it. Hot, sticky, and damper than soaked cloth.

She stepped out of the Webway gate, and instantly felt her mane fizz with the humidity that covered every inch of the jungle planet. Oraban stood nearby, his rifle up and ready.

“Remember, Sweetie Belle, move quietly, the jungle is as angry as ever,” he mentally told her.

Sweetie answered with a soft hum, and four wraithbone limbs sprouting from her back. They lifted her, bodily into the air, and she moved over to the large trees of the jungle planet like a massive, four-legged spider.

“I will be silent,” she told him, and Button chirped as though to hammer the point home.

Oraban turned to see the tiny warp spider standing on Sweetie Belle’s head.

“Where did you get that?” he asked.

“That’s Button. He likes me. He wanted to come along.”

The ranger eyed the small creature for a long second, before his eyes were then drawn to her flanks. “Is that a bonesinger’s flute?”

Sweetie Belle looked back at her cutie mark, which was, indeed, the long, thin flute that was the tool of the wraithbone crafters of the Eldar world. The long, off-white flute was surrounded by a green swirl, decorated with stars.

“Oh, so you noticed, did you?” She thought bitterly to herself, before mentally speaking. “It is. I’ve told you of cutie marks before, haven’t I?”

Oraban waited a moment before shaking his head. “No, I don’t believe so.”

“My species,” Sweetie said aloud, “receive a mark on our bodies when we discover our destiny. This is my mark.”

Oraban raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. Now remember to stay silent.”

“I am being silent,” Sweetie said with a smile, as her horn glowed softly. “I’ve worked a bit on my psychic abilities, and I’ve found way to silence my voice. It’s slightly more efficient for me than telepathy.”

Oraban blinked, before nodding. “Very well. If you are sure it's silenced.”

Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes, as her spider legs grabbed onto the nearest tree and began climbing. “Are you coming, Oraban?” she asked.

He followed. “You seem eager.”

“I seem annoyed,” she corrected in her head. “Just enjoying the chance to stretch my legs.”

Oraban smirked. “What? Did Alaitoc seem too restrictive for you?”

No. No it didn’t. The healers loved her. They saw that her abilities surpassed theirs and saw the worth in them. Yes, she was a glorified healing machine, but it was better than being treated like a pet. The bonesingers also had been impressed with her. Yes, they thought her ability for art was the worse thing they had ever seen, but they were still impressed by her abilities.

The only reason she was here right now was because she “belonged” to Oraban, like a little lost puppy.

She wanted to say that. She wanted to say a lot.

But she said nothing.

Instead, she moved up, into the trees and the endless jungle forest that she had not seen in years.

She moved up into the deep darkness of the canopy before finally breaking it, and looking at the clear blue sky and its blue-white clouds.

She smiled. That was the one thing she missed. The sky.

She took a deep breath of the oxygen-and-ozone rich air, and gave a sigh.

The last time she was here, she had been the prey of almost every creature she knew existed here.

This time, she would not be so helpless.

---=][=---

“If you cannot speak well of your Master, be silent!”—Imperial Thought of the Day.

Sorry that took so long guys, Thanksgiving week was a little on the hectic side.

“Heretics!?”

Hectic, Pinkie! Hectic! Put the bolter down!

“Excellent idea! Behold the holy chainsword!”

Pinkie, stop! This isn’t the time for this! Ugh...I should’ve never let you play Space Marine. Dumb Steam sale…

“Hey, you were the one that bought the Dawn of War 2 Grand Master edition.”

It was twenty dollars! How could I not?!

“Anyway! Sorry that Miner didn’t give you a long one again, he’s trying but Eldar were never really his strong suite.”

Thanks, Pinkie.

“So we’ll see you next time!”

Bye!

Chapter XIII

The Rat-bird, a small, furry, winged vermin native to the shrine world Hagia, was known for stowing away on ships and hiding amongst the great, labyrinthine halls of Imperial ships and traveling to far-flung worlds. Calderis was one of those worlds.

A small swarm of four-or-so of the winged vermin all sat on a withered branch of a dead tree, watching as a large, red, metal box flew across the sand, kicking up a massive sand cloud in the distance.

The Rhino transport vehicle, rumbled across the desert, carrying Apple Bloom and her squad across miles of desert to the next fight.

It seemed that the Tyranid threat had been overestimated, Apple Bloom thought. While the initial fighting on planetfall was fierce and furious, the Tyranids fell quickly, before becoming incredibly scarce. Now it seemed that there were only pockets of activity on the planet, separated by long lulls of nothingness.

Karlon adjusted the heavy bolter in his lap and grumbled as they moved along. “This is hardly a fight for glory or survival. This seems more like clean up.”

Israfiel nodded before his massive, armored fingers moved under his helmet to scratch his throat.

“It is a vital maneuver,” Lazarus said, adjusting the grip on his force staff. “The chapter would die without Calderis. This planet is both the cradle and the future of the Blood Ravens. We must defend it.”

“No one, is arguing that Codicer,” Apple Bloom said. “We were simply expecting a greater glory than this.”

Ramiel nodded. “For once I must agree with the xeno. This seems to be work more fitting of the Imperial Guard than the might of our glorious chapter.”

“The Imperial Guard have their own battles to fight,” Coberos said, checking and rechecking the ignition tube on his flamer. Promethium, the Imperium’s most widely used fuel, leaked everywhere as he worked. A single spark would send the whole cabin up in smoke.

Apple Bloom was halfway tempted to close her vox-grill and move to her internal air supply just so she wouldn’t need to smell it anymore.

“Exactly,” Lazarus agreed. “This is our fight, and this is our duty. We shall take it with honor.”

Apple Bloom said nothing. Nothing needed to be said. Everyone knew what their jobs were and why they were there. It was simply a matter of getting there.

Unknown to the occupants of the Rhino, the rat-birds took flight, fluttering madly as a shadow passed above them.

The Rhino continued its merry path when one of the two Space Marine drivers looked down. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the Auspex screen.

The green-tinted screen showed a large, glowing, amorphous shape, heading closer to the center-rune that marked their location.

It was moving fast.

“Evasive maneuvers!” the driver said, more as a warning to his occupants than anything else. He made a hard right, causing the passengers to slide until the magnetic soles in their boots activated.

The Rhino slid again as the large amorphous shaped passed them by, and the driver stepped on the gas, forcing the transport vehicle rushing forward.

“What was that?” Ramiel asked as Israfiel loaded his missile launcher.

“Apple Bloom, check the hatch!” Lazarus ordered.

She nodded and moved to the large ceiling hatch towards the front of the transport. She slammed it open, coming up to the storm bolter turret, and looked up at the clear, blue sky.

A shadow passed over her, and her eyes widened as she saw it.

“Hive Tyrant!” she yelled, before swiveling the turret over and unleashing both barrels of bolter fury onto the massive Tyranid.

The massive Tyranid's claws ripped into the Rhino’s metallic hull, and Apple Bloom kept firing even as it was torn asunder. The Rhino quickly changed from a Space Marine transport to a Space Marine can, and the Hive Tyrant was eager to dig into his lunch.

Apple Bloom kept up the point-blank fire as the flying tyrant stood over its prey like a giant eagle. Meanwhile, the Devastator squad began moving out filing out of the Rhino and onto the sand.

The Hive Tyrant shrieked and began raising the massive vehicle to its maw.

Forced down, Apple Bloom leaped from the hatch, down onto the sand, as the two drivers stayed behind, using their own bolters to fire into the Tyrant’s mouth.

The tyrant swallowed them both, armor and all.

“Retrieve them! We need the Gene-seed!” Lazarus said.

Israfiel answered with a rocket straight into the Tyrant’s neck.

“Open fire!” Karlon yelled as the Heavy Bolter in his hands began firing full force.

Ramiel opened fire, and a long, angry red bolt of las fire slammed into the Tyrant’s wing, downing it as Apple Bloom ran more rockets over to Israfiel. She herself continued to fire against the abomination, her bolter reporting valiantly with every shot.

Even loaded with Hellfire rounds, the only thing the Tyranids haven’t seemed to become immune against, the tyrant just kept taking the shots as though it weren’t even there.

Tyranids, however, were also not immune to fire.

Coberos ran forward, the flamer sputtering before launching a massive jet of flame up at the beast. It screamed, before dropping down, revealing one of its massive arms to be a long, organic cannon. It fired, and a hail of corrosive, organic crystals shot forward towards them.

As the crystals dug into the ground, Ramiel was forced to leap out of the way, taking his lascannon with him.

Lazarus, meanwhile, took a deep breath, breathed flame using the power of the warp.

The flying tyrant screeched, his voice shaking the earth beneath them as they stood their ground.

Apple Bloom heard Ramiel laugh over the vox. “Ha! Is that all the might your hive has?!”

The Tyrant roared, before one of its massive, scythe-shaped talons slammed down on the lascannon operator. The talons were too large to pierce his armor, but she did hear him cry. “Brothers! I’m pinned!”

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes before she looked up to Israfiel. “Brother, will you be alright for a moment?”

Israfiel nodded, before firing another missile and grabbing one from the case Apple Bloom had been carrying on her back.

She smiled beneath her helmet before drawing her knife. “We will not be found wanting!” she cried, before charging the downed Tyranid.

Karlon’s firing slowed as he watched Apple Bloom charge the massive beast.

He blinked.

Apple Bloom kept charging, running forward, and closing the gap between herself and the massive monster.

And then she kicked.

Now, Apple Bloom was strong, stronger than any marine in the chapter. Now, Power Armor was known for increasing that already inhuman strength.

When Fabricator-General Romulus Augustus created this specific suit of power armor, he took this into account.

Unseen generators began to whine as Apple Bloom’s hind legs flew through the air. Electric power began to crackle along the sole of her hooves. The power servos in her legs screeched.

And then she made contact.

The Hive Tyrant’s head snapped back, lifting his body up off the ground. Ramiel, now free, rolled from the ground and fired his lascannon once more. The others followed his example, firing more and more projectiles as the Hive tyrant began to topple.

Apple Bloom charged it once more, this time using her mechadendrites to grab onto the tyrant’s massive scales, climbing its body.

Israfiel fired another missile, the explosion rocking the Tyranids body.

It began to fall backward.

“For the Emperor!” Apple Bloom cried, before driving the knife between the chitin plates and slicing its body open.

The tyrant fell down into the sand, sending up a cloud of dust as it came to its final rest.

There was a long silence as the Devastator squad regrouped, and closed in on the body of the Hive Tyrant, and blinked. “Sister Apple Bloom?” Karlon asked before he caught sight of the armored figure cutting her way into the hive tyrant’s digestive tract.

“Yes?” she answered.

“What, by the Throne, was that?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I’ve always been excellent at melee.”

Karlon nodded.

“Now, are you going help, or do I need to retrieve our brothers myself?”

---=][=---

The cleansing of the planet continued for many months, cleaning out hormagaunts, carnifexs, and much more.

There was so much to do, and the Blood Ravens did it expertly.

Before five weeks were out, the Tyranid remnant had all but been destroyed. All that was left was a small patch of resistance, and Captain Aren felt that the newest marines needed some glory to their name.

So it came to be that Apple Bloom’s squad stood over a box canyon, filling its Tyranid-covered floor with bolts, fire, las-fire, and explosions.

Apple Bloom tossed a grenade down into the canyon, and smiled as two homagaunts screeched as they exploded.

The smile was short-lived, however, as she sighed before turning to her squad. “You see what you’ve done, Ramiel? You complained about Guard work, and that’s what we received. Guard Work.”

“Karlon started it,” Ramiel argued.

“Isarfiel agreed with me,” the Heavy Bolter operator noted.

The mute marine glared at him.

“Yes, yes, I know I was there. My memory is just as good as yours,” Apple Bloom said, before her mechadendrite fired into the canyon, killing a long-bodied Tyranid with a snake-like thorax, a Ravener, that was trying to dig into the ground. “But now, we are forced to dealing with these leftovers, like dogs picking scraps.”

“If these are scraps, then we are eating well,” Coberos laughed, his heavy flamer’s long stream of flame hitting targets that most flamers could not reach.

Apple Bloom sighed. “I...I wish, perhaps we were eating better,” she said before checking her auto senses for the time. “It’s my turn to take watch. I’ll return shortly.”

“I’ll go with you,” Ramiel said, surprising everyone gathered.

“Really?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Of course,” Ramiel said. “You have inferior xeno senses. It’s a safety measure.”

Lazarus, who sat nearby, reading a scroll, had no objection.

Apple Bloom stayed silent, and the two shared a look before agreeing.

They headed off into the desert, beginning the slow walk around the canyon and the Blood Raven’s forces.

The two marines walked slowly, their massive feet leaving behind prints in the sandy rocks, and a long silence passed between the two.

Apple Bloom’s eyes scanned the horizon, and Ramiel scanned the land after her. They did not speak, opening their mouths only to check in with their squad at regular intervals.

They had made a revolution and a half, a whole two and a half kilometers, before Ramiel finally spoke. “I wish to thank you, Apple Bloom.”

She glanced up at him. “For what?”

“You have done your duty, and done it well,” Ramiel said. “I admit, I may have...misjudged you upon our first meeting. I will not say you are worthy of this duty, but you were not as unworthy as I believed.”

Apple Bloom blinked and stayed silent.

There was a long pause between the two.

“I accept your apology,” she said finally.

“It’s not an apology,” Ramiel stated. “I am not sorry, I am simply stating you surprised me.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “Fair.”

The silence returned, and the two marines kept walking around.

The glint of metal caught Apple Bloom’s eye, and her head snapped over to it. “Did you see that?” she asked.

“See what?”

“I saw something silver. 28 degrees north of our position.”

Ramiel slowly turned his head to face that direction and shouldered the lascannon. “I’ll cover you.”

Apple Bloom nodded as her mechadendrites leveled her bolter at the spot on the horizon. She moved slowly, approaching with caution. The silver caught her eyes once more, and she raised her bolter up to aim directly at it. She moved closer, and blinked as she found herself standing over a small ledge that was hiding a dead body.

It was fresh, the blood sitting, pooled on a rock. A Tyranid wound, she could tell. Of course, this wasn’t the most important information. No, the fact that this human was covered head to toe in Chaos iconography. The very presence of them caused her to clench her teeth in rage.

She keyed her microbead. “I’ve found a body. Looks like a chaos cultist.”

“What?” Lazarus asked, speaking into her ear. “A cultist?!”

“Affirmative,” Apple Bloom confirmed, as she looked down on the three-headed hydra badge stuck to his chest. “It seems things just got complicated.”

---=][=---

The Alpha Legion was the most mysterious legion of all of the traitor Space Marines. They had no homeworld, their numbers were unknown, and their very colors were not a certainty, hovering between blue and green. Their Primarch, Alpharius Omegron, was supposedly killed by the Primarch of the Ultramarines, but not even they are sure that Alpharius actually died that day.

This made the Blood Ravens hate them beyond all measure.

The Blood Ravens, guardians of knowledge, have a compulsive need to learn as much as possible about anything and everything they can, whether relic, ally or enemy. Yet even they knew next to nothing about the Alpha Legion.

Their motives were unguessable, their intentions, unknowable. Not even their battle cry was known, changing from “Hydra dominatus,” to “For the Emperor,” as long as it suited their needs.

They were the sneakiest, stealthiest, and most unknown traitor legion to exist, and that was all the Blood Ravens knew about them.

This made the fresh body of the cultist a very important find.

Any sign of these traitors was a priority alert, and upon receiving the news, Captain Aren sent out the Company to begin searching for any hint as to the intentions of the Alpha Legion on Calderis.

So far, they had ruled out direct assaults. While the connection between their presence and the Tyranid remnant had not been counted out, there did not actually seem to be any Legionnaires actively destroying Calderian settlements.

If they wanted to do damage to the Blood Ravens, that would be the best way to do it.

Nonetheless, this was not something to ignore, and so the Blood Ravens began combing the planet, searching for any sign of the Alpha Legion.

Apple Bloom’s squad led the search, checking everywhere they could for the traitors, but finally, after nine months of deep-scans, the Blood Ravens found nothing more than the last of the Tyranid threat.

Apple Bloom sat in the small command post that had become the Blood Raven’s functioning headquarters while they worked planetside, in the small chapel, praying to the mighty God-Emperor with quiet, muted words, asking for blessings of strength and purpose.

Unbeknownst to her, she was sharing the room. Lazarus stood off to one side, watching her as she prayed.

Over this campaign, all eleven months, he had seen her do many things. He had watched her charge a Hive Tyrant, he had seen her buck a carnifex in the face. He had seen her do things most men would not think of doing.

In one way, it was inspiring.

In another, it was insulting.

Here was this xeno, this inferior creature, was doing what many human men could not do.

He had come to rely on her. Her talents, especially in melee were not something to be scoffed at, and her skill with a bolter was not unnoteworthy either.

He still had some misgivings about a xeno taking the honor of a man, yet, somehow, a part of him said that she had, in a way earned it.

He wasn’t sure that was correct, but it was what he had. The better news was he did not need to act on it now. He simply had a duty to perform.

He approached the young marine, his force staff clacking against the tile floor.

Apple Bloom said nothing, letting the Librarian stand in silence as she finished her prayer. It was only then that she turned to him. “Yes, Codicer.”

He said nothing, bowing to the image of the Emperor before speaking. “Your squadmates have been promoted. They are Assualt Marines.”

There was a moment of silence.

“They are Assault Marines,” she noted, recognizing that the word “you” was not used.

“Yes,” the Librarian said. “Captain Aren was torn on the matter. He wished for you to be promoted, yet you do not have the same experience in power armor, nor do we have a jump pack compatible with your body. With all of these working against you, he could not promote you.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “I see.”

Silence reigned in the glit chapel for a long moment.

The Librarian stood, and began to walk away, leaving Apple Bloom with the oddest feeling that this has happened before.

Just before he left, however, the Librarian spoke again. “For what it’s worth, xeno, you do the chapter proud.”

Apple Bloom nodded and sat still before the altar.

She understood that.

She understood the Captain’s rationale. She understood his reasons. It made perfect, complete, and total sense.

She had no need and no reason to become an Assault marine.

Besides, at least she wasn’t a scout anymore. She was a proper Space Marine, she had no reason to complain.

So why did it hurt so much?

---=][=---

“If a job's worth doing it's worth dying for!”—Imperial Thought of the Day.

Alright, guys! There’s your chapter!

“Hang on, I thought it’d be another Sweetie Belle chapter?”

Well, that’s what you get for thinking, my dear.

“So what next?”

More orks! This time, punching Eldar!

“Wait? So Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle are going to meet up?”

What? Pinkie, of the thousands of worlds, the thousands of Eldar, and the thousands of locations across the galaxy, do you think that they’d meet up.

“Maybe?”

Maybe.

Alright, we’ll see you next time, guys!

“Bye!”

Chapter XIV

“Drive! By the God-Emperor, drive!” Commissar Julius Ertelt screamed as his Chimera transport vehicle bounced over the next hill.

The poor Commissar, who most definitely did not get promoted, clung onto the rim of the open hatch as he stared at the green tide behind him.

The orks had quickly began taking the planet, especially since the artillery of the Costea 301st had been all but destroyed in the initial attack. The infantry of the Imperial Guard, while numerous, was not strong enough to staunch the flow of the orks. The planet was all but lost.

“Drive faster!” the Commissar ordered, screaming as a squad of ork attack bikes roared behind them.

“We can’t go any faster, sir!” the driver said, as he double checked the Chimera’s systems with his co-pilot.

“I said, drive faster!” the Commissar said.

“Sir, we can’t—”

The report of a bolt pistol rang in the Chimera’s driving cab, and the co-pilot was then covered in a thin paste of his partner.

“I said drive faster.”

As the secondary driver suddenly found himself promoted to primary driver, the orks behind them were howling in joy. “Waaaagh!” the leader cried, the bikes bearing down on the retreating transport.

Among them was Blooddagga, riding on Scootaloo’s bike, with the pegasus riding behind. “Now remember,” she yelled, as Blooddagga continued to fire from his bayoneted slugga, “if you ruin my bike, I’ll kill you!”

“Roight, Boss, roight. Ah remembah,” he sighed.

Scootaloo began to position herself, climbing up along the back of her seat, and getting to its top. The wind rushed past her as she stood on her back legs, and her eyes narrowed as she looked down towards the fleeing machine.

She smiled.

And then she opened her wings.

They caught the air, and she quickly gained altitude, falling temporarily behind the bike squad as she flew up into the sky. She climbed the air, before leveling out to fly along with the bikes.

Humans just weren't prepared for orks to have a silent, incredibly agile flyer.

She dove, reaching incredible speeds as she began to catch the Chimera.

She slammed into the metal hull of the infantry transport, and slammed a hoof into the man screaming man on the top of it. His chest crumpled under the blow, and he fell back into the carriage below.

She leapt in after him as the Chimera ran through the debris and rubble of the city, and found herself staring at a gore-covered human driving, but staring at her with wide eyes.

“Sorry, Humie,” she said with a smirk, “nothing personal, it’s just you all have to die.”

The human spun, leaving the controls as his hand grasped for the long, green metal thing that hung on the commissar’s side. Scootaloo threw a punch that could take the guard’s head off, but he did not survive the entire campaign just to die to a single punch.

He dived under her, grabbing the thing, and pulling it free of the dead man’s belt. He held it up, and let it rev in his hands, revealing the hundreds of razor-sharp adamantium teeth of the chainsword.

Scootaloo gave a low, appreciative whistle. “Now that’s proper orky.”

The guard swung the whining blade wildly, trying desperately to save his life as the chimera jumped and bounced as it careened through the ruins of the city.

Scootaloo ducked under the blade, even as the transport bucked underneath them. Panicked, the guard swung again, aiming low this time, only for the left track of the runaway vehicle to catch on a collapsed wall, sending them up and around, and spinning in the air.

The chimera capsized, landing on its roof before bouncing, and smashing head on into a massive rockcrete pillar.

The Chimera finally came to a rest.

The bikes pulled up, surrounding the dying machine, and Blooddagga quickly crossed the difference to pry open the hatch. “Boss! Boss, ya in dere? You still livin’?”

“Ow…” came the weak reply, before Scootaloo slowly began to crawl out. “Yeah, I’m alive. I’m missing a hoof, but I’m alive.”

“Yer missin a what?” the Kommando asked.

Scootaloo rolled her eyes before lifting her left foreleg, revealing the black and red ichor that oozed from her stump. “My hand, Blooddagga.”

Blooddagga stared at her open leg. “‘Ow can ya tell? It’s still flat.”

“Well, other than the fact that it's shorter than my right leg, and the bone sticking out it, how about the fact that I’m bleeding all over the dumb trukk! Now stop gawkin’ and help me out of here!”

Blooddagga pulled her up and out of the wreckage, while Scoots nursed her severed leg. “Can you see my hoof down there?”

The kommando peered down into the ruin carriage, and at the figure of the human impaled on a chainsword, yet there was no orange hoof in sight. “Nah, can’t see it.”

Scootaloo groaned. “Great. I’m gonna hafta go to the Mekboys now.”

“Alright den, let’s go, Boss.”

Scootaloo grumbled as Blooddagga began carrying her heavily wounded body away from the crash.

---=][=---

“Zoggin’ git!” Scootaloo said as she stumbled again.

The Mek Boys had taken one look at her now-shorter leg, and instantly split into smiles at the thought of giving her a power klaw. The large, three-taloned claw could easily replace her hoof, and with its sheer crushing ability would be more than enough to add some choppiness to her mostly shooty arsenal.

Scootaloo asked how she would walk with one.

They went on to say that since she is, in her own way, a nob, then it would be perfectly fitting to give her this status symbol weapon, and they wouldn’t need to worry about any politking.

Scootaloo asked how she was going to walk again.

Combining the vicious power field that would surround her new klaw, she would be able to destroy vehicles with perfect, orky strength. She could even use it as an actual hand if they put a activashun switch on it. The only downside they could properly see was that Scoots was actually one of the weaker nobs in the Waaagh! so a smaller klaw would be required.

They had already started putting it together before Scootaloo aimed both barrels of her kustom shoota directly into a mekboy’s face to get an answer.

“How am I gonna zoggin’ walk?”

A quick redesign later, and a short, stocky klaw with wide spines, and articulating joints for the talons was made and cybernetically attached to her stump. As a foot it did well, but it was much like what she imagined walking in high heels would be like.

Using her wings to stabilize herself, Scootaloo then continued to walk down the rough corridor to Nobgobba’s room, where she had been summoned to after her latest mission. Her new claw clanked against the floor as she moved.

“Dat’s pretty loud, dat is,” Facehacka’s voice noted.

She looked around, and quickly spotted the large metal panel that wasn’t actually riveted to the wall. She walked forward a bit more, before she knocked on the panel. “Yeah, that’s why I’m going to be flying when we sneak.”

Facehacka moved his camouflage aside, a smile on his face. “Did aye evah tell you how cunnin’ you is?”

Scootaloo smiled. “A few times.”

“Good, Ah’d hate ta forget somfin’ like dat.”

Scootaloo and her Kommando continued on their way to Nobgobba’s office, which did make him the only ork Scootaloo knew that needed an office, and knocked on his massive door.

“What is it?!” The warboss yelled.

“It’s me,” Scootaloo said.

“And whadda you want?” Nobgobba growled.

“You called me,” Scootaloo answered.

“I did?”

“Ya did.”

“Den stop wastin’ time an git in here!”

Rolling her eyes, Scootaloo stepped into the large room.

Nobgobba sat on a massive throne made of the same twisted metal that formed all ork structures, a massive goblet sitting in his hand. Gretchin ran across the floor of the room carrying anything from pages of parchment to plates of meat, all providing everything they could to the warboss in some vain hope that he wouldn’t kill them. A priest of Gork, or possibly Mork, stood nearby, holding his big stikk and looking important, because that’s apparently all they did.

“Dere ya are, Shootaloota,”

“You called, Boss?” Scoots asked.

“Ah did. I’s got a job for ya.”

“What’s the job?”

“I need ya ta start puttin’ a ship togeder,” Nobgobba said, before taking a long drink of black mead.

“What now?” she asked.

“We’z doin’ good. Too good. I don’t want all dis good mojo ta go ta waste. I need you ta find us pieces of a ship, and get da Mekboyz ta start puttin’ it togeder. We’z need ta keep da Waaagh! movin’.”

Scootaloo blinked. “You want the Mekboyz to build a ship.”

“Loot one if ya can, but I’m not waiting for anoder ‘ulk ta pass by. We’z gettin’ off da planet as soon as we can!”

Scootaloo blinked again. “I guess I’ll get on that.”

---=][=---

It took the Mekboyz eight months to build a ship, and another six to create a machine that would launch the 470 metric tonnes of metal and fuel into the upper atmosphere.

It would take a lot, but Scootaloo would eventually admit that it was kinda terrifying.

Ork rocket science followed the basic idea that whatever you wanted to launch needed at least as many pounds of explosives to move. So the mekboyz had only one option.

Scootaloo had never seen so many explosives in her life. And that was saying something for living with orks.

Missiles, rockits, barrels upon barrels of promethium, anything and everything that could explode in a thousand mile radius all brought to this single point, and stuffed into the back of a massive metal dish at the back of the ship.

The Burnaboyz were not allowed within seventy feet of the base, and anyone with an open flame was throttled by a nob on sight.

Scootaloo wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea. At all.

However, the Mekboys said it was going to work, so it was most likely going to work.

Of course, when it came to going into space, orks tended to fail a lot, so…

Finally, after a little over a year, they were finally ready. Nobgobba piled everyone in, and after the teeth-clenching hours of apprehension, they launched into the void.

The launch itself was a year-and-a-half ago, now, and the resulting drift through the Warp was nothing incredibly exciting. Oh, sure there were a few daemon intrusions, but they were dealt with by more than a few eager orks, many coming away with new wounds that would make amazing scars. However, beyond that, there was nothing to really speak of.

That’s what made their landing all the more exciting. Almost as exciting as the launch.

And it only got better when they got outside.

---=][=---

“What is that?” Alard asked as he sat on the back of his large reptilian steed.

“It’s an ork ship,” Mesria, the female ranger next to him said. “We’ll need to let the king know. We will be beset by nightfall.”

“Have you faced many ork?” the younger eldar scout asked.

“A few times, they are brutal, and dangerous. Yet simple. Be warned though, this will be no easy fight.”

As the two, almost tribal, Eldar disappeared into the dense underbrush, the orkish tide slowly emerged from the wreckage of the ship.

Scootaloo and her small squad of Kommandos were one of the first ones out, and the former was pleasantly surprised to find how well the idea of ramming the planet worked.

“Alright, boyz!” she said as she stepped into the sunlight. “We’z got our mission! Go in there, find the people who own this planet, give ‘em a ripe kick in da teef, and get back here and let Nobgobba know.”

“Roight, Boss!” Hellspitta said with a toothy grin as he glanced at the very burnable landscape. “Quiet in, and Waaagh! out.”

“Sounds loike fun, dat does,” Blooddagga said, twirling his choppa.

“We’z gonna give ‘em a proper surprise, we are.” Facehacka agreed, tuning his scope.

“Then stop waistin’ time and move ya lunks!” Scootaloo roared. “Move!”

And with that, the four disappeared into the jungle, their purple and blue bodies disappearing perfectly into the wood and underbrush.

Somehow.

---=][=---

The Exodite Eldar, those who abandoned their civilization before She Who Thirsts was born, stood in their massive Tree Home, standing in the council room at the foot of the Chief’s throne. They surrounded a large stump, sliced flat by a powerful blade, and a map, they pointed at it carefully, and spoke to each other in hushed whispers as they did so.

They stood in their psycho-plastic armor, decorated with primitive paints, feathers and bones, while they held stone spears and shuriken pistols.

Finally, the chief spoke. “What is it that you have found, my scouts?”

Mesira, dressed in the Alaitoc colors, re-colored in the same tribal paint as they others, spoke up first. “It is the Ork incursion foretold by Wayseer Alivae. Luckily, we already have a plan in place to deal with them, we must simply cut them off at the pass.”

Another Eldar spoke up, pointing to the map. “As you can see, they’ve landed here, which shall provide our Dragon Scouts a great advantage, further, we can send…”

As the Eldar spoke, in their strange, musical language, Scootaloo watched from the ceiling.

She had heard of these things once, Eldar, they were called, taller than the humies, skinnier and weaker too, but far, far faster. And from what she could see, that was only the start.

The way they moved seemed...wrong. They were too graceful, too refined, too purposeful. It was like everything they did was free of mistakes and flaws. Every ounce of their demeanor spoke of creatures of perfection, and who knew of that perfection in themselves.

Scootaloo did not like them.

Her Power Klaw flexed, as they spoke in that strange music-language, and from her perch she could see the other kommandoz carefully positioned around the room, hidden by thick foliage and their own camouflage.

Scootaloo clung to the ceiling, her form fitting snugly between two large cords of wood, while her eyes searched the room below. The Eldar pointed and murmured, almost singing in haughty tones as they moved tiny wood and stone pawns around the map.

She looked around the room once more, and saw the eyes of her kommandoz staring back, waiting for a signal.

“Well, if they want a signal,” she thought, as she began pulling pins, “then this will be loud and clear.”

“So,” the Ranger said, continuing in the Eldar language, “all we need to do from here is—”

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!” Scootaloo cried as she suddenly dropped from the ceiling, wings spreading to reveal several bouquets of Stikk Bombs.

The grenades hit the floor, and Mesira’s eyes went wide as she saw them bounce. “Get dow—!”

Explosions ripped through the air, followed by the roar of another three orks. Bullets flew through the air as the orks began unleashing their fury into the room. More stikk bombs flew in, splattering Eldar blood and organs across the walls and floor. Shrapnel rained in the room, and within seconds, almost every single Eldar in the room was dead.

Mesira was one of the few that were still alive, and the only one that could still stand. Her left arm was useless, pierced with massive shards of shrapnel, while her right leg was bleeding.

The chief was dead, there was almost no one in the cadre left.

And the fight hadn’t even started yet.

She pulled her shuriken pistol, her long rifle on her back, but useless if she couldn’t steady her grip.

She looked up, trying to find something to shoot at, when the door to the throne room opened.

“What’s going—?”

That’s as far as the newcomer got before Scootaloo landed on the table and roared. “More Dakka!” Her kustom shootas unleashed at full auto, ripping into the unsuspecting Eldar.

The first line was cut down completely.

The second line moved faster, leaping out of the way of the more deadly shots, and ducking to the sides of the doors and out to cover.

Mesira leapt up from the table, and fired her Shuriken pistol point blank into Scootaloo’s hide.

The pegasus roared in pain as the mono-edged disks bit into her tough, armor-like skin, and turned to face the offending Eldar.

Her klaw extended, crackling with energy, before snapping down at the air the rogue ranger inhabited a moment before.

Blooddagga and Hellspitta joined her, firing into the crowd of Eldar in the hallway while Facehacka was slightly further behind. The wild, inaccurate shots were excellent covering fire as Scootaloo leapt down onto the floor to follow the ranger.

“You are annoying me, a lot,” the pegasus grunted.

The Eldar sneered before speaking to her in a language she knew. “As if you creatures had right to talk. The very way you breath, so ragged, and barbaric, is an affront to any definition of the word civilization. Your existence annoys me.”

Scootaloo glared. “Alright, I’m gonna level with you. I was pretty much pushed into this whole kill-or-be-killed thing, and I thought it had helped me appreciate my life, and life in general more.

“But you...well, you remind of a childhood bully of mine. And I still don’t like her. So this time, just this once, I’m going to kill you for me. Not for the Warboss, not the orks below me, just for me.”

“Boss!” Facehacka said. “We’z gonna need mo’ bullets!”

Scootaloo frowned before turning back to the wounded Eldar. “Looks like I’m gonna hafta make this quick then.”

She leapt forward, klaw snapping as she dived towards the Ranger, who leapt backwards, firing shuriken all the while. This time, however, Scootaloo saw it coming.

And so the dance began, the feathered ork pony against the Outcast, flying through the air as the orks behind them kept the hallway suppressed.

They both fired at each other, moving across the floor with a grace that was natural to the Eldar, and surprising to the ork race. Bullets and shuriken flew through the air between them, and all the while Scootaloo’s klaw sat, open and ready.

Mesira, meanwhile, was quickly losing interest. The ork-thing was odd, but ultimately below her. It was a creature that was neither her mental nor her physical peer, and for that alone, it made this matter simply—

She screamed as her leg exploded in pain.

And then just exploded.

The blood flowing through her leg suddenly decorated the surrounding wood, and Mesira fell backwards before the klaw-wielding pegasus.

“Normally,” Scootaloo began as she walked forward, klaw in the air, “I’d tell you it was nothing personal. This time, though,” she said as her klaw wrapped around the Eldar’s head, “it’s very personal.”

And Mesira simply ceased to be.

---=][=---

The Eldar fear losing their own.

As a slowly dying, disappearing race, each Eldar life is thought to be worth whole planets of lesser creatures.

This led to the birth of perhaps the strangest form of warfare in the 41st and 42nd millenia. The Eldar do not appear anywhere in full force. They do not field massive armies, nor do they stand proud under banners and hold the line to the last man.

Such tactics are below them.

No, the Eldar use their farseers. They divine the future, and foresee the strategies and movements of the enemy. Surprise attacks are made known hundreds of years before the attack can even be planed. And with this knowledge, the Eldar create the perfect counter-plan, executing the enemy army with surgical precision and devastating power.

It is not a perfect method, however, and sometimes the sight of the Farseer can fail.

Much like it had on the day Scootaloo and her three Kommandoz assassinated almost every single leader of the Eldar of Ursidhe-ka.

---=][=---

“A weapon cannot substitute for zeal.”—Imperial Thought of the Day

Alright guys! Man it’s been a while.

“Well between the holidays, work and all that other stuff.”

Yes, yes, and now that I’ve made all my excuses, it’s time to get back to work!

“To the keyboard! Write for the Emperor!”

Alright, until next time, guys!

“Bye!”

Chapter XV

Sweetie Belle sat perfectly still. Every fiber of her body was tense and coiled. The wraithbone blades that were protruding from her back hovered in the air, just waiting to move on her order.

Before her, lay her target. A small, unsuspecting animal that would make for a decent meal. It knew she was here, but had no idea where.

The poor thing.

A blade shot forward, and the hunt ended in a moment. Sweetie Belle loosed a breath, before she withdrew her blade, bringing the skewered animal with it.

She raised it above her, before three more blades grew from her back, coaxed forward by the soft humming of her voice. Together, they lifted her up into the air, and she began her short trek back to camp.

Button, who sat on her head, chirped.

“No, I’m not mad,” she said, anger edging into her voice.

Button chirped again.

“I don’t care if I sound unconvincing. I’m not mad.”

Button sat on her head, before chirping once more.

“I am not mad,” she insisted. “Not that it matters. After all, I have a right to be angry after all this. Sending me out as if I were some kind of hunting dog by Oraban is certainly not a waste of my talents. Not to mention how he oh-so-nicely decided that he should just leave me for thirty years.”

Button gave a tiny trill.

“Yes, I am still on about that! Most of my life has been spent waiting on him! He was of galavanting across this dumb jungle while I had to got through one of the most painful experiences in my life! Have you ever had your skeleton replaced with wraithbone? It burns! Did he stick around to give me a word of support? No! Nothing! I didn’t even get a goodbye!”

She paused, took a deep breath, and exhaled. “No, I’m not mad.”

Button remained unconvinced.

Sweetie Belle grumbled as she moved through the jungle, letting her long, wraithbone legs move her through the air with ease. Finally, she made it back to camp, where Oraban sat beside a small fire.

The unicorn dropped lower to the ground, still not letting her hooves touch the mud, before the long bladed handed the small creature over to him.

Oraban took it. “Thank you,” he psychically said, much in the same way you would say “good boy” to a dog.

Sweetie Belle ground her teeth, but said nothing.

He took the creature and quickly skinned it, before tearing the meat apart and tossing it into a small wraithbone bowl that Sweetie had made for him. As he began to cook a stew, Sweetie meanwhile checked their surroundings, searching every tree for any sign of a possible interruption.

Finding none, she returned to the small fire pit, and waited for her meal.

“You have done exceptionally well, Sweetie Belle. I am most pleased with your efforts.”

“Bla-bla-blah! I am most pleased with your efforts!” Sweetie Belle mentally mocked. “You should now love me because I gave you a compliment! Nuh-nuh nuh-nu! An actual ‘thank you’ or ‘good job’ is below me!”

“Thank you,” she said graciously, keeping her thoughts shrouded.

“I simply made a wise decision in keeping you,” he replied.

“See! He was complimenting himself rather than actually saying I did well,” she mentally growled.

Button chirped, on her head.

“I don’t care if every other Eldar I’ve met has done the same thing! Oraban has no right!” she thought, venomously.

But not once did she speak. Not once did she open her mouth. She maintained the Ranger’s precious silence as he cooked.

With the stew almost done, Oraban looked up towards his companion and gave her a look. “No questions?”

“No,” she replied.

“Odd. Did you find answers?”

“I did. Farseer Elahina had shared some information with me, and had the patience to sit and read some of your more ancient texts to me. It has been most enlightening.”

“Ah, good,” Oraban said. “Answering you was becoming tiresome.”

“Well I’m glad you approve,” she mocked.

“Enjoy your meal,” Oraban instructed, handing her a smaller bowl of the stew. “We move tonight. Heading towards the northern pole.”

She took it, and quietly enjoyed her meal.

In silence.

Just the way Oraban wanted it.

---=][=---

Sweetie Belle hovered in the air, with her four wraithbone arms holding her above the scene beneath her.

Four humans, each with those bronze axes she barely remembered, were gathered along the jungle floor, poking about with their spears and searching for something.

The Eldar and Unicorn had both been walking along Oraban’s path when they heard the humans tumbling through the underbrush. Taking to the trees, the pair waited, the Ranger preparing his rifle while Sweetie approached as quietly as possible to try and read their minds and their motives.

“They’re just looking for food,” Sweetie Belle said, speaking silently to Oraban after catching their thoughts.

The Eldar was a few meters above her and to the left, aiming down at the scope of his long rifle. “It doesn’t matter, it’s too great a risk.”

“What?! But they just want food. They don’t even want to be in this part of the forest.”

“Too dangerous,” Oraban insisted, as he leveled his firearm.

“We are miles away from the gate! Just let them get some food, and they’ll head back!”

“I cannot risk a chance.”

“You don’t need to do this!” She yelled, unheard by the humans beneath her.

“You don’t get a voice in this matter.”

“And why not?! You sent me down here!”

The only answer she got was the nearly silent report of the rifle.

A man went down screaming.

“Oraban!” she yelled, before she leapt up the tree, coming level with him.

The ranger got a second shot off before Sweetie Belle rammed into him, throwing off his aim, and saving the life of the third human.

“Sweetie Belle! What are you doing?” Oraban said, using his voice as he was caught off guard. He threw her off of himself, and tried to take aim, only to find the remaining humans long gone. “Wonderful! Now they know we’re here! I hope you’re happy!” He spat angrily.

“They know something is here, but they’ve know that for centuries!” Sweetie Belle retorted. “You had no reason to kill them.”

“The protection of my people is reason enough.”

“Oh, come off it!” Sweetie Belle said. “If those four had even seen the webway gate, they would have assumed it was some sort of evil thing and would have avoided it! No, your ‘reason’ is that your nose is so high in the air, it breaches the atmosphere!”

“What are you talking about?” Oraban asked.

“That’s been the problem of your entire race!” Sweetie Belle spat. “Ten thousand years ago, whenever your kind approaches the Imperium of Man, you can’t ever swallow your pride for five seconds to enter proper negotiations! If you had, then you would have them as allies! You would have your maiden worlds! You would have an army at your back! Instead, your kind chose to haughty glare down at them, as if you had options!”

“Be silent, beast!” Oraban yelled. “We tried to save those miserable creatures from themselves, and instead, the Phoenician attacked Farseer Eldrad Ulthran of Ulthwé! They betrayed us first!”

“Because She Who Thirsts turned the Emperor’s sons against each other, and I know I don’t need to remind you who is responsible for her.”

Oraban scoffed. “You know not of what you speak.”

“Oh don’t I?” Sweetie Belle asked. “So everything Farseer Elahina told me was a lie?”

Oraban did not answer.

Sweetie Belle snorted. “You see, if there is any power greater than the warp, it is the pride of the Eldar.”

“It is not pride, it is fact,” Oraban said.

“I don’t care if you are a more advanced race! You don’t need to rub it in our faces all the time!”

“All this is, is a vermin sympathizing for vermin!”

“Vermin!” Sweetie roared, as her eyes began to glow. “Then let me show you the power of vermin!”

There was a crack of thunder, and Sweetie Belle began to float. Psychic energy and magic roared around, and Oraban quickly became uncomfortable. The temperature plummeted around her, and ice crystals formed in the air, crackling as they snapped into existence. A foul stench filled the air, and the undergrowth around her withered and died.

Oraban backed away slowly.

The earth groaned, and shook, and Oraban was almost forced to the ground. The air grew thin, and the Eldar could hardly breath.

And then her psychic might was unleashed.

Thirty years is not much time for an Eldar. The long-lived species barely see a decade as any decent amount of time, which is compounded by their own metabolism and mental speed. Yet, in this moment, as Sweetie Belle forced him to feel every slight against her, those thirty years were seen through her eyes, and they were her entire life. Every backhanded comment, every insult, every time she was referred to as a mere pet, became agonizingly slow.

“That’s not bad, for a beast.”

“You call this art? This is hideous even by your standards.”

“I know you uncivilized things don’t understand this, but we do things in a different way here.”

“Begone, creature.”

“Animal.”

“Vermin sympathizing for vermin!”

It stabbed at him, every time.

And then there was the burn. The teeth-gnashing, stomach-wrenching burn that tore at his bones as they were slowly replaced with a skeleton of wraithbone. The space-cold, burning fire that spread through his mind and body caused him to retch, but once he did he knew not whether that was real.

And then, even as the waves of pain crashed on him, beating down again and again, a roar echoed in his mind. “Do you see? Do you see what you have done to me?”

He screamed.

He tried to shut out the pain, tried to push it back.

But he could not.

And then the burning stopped.

He sucked in a deep breath of air and mud, before sputtering, and pushing himself up.

He lay there, in the mud, and looked around the empty clearing.

“Sweetie Belle?” he muttered, looking around.

She did not answer.

“Sweetie Belle?”

No answer.

He got back up onto his feet, and felt his heart burn.

Such emotion, such raw emotion.

“Sweetie Belle?”

Still nothing.

The gate. The one thing he remembered from the whirlpool of thought was an echo of the webway gate. He grabbed his rifle and ignored the bodies of the men he killed around him, heading off towards the portal. “Sweetie Belle! Wait! I’m sorry!”

No answer came from the jungle.

“I’m sorry!”

---=][=---

Sweetie Belle moved through the forest, a scowl on her face. Let She Who Thirsts take that fool of a Ranger, she was going back to Alaitoc.

As she moved, she began practicing her heart-breaking speech about how poor Oraban was killed, and how she was a poor little creature wandering back to the one home she knew. It would work perfectly, up until the point where Oraban came back to re-supply.

Button stood on her head, looking down at her scowl as she spider-climbed from tree to tree. He didn’t like the scowl on her face, and he certainly didn’t like how her anger reverberated in the psycho-plastic that made her arms.

He chirped.

“I’m not angry,” she answered. “Not anymore. Oraban can’t bother me anymore, he’s just going to stay here, where he can’t bother me.”

Another chirp.

“Yes, it’s a good idea. What part of leaving the galaxy’s most arrogant Eldar behind seems like a bad idea?”

He gave a tiny trill.

“It’s his fault. I can only take so much of this whole ‘you are intrinsically worthless, but since we’ve helped you, you now have value’ thing.”

Another, shorter chirp.

“Yes, I’m sure! I don’t care what happens to him.”

Another chirp.

“Yes, I don’t care. Not at all.”

Button gave a tiny squeak.

“Not at all.”

The Warp spider gave the equivalent of a sigh, before he walked down to stare her directly in the face, and gave a shrill chirp as his ultimatum.

“What?! What do you mean I owe him?! I don’t owe him anything!”

Button chirped again.

“But-but...s-so what! So what if he saved my life? He was doing it just so he could save his life! It doesn’t count!”

Button looked at her with his tiny, little black eyes, and he was very unimpressed.

“But he—But I—He…” she began,

Button stared back.

“Raaagh! Fine! You win!” she said, before turning around. “He is so lucky you are on his side.”

---=][=---

“Sweetie Belle?! Sweetie Belle?!” Oraban yelled as he moved through the jungle.

A part of him told him to be silent, this yelling and running was going to get him spotted. The rest of him, however, was something else. His heart was beating a mile a minute, and he could not bring it under control. His soul ached with the pain of Sweetie’s frustration, and his mind echoed the agony.

His emotions were running wild. A thousand times more intense than that of a human’s, the Eldar could feel every twinge in her being as though they were his own bones snapping in half. In but a single move, the little unicorn had shattered every ounce of control he had.

And now he felt closer to She who thirsts more than ever before.

His mind screamed at him to breathe, to slow down, to collect himself before he crossed a line that he could not recover from.

But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t until he made this right.

“Sweetie Belle?!” He yelled again. “Where are you?! Please! Please, I’m sorry!”

There was no answer. The trees were simply too thick, blocking the sound. He knew that, but he just kept screaming, hoping beyond hope to get her attention.

He just needed to—

A maw of teeth snapped up out of the branches, and if it were not for his speed and a quick jump, he would have instantly become food.

He spun around, raising his rifle on instinct as the thing spun into view. A long, snake like body, with a large, feline head now staring at him. The striped body slowly coiled on itself, and Oraban quickly found himself staring down a Tigerconda.

His brain gave him a good “I told you so,” before he focused on his enemy, and trying desperately to calm his soul.

The snake-cat struck again, and Oraban spun to the side, drawing his wraithbone knife and striking in a single, fluid motion. The blade merely scraped against the creature’s scales, and blood began to ooze out its side.

A superficial cut, easily.

“Oh...where is she?” he thought, searching the forest around him as his mind screamed at him to focus on the fight.

The tigerconda hissed, before striking again, it’s long, poisoned fangs coming within inches of Oraban. The Eldar leapt sideways, avoiding the bite just enough to save his flesh, but not his rifle.

The rifle was knocked aside, and once more Oraban’s mind told him to pay attention.

But he couldn’t.

He just couldn’t.

The knife spun in his hand, stabbing down into the monster’s body again and again, even with his mind being a thousand miles away.

And then everything went wrong.

Teeth ripped through the armor on his arm, and bit into his flesh, and the very next second, his body was surrounded by powerful, rippling muscle. The tigerconda’s powerful grasp pinned his arms to his body, and rendered his knife useless.

The furless, feline head released his arm and raised up to stare him in the eye. He struggled against the tight, constricting muscle of the the monster, but couldn’t move.

The creature smiled, and bared its teeth, grinning at its soon-to-be-meal.

Oraban held his breath, choosing not to breathe for the time being. He could hold it for an hour or two, and keep the monster from squeezing him to death, but he did not have much choice. Tigercondas were perfectly patient, it would wait.

He was going to die.

He was going to die and his soul stone would lay here, abandoned on this planet, until it was crushed under foot, and his soul was forfeit.

Yet somehow, even as his world was ending, he just couldn’t help but think of Sweetie Belle.

The logical part if his mind simply sighed. She really messed us up.

The snake monsters hissed, still baring its teeth, when suddenly the muscles went slack.

The head of the tigerconda dropped, and blood oozed from the stump of its neck.

Sweetie Belle stood behind it, two long, wraithbone blades protruding from her back.

The coils of the snake fell away, split down along a single line, and released the ranger from the death grip.

“Sweetie Belle!” he cried, joy filling his voice.

She responded with a deadpan glare. “You’re lucky Button likes yo-ah!”

The ranger wrapped her completely in a tight embrace. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!”

Sweetie Belle blinked, before the wraithbone blades slowly disappeared into her back. Oraban simply held her, not letting her go as emotion radiated from him.

And, slowly, very, very slowly, she brought her hooves up, and hugged him back.

“I’m so, sorry, Sweetie Belle.”

---=][=---

It took him a short while, but he soon calmed down. He finally could breathe, and think clearly now.

They agreed that perhaps it was best if she did not force her emotions onto other Eldar, and Oraban said in return he would act like Sweetie Belle was an equal.

She was slightly apprehensive to his use of the word “act” but it was a step in the right direction.

They continued on, heading North again in the silence that had become so familiar.

Yet this time...this time it felt lighter.

Sweetie Belle actually found herself smiling.

They were able to go three days, moving at an excellent pace, before Oraban suddenly stopped, and cursed.

“What? What is it?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“I just received a message from Farseer Elahina,” Oraban told her.

“What is it?”

“It’s a cry for help.”

---=][=---

“Forgiveness is a sign of weakness.”—Imperial Thought of the Day.

Alright, guys. I was feeling a little better about this chapter, and it helped I wasn’t being distracted by everything every three minutes. You know, like Christmas, Boxing day—

“Subnautica!”

Not helping, Pinkie.

“Sorry! I can’t hear you over the water in my ears!”

Hilarious.

“Alrighty-artichoke-ies! We’ll see you all next time!”

Bye!

Chapter XVI

The Blood Raven’s work on Calderis was not done for a long time. They scoured the planet three times, searching for any sign of the Alpha Legion.

Everything came under speculation. Every citizen of the Imperium was questioned. The entirety of the Blood Raven’s obsessive information-gathering habits came into play. They searched everywhere, meeting only ghosts of rumors and the occasional cultist ambush. It was not until another nine months of searching passed that they came across a single cultist psyker, with a single, faint message leading up into the etherium.

The Librarians were quick to isolate the message, and determined where it was heading.

And then, as if to mock them, the Blood Ravens then received a psychic message from Jouran asking for aid.

Driven by both the need to track down the traitors that eluded them so, and the need to protect the Imperium’s citizens, the Blood Ravens answered the call, loud and proud.

Another two months later, and they arrived above imperial planet Jouran of the Jouran system.

And so it came to pass that Apple Bloom landed on the planet's surface, armed with her heavy bolter, a new sergeant, and a small squad, to finally deal out justice.

But the forces of Chaos were not idle on the planet.

---=][=---

Trooper Rey Mammano sat with his back in cover, trying to save himself from the heavy suppressing fire from the green-armored giants just across the valley.

He felt the seven-foot thick rockrete barrier shudder as it took bolt after bolt. His hands were shaking as the heavy bolter thundered in his ears through his flak helmet. The smell of ionized air and fyceline mixed with the scent of blood and death, filling his every sense with terror. “Oh Gath!” he swore, as he ejected a spent powercell from his lasgun.

Almost everyone on Jouran got selected for the Imperial guard. He thought he had been lucky to be in the PDF, but now…

He was surrounded by other guardsmen, many dead, a few still living, all trying desperately to save their home from the forces of chaos just on the other side of the valley.

His hand kept shaking, he could barely steady himself as he grabbed a fresh cell, and he forced himself to recite Litany of Loading to calm his erratic breathing. “Machine Spirit, accept my gift,” he began, only for the cell to slip out of his hands. “Gath!”

He reached for it, hand still shivering, only for a red mechadendrite to beat him to the pack.

A massive, towering figure, a monolith of adamantium and ceramite, appeared before him. The quadruped was surrounded by five other massive men, and Rey suddenly realized he was in the presence of the Emperor’s chosen warriors.

The quadruped looked down at him, staring down past the massive heavy weapon that would take a team of Imperial Guard to move. The helmet’s green visor carried every iota of disgust, and he felt himself wither under the Space Marine’s gaze. It was as if they were the very eyes of the Emperor himself, staring down at him, judging his worth.

Apple Bloom picked up the power pack, and continued staring down at the Guardsmen with a scowl behind her helmet. She glared at him, even as her mind altered her vox grill to deepen her voice. “Are you a coward, or a trooper?”

Rey Mammano felt the gaze of the space marine burn against his skin, and he felt his mind cringe in shame.

And then his grip on the lasgun tightened.

He clenched his teeth, and took a sharp inhale. “I’m a trooper, My lord.”

Apple Bloom’s mechadendrite handed the power pack back. “Then act like it.”

He grabbed the pack with renewed vigor, before reciting the litany again.

“Machine Spirit, accept my gift,

swallow light, and spit out death!”

He moved automatically, sliding the new cell into his lasgun, before popping up from behind cover, and firing full auto into the hordes of the Chaos legion.

Apple Bloom nodded in approval, before waving her squad forward. “Fire along the ridge! Focus on the heavy weapons, and lock them down!”

The squad followed her order precisely, the Heavy Flamer and Lascannon setting up next to Trooper Mammano and unleashing las-fire into the enemy ranks, while the flames threatened to consume anyone that dared to get close.

These marines knew Apple Bloom well, many of them had been trained under her when they were scouts. They trusted her, and considered her to be the second in command to the sergeant. They obeyed her without question.

“Hold missiles for vehicles and high-priority targets!” Apple Bloom cried as a Plasma Cannon operator and Missile Launcher marine both found cover to her left, before the cannoneer fired a massive ball of superheated plasma down towards the Chaos gunner. The bolt splashed against the heavy bolter, and exploded into a blast of searing, liquid plasma that quickly melted the enemy heavy bolter, and ignited the ammunition, throwing up the entire emplacement into a ball of fire.

The cannoneer ducked behind cover, letting the plasma weapon vent so it didn’t melt his own armor into soup.

“Lukaros! With me, we’re moving up!” She yelled, before she began moving forward, opening fire against the regrouping enemy.

Another marine, armed with a multi-melta, moved up with her, the short range of the highly powerful weapon rendering it useless. “Keep firing!” she roared, and was answered with enough fire from their side. “They’re breaking!”

The Chaos legionnaires were falling back, their heavy weapons gone in a puddle of plasma, and wilting under the heavy attacks of Apple Bloom’s suppressing fire.

“They better not be!” Lukaros laughed. “I haven’t gotten a chance to introduce them to my friend!”

Apple Bloom smirked, as she continued to walk forward, into the scattered and sporadic enemy fire.

“Die before the might of the Emperor!” she roared, continuing to fire. “Feel his wrath, traitors!”

The enemy squad broke, running for cover and giving up their ground, leaving Apple Bloom’s Devastator squad to take it.

And that’s when a defiler, a daemonically-possessed tank that walked on six spine-like legs, crested the hill.

“Defiler!” Apple Bloom yelled, before a missile ripped into the walking tank.

The Devastator began reloading.

Lukaros raised his multi-melta, only for the barrel of tank to swivel down to him.

The cannon fired, and Lukaros was reduced to red mist.

Apple Bloom roared, firing up into the monster’s armored hide, while another missile and another bolt of plasma shot forward from the Blood Raven’s ridge.

The explosions rocked the defiler, and its massive turret head turned to them once more.

And then Trooper Mammano leapt up, over the rockrete barrier, and began running down the valley towards Apple Bloom and the defilier.

Apple Bloom leapt backwards, the weight and bulk of the heavy bolter slowing her down, and tried to stay clear of the massive lumbering monster and continuing to unload her heavy bolter into the defiler’s underbelly.

Trooper Mammano ran down to the discarded Multi-melta, a weapon almost as large as he was.

Another volley of plasma and missile slammed into the defiler’s body, the former melting the monster’s armor while the later shattered it to pieces.

The defiler’s head spun around, trying to find the source of the fire beneath it, before firing random shots to the ground.

Apple Bloom, her soul invisible to the daemon's warp-sight, was knocked down by a glancing blow, the explosion rocking her to the ground. She tried to get back up to her hooves, but as she looked up, all she could see was the massive foot of the defiler, waiting above her to crush her utterly.

And then Trooper Mammano fired.

High-energy infrared waves slammed into the defiler’s belly, and the waves in turn agitated the molecules to a liquid state, melting straight through the armor almost immediately. If a man had been there, his arm could have vaporized.

With a hole now presenting itself, the missile marine found his chance. Even as the defiler was reeling from the melta blow, he took aim, and fired, letting the rocket fly straight and true, directly into the defiler's exposed vitals.

And the explosion rocked Apple Bloom till her teeth chattered.

The defiler, now dead, slowly fell backwards, slamming down into the chaos line.

“Now! Forward, Guardsmen!” A commissar yelled down the Imperial line. “Forward for glory! For Jouran! For the Emperor!”

The Guard began to move, chugging forward as the Devastator squad sent to support them began to collect themselves.

Apple Bloom stood, her mechadendrites grabbing the heavy bolter, before she walked over to the trooper that she dwarfed by comparison. “Well done, Trooper.”

He nodded. “Thank you, My lord.”

“So,” Apple Bloom said with a smirk. “Which are you?”

Trooper Mammano smiled back. “I am no coward, My lord.”

---=][=---

Captain Burgolf Aren of the Fourth Company strode into the Imperial Guard command center, and instantly commanded the attention of the men around him.

Many did not dare look him in the eye, the few that did however, bowed deeply, and prayed to the Emperor that he did not notice them staring.

His massive, armored figure walked through the otherwise packed command center, and the crowd of mere mortals parted for him. Finally, he came to a single figure, and paused. “Lord General Liverance, I presume?”

Maximinus Thrax Liverance looked up from his data slate, and, to his credit, he did not immediately throw himself prone before him and begged for mercy. “Greetings, my Lord,” he greeted. “Forgive me if I seem distant, my Lord, but my men need my attention.”

“I understand, Lord General,” the Captain said before picking up a data slate himself, which now seemed comically small in comparison. “You are moving your men forward to the Saint’s Valley?”

“Yes, my lord. From there, we may move north, and then we can flank the traitor’s here,” he said, highlight a dot on the map.

Captain Burgolf nodded. “I see the wisdom in that, I shall dedicate one devastator squad, and a tactical squad to that front, while the rest of the company shall harry the traitors on the southern end.”

Maximinus nodded, before setting his slate down. “My lord, if I may speak frankly, but perhaps a devastator squad is not the best option.”

Captain Aren lowered the data slate, and set it down gently for the tech priests that were in the room.

“Is there a problem?”

Lord General Liverance leaned foreward. “I have had numerous reports about a certain marine.”

The captain’s eyes narrowed. “Which marine?”

The Lord General waited a moment, before he spoke again. “The one who stands on four legs. Do not misunderstand, he has fought with honor and has been a truly fearsome fighter. Yet his appearance...unnerves my men. It simply seems...questionable.”

The captain’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the Lord General, before finally speaking. “Question not the secrets of the Blood Ravens, we will guard them with our lives.”

“I’m sure you will.”

---=][=---

Sergeant Artur approached his Devastators with a smile on his face. “Well done, brothers! Well done!”

Apple Bloom smiled, as her mechadendrites worked on cleaning her massive gun. “We do what we can!” she answered, proudly.

“What we can, indeed!” Artur laughed. “When you get your service studs, I’m putting you in for sergeant, Apple Bloom!”

She smiled underneath her helmet, glad for the praise. “I’m honored, Brother-Sergeant.”

“You make the Chapter proud,” he said before gathering the squad around. “Now, everyone, come here, I have our orders.”

The devastators came in, gathering around Artur as he began to explain the next part of the plan. "We have been tasked to move along with the main body of the company, to harass the traitors from the southern edge. Once there, the plan is to drive them into an Imperial Guard ambush, with some of our own forces there to assist. Then, once we catch them between the hammer and the anvil, we strike them down where they stand!”

A cheer sounded from the squad, and Artur gave them a smile.

“You are free until 0500. We leave with the others at 0600 Imperial Standard.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” the marines answered.

“See you then, marines!” The sergeant said, before giving them a salute.

The marines answered with their own, before they began shouldering their weapons. One, however, simply began moving towards the door.

“Where are you going, Bethir?” Apple Bloom asked.

“To inspect the guardsmen, they are not made of the same stuff as we are,” he answered.

“That’s true for me,” Apple Bloom noted with a smirk.

“Nonetheless, I feel that we should check on them, see if their mettle is prepared for the battle ahead.”

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes, before standing. “Very well, I’ll go with you, lest you offend their honor too greatly.”

“Their honor? What are they going to do if I offend their honor?” he asked, dismissively.

“And that is why I am going with you,” she said, as her mechadendrites lifted the massive bolter onto her back, letting it sit reverently on the backpack that held her ammunition.

Bethir shrugged his shoulders. “Suit yourself.”

As they made their way out of the small building where they had been stationed, carrying their weapons with them, they were soon greeted by the sight of the hundreds of tents that housed the guard.

A few, the closest to them, immediately snapped to attention, not daring to appear sloppy before the men they believed were gods.

Apple Bloom nodded in approval while Bethir glared at them from behind helmet.

“As you were, Guardsmen,” she said, her voice disguised, and the guardsmen quickly returned to their tents, tidying them up quickly.

“My lord? My lord!” a voice called, and Apple Bloom looked over to see Trooper Mammano, her photographic memory recognizing him instantly.

“Ah, Guardsman, greetings,” she said.

“My liege!” he said, approaching her before bowing. “If I may have a moment!”

“It so happens that I have a moment to spare,” she answered.

“My lord, I have heard rumors that your form has instigated an inquiry.”

“My form?” she asked.

“They're suspicious of you, my liege. You seem…” he hesitated, “unnatural…”

Apple Bloom’s mind quickly began running through possibilities. Someone was suspicious of her. They themselves could do nothing, but questions could be asked. The Chapter’s recent history with chaos and corruption would certainly bring them under the eye of someone with the authority to do something.

Her two hearts began to beat faster.

If she were discovered by someone, anyone, who did not share the view of her chaplain, then the whole chapter could be purged.

All these thoughts flew through her mind in the time it took a fly’s wings to beat.

The Trooper didn’t even notice her hesitate.

“Unnatural?” She asked, as if she needed clarification.

“It is not my place to say nor ask, My lord. All I know is that you are one of the Emperor’s chosen. I simply fear that there are others who may ask. I simply wished to let you know.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “You have my thanks, Guardsmen, now back to your post, lest you fail in your vigil.”

Trooper Mammano saluted. “Yes, My lord! The Emperor Protects!”

Apple Bloom nodded as he left. “The Emperor Protects, indeed,” she said, before turning back and heading back to the small building that held the rest of her squad.

---=][=---

The battle did not sit well with Apple Bloom.

The Alpha Legion had indeed been caught between the Guard and the Blood Ravens, and they had fallen with ease. They did manage to last a short while, holding out in a small fortification in the valley for a month, before falling apart. Even now the force of two hundred Chaos Marines was slowly being picked through by the Guard’s flamers, cooking the bodies beyond all doubt.

Yet it was almost too easy. Especially since their force outnumbered the Blood Ravens two-to-one. A part of her liked to think that perhaps it was the numbers of the Imperial Guard that had helped turned the tide, but she was not so sure.

It seemed Captain Aren shared her concerns. He had made a call to Omnis Arcanum for backup almost a month ago, to continue to search for any sign of the Alpha Legion on the planet. They were to arrive any day now, and Apple Bloom was sure that there would be enough work for them.

The Imperial Guard was already celebrating their victory, despite the Captain’s warning that the Alpha Legion may not have left the planet, and may yet have forces hidden away.

This warning was dismissed. As paranoia of all things!

Apple Bloom shook her head, unable to believe this utter foolishness that the Imperial Guard insisted on. Still, she had her orders, move up to the northernmost space port city and fortify it lest the Alpha Legion decide to ambush them.

Paranoia, please, it was the greatest strength of a Space Marine. You could not surprise a Space Marine, for they suspected everything of being a trap.

Stepping into the waiting belly of the purring Thunderhawk, Apple Bloom led her squad in, to wait for the other two squads to file in. So far, her devastators were the first ones to appear, in the defence of her absent brothers, they were early.

“Strap in,” Sergeant Artur ordered, grabbing one of the adamantine handles along the walls while his magnetic soles activated. The others followed suit, with Apple Bloom finding a place to stand, her mechadendrite grabbing a handle for herself.

“So, this is the marine I have heard so much about…” a voice said, and all eyes went to a figure that hid in the shadows.

He had been hidden from view, somehow invisible until this moment. His face was tall, and dark. His black hair clung to his head, slicked back and looking wet. His face bore an ugly scar that tore at his upper lip, revealing his flat, horse-like teeth beneath them. His long black cloak, hemmed with red and gold, flowed all the way down to his shining, knee-high boots, and was tied around his waist by a bright red sash.

And there, at the knot, sat the large, golden badge of the Inquisition.

Apple Bloom’s two hearts froze at the sight of the “I” shaped badge, and could feel the cold smile of the skull at its center.

“When I had heard of you, I was sure that someone was mistaken.”

Apple Bloom quickly collected herself. “Greetings Mister…”

“Lord Inquisitor Vicconius Constans Kapperman II, Ordo Xenos. Of course, let us not get distracted honora—Blood Raven.”

Apple Bloom grit her teeth. “What can I help you with, Lord Inquisitor?”

“Your...stature seems somewhat unnatural. Tell me, Blood Raven, how did you get this form?”

Apple Bloom’s mind began to race. She needed something. Anything.

The Inquisition had all but complete and total authority in the Imperium. Whole planets have lost their lives to the word of an Inquisitor. An Inquisitor’s word had in fact ended a Chapter, the Flame Falcons. Their Gene seed had been altered and defiled when they were first founded. The Inquisition ordered their complete and total destruction.

She needed to come up with something, anything, to keep the suspicious eye of the Inquisition off of her and her Chapter.

Something! Anything!

“I—”

“They’re Bionics,” a new voice said, and both turned to see Librarian Lazarus Briehl. “There is no need to lie to the Good Lord Inquisitor, Brother Appericius.”

Apple Bloom blinked. “But, Librarian—”

“The Adeptus Mechanicus would not have our chapter destroyed at the cost of a single secret.” Lazarus said as a squad of Assault Marines followed behind, each armed with a jump pack and a chainsword.

The Inquisitor gave the Librarian a long look. “Bionics?” he repeated.

“You would have to ask the Mechanicus about it,” Lazarus said. “Of course, while you are there, you might as well ask them about the Techna-Lingua.”

Inquisitor Vicconius glared at the librarian as the Assault marines began to surround him, blocking the only exit to the Thunderhawk’s belly. The Inquisition had been after the secrets of the binary-based language for millennia now, and it was with no small amount of pleasure that Lazarus brought it up again. “Watch your tongue, psyker. I will not be trifled with.”

A chainsword revved up behind Lazarus, and the assault marine gave a hollow laugh. “Forgive me, Inquisitor, my finger slipped.”

Vicconius gave a quick look around at the vehicle's filling cabin, and decided that perhaps he could leave the matter of a smart-mouth Librarian for another time. “These Bionics, what do you know?”

“What do you mean, Inquisitor?” Lazarus asked, as Apple Bloom watched the temperature drop on her auto senses. “You’ve already seen them.”

“I…” the inquisitor began. “I…o-of course, I have.”

Lazarus smiled. “You see, there’s nothing to worry about, Inquisitor. It is simply the Mechanicus testing a rediscovered design, nothing sinister here.”

“Of course,” he said, before stepping off the Thunderhawk. “Now, do pardon me, but I have business to attend to here. The Emperor Protects.”

“The Emperor protects,” Lazarus repeated back, before scowling as soon as the man left earshot. “He is a fool of an Inquisitor. He delves where no man should, yet brought no protection against the warp.”

“All for the better, I think,” Karlon Thyras said, before sliding his chainsword to his magnetic belt.

“Karlon?” Apple Bloom called.

“Hello, ‘Brother Appericius’ it has been a while, hasn’t it?” Karlon said with a smirk.

“Aye, I was starting to forget,” Ramiel said as he walked in. “Sadly, it seems that I will always remember your kind, Xenos,” he said, taking the spot next to her.

“And I was just remembering the smell of fresh air,” Apple Bloom answered, “But, I will live with your stench again if I must.”

“Greetings, Apple Bloom,” a robotic voice called. “It has been many months now.”

Apple Bloom cocked her head, “I’m sorry...I don’t…”

“I understand,” he answered in a deadpan. “When we first met, I could not speak, but at last, my voice has been returned. In a matter of speaking.”

“Israfiel!” Apple Bloom yelled in recognition.

“Yes, Sister, we’re all here,” Coberos said. “It has been a while, indeed.”

Apple Bloom smiled. “My, my, just like old times, huh?”

“Indeed, Apple Bloom. Indeed,” Lazarus answered.

---=][=---

The port Spire, docked with the numerous Strike Cruisers of the Omnis Arcanum, was fully fortified, and garrisoned by three full companies of Blood Ravens. Truly, a sight to behold.

With the spire as their Headquarters, the Blood Ravens could quickly respond to any attack anywhere on the planet.

It was no surprise to Apple Bloom then, that she was called to the Chapter Master’s temporary office.

It was also no surprise that Chaplain Baltus was there, it only made sense.

What did surprise her was the presence of Lazarus’ Assault squad. “Ah,” Gabriel said, as she entered. “Just the marine we were waiting for.” He stood, and stood before the marines. “Apple Bloom, if you’ll stand with the others,” he ordered.

She obeyed.

Gabriel stood in front of the gathered marines and took a deep breath. “Now, I suppose I should start with you, young Apple Bloom. Now, the Codex Astartes does not approve of this action, however, when it comes to you, I doubt the Codex would approve at all. And so, without further ado, Apple Bloom, I hereby grant you the rank of Tactical Marine.”

“What?!” she yelled in her head.

Everything else was could have possibly said went unheard by the young xeno. She had been promoted.

And this was the happiest day of her life.

---=][=---

“An unprotected soul can no more cross the storms of the warp than a heretic can bear the gaze of the Inquisition!”—Imperial Thought of the Day.

Alright! That’s another chapter! Next time, more orks!

“Waaagh!”

Pinkie, put down the cleaver.

"It's a choppa!"

No, no it's not.

Anyway, see you next time! Bye!

Chapter XVII

The Deathskulls were slowly winning this fight.

Thrown into the thick of things, the Exodite Eldar were forced to throw everything they had, their plans having been shattered within the first hours of planetfall.

Eldar warriors, a ragtag militia of hunters armed with simple lasblasters and even simpler knives and spears, ambushed massive, roving crowds of orks, while the reptilian-mounted knights did their best to keep them at distance.

The raptor-like mounts leapt over the heads of orks and treetops alike, while powerful las blasts erupted from the heads of their laslances.

Even still, they Eldar were slowly being pushed backwards.

Their forces were slowly being forced back by the green tide’s brute force. A Carnosaur or two had been ripped in half by the massive power klaws of the armored nobs, and an entire squadron of the so-called “dragon scouts” had been destroyed.

Of course, the fighting was still sparse, and hardly any of the orks liked that. It was, perhaps, the worst part of fighting the Eldar, the total lack of any proper orky fight. It was always ambushes followed by hiding, and many of the boyz just couldn’t take it. Infighting was already starting to break out and run rampant, dying whenever the Eldar appeared, and then starting up again immediately afterward.

They began falling back, retreating to somewhere else that Scootaloo did not know or really care about, while the bodies of Eldar warriors, and rangers slowly began littering the field.

Her bike purred loudly beneath her, belching smoke and spurting thick oil, as she looked out over the now burning forests.

The Mekboyz assured her that this was perfectly normal behavior for a bike.

Behind her, a massive building of twisted metal and large, riveted plates of salvage was slowly being erected, Da Base of Operashuns, and Nobgobba was still making sure that everything was in place.

Scootaloo herself, meanwhile was taking a break.

She had done her job, and she had done it better than anyone else in the Waaagh! She had completely devastated the entire leadership of the exodites with but a single move. To kill almost all of the Eldah Bosses with just a stik bomb? That was something she could brag about.

“So, uh...what we doin’ Boss?” Facehaka asked, leaning on his shootah.

Scootaloo opened her eye, and stared at her sniper. “Whadaya mean ‘what are we doin’?’” she asked, resting her head on her forelegs while she laid back in her seat, with both her hind legs kicked up onto the handlebars. “I’m havin’ a nap!”

The Kommandos looked between themselves. “So...what are we gonna do?”

She shrugged. “Don’t know. If you want orders, go out and have some fun.”

The orks shrugged, before heading off to whatever they felt like, when a gretchin began running up to her and her bike. “Shootaloota! Shootaloota!”

Scootaloo’s eye popped open again, and she growled angrily at the tiny, knee-high orkoid. “What is it?”

“I’z got a message from Nobgobba!” He screeched, holding up a page of squig parchment.

She rolled her eyes before snatching the page away, before reading it to herself. She groaned as she reached the bottom of the page, and rolled off her bike. “Everytime...everytime without fail…” She grumbled, before throwing the page back at the gretchin and slowly making her way up to Da Base.

---=][=---

Nobgobba threw his feet up on his desk, and smirked to himself.

The desk itself was looted back from their last planet, and had a massive “I” on its front with a human skull at the center. Nobgobba had liked it the second he laid eyes on the massive wooden table, and had grabbed it and shoved it into the ship when they were getting ready to leave.

The best part was that it had a drawer that was filled with shootas and bullets. They were the dumb, humie bullets, but still.

He smiled to himself, patting his massive belly, while the grots around him were quick to orkify his desk, rivinting horns to the skull and large metal plates to the sides.

Yeah, the orky life was a good one.

His door slammed open, and Scootaloo barged in. “What is the meaning of this Nobgobba! I was takin’ a nap!”

Nobgobba growled, sitting up. “You does what I tell you, cause Ah’m da boss!” he snorted angrily. “Don’t forget dat, Shootaloota,” he warned.

“Ya still haven’t answered my question!” Scootaloo growled, narrowing her eyes. “Boss.”

Nobgobba kept glaring, his beady, red eyes beating down on Scootaloo, as if he expected her to melt if he stared hard enough.

When she didn’t melt, he growled again. “I needs ya ta find where all dese Eldar are hidin’. The boyz are gettin’ restless wifout an enemy ta fioght.”

Scootaloo sighed. “Is dat it? Ya want me and da Kommandos to find the Eldar?”

“Dat’s what Ah’d said!”

“Fine,” she said annoyed. “I’ll go do that.” She turned, and began slowly walking away. “Boss.”

---=][=---

“So...why’d we hafta leave?” Blooddagga asked.

“Because Nobgobba wants us ta find the Eldar,” Scootaloo answered.

“And why haven’t we killled ‘im yet?” Hellspitta asked.

“Because if he died too quick, then the Mork and Gork boyz would think that something was up.”

“Ya fink so?” Facehacka asked, chopping through the underbrush.

“We’re Deathskulls,” Scootaloo answered. “Of course they would.”

“Huh...Ah’d guess dat’s roight…” Hellspitta commented, as Scootaloo hovered over them, power klaw humming with power as she crushed the branches that were in her way.

“Look, we should only kill him once things go bad.” Scootaloo said. “Once that happens, then all the other boyz will wanna go back to Nabrot, we kill Nobgobba, and then the boyz would all be happy.”

“So...we’ze got ta wait until Nobgobba losses?”

Scootaloo smiled. “No...we make him fail.”

“We do wat?” Facehacka asked.

“Well, you know how da boyz are havin’ some trouble finding the eldar?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re gonna make sure they ain’t gonna be found,” Scootaloo said.

“What?” Blooddagga asked, looking almost horrified. “Whadaya mean?”

Scootaloo sighed, before landing in front of her kommandos. “Alright, boys, here’s the deal. This was our mission, to get rid of Nobgobba. We’ve let him have some victories, but it’s time ta start workin’. So we’s gonna take our time finding these Eldar, alroight? If we don’t find them for a few months, then the boyz back home ain’t gonna be too happy with Nobgobba. And that’s what we want.”

The Kommandos looked between themselves, unsure about how to feel about not just avoiding a fight, but disobeying the boss.

“Can...can we’z do dat?” Hellspitta asked.

“Of course we can!” Scootaloo said. “Look, boys, we ain’t letting the fight go, we’s just wait extra long before we hit ‘em.”

Another look between them.

“Look, I’m not askin’ you ta betray da boss. Nabrot wants us ta get rid of him, so dat’s what we’s gonna do. Besides, there’ll be plenty of fighting afterward.”

The Kommandos shared one last look.

“If you say so, Boss.”

---=][=---

The world spun around its sun for a whole cycle, and finally, finally Scootaloo and her Kommandos finally found the new center of the Eldar control.

A second, almost equally large tree some seven-hundred miles Southeast of their landing site, was quickly found. And the orks were finally glad to be on the move.

Scootaloo’s plan had been perfect, and the green tide was very, very angry about not being able to properly fight the Eldar forces, that continued to pepper them and then disappear into the jungle.

And so the orks marched.

Dinosaur-mounted heavy guns blasted at the orks from the heavy jungle, blowing massive holes into the green tide’s horde, while the rangers and warriors kept firing at a distance.

The ork losses were heavy, but the during the time it took for the orks to fall, new spores grew, forming new gorts, snots (their small, far stupider cousins), and orks.

The orks were not losing this fight. Not by a long shot.

Still, the orks weren’t happy about it.

Nobgobba was especially not happy with anything that had happened in the past year. And Scootaloo was happy to hear about it.

“What do we hafta do ta get these eldar ta foight us!” Nobgobba roared. He stood in the middle of a small clearing, roaring to himself as the orks made camp for the night.

“Somefin’ wrong, Boss?” Scootaloo asked from her perch in the tree above him.

“Yeah, somefin’s wrong you zoggin’ git!” Nobgobba yelled. “We’z gettin killed out dere! Does Eldar boys don’t foight roight! We’z can’t foight dem if dey keep runnin’ off!”

“Yeah, it is a bit of a problem, ain’t it?” Scootaloo asked, swinging down to the ground.

“We’z can’t let dem get away wif dis!” Nobgobba yelled. “Dis ain’t fair, neifer!”

Scootaloo smiled, before she sauntered up to the Warboss. “Why ain’t it fair?” she asked.

“‘Cause Mork was suppos’d ta be wif us! We’z suppos’d ta smash all da little humies an’ Eldar easy! Dis ain’t fair!”

“Gork and Mork, eh?” Scootaloo asked. “Ya know, I fink I know why they ain’t answering.”

“Ya do?”

“Yeah, I do,” she answered. “What do all the other Waaagh!s have that we don’t?”

Nobgobba went silent. “Um…”

“Whatcha need, Nobgobba, is a Gargant.”

“A Gargant?!” He asked, shocked at the revelation.

“Yup, a Gargant. Just imagine the thing, stompin’ through the forest and crushing the trees and the Eldar beneath it.”

Nobgobba blinked, and his eyes began to widen. “By...Gork…”

“Yeah, you’s seein’ it now, ain’t you? A giant of Gork—”

“Mork,” Nobgobba corrected.

“Right, standing there there on the battlefield, a statue of the glory of the ork gods, crushin’ anyfin’ that comes our way. That’s exactly what we need.”

“Yeah...yeah...dat’s it. Dat’s what we need…”

“Isn’t it?”

“But...but dere’s a problem…”

“What’s that?”

“We ain’t got nofin’ ta build it wif!”

“Well, then, sounds like we need to head back to the ship ta get some stuff then.”

“But we just got here!” Nobgobba yelled.

“Yeah, but they’d win if we don’t have a Gargant. We need it.”

Nobgobba growled. “Alroight, tell da boyz ta pack up! We’s gonna come back wif a Gargant!”

And Scootaloo smiled.

---=][=---

Meanwhile, on the other side of the planet, a pair of strike cruisers, one painted as black as the void itself, while the other colored pink and black entered low-planet orbit. Thunderhawks, ones both camouflaged for the jungle, and others pink and black, began descending to the surface, perfectly unnoticed by either the Eldar or the ork armies below.

The aerial machines began to unload their cargo, revealing the Space Marines of Chaos.

From the camouflaged thunderhawks came the black, green, and blue marines of the Alpha Legion, their three-headed hydras standing proudly against their pauldron. They moved swiftly and silently, quickly forming squads and securing the landing zone. Their armor, decorated with spikes, hooks, and bone, seemed to absorb light, as their highly-modified bolters scanned through the underbrush.

The pink and black thunderhawk, however, revealed some different warriors. While the Alpha Legion seemed mostly pristine, albeit grotesque with the devices they wore, these new warriors seemed horribly mutated by Chaos. A few had plates of armor that breathed with them, shuddering with each inhale. Others seemed to have merged with their helmets, their vox grills becoming caged maws that slithered and begged for food.

A dozen other mutations and deformities were present amongst these new marines, but one held the spotlight. Their captain, a helmetless soldier with a long, thin tentacle protruding from the left side of his head, walked forward, the golden, winged claw obvious on his pauldron.

“Where is your Captain?” He demanded, the tentacle wrapping around his head to the point where it almost seemed like some sort of strange hat. “I am Vulek the Debaucher, and I demand to speak with him!”

“Sir,” an Alpha Legionnaire answered, “Captain Kraagan has yet to make planetfall. He shall arrive shortly.”

Vulek’s tentacle writhed disturbingly across his head, before slowly uncoiling. “Is that so?” he asked.

The tentacle cracked like a whip, flying through the air are terrifying speeds and wrapping around the Legionnaire’s neck. With surprising, monstrous, strength, the tentacle, no more than three centimeters thick, lifted the Chaos Marine with ease, and dragged him through the air to be far too close to Vulek.

Vulek smiled, and opened his mouth to reveal a triangular, almost snake-like tounge. “You best hope he does not keep us waiting long,” he said, his tongue licking the Chaos Marine’s helmet. “My soldiers get bored easily, and you know what happens when the Emperor’s Children get bored, don’t you?”

The Legionnaire, to his credit, said nothing at first, before slowly, he raised a hand to grab Vulek’s mutated appendage. “You make Slaanesh happy.”

Vulek raised an eyebrow, before smiling. “Correct, that’s exactly what we do. I suppose a little more civility is called for here, considering the intel you brought us,” he said, setting the marine down. “Just don’t forget who is in charge here, hm?”

The Legionnaire nodded. “I won’t.”

---=][=---

Scootaloo was practically laughing to herself all the way back. The boyz were furious. They had finally found the Eldar’s base of operations, and then just as they were about to start fighting, and then then the Boss called them back.

Oh the wailing and the gnashing of teeth! It was almost beautiful.

She could see it, the thought of rebellion and mutiny laid in their eyes, hidden just thinly behind their fear of fighting the biggest and strongest ork in the Waaagh! The only thing that kept them from turning on Nobgobba complete was his promise of a Gargant.

Of course, once Scootaloo’s plan for the titanic machine came into play, then that would fall through very quickly.

The Kommandos were slightly unnerved by her un-orky plan, but she told them not to worry. Everything would be fine as soon as they got back to Nabrot. That was the plan after all.

Everything was going according to plan.

As the orks made camp for the night, Scootaloo and her Kommandos found a place to sleep on the outskirts. The pegasus found a nice branch to sleep in, while her boyz dragged some metal over to make a lean-to.

“Are you sure’s about dis, Boss?” Blooddagga asked once more, his night vision goggles keeping their campsite in perfect view without the need for a fire.

“Sure as sure can be, Blooddagga,” Scootaloo said as she adjusted herself for maximum comfort. “I really don’t know why you guys are worrying so much.”

“It’s jus’ so un-orky boss,” Facehacka said.

“Look, let me worry about it, and shoot at what I tell you to, okay?” Scootaloo ordered. “Now go to sleep and let me worry about it.”

Slowly, very slowly, the boyz calmed down, heading to their bunks and sleeping away.

The pegasus nodded, satisfied that she wouldn’t have to answer any more question that night. Adjusting herself once more to make herself comfortable, she finally settled in for the night.

And then her eyes snapped open.

She sat up, blinking, staring into the night.

She...that…

It couldn’t be.

She could’ve sworn…

“R-Rainbow Dash?”

---=][=---

“A suspicious mind is a healthy mind”—Imperial Thought of the Day

Alright, guys. Sorry it’s a bit short, but this planet’s going to be getting pretty unstable.

“How unstable?”

Unstable enough.

“Then let’s get on with it!”

Ever onwards, indeed!

“We’ll see you all next time, bye!”

Bye!

Chapter XVIII

Sweetie Belle and Oraban both arrived at Alaitoc as fast as their legs could carry them through the webway. Sweetie Belle did not need to be told that for the Farseers to call the craftworld’s rangers meant that something most serious had happened.

They were quickly called and made their way to the Hall of Atherakhia, where Elahina greeted them. “We’ve received a most desperate message,” she explained. “An exodite world, Ursidhe-ka, has come under attack from a massive ork force. Biel-Tan has been unable to answer them, and now they call upon us and the Starstriders.”

“We’re mobilizing?” Oraban asked.

“Yes, but we’ll need someone to go ahead.”

“Us?” The ranger questioned.

“Correct. You know Mesira, who has been living with the Ursidhe for some time. She will be able to get you the information we need, and Sweetie Belle will be able to relay it to us.”

“Me?” Sweetie asked, sounding somewhat concerned about the prospect.

“The forces of Chaos have been moving in that sector of the galaxy,” the Farseer explained as she led them outside. “We need a secure psychic line, lest their sorcerers discover us. Your odd existence in the warp makes the messages you send harder to find.”

Sweetie bit her lip. “That’s a long way.”

“We have tested your abilities,” Elahina said. “We know you can at least make that distance.”

Sweetie Belle sighed, but said nothing.

“The nearest webway gate is two weeks away, so we have a Shadow Class Cruiser waiting for you.”

“A whole cruiser?” Oraban asked.

“We’ll be dropping some Falcon and Wave Serpent Grav tanks for immediate support,” Elahina explained as they made to a massive hangar. Stepping onto a catwalk, they began walking down the length of a gigantic ship, whose towering solar sails shimmed in the light.

“We have no time to waste, you must leave immediately.”

They both nodded. “Understood,” Oraban said.

“May Isha’s light guide you,” she told them.

---=][=---

The Kaleidoscope Shield, one of the great, Space-born Webway gates, invisible against the blackness of the Void, winked open, letting the Shadow Class Cruiser launch forward into the darkness at incredible speed.

While the trip from Alaitoc to the Kaleidoscope Shield was practically negligible, it would still take a little over a year to arrive at Ursidhe-ka, even at their incredible, near-light speed.

And about a week in, Oraban noticed his tiny companion was missing.

He searched through the massive ship, using his pan-spectral sight to locate her special brand of psychic emptiness through the wraithbone walls of the ship.

Eventually, he found her, hiding in a closet, holding her stomach, and looking a touch green around the gills.

“Sweetie Belle, are you well?”

“No,” she groaned, while Button cooed and rubbed her head, trying to sooth her.

“What’s wrong?”

“I hate space travel.”

Oraban blinked.

“Give me the Webway any day of the week. I just…” she paused, putting her hoof to her mouth to keep herself from losing her lunch. “I just really, really hate space travel.”

Oraban shook his head. “Peace be with you, Sweetie Belle.”

She managed a small squeak of thanks, before she had to keep herself from vomiting again.

---=][=---

The Shadow Class Cruiser streaked through the sky, skipping against Ursidhe-ka’s atmosphere and pulling around to allow her dropships, Vampire Raiders, to fall towards the surface. The Vampire Raiders screamed downward, falling at incredible speeds that would frighten even the most experienced Imperial Mariner. It was only their anti-grav generators that kept the wraithbone ships from smashing into ground below.

The Vampire Raider that held Oraban and Sweetie Belle was the only ship that actually landed, the others dropping the anti-grav tanks from several meters from the ground, letting them fall to the ground, all but weightlessly.

Oraban and Sweetie Belle, meanwhile, walked off the large ramp that dropped from the aft of the Raider. As soon as they were off, though, the ship rocketed off, eager to leave the atmosphere so as to keep out of sight for as long as possible.

Sweetie Belle then went face-first to the ground and smiled. “Dirt! Oh dirt! It’s not even mud! Just dirt! It’s so beautiful.”

Button chirped.

Oraban smiled, before he began looking around. They stood in a large clearing, surrounded by trees with a massive dirt patch between them. A primitive landing zone, if he had to guess. Of course, the total lack of any figure besides himself, Sweetie Belle and the tanks was beginning to make him nervous.“The Ursidhe should be here…” he muttered.

“We are,” came the reply, before an Eldar materialized from the underbrush.

Sweetie Belle shot up, suddenly very aware that she had been face down in the dirt, and that was not the best first impression to make.

Eldar began climbing over the tanks, getting inside and almost immediately getting it to operate.

“That was fast,” Sweetie noted to the Ranger.

“They know what they’re doing. The simpler life is their choice, not their limitation.” The ranger answered, as he walked up to the Eldar who spoke. “I am Oraban of Alaitoc, Starstrider.”

“Greetings, Starstrider,” he replied, before taking a side-long look as Sweetie Belle. “Is this creature with you?”

Sweetie Belle sighed.

“She is,” he replied.

The Eldar nodded. “And what is your name, then?” he asked, turning to her.

Sweetie blinked. “I...I’m Sweetie Belle.”

“A pleasure, Sweetie Belle,” he said. “Follow me, we shall bring you to the Prince. He will give you the information you seek.”

Oraban nodded, and he and Sweetie Belle began following him into the underbrush.

“O-Oraban?” Sweetie said.

“Yes?”

“He...talked to me. Without belittling my intelligence.”

Oraban smiled. “He did.”

“A-Are you sure there’s nothing wrong with them?”

Oraban shook his head, and tried to keep himself from laughing.

---=][=---

Once the Vampire Raiders re-boarded the Shadow Class Cruiser, it took off, back into the depth of space. It’s minimal crew would not be of much use for those on the planet, and hugging its atmosphere would draw unwanted attention.

What the crew of the Cruiser did not know, however, was that as it left to join the rest of the fleet, some two-to-three months behind them, that two other ships would enter Ursidhe-ka’s atmosphere. One as black as the void, and one painted pink with a massive, golden, winged claw on its side.

Thunderhawks, decorated with the eight-pointed star of Chaos and the treacherous emblems of the Alpha Legion and the Emperor’s children glided down to the surface, as quiet and hopefully unnoticed as possible.

And Captain Goulraz Kraagan smiled as he watched it all from the bridge of The Hydra’s Tooth.

A cultist, a thin, emaciated man twisted by the foul powers of Chaos crawled towards him, prostrate before the man-turned-god. “My Lord…”

“Speak, worm,” the Captain ordered.

“Lord Sorcerer Festerus wishes to speak with you.”

The captain scowled behind his helmet. “I told him to stop wasting manpower,” he growled before his eyes fell on the shivering cultist, “and I told you to stop letting him.”

“Yes, M’lord, but he threatened to—”

The thunder of a bolt pistol liquifying the man’s brain echoed on the bridge.

“He may threaten, but I will bite,” he growled, before storming off.

The blackness of the ship was almost inviting to the Legionnaire Captain. That darkness, along with the bleeding runes that covered the walls and the vile smell that would drive any sane man to madness, was the closest a man could get to the Warp while still inhabiting real-space.

He walked the maddening halls, descending into the belly of the beast, before he strode into a large room filled with books.

Tome upon tome of ancient, forbidden knowledge piled high in the room, while the armored sorcerer stood in the center, surrounded by the still-gurgling corpse of his latest sacrifice and the blood circle at his feet.

Festerus intoned under his breath, chanting a low, ritualistic language that twisted the air into noxious fumes that burned like some foul incense.

Captain Kraagan growled at the sight of the corpse. “I told you to stop killing our cultists!”

“Yet you can kill without consequence?” He asked, before continuing his chant.

“That man disobeyed my orders. It’s my policy to make sure that disobeying my orders is not made into a habit by whatever means necessary. And I should not need to remind you that you are included in that policy.”

The Sorcerer did not stop his chanting, but he did turn to face the captain.

There was a long second of silence, and then the Captain laughed. “You’ll have to do better than that, Festerus. I have stared Magnus the Red in the face, and you are not even a fraction of his power. Finish your ritual and then report to the planet’s surface,” he said, turning to leave. “And that is an order, Festerus.”

---=][=---

He was the Prince of Ursidhe-ka, the last son of the king. While most Eldar, on their craftworlds, feared the very idea of intimacy, the hard life of the Exodites had tempered them. They were, in many ways, the last living remnant of the Eldar who were not slowly dying in the void.

The Prince was young, only fourteen thousand years in age, but the mantle of ruler had passed to him with his father’s death, and he had taken it upon himself. Kneeling before the altar of the World Spirit, with the spirit stones of the now-dead carde in hand. He prayed, silently to the World Spirit, the collective psychic energy of those who died and came before him.

“World Spirit, I beg you, take these souls into your embrace. Keep them close, and hold them forever.”

And then he raised the first stone, and smashed it upon the altar.

The first soul was released, into the World Spirit, and safe from She-Who-Thirsts.

He was being watched, he knew. The Ranger from Alaitoc and the strange creature were watching him from a respectable distance, led here by Moronyth.

He smashed another spirit stone on the altar.

It took him a while before he worked through almost of all of the Spirit Stones, and he finally stopped to face his guests. “Forgive me,” he said, before walking up to them. “I thank you answering our summons, Starstrider and…” he said, motioning to the unicorn.

“Oh! Uh...Sweetie Belle is fine,” she answered, still incredibly shocked that was was being addressed without having to hear a puppy-dog voice.

Button chirped, introducing himself.

“Sweetie Belle, thank you,” he said. “The others are coming?” He asked, hopeful.

“Yes, sir. A force is coming, we are here to gain as much information as possible. Sweetie Belle is, well, unique, and should keep the information we relay to be kept away from prying eyes.”

The Prince nodded. “Good. Forgive me if I seem nervous about your support. When the Swordwind did not answer, I will not lie and say I did not feel betrayed. To be promised their aid and receive none is not something I wished to feel.

“But my feelings are not a part of your mission. Come, join me,” he said, motioning them over to a small door. They followed, letting the Prince lead them into this tree’s throne room. “It started a little over a cycle ago, my father, the King brought his most trusted lieutenants together for a council.

“Our Wayseer had foreseen the incursion of the orks, but she did not foresee the attack. A single strike, almost surgical, ambushed the council. They were being led by a strange, winged creature I am told, and it killed all of them. We have just began to regroup and reorganize, but the Wayseers do not know how to proceed. There is no time for us.”

“How did you manage to get ambushed by orks?” Oraban asked.

“I know not, but they had managed to sneak past the ranger.”

“Wait. The ranger?” Oraban asked.

The prince nodded, before he turned, and held out his hand. “Mesira was killed. I am sorry.”

Oraban blinked, before reaching for the Prince’s hand, and a spirit stone fell into his hand.

Oraban stared at the stone for a long second. “I…” He began, before his hand slowly closed around it. “Th-thank you. I’ll make sure she is returned to Alaitoc’s infinity circuit.”

There was a long second before Oraban spoke again. “Sweetie Belle, accompany the Prince. Listen and aid him. Then send the message to Farseer Elahina. I’ll...I’ll be back.”

“Oraban?” She called.

But the Ranger did not answer her.

He simply left.

---=][=---

Captain Kraagan finally landed on Ursidhe-ka. His thunderhawk growled with a deep, throaty roar that echoed through the clearing where the forces of Chaos were gathering.

It was a bit of a relief to be off the vessel and away from that fool of a sorcerer. His pride and his lust for power would be his downfall.

Of course, while the Chaos Psyker was still completing his rituals, it seemed he had other problems to deal with.

“There you are!” cried Vulek the Debaucher. “You have had me wait for far too long!”

Perhaps the Sorcerer was the better option.

“This slight will not go unpunished, worm,” Vulek continued, head tentacle undulating angrily. “I am a Captain of the Emperor’s Children, serving lord Fulgrim for the last one thousand years. I am not someone to be trifled with.”

Kraagan barely registered the words, choosing instead to focus on the reports from his scouts rather listen to this fool.

“Pay attention, worm!” Vulek roared, before his tentacle whipped around.

Kraagan grabbed it, snatching the tentacle from the air.

Vulek blinked, before trying to pull away, only to find himself caught.

“Call me worm once more, you pathetic weakling,” Kraagan warned, before snapping the tentacle back into the other Captain’s head.

“H-How dare you! I-I—”

Kraagan spun, and grabbed Vulek by the neck, faster than anything the tentacled man had ever seen. “You need to learn your place, boy,” Kraagan hissed as he then lifted the other marine from the ground. “You claim a thousand years of service, but I was there. I was there ten thousand years ago.”

Vulek’s eyes slowly began to widen.

“I was there when Grandmaster Horus led our Primarchs against the corpse emperor in the most glorious battle of our kind. I worked my way to captain through millennia of work. I saw and fought under Alpharius Omegon. I saw Magnus the Red walk amongst mere mortals. I saw Fulgrim lead the massacre on Istvaan V. I was on the ship that Roboute Guilliman attacked with his Ultramarines, and I watched him attack and kill what he thought was Alpharius.

“You were chosen by a captain. I was hand picked by Omegon himself. You are nothing like me, boy. And it would do you well to remember that,” and with that, Kraagan dropped him unceremoniously to the ground.

Vulek stared up at Kraagan, eyes wide, before standing. “Y-you...I am a captain! I will be treated with respect!”

“If you want respect, then I am afraid you aren’t going to find it here.” Kraagan scoffed. “Just fight the Eldar. That is your only job. We are after something else.”

“What?” Vulek asked, vehemently.

“That is our business. You keep to yours.”

---=][=---

Sweetie Belle walked the long, wooden corridors of the Prince’s palace. She had sent the message concerning the ork’s movements, including their odd and sudden retreat as well as their surprise attack. The best part of the whole situation was that she had only gotten a mild headache from the entire thing.

It was quite the achievement, considering it was her first long-distance psychic message.

Now, though, her thoughts turned to the Ranger. Oraban had not returned from wherever he had gone, and it did not seem like he planned to for a while yet.

“Oraban? Oraban! Where are you?” She called, traveling through the palace.

She quickly came up, and around a corner, and met two Eldar warriors. “Excuse me, gentlemen, have you seen the newly arrived Starstrider?”

“No, I have not,” the left one repled.

“Neither have I,” the right one said.

The unicorn sighed. “Thank you, Gentlemen,” she said, before continuing on her way.

She had checked the whole palace now, and hadn’t seen hair nor hide of the Ranger. If she was perfectly honest it was beginning to annoy her.

Growling to herself, she then headed straight to the most secluded space she could find.

It seemed that she was going to have to do this the hard way.

Finding the most isolated room she could, she closed the door and laid down. Humming, her wraithbone extension began to grow, covering the majority of the room in large psycho-plastic struts. It would not need to be as big as her transmission pattern, but a little amplification would never hurt.

Once she was satisfied, she closed her eyes, and opened her mind.

Psychic radar was her way of putting it. The correct term was some Eldar word that roughly translated to “Vision of the Pan-Spectral,” and was the basic premise on which a ranger’s long rifle scope was built on. Opening her mind to view the world around her, she was able to see the psychic signatures around her.

The palace itself was a glowing beacon of psychic energy, pulsating with the energies of the hundreds of Eldar living inside.

She ignored them, searching for something else, something more specific. Each of the signatures around her were similar, while each being unique in their own way. Oraban was so unlike them that she could tell within a few seconds of looking that he wasn’t there.

Frowning, she increased the field, searching the forests around them.

Ah! There he was. In the forest, surrounded by a feeling of tempered sadness.

Sweetie frowned.

Still mourning, it seemed.

Well, at least she knew where he was now, she can get back to—

What is that?

There was something...strange just on the edge of her vision, some three days away, if she had to guess.

It was...almost...familiar…

She forced herself a bit, pushing her power slightly more to get a better look.

It was in the ork camp.

It...it was a void.

A-not-quite absence of psychic energy. Something there, and yet, not there.

This was…

She reached out to it, almost automatically, her curiosity driving her forward.

If she was right…

---=][=---

“A questioning servant is more dangerous than an ignorant heretic”—Imperial Thought of the Day

Well, well, well. What do we have here?

“Wait a second...what are you doing, Miner?”

What I do every time, Pinkie. Try to take over the world!

“Ha ha. But really?”

You’ll have to wait and see.

Next time! Back to the Imperium! And the journey of Apple Bloom!

“We’ll see you then!”

Bye!

Chapter XIX

Captain Aren had been right.

The Alpha Legion had not, in fact, left the planet, and sure enough, they attacked two months after their disappearance.

Explosions had suddenly ripped an Imperial armory to pieces, and the PDF had found themselves set upon on all sides by cultists forces, led by a select few Chaos Marine commanders. And to no one’s surprise, they all carried the three-headed hydra upon their shoulders.

When Lord General Maximinus Liverance called for aid, Captain Aren was sorely tempted to say ‘I told you so.’ Instead, he and Gabriel simply had the Blood Ravens mobilize.

The thundering report of their bolters was soon heard all across Jouran, along with their battle cries and the screams of the cultists as their bodies exploded from the force of the bolts ripping them apart.

“We will not be found wanting!” Apple Bloom roared, emptying her magazine into a crowd of cultists as her squad moved forward.

“Apple Bloom!” Lazarus yelled over the roar of battle as he launched fireballs into the enemy ranks. “Find the commander! Bring the traitor to justice!”

“Sir! Yes, sir!” She roared, leaping down a short ridge onto a lower path, and sending a powerful kick towards a rather unfortunate cultist, who almost vaporized against the blow.

Las blasts slammed into her side, ricocheting of her armor.

“Get the four-legged one!” Someone cried, and Apple Bloom looked up just in time to see a cultist level a missile launcher at her.

The missile-man’s head exploded.

“Can’t let you take all the glory, Xeno!” Ramiel yelled as he landed next to her.

Apple Bloom smirked. “You are welcome to it! I just want to get the job done!”

Her mechadendrite turned to the side, firing her bolter with expertly aimed, and mechanically corrected, accuracy.

“Are you two at it again?” Israfiel’s robotic monotone voice asked from above the ridge.

“Just do your job, Israfiel, and we’ll do ours!” Ramiel answered, before firing point-blank into a charging cultist.

Apple Bloom fired another shot, before she began moving forward. “Well, Ramiel, if you want the glory, then you better come get it!”

“Right behind you, Xeno!”

They carved their way through the undulating hordes of twisted humans, their features mutated and transformed almost beyond recognition, cutting them down with every shot. At times they even took more than one in a single shot, the Bolt exploding and igniting the grenades they wore in a chain reaction of devastating proportions.

And Apple Bloom had never felt more at home.

They were alone out here, just her squad in the devastated ruins of one of Jouran’s many cities. The others were spread out across the planet,cutting through cultists forces with ease.

Really, it’s to be expected that an eight-foot tall, bioengineered warrior could kill a few thousand mere mortal men.

While her right mechadendrite held her bolter, the left went for her knife. The shortsword-sized blade slashed through brain, bone, and flesh as through the enemy was made of wet tissue. Then, as yet another ten fell before her like sheaves of wheat, she caught sight of her her target.

An Alpha Legionnaire, towering over the crowd seemed to form from the fog of battle. “Ramiel! Eastward! 87 degrees!” Apple Bloom roared.

“I see him!” The Space Marine cried, before firing a salvo of bolter fire at the green-purple giant.

The shots glanced and pinged off his armor, ricocheting off the large pauldrons of the monster as he raised a revving chainaxe. “Blood for the blood god!”

“Aim for the center, Ramiel!” Apple Bloom yelled.

“As if you could make that shot!”

“There he is!” The chaos marine yelled, as his chain axe ripped one of his own cultists in half. “The Crawling Marine! Let’s see what you’re made of!”

“You’re going to die today, traitor!” She screamed, her knife ramming through the jaw of another miserable cultist.

“The blood god cares not from where the blood comes!” The Legionnaire laughed, raising his chainaxe above his head.

Apple Bloom answered with only a barrage of bolter fire.

Again the bolts mere glanced off his armor.

“Hey, ‘aim for the center!’” Ramiel taunted.

Apple Bloom was about to answer, snarling a response, when she was suddenly interrupted by a new figure.

“For Russ and the Allfather!” A new marine called, dressed in black and silver armor and carrying a rune-carved chainsword.

The legionnaire turned, shocked at this new marine’s sudden presence, and raised his chainaxe to defend himself.

The teeth of both chainaxe and chainsword ground and stuck to each other. Binding each other, the helmet-less warrior screamed, trying to force the traitor into the ground beneath him.

Apple Bloom stopped and stared.

Even as her mechadendrites continued killing the cultists around her.

“S-Space Wolves?” The legionnaire asked, surprised.

The new marine smiled behind his thick beard. “I wish.”

The roar of a jump pack filled their ears, and Apple Bloom looked up to see another black-armored figure flying through the sky. He landed, the twin jets off his massive pack purring with a warm glow, and Apple Bloom saw his right pauldron decorated with a golden drop of blood flanked by white wings against a crimson field. And then, before she could say a word, he launched forward, chainsword screaming.

The Legionnaire barely had time to blink before the assault marine’s blade caught him in the gut, adamantine teeth ripping at his armor.

“Courage and Honor!” A new figure said, coming over the edge, followed by two new figures, a psyker with the Blood Raven’s heraldry on his right pauldron, but still dressed in the black and silver, and a devastator marine. He was silent, and relentless in keeping his battle-brothers clear from the cultists. A black fist against yellow stood proudly against the black of his armor.

This was then followed by one last member of the black-clad marines. A green, scaly hide hung like a cloak from his left, silver shoulder, just behind the pauldron, while his right bore a green dragon’s head against black. He wore no helmet, but unlike the first, who hand a thick head of braided hair with a beard, the latest member was clean shaven, revealing every inch of void-black skin, and his glowing red eyes.

“Into the Fires of Battle! Unto the Anvil of War!” He roared, before raising his massive hammer.

The Assault marine threw the legionnaire with the force of the blow, as the tactical marine and psyker fired at him from the ridge, filling him with bullets and warpfire as he flew towards the hammer-wielding marine.

The traitor skid to a stop right before him, and the dragon-marked marine took the duty of executioner.

The legionnaire turned into a stain on the ground as the Thunder hammer came down, rending the armor asunder. “Not much of an anvil at all, actually,” he muttered.

Apple Bloom’s eyes were as wide as saucers behind her helmet, as she slowly realized who these marines were.

They were members of the Deathwatch. A branch of the Ordo Xenos of the Inquisition, with members taken from only the best of every chapter of Space Marines.

And as she remembered their battlecry and motto she began to feel very, very uncomfortable.

“Suffer not the alien to live.”

“Excellent blow, Shu’ran!” The tactical marine said, revealing the white and blue sigil of the Ultramarines on his shoulder.

The cloaked marine merely nodded as he hefted his hammer up onto his shoulder while the others seemed to roll their eyes.

“If you’re done charmin’ the boy, can we get back to—Oh, great. More Bird brains,” the first one said, sheathing his wolf-shaped chainsword.

“Be silent, Skold,” the Librarian warned. “I will not tolerate your tongue today.”

The Space Wolf spat. “Sorcerous mutants.”

“Simpleton!” The librarian hissed.

“Now, now,” the Ultramarine began, standing between the two. “Thranis, Skold. Now is not the time.” He stepped forward, approaching the two. “Greetings, honorable Blood Ravens. You must be the marine the Inquisitor looked at the other day.”

Apple Bloom nodded.

“I am Captain Matthias Ward, of the Ultramarines,” he said, holding out an open hand.

“One of the most insufferable iceheads I’ve ever met,” Skold grumbled.

Ramiel took his hand even as Matthias glanced down at Apple Bloom. “These are my companions,” he said, keeping the conversation up even as the rest of Apple Bloom’s squad gathered around, the cultists repelled for now. “The man there, with the frostsword and the biting tongue, is Skold of the Space Wolves,”

Skold growled, but said nothing.

“The Assault Marine is Sepheran of the Blood Angels chapter.”

Sepheran paid them no mind, instead, focusing on the blood splatter of the Legionnaire.

“Shu’ran of the Salamanders.”

“Greetings, brothers,” the hammer-wielding marine cried with a grin and he slowly moved forward.

“Palan of the Imperial Fists.”

Palan said nothing, but simply checked and rechecked his heavy bolter while checking the surroundings.

“And Thranis, of your own chapter.”

“Emperor bless you, brothers,” the librarian said.

“And we are here as a part of the investigation of Lord Inquisitor Kapperman.”

Skold laugh. “You didn’t use his full name for once! What, getting tired?”

Matthias ignored him.

“It is good to have your aid in this matter,” Matthias finished.

“The feeling is mutual,” Lazarus replied.

“Sir!” Palan called. “I suggest we relocate. This position is not well-defensible.”

“Noted,” Matthias answered. “Sepheran?”

The assault marine removed his helmet, and brought the blood to his lips.

Apple Bloom watched, aware that he was using his omophagea, the organ that allows a marine to “learn by eating.” Even still, it was not something she wanted to witness.

“Northward. There’s a command center northward.”

“Excellent!” Matthias cried, before he disengaged from the Blood Ravens. “Let’s move.”

“Excuse me,” Lazarus said, stepping forward, “but if there is an Alpha Legion command center north of here, then the Blood Ravens should be there to end them.”

“Absolutely not!” Skold growled. “I’ve been stuck on this planet for the past two years! This is the first time I’ve been able to fight something! You are not taking it from me!”

“It’s not our job,” Palan pointed out. “We are here to protect the inquisitor from any Eldar threat, the Alpha Legion are a distraction.”

“But the Eldar haven’t attacked!” Skold yelled. “They haven’t done anything! This is the first proper fight I’ve had in ages!”

“Palan is correct, however,” Thranis pointed out, as he adjust his grip on his force staff. “This is a distraction from our true mission, and distractions are not something that our Inquisitor appreciates.”

Matthias nodded. “This is true, and the Codex Astartes states that we are to obey a commander’s orders and intentions to the best of our ability!”

Skold groaned. “Not that thrice damned book again!”

“Be silent, you whimpering, simple barbarian!” Matthias roared, his demeanor transforming completely. “You shall not speak of Roboute Guilliman’s most holy words as such! The Codex Astartes is beyond reproach! Do not dare speak of it as anything less than the most holy book of the Imperium!”

Apple Bloom could swear she saw foam frothing through his vox grill.

Palan grabbed his shoulder.

“Huh? Wha? Um, yes! This is the Blood Raven’s fight, let them deal with it,” he said, his tone returning to normal.

“Yes, sir,” Sepheran said, “of course, I have the memory of the location. They do not.”

Shu’ran spoke up. “Perhaps it would be best if the Blood Ravens were to accompany us to the command center? It would allow us to deal with this distraction faster, as well as allow our Space Wolf some joy in bringing justice to the traitors.”

“Excellent suggestion!” Matthias said. “Is that sufficient for you, Skold?”

The Space Wolf growled. “I’m traveling with a sorcerer anyway…”

“So be it! Follow us, Noble Blood Ravens!” The Ultramarine called, leading them forward.

Shu’ran shook his head as they fell in line behind the Ultramarine, along with the rest of Deathwatch kill squad and Apple Bloom’s own squad.

Karlon, meanwhile, walked up next to the Blood Angel. “Is he, the captain, always like that?”

“Just don’t talk about the Ultramarines, the Codex, or the Primarch, and he’s tolerable,” Sepheran replied.

Apple Bloom snorted when she heard the response, when she noticed Thranis staring at her.

“Yes brother?” She asked, her voice sounding male through her vox.

“Did I hear correctly that you are the marine the Inquisitor was called to investigate, or am I mistaken?”

“I can’t imagine anyone else that would cause such a stir.”

Thranis smirked. “An excellent point, brother. I am simply glad those fears were proven unfounded.”

Apple Bloom nodded, and she said nothing else for the rest of trip.

---=][=---

The two squads found themselves looking down at a small alley from the top of a bomb-out building. They stepped carefully, walking so that the ceramite and rockcrete below them didn’t shift or give way under their massive bulk.

“I smell a lot of chaos from that door,” Skold growled.

“Indeed,” Thranis agreed. “I sense a strong evil here.”

“I’ve scouted around,” Coberos said as he came back up from his short rounds around the building. “I’ve seen three cultists nearby. They seem to be watching it while trying to be inconspicuous.”

“Nothing we didn’t already know, Crow,” Skold growled.

Isarfiel spoke up. “So how are we to approach the door?”

“The only way we can approach the door!” Matthias answered. “We breach the door as dictated by the Codex Astartes!”

Sepheran sighed.

“Shu’ran, Skold, you shall breach the door first, while I and the Blood Ravens stand behind offering firing support.”

“And what am I to do?” Sepheran asked.

Matthias gave him a long look. “What do you mean what are you to do? Have you not read the Codex?! Do you not have its words written upon your heart?!”

The same sigh the Blood Angel gave earlier echoed through the rest of the kill team.

“Every true Astartes knows that Assault Marines have no business breaching a door! You are to sit, with Palan and Thranis to the side and wait!”

Again, Apple Bloom could swear he was foaming at the mouth.

“Is he going to be alright?” She asked, whispering to Skold, the only marine within earshot.

“Palan can reel him in, just give him a moment.”

“You know I’m really starting to hope our chapter is not related to the Ultramarines.”

The Space Wolf suppressed a laugh. “That’s perhaps the most reasonable thing I’ve heard you sorcerers say.”

Matthias continued to rant, going on and on about how great the Ultramarines are, and how every chapter wishes to be Ultramarines.

Skold sighed. “It must be hard.”

“What?” She asked.

“Not knowing,” he replied. “To have neither primarch nor progenitor...It...I will not offer you pity, but I can imagine it is no easy thing.”

“It’s not,” Apple Bloom answered.

There was a long second of silence.

“How did he even get into the Deathwatch?” She asked.

“I’m fairly certain they sent him to be rid of him quickly.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “Now that, I can believe.”

Palan finally had enough of the Ultramarine’s speech, and yanked on his shoulder. “Huh? Who-wha? Oh, yes...So, Skold, Shu’ran, up front, Blood Ravens, all of you but the librarian with me, the rest of you, wait on standby.”

Palan, Sepheran and Thranis all shared a look.

“Forward!” Matthias cried, before jumping down into the alleyway.

The rest of the breaching squad followed after him, landing in the hallway as Skold drew his frostsword. “Should be fun.”

Apple Bloom’s bolter came up, readying as Matthias did the same.

And Palan merely waved at the others and said, “follow me.”

“Breach!” Matthias yelled, and the two armored fighters slammed into the door, throwing it off its hinges as frostsword roared and thunder hammer crackled with power.

They dove to the side, and the tactical marines lit up the space directly in front of the door with bolter fire.

The fire halted, and Matthias walked forward. He checked the room, finding it surprisingly empty. “We seem cle—”

“Get down you fool!” Skold yelled, leaping at the Ultramarine and dragging him to the ground as the opposite wall suddenly filled with muzzle flash.

The brick and mortar of the false walls exploded outward, crumbling to reveal two alcoves to either side of the killing field.

Alpha Legionnaires burst from behind the walls, filling the air with bolter fire that riddled the wall, and sent the Blood Ravens diving for cover.

Shu’ran was caught in the crossfire, but he was a Salamander. He had forged his own armor after mastering the craft, and the artificer armor would not fall to bolter fire so easily. He roared, bringing his thunder hammer around and splitting a Chaos Marines helmet in twain. Apple Bloom, on all fours and shorter than her brothers, peeked around the door and returning fire.

And then, to the surprise of everyone gathered, the left hand wall suddenly broke apart.

Collapsing under a powerful explosion, the wall sent up a screen of dust. A second later, before the dust could even think about settling, heavy bolter fire and warp-blasts filled the air, flanking the chaos marines.

With the second trap sprung, the firefight did not last long.

As the last chaos marine fell, Matthias finally regained his feet. “Another victory for the Ultramarines!”

Skold sighed, before turning to the door. “Alright, everyone the room is…”

The Blood Ravens, however, had already filled the room, searching every last nook and cranny for any information the carcasses could provide.

“...clear…”

“They do work fast,” Sepheran said as he stepped over the collapsed wall.

Thranis, meanwhile, smiled. “Now this is how you gather information.”

Karlon was first up, a stack of parchment in his hands. “Librarian Lazarus! Here is my preliminary findings for any written material. It is organized alphabetically, and all pieces written in the infernal tongues are organized by the Vidya method.”

“Excellent, I shall begin sorting through these.”

“Sir!” Israfiel called. “Totals are ten chaos marines, ten non-standard bolters, and ten knives, decorated with chaos sigils. Shall I begin collecting these for transport to the Adeptus Mechanicus, or purge them immediately?”

“Purge, we cannot afford taking these back for the proper rites.”

“Sir,” the robotic voice answered with a nod.

“Librarian!” Apple Bloom said, mechadendrites loaded with data slates. “I’ve found their data slates!”

“Excellent! Start working through those!”

“Wow…” Sepheran muttered. “I can see how they get their reputation.”

“What reputation?” Thranis asked.

The Kill team all looked at him.

“Just...nevermind.”

Thranis, now slightly confused, moved forward towards the Blood Ravens. “Codicer,” he called, and watched Lazarus wince before turning back. “Yes, sir?”

“If you will have my aid I can help you locate any psychic activity that has happened here.”

Lazarus nodded. “It would be welcome,” he said, as the two moved closer together, slipping into a trace.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Skold replied. “We have a fight to get to! We are not going to wait on your rituals.”

“We won’t have to,” Palan said, dragging a large chunk of rockrete that was six times as large as he was behind him. “The fight’s coming to us.”

“What?” Shu’ran asked.

“There,” Palan said, pointing with his Heavy Bolter towards the horizon.

The Space Marines crowded to one side, looking over the defensive wall Palan had quickly erected. Apple Bloom joined them, her auspex magnifying the scene to reveal at least fifty black-green armored figures coming heading towards them.

“That’s five squads of Alpha Legionnaires,” Ward said, telling everyone what they already knew.

Shu’ran gave Apple Bloom a nudged. “Watch him give us the odds.”

“That’s four to one odds,” the ultramarine muttered.

4.1666 repeating, actually. Of course, simple division was something every Space Marine could do, so that wasn’t really impressive.

“I’ll notify the captain,” Coberos said, as he switched channels to the long-distance vox.

Karlon looked back at Israfiel, passed the meditating librarians. “Purging?”

“Complete,” he replied. “I’ve also secured Brother Appericius’ data slates.”

“Excellent.”

“You’re not running, are you, sorcerer?” Skold asked.

Karlon spun on his heel, and replied in a low hiss. “The Blood Ravens do not run.”

Skold gave him a wolfish grin as he drew his frostsword. “Prove it.”

Apple Bloom smiled. “Oh, it is so on.”

“Hold, Brothers,” Matthias warned. “The Codex says that we should wait, staying within the confines of this defensive wall so that we may—”

“What’s that? Can’t hear you!” Serpheran said, before he shot forward, Chainsword revving, and jumppack roaring.

“What are you doing?!” Ward cried, before falling yet again into a fit of rage.

Sepheran fired a handful of shots from his bolt pistol, pulling a handful of chaos marines away as Palan and the Blood Ravens laid down fire.

“Move closer! Get to cover!” One of the legionnaires cried.

“Wait for it,” Shur’ran warned, holding out a hand to keep the Space Wolf restrained.

“How dare you disobey the Codex!” Ward screamed, continuing to foam at the mouth and firing at the flying Blood Angel, only to miss him completely and make perfect headshots against the Alpha Legion soldiers.

“Be sure to have someone slap him thirty seconds,” Palan instructed.

“Sanguinius wishes that he was Roboute Guilliman! Sanguinala should be held in Guilliman’s honor! It’s a conspiracy by Chaos! He never died defending the Emperor!”

“Can I slap him now?” Coberos asked, venomously.

“Fifteen seconds remain,” Palan replied.

The Alpha Legion marines were close now, with only ten meters separating the front lines. Sepheran was bouncing along the line of traitors, swinging his chainblade with powerful discipline and terrifying brutality.

They were close enough. “So are we going to go? Or are we just going to stare at them?” Skold yelled.

Shu’ran smiled. “For the Emperor.”

Skold smiled. “I’ll drink to that! For Russ and the Allfather!” He roared, leaping over the barricade.

Shu’ran was right behind him. “Into the Fires of Battle! Unto the Anvil of War!”

Warp bolts began to fill the air, bearing down on them from the chaos lines.

“Librarians!” Karlon yelled, as he slapped the back of Ward’s head. “We need support!”

The Librarians did not hear them, lost to the world as they tracked their psychic quarry.

Karlon cursed. “We’re on own!”

“Good!” Ward yelled. “As Guilliman said, only in fire may we see—”

He was suddenly cut off as a bolt took off the side of his face.

“Shu’ran! Ward’s down!” Palan yelled, continuing to fire.

The Salamander sighed after liquefying another chaos marine’s brain. “I kept saying we needed an apothecary…” he muttered, before running back towards the rockcrete wall. “I’m coming!”

Skold kept cleaving through the legionnaires, the diamond-hard teeth of the Fenrisian Ice Kraken that had been embedded into the the chain tore through the adamantium and ceramite that covered the bodies of the traitors, and bit into soft flesh. “Come to me, traitors! I shall bring your skulls to Fenris as trophies!”

A lucky shot tore out his knee.

The Space wolf roared in pain as he dropped, before his roar transformed into a growl. Even still, he continued to swing his blade, attacking anyone who came within arm’s reach.

“Skold!” Sepheran cried, before landing next to the wounded wolf.

“I’m not done yet, Blood Angel,” he growled.

The whine of power generators began to ring in Skold’s ears, and he turned his head just in time to watch Apple Bloom’s powerful legs send a pair of Legionnaire’s flying.

“You better not be done, Wolf,” she told him with a smile. “It’d be rather disappointing to see a Battle Brother fall so easily.”

“Oh, no you don’t!” Skold growled, before trying to get back on his feet, broken knee notwithstanding. “I’m not going to be outdone by a sorcerer with his nose stuck in a book!”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” she told him, as her mechadendrite leveled her bolter down against another Chaos Marine, and sent him the Emperor’s Peace.

“Brother Appericius!” came Ramiel’s voice over the short-range vox. “Captain Aren is inbound! ETA five minutes!”

“Roger that!” She yelled. “Good news, brothers! The cavalry comes in five minutes!”

Skold laughed. “You’re just going to ruin all my fun, aren’t you?”

Apple Bloom smiled. She was starting to like this Space Wolf.

---=][=---

The Thunderhawks had come to the rescue, sending the remainder of the Alpha Legionnaire’s scurrying, and apothecaries were already working on both Skold and Ward. Officially, they were being commandeered by the Inquisition, but for this moment, they were more than happy to lend their assistance.

Meanwhile, the Blood Ravens set up a temporary HQ around the two almost completely comatose psykers, under the direction of Palan, who showed them how to best fortify the blown-out building. Once secure, the Blood Raven’s began working through the new information at an almost disturbing rate. Sepheran had even gone so far as to warn them that digging into the knowledge of Chaos was a dangerous thing.

As if they didn’t already know that.

Still, they decided to slow a bit, saving the extra heretical items for when they were alone again aboard the Omnis Arcanum.

By the time the sun had set, the Blood Ravens were finished with the majority of the materials, and Apple Bloom had a post on guard duty. She stared out into the darkness, watching for any sign of the traitors beyond the light.

She heard the limping a mile away.

“You sorcerers aren’t the best priests around, but you will do,” Skold said before sitting down next to her.

“Your knee?”

“It will need to be replaced. Completely.”

“Will the Inquisition take care of that?” Apple Bloom asked.

“They better,” Skold replied with a snort, before a silence fell over the two.

Apple Bloom kept watching the horizon, and the two Space Marines enjoyed the short silence.

“Ward won’t make it,” Skold said suddenly.

Apple Bloom blinked, shocked by the statement. “I’m...I’m sorry?”

Skold scoffed. “Don’t worry. He was no friend of mine.”

The silence went on another second.

“You know, if I wind up losing all my limbs, I may put in for these bionics of yours myself.”

“Don’t,” Apple Bloom warned. “They put your neck at an angle that will drive you mad.”

“Drives you mad?”

“Oh, certainly. Luckily I was mad to begin with,” she said with a smirk.

Skold laughed. “You, you know you aren’t that bad. I could actually like you, given enough time and ale.”

Apple Bloom chuckled.

Silence again.

And it lasted for a while.

And then it exploded into noise.

Lazarus gasped, his first action since falling into whatever slumber the Librarians came under. They both tumbled to the ground, Thranis heaving as he rolled into a ball on the floor, his Force staff frozen to the ground by a thick sheet of ice.

“Librarian!” Apple Bloom called, pointing but never leaving her post.

Someone ran over to them. “Librarian! Librarian! What happened?”

Lazarus took a deep breath, sucking the air through grit teeth. “Found...them...”

“What? Found who?”

Lazarus shivered, shaking like a spring leaf in a winter storm. “Alpha...Legion,” he answered, his words were whisperes that echoes through the camp. “We...know...where they...are going…”

---=][=---

“Only in death does duty end.”—Imperial Thought of the Day.

Well, well, well...I’m gonna give you guys a few guess on where those Alpha Legionnaires are going of to.

“It wouldn’t happen to be with the rest of the Alpha Legionnaires would it?”

Maybe…

“I know that smile.”

You most certainly do.

“Well, I guess we’re going to see if I’m right next time, won’t we?”

I guess so. Before we get to that, though, since this is a Brony's first Warhammer, I suppose I should explain Captain Matthias Ward. In short, Matt Ward is (was?) an employee of Games Workshop, who wrote the codexes for the Ultramarines, Necrons, and the Grey Knights. He also plays those factions.

He also has no restraint.

And so, those factions have become, either overpowered in mechanics, or THA BEST EVAH! in fluff.

Especially the Ultramarines.

"Ergo Captain Matthias Ward?"

Exactly.

“Well, until next time!”

Bye!

Chapter XX

Scootaloo held her breath.

There was no way. Absolutely no way.

That was not Rainbow Dash. It couldn’t be. Even if they had come after them, even if Twilight and her friends had gone through the mirror, coming to try and find them, the galaxy was just too big. It was too big for any of them to find her.

Her ears twitched as she heard Rainbow laugh again.

That...couldn’t...couldn’t be Rainbow Dash. There was no way that could be Rainbow Dash. It was downright impossible for that to be Rainbow Dash.

She checked below her, and saw her boyz all asleep, dead to the world.

She stared back, into the forest, where the sound of laughter came from.

That could not, could never, ever be Rainbow Dash.

She spread her wings and flew, following the sound, into the forest of Ursidhe-ka.

---=][=---

She flew through the air, power klaw whining as she used it to grab the branches as she pulled and flew her way forward.

The ghostly laugh of Rainbow Dash, her hero and surrogate sister, floated just ahead, and more than once she would swear she saw the bright, multi-colored tail disappear behind a nearby tree.

It couldn’t be…

But it had to be…

She moved through the forest, passing the trees that were becoming covered in more and more moss and vines as she went deeper.

The bark of the trees slowly turned black and the leaves a mottled green. The trees became shorter, not the massive, towering trees of before.

But she didn’t seem to notice.

The stitches that marked old wounds faded away, her scares slowly erased, and as she finally burst her way into a clearing, only for her tiny filly body to tumble out of a nearby bush on the edge of the Everfree forest.

Ponyville lay, spread out beneath her.

A sight she had not seen in some thirty years.

Rainbow Dash flew overhead, breaking up clouds in her normally record-breaking time, while ponies that Scootaloo had not seen in decades walked the all-too-familiar streets. She looked down at the town from the top of her little hill, and gaped.

“Hey, squirt!” Rainbow Dash said, landing next to her, and towering above her as she stood. “What’s up?”

Scootaloo looked up at her, before staring down at herself, at her tiny, filly body, free of all of the injuries she had taken. Whole. Young.

As if she had never left.

Scootaloo looked up, staring at her hero long forgotten, before hugging her leg. “Rainbow Dash…” she muttered, tears in her eyes.

“Woah, Squirt, hey...don’t…” she began, before her magenta eyes fell on her and the wetness on her face. “Hey, you okay?”

“Better than I’ve been in a long, long, time…” she said, letting her tears fall freely from her face, and not caring the slightest bit who saw.

---=][=---

Her first stop was her house.

Her parents were still off at Canterlot, working hard, but she was home.

Her actual home.

She walked into her room, her old room, with her posters, her scooter, her bed.

Oh, how she missed that bed. There weren’t any mattresses in the Waaagh! just rocks and other, stringy, tough orks to lay on.

She smiled as she walked in, her own little world. Her own property, not some Warboss’ palace that she was living in for the duration, but her room. She almost wished she spent more time here.

Her smile grew wider as she looked down at her beloved scooter. Oh, the times she had, pulling her friends around.

Friends who were probably dead.

This was a dream, she knew that. There was no way this could be anything else.

But if nothing else, she would enjoy this. This was the last goodbye she never had.

And she would have it.

---=][=---

Scootaloo walked the streets of her home, watching the ponies around her as though they were all old friends. Most she didn’t know that well, not even back when she lived here, but she loved seeing them after so long.

So many smells, sights and sounds that had been all but forgotten, were brought to life before her. The scent of fresh, crisp apples filled the air as the sounds of friends bargaining in market stalls rang in her ears.

It was home.

Her eyes were still wet as she walked through the street, a smile on her face, and a song in her heart.

She had dreamed of this. Oh, sure, the boyz recognized her as one of their own, but she never had a chance to mourn. Mourn losing this, her home, her friends, her family. If she so much as sniffled the grots would have torn her apart back when she was still small. And now, it was all so fresh again. This was everything she had lost, everything she missed about home.

She was home.

“S-Scootaloo?” A voice called.

She turned, and before her eyes was a very old friend.

“Sweetie Belle!?” She cried, as though she couldn’t believe her eyes.

“Scootaloo, is that you?” Sweetie Belle asked.

Scootaloo smiled, and she knew it was the cheesiest, dumbest-looking smile she could have on her face.

And she didn’t care.

Scootaloo staggered towards her friend, before spreading her forelegs wide, and embracing her in the longest, tightest hug she could. Sweetie Belle gasped as her friend held her, before her own hooves began to surround the pegasus. For a long second, the two stood in the middle of the road, holding each other.

“S-Scootaloo,” the unicorn asked, voice cracking. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Sweetie Belle. I’m just fine.”

And they just held each other for a long, long time.

---=][=---

The two reunited Crusaders just walked through Ponyville, happy to see the sights of a world they had almost forgotten.

“Have you seen Apple Bloom?” The pegasus asked, as they walked down the street.

“No,” Sweetie replied. “I kinda hoped you had.”

“No, no such luck. I just came back from—” she began, only for her gaze to catch the sight of a massive knife chopping a head of cabbage in half.

No...don’t do this to me. I need this to be right, ya git.

“What?” Sweetie asked, getting her attention.

“Huh? Oh, uh...you know, why don’t we just go back to the Crusader Clubhouse. We can probably meet her there, right?”

“Sure! That sounds like a good plan!” Sweetie said, a sad smile on her face.

They quickly began heading off towards the massive apple orchard on the northwest side of the town.

“Oy! Watch it ya git!”

Scootaloo spun, searching for the source of the orky voice that had growled behind her.

Only the happy ponies of Ponyville met her sight.

“Are you okay?” Sweetie asked.

“I-I just thought I heard something,” Scootaloo muttered, before turning back around. “Come on, let’s go.”

---=][=---

The trees of Sweet Apple Acres seemed taller than Scootaloo remembered. They weren’t like the ones one Ursidhe-ka, but they were still far too tall. Giant red apples hung from their branches, and their leaves were an incredibly dark green.

Scootaloo thought it was strange, but Sweetie Belle seemed downright terrified.

“Maybe we should go back into town,” she said, cowering before the trees.

“What, why?” Scootaloo asked.

“I just...I just don’t like this.”

“C'mon, Sweetie Belle. It’s just Sweet Apple Acres.”

She nodded. Before the two of them began moving forward into the trees. The yawning expanse before them quickly swallowed their tiny forms, leaving the two to march into the darkness of the orchard.

Scootaloo wondered as she moved forward. Was it always this dark in here? That didn’t seem right. She could have sworn that it was brighter in here.

Then again, she was sure that ponies didn’t have choppas either.

“Did you see that?” Sweetie Belle asked, startling the pegasus filly.

“What?”

“There! In the shadows! Did you see them?” Sweetie said, pointing.

“Where?” Scootaloo asked.

“Right there!” She said, pointing at a shadow.

Scootaloo stared at it, blinking, unable to see the thing she was pointing at. The only thing that met her eyes was the darkness surrounding them, the ever-present leaves of the orchard, and her friend next to her.

"I don't see anything," she said, looking out.

The trees seemed to groan, their branches rattling as the wind rippled through them.

“We need to go,” Sweetie said, an anxious edge to her tone.

Scootaloo did not want to. The years upon years of living with the fearless ork taught her to never run from a fight. Fighting was winning, even when you lost. But Sweetie Belle wasn’t sure, and there was still some part of her that understood her friend. “Alright, fine, we’ll just come back later.”

“No, no...not even now,” Sweetie muttered to herself. “I can never escape…”

---=][=---

Scootaloo followed Sweetie Belle back to the center of town, back to the library. “Why don’t we just go along the path?” Scootaloo asked.

“We can’t...everything’s all twisted. The world’s gone wrong. It’s all tainted.”

“What are you talking about?” Scootaloo asked.

“This is all just the warp trying to get me, after all this time…”

“What? Warp? What are you talking about?”

Sweetie Belle sighed. “I can’t do this,” she sighed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t keep playing like this…”

“What are you talking about?” Scootaloo asked.

Sweetie turned to face her, and as she did, she grew, taller, more slender, with stubs of bone protruding from her back, elbows, and knees. “I can’t pretend that this is real, Scootaloo. I can’t pretend that this is reality. It’s not...it’s all fake…”

Scootaloo gaped.

No. No, no, no...Don’t take this...you can’t…

“I can’t do this…” Sweetie said, before she turned around and disappeared into the library.

“No, no! Sweetie Belle! Don’t! Don’t do this! I need this, please!” She said, reaching out towards her.

And her power klaw shone in the moonlight.

She sat in the middle of the forest, staring at the darkness around her.

Her klaw clenched and unclenched, almost as if she were reaching for the world that had so suddenly disappeared from her sight.

She sniffed.

She then rubbed her face with her hoof.

It came away wet.

She sniffed again, before she muttered to herself. “You’s gotten soft, you’s has…” She shook her head, swallowing a deep breath of air. “An’ ya knows what happens when you’s is soft, Shootaloota? You’s get shot.”

She shook her head. “You’s gotta be ‘ard ta be an ork, Shootaloota, and don’cha forget dat.”

And with that, she straightened her back, and stomped off back to camp.

---=][=---

Captain Kraagan glared at the back of Festerus’ helmet.

Since the Sorcerer's landing, he had continued to get on the Captain’s nerves. He had stopped using cultists to be his couriers, and instead, used Chaos marines. Ordering whatever marines feared him to do his bidding simply to annoy Kraagan.

He knew it.

The only reason Kraagan was not roaring at the sorcerer in fury, was simply because he was performing a ritual. One of many that would help them locate their prize.

At least that fool, Vulek and his men were elsewhere, heading towards the Eldar and away from here, a small blessing, to be sure. For now, however, he still had this thorn in his side.

Festerus stood in a small clearing, surrounded by chanting cultist as they surrounded a circle of blood in the dirt. The center of the eight pointed star sat in the middle of the circle, and was beginning to fill with the blood of the sorcerer’s sacrifices. Small animals, wretched cultists and even a captured Eldar all lay in the circle, throat slit and blood pooling around them before flowing into the channels of the ground.

Kraagan watched, annoyed, but respectful of his work.

And then Festerus spoke. “What are we after, Captain?”

Kraagan raised an eyebrow behind his helmet. The Sorcerer knew, he himself had made sure of that, so why ask? This was obviously a test of some kind. But for what? “The Infinity Gate, Sorcerer, you know this.”

“Yes, the Infinity Gate, the legend of a portal that could open the Webway, the Warp, and everything in between. Your plan is to use it to reach the mythical Black Library, but I must ask why?”

“What do you mean?” Kraagan asked.

“Why should we search for this library?” The Sorcerer asked as he slit the throat of another sacrifice. “Why should we dedicate so many resources for this Library when we could simply follow Ahriman? He has spent far more time searching for it, and far more resources. In fact, how do we know this will get us to the Library, when Ahriman has not pursued this?”

Kraagan gave a slight smirk. “Do you mean to say that the fool of the Thousand Sons is your better?”

Festerus glared at the captain, before drawing his skull-hilted dagger against his eighth sacrifice, never once breaking eye-contact. “If I were as simple as Ahriman,” he said, stabbing the dagger through the dead cultist’s chest at the word simple, “then I would not ask about the Gate.”

“Then, Sorcerer, if your mind is so sharp, what do you think the Gate is for?”

Festerus continued to glare, before speaking again. “The possibilities are endless, I was asking what our current objective is.”

Kraagan smiled beneath his helmet. He had no idea, and now was bluffing. “The Black Library is only our first stop, Sorcerer. After that, the Alpha Legion has many plans for the Gate. But you need not worry about future plans if we cannot find it now. Find it, that is all you need to worry about for now.”

Festerus said nothing, and simply continued the ritual.

Kraagan nodded, and left him to it, hoping that the sorcerer would finally leave him alone.

---=][=---

Scootaloo and the orks marched forward, with the pegasus krumpin’ every grot that got in her way.

Her kommandos weren’t sure whether or not she was just having a bad day, or something had happened.

“Keep movin’ ya grots!” She roared, power klaw whining with power. “We’z gotta move fasta!”

“Is somefin’ wrong, Boss?” Hellspitta asked.

“Nofin’s wrong Hellspitta,” she replied, before crushing a gretchin that was taking a little too long to move. “Just bein’ an ork.”

“Yeah, but...you normally ain’t dis kinda orky,” Facehacka noted.

Scootaloo sent him a glare that could kill a small squig. “And what do ya mean by that?” she asked, growling.

“Oh! Nofin’! Nofin’, Boss! Ah Don’t mean nofin’ by it!” The sniper said, backpedaling.

Scootaloo snorted, before she pointed at the axe-wielding ork. “And doncha forget dat!”

The kommandoz looked between each other, not entirely sure what to do, when a sudden cry erupted on the left flank of the army column.

“Waaaaaagh!”

Sonic blasts of wailing electric guitars, and deep, heavy automatic fire erupted along the left, with exploding shells ripping through ork hide. Pink and black armored figures stood along the Waaagh!’s flank, firing loud, pitiful shootas. “For the Emperor!” They yelled, mockingly.

Scootaloo gave a smirk. “Looks like wez gotta a foight!” She said, before a flap of her powerful wings sent her screaming for the front line.

The kommandos looked at each other once more, shrugged, and prepared their stikk bombs.

Somefin’ was eatin’ da boss, and dey all knew dat dey couldn’t do a fing ta stop it from eatin’ ‘er.

---=][=---

“An open mind is like a fortress with its gates unbarred and unguarded.”—Imperial Thought of the Day.

Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, the first meeting between the crusaders has come to pass, and a hint at the Alpha Legion’s plan has come to light.

“Dun, Dun, Duuuuuuuun!”

Thank you, Pinkie. Anyways, sorry it’s a short chapter, guys, but I’ve been focusing a little stronger on my novel, and since my brain was in that gear for the past two weeks, this was more of a giant brain-fart.

“Anyway! What’s happening next time?”

Next time! Sweetie Belle, the Eldar, and the Infinity Gate!

“We’ll see you all next time!”

Bye!

Chapter XXI

Sweetie Belle woke, mentally pulling away from the void she discovered.

She could feel the tears running down her face as she sniffed and choked back a sob.

Button chirped, walking down her face to stroke her cheek.

Sweetie Belle shook her head, petting the little Warp spider gently before standing. “Not even my memories are safe,” she muttered. “The warp cannot have my soul, so it wants my memories.”

Button chirped again, worriedly.

It was all wrong. The world of her memories had been turned and transformed into a parody of her past. Nothing was right. Her world had transformed into a place filled with shadows of an ancient race, stalking her from where she was now. Everything had been twisted and broken. Ponyville was merely a shade of what was. There was nothing really left.

Sweetie shook her head again, trying to compose herself as her wraithbone relay slowly retracted back into her body. “Nothing is safe…” she muttered. “Nothing is sacred.”

Button cooed sadly.

Gathering herself, she took a moment to clear her eyes, and with a long, shaky breath, she exited the small room.

If nothing else, it was good to see Scootaloo again.

Even if she was a shadow of her mind.

---=][=---

As morning dawned, Oraban finally returned.

Outwardly, he looked no different, his cloak and mask hiding whatever his impassive face did not. Even still, Sweetie Belle could feel a cloud of hopelessness surrounding him. He walked up to her, both standing outside of the Prince’s throne room. “Sweetie Belle,” he greeted, offering only that as he gripped his rifle.

Sweetie Belle tried to ignore the small stone that hung from the grip of the weapon. “Oraban,” she greeted back.

The ranger merely nodded, before he stood next to the unicorn, waiting for the doors to open. Oraban fidgeted, something that Sweetie Belle had not seen from him in a very long time, if at all. Something was certainly under his skin.

Sweetie spoke up. “I think we are getting our mission,” she said.

Oraban grunted.

“We might be assigned to scout the orks,” the unicorn pointed out.

Still, his face remained impassive, but the way his fingers tightened around the barrel of his rifle said that he enjoyed the idea. “There isn’t really anything else for us to do is there?”

Finally, the doors creaked open, revealing the throne room behind, and the Prince, sitting on the throne. “Enter,” he ordered, as ceremony was laboriously performed.

The two walked in, approaching the Prince, before bowing.

“Starstrider, Sweetie Belle, we now know when the forces of the Craftworld will arrive, and thus we know when to fight back and attack. However, until such a time arrives, we need to defend ourselves.”

Sweetie and Oraban said nothing.

“So we shall begin to retreat from this tree fortress. In the interim, I have a duty for you two.”

“You wish me to scout the ork?” Oraban asked, “I can do that. It would be a pleasure.”

“Actually, Starstrider, I have another duty for you.”

Sweetie Belle frowned, before shaking her apparent disappointment away.

Oraban remained impassive. “What duty would you have me perform? As long as I can shed ork blood I will not complain.”

The Prince shook his head. “No, Starstrider, the duty I have for you is greater still.”

The ranger’s grip tightened again, and Sweetie Belle could see his knuckles shining white through his pale skin.

“I need your skill of stealth and infiltration to guard something. An ancient treasure that has been guarded by us since the fall of our empire.”

“What is it?” Oraban asked, his curiosity causing his annoyance to subside.

“The Infinity Gate,” he answered, before standing. “A gate to the warp, the webway, and a thousand other worlds. It was the greatest work the minds of the Eldar could fashion, and is the last greatest monument of our glory. The power it contains would be terrifying in the hands of the ork. It needs to stay hidden, and I know no one better or more skilled at remaining hidden than the Starstriders.”

Oraban said nothing.

The Prince gave a nod towards an Eldar Warrior. “Kalleth will lead you there.”

Silence was the only reply.

---=][=---

He was furious, she could tell. She had never, ever seen him so angry before in her life. The Eldar warrior leading them had no clue that the ranger behind him was moments away from exploding in pure anger.

She did not need to be psychic to tell that he felt like his vengeance had been stolen from him. The way he walked, the way he gripped his rifle, even the way he spoke aloud rather than using his psychic voice spoke volumes of his rage.

He was only moments away from shooting the warrior in the back, and running to throw himself on the orkish line.

She certainly needed to talk with him about it.

Before long, their guide led them to a large clearing in the middle of the woods, and in the clearing stood a massive structure of wood and wraithbone. A large ziggurat, with a wraithbone menhir at its peak.

“This is the Infinity Gate?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“This is the temple that holds it,” Kalleth answered. “The gate itself is inside.”

“So we need to disguise an entire temple?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Surely a daunting task,” Kalleth replied as he held his spear and his laspistol, “but one I’m sure you and the Starstrider are capable of.”

Sweetie glanced over at Oraban, who simply stared at the massive structure, anger glinting in his eyes.

“We’ll be fine,” she told Kalleth. “You may return to the Prince. We shall perform our duty from here.”

Kalleth nodded, before retreating back to the tree palace.

Sweetie looked over at Oraban, who continued to stare at the temple, hate burning in his eyes.

“Let’s get to work,” she said, before she began walking to the ziggurat base.

Oraban continued to stare, as though the temple would unmake itself at his mental command.

Sweetie Belle noticed. “Are you coming, Oraban?”

He growled, but followed, walking up towards the massive building, angry, but silent.

---=][=---

The inside of the temple was a perfect mix of wood and wraithbone. It fascinated Sweetie Belle in its own way, being a mix herself. So she began her work,performing experiments that would blow Twilight Sparkle’s mind back on Equestria, trying to divine the purpose and point of mixing both these massive trees and the power of wraithbone.

Button, in the meantime, was simply teleporting all across the temple as he merged with the wraithbone veins that traveled through it.

And Oraban sulked.

After Sweetie Belle’s experiments, she took a moment to return outside. She went about, setting wraithbone markers to prepare her massive psychic labyrinth to keep the ground forces at bay, taking notes all the way.

Button went through, at Sweetie’s request, and mapped out the temple so that she could get a proper tour later.

And Oraban kept sulking.

She set up defenses. Barricades of wraithbone, spikes, digging pits and shutting off hallways.

And Oraban just sulked.

The sun was setting before Sweetie finally had enough of it.

“Alright,” she said, stepping out of the temple as she approached the ranger. “This isn’t you. You are normally so business focused, that you would have had this place covered in branches by now. What’s wrong?”

Oraban didn’t so much as give her a glance. “You know why I’m angry,” he said, staring at the setting sun.

“I asked what’s wrong, not why you’re angry,” Sweetie noted.

Oraban did glance at her this time, throwing the most angry glare he could manage.

Sweetie glared back, unamused.

Oraban growled, before turning back to the sunset.

The unicorn waited.

He sighed. “She was a friend,” he finally admitted. “We grew up together. She was the oldest friend I ever had...”

Sweetie nodded. That must’ve been millennia ago, probably back when the empire was in one piece.

“We grew up in the same city, on the same planet, and we both moved to the same Craftworld. We walked the same paths, we learned from the same teachers, and we both worked under the same yokes. I’ve...I’ve known her for a very long time…” he said, as he held up the spirit stone.

Sweetie Belle listened.

“She became a Ranger a few centuries before I did. She was a little less patient than I was, and she went to take to the stars long before I did. I was alright with it, at first. She would return every fifty years or so, and we would talk.

“And then...and then she lost herself. She became a pathfinder, and then she could not return so soon. She needed to be out there, free from anyone who would tell her otherwise. I...I missed her. I had not seen her in so long, and I was starting to feel the strain of the craftworld, and...and I thought perhaps if I became a ranger, I might find her.”

He looked back down at the spirit stone again. “But I was wrong…”

Sweetie’s face softened, and she walked up to him and sat at his side. “I know how you feel.”

“Do you?” he asked.

“Do you remember my friends?” she asked. “The ones who were supposed to come through the portal with me?”

Oraban was silent for a moment, before speaking. “I am reminded.”

She gave a small smile. “We were foals. Dumb, stupid foals messing with a power we did not understand. Once we did, we were thrown through the warp, and if my friends survived that journey, then they probably died once they found the natives. They were my best friends. We would have grown up together, helped each other, faces trials together. Instead, that was stolen from us by our own foolishness.”

Oraban said nothing.

“I would give anything to see my friends again,” she said. “But I will never see them again, and I never had the chance to say goodbye.”

Both the Ranger and the unicorn stared off into the distance, watching as the sun finally dipped below the tree-line.

“I suppose you do understand,” Oraban admitted, “perhaps better than I realized.”

---=][=---

“What?” Vulek demanded, furious, “What do you mean that you haven’t found the Eldar yet?”

“We ran into orks, sir,” one of the Emperor’s Children answered.

“What do you mean, you ran into orks? There are no orks on this planet, and even if there were, we are supposed to fight the Eldar! Slaanesh can do nothing with ork souls! She thirsts for the Eldar! Why did you even engage the orks to begin with?”

“The noise marines could stand the silence no longer,” came the answer.

Vulek’s tentacle writhed angrily. “They can wait!”

“They have gone three months without their sound, m’lord. They needed to perform for their own pleasure.”

Vulek sighed. “So we have the orks. We came here for the Eldar, and we have orks, instead. You fools! All of you! We were given the location of an unspoiled, exodite world, and you are wasting your time with orks!”

The chaos marine before him took a hesitant step back.

“The Alpha Legion gave us a guarantee of any Eldar soul we come across, but right now they’re off on ‘their own business’ and they’re finding a better treasure than us!”

“But, but my Lord,” the chaos marine began.

“Silence!” Vulek roared. “They’re hiding something, I know they are! They’ve bribed us with the souls of Eldar and the favor of the dark gods, and instead they’re stealing power right under our noses!”

The chaos marine tried to back away further.

“They are playing us as fools, and you can’t even get the bait they set for us!”

Vulek’s tentacle snapped in the air, before whipping around and cracking against the chaos marine’s neck, ripping his throat to shreds.

As the chaos marine choked and gurgled, Vulek turned his back to the man, and stared out over his forces.

These fools below him did not even realize that the Alpha Legion had deceived them. And it was getting worse. Their need to revel in Slaanesh’s great debauchery, and their need for his touch drove them to thoughtless slaughter.

“What do they think we are? Khorne worshipers?”

He glared and growled, before Vulek shouted across his horde, pointing at a random marine. “You! Get up here!”

It took a while for the marine to make his way through the heavy smoke and ecstasy-ridden marines as they partook of various narcotics. Literal tons of Obscura, Sniff-musk, Grimweed, Kalma, and Onslaught, all powerful enough to affect the mind and body of a marine, stood between the marine and his commander, but once he got through, he stood before Vulek. The marine saluted, drugged out of his mind, but ready to serve.

“I have a task for you,” Vulek ordered.

---=][=---

“I have found it,” Festerus announced.

Kraagan muttered as he stood. “Finally. I was beginning to think that your abilities were perhaps exaggerated.”

The sorcerer scowled behind his helmet, but did not respond to the jab. “It is being psychically protected, I’m afraid. Either I break the field, and show our hand, or we need to use our...that monster.”

“We’ll see,” Kraagan grumbled. “For now, we do what we always do, we infiltrate, we observe, we locate their weaknesses. Gather the legion. We march tonight.”

Festerus nodded.

And Kraagan smiled.

Really, it wasn’t a bad effort on the worm’s part. Of course, he should know that you do not send an Obsucra-sot to trail an Alpha Legionnaire.

---=][=---

By the time morning dawned, Oraban, with Sweetie's help, had finally managed to disguise the clearing. Hiding the temple underneath some perfectly placed leaves and underbrush they made it completely disappear from view, at least from the sky.

The ranger and unicorn both nodded at their work, satisfied that they did well.

“The gate should be safe for now,” Sweetie Belle said. “I doubt the orks could get through the field, and they can’t attack what they can’t find.”

Oraban nodded. “More’s the pity. An ork or two could certainly lift my mood.”

Sweetie Belle sighed as Button climbed up her back. She couldn’t really blame the ranger. She understood his need for revenge. She really did. Another art of her was more than acutely aware that if his mood did not improve, then he would complain for the rest of his time here.

“You know,” she began, “you could probably go out there.”

The ranger glanced at her.

“You could probably sneak away without me ever knowing,” she continued, a smile growing on her face. “Why, you could be out there, killing orks, and I wouldn’t even realize.”

And Oraban smiled. “Are you sure?”

She shrugged. “I have experiments to run on the Gate anyway. My curiosity getting the better of me, and all that.”

Oraban shook his head. “I’ll be back soon.”

“I know you will,” she said.

And with that, the ranger shouldered his rifle, and ran for the forest.

Missing the three sets of eyes that watched him from the forest.

---=][=---

Sweetie Belle walked deeper and deeper into the temple, following massive, cable-like bundles of wraithbone and wood that ran through the corridors.

It fascinated it her utterly.

It was as though the wraithbone had tapped into the psychic atmosphere of the planet itself, drawing power from the living wood and the forest beyond. With that kind of powersource, there was no telling what this thing could do.

The various runes and script of the Eldar lexicon along the wall spoke of how to activate the gate, as well as the best environment to activate it in.

From what she could translate from the dizzying script was that every three cycles or so, there was a psychic surge of the planet, and here, when the surge occurred, is when the Infinity Gate reached its maximum potential, lasting for three days before it had to shut down.

She kept following the “cables” further and further in, reading the walls as she tried to find the true power of the Gate.

She was practically overjoyed when she found a wraithbone console, complete with a calendar to find the next surge, and noted with growing interest that it was only a few days away.

This was an amazing invention. This was the closest they had to design their own webway gate. When the designs for the gates were taken from the Old Ones millennia ago, the Eldar quickly began to build the common webway design everywhere they could, but this…

This was their first attempt to try and surpass their betters, the true hubris of the Eldar falling flat when they could not even count on the gate to open.

She smiled at the thought.

Perhaps the greatest saving grace in this design was how it could be used to view its destinations with only a touch of psychic energy.

And then, before she knew it, she was there.

The Infinity Gate, a wall of wraithbone surrounded by a containment matrix not unlike the cables that spread from it like a spider’s web, stood in the center of the room, the heart of the temple.

She smiled at the sight of it.

More consoles, not unlike the one she came across earlier stood along the room’s walls, humming softly as power slowly poured into it. They looked like they were slowly coming to life, and Sweetie Belle was sure that was almost assuredly the case. With the surge coming, she was sure that psychic energy was once more starting to flow through the machines.

She gazed up at the massive gate, awe filling her body, before something else began to tug at her.

She was sure that...if she gave the gate just a little bit, she could see the worlds beyond it.

Curious, she took a step forward, before setting her hoof against the surface of the gate.

It was just such a tantalizing thought.

She poured just a little, just the tiniest amount of power into the gate, opening it to her sight.

She was not ready for what she saw.

A quadruped figure, sitting on a cold, stone floor. Her orange fur and piercing, sad green eyes stared back at her.

She froze at the sight of those eyes.

And then came a voice, a voice with a pronounced Southern drawl she had not heard in over thirty years.

“Ah’m sorry, sis. Ah’ve tried so hard, fer so long…”

Sweetie stared, mouth agape, as the very-obviously-pony figure stared back at her.

“Ah’m so sorry, Applebloom.”

---=][=---

“Fear not the creatures of the jungle but those that lurk within your mind.”—Imperial Thought of the Day

“What?”

Yup.

“What?”

Yup.

“No.”

Yeah.

“No.”

And guess who arrives next chapter?

“What?”

We’ll see you next time, guys!

“What? Also bye!”

Chapter XXII

The Omnis Arcanum slammed out of the warp, entering realspace at an almost perfect trajectory for beginning orbit around Ursidhe-ka. The ancient vessel neither groaned nor rumbled as it entered reality once more, leaving the massive, purple wormhole behind.

“Well done, Navigator,” the Chapter Master said as he stood on the bridge of the Battle Barge. “Prepare the ship to enter a geosynchronous orbit. Give me auspex on the surrounding atmosphere, I need to know who else is here.”

A chorus of “Yes, M’Lord,” sounded from the bridge as the Chapter serfs began working furiously at the consoles.

“Keep me posted on any findings,” Gabriel Angelos instructed. “I must speak with my advisors,” he told them, stepping away from the bridge, and heading deep within the depths of the ship.

Chapter Master Angelos walked towards his office with great strides. To any mortal man, he would have been a majestic sight. In truth, it was simply how he walked.

Opening the door, he found Librarian Lazarus and Chief Librarian Anteas waiting for him. Chaplain Baltus stood in the corner, as imposing as always, along with Captain Aren of the Fourth. Young Apple Bloom was there as well, he noticed with a smile. How she convinced them to let them in, he’d never know, yet here she was.

Fine, let her sit in and watch, perhaps she’d learn something. “Very well, let’s begin, shall we?”

A series of nods went through the room, and Lazarus spoke first. “This is Ursidhe-Ka, an Eldar exodite world. By all rights, it should be classified as a feral world, but the presence of primitive Eldar makes it notable. The Eldar here have abandoned their own antiquated technology, in favor of even simpler things, stone spears, simple las weapons, and the like. The natives, however, are not our main focus. Information gathered through the Warp tells us that the Alpha Legion has come here, for reasons not yet understood. There are no known Imperial settlements on the surface, so if nothing else, we can assume they are here for the Eldar.”

Gabriel nodded. “Captain Aren, our quarry?”

The Captain of the fourth company nodded. “The motives of the Alpha Legion, once again, are impossible to guess. What we do know is where they have been. We have chased these Legionnaires since Calderis. This, by any logical account, would suggest that they are indeed after us, that this is a personal attack against the Blood Ravens. Of course, the truth is harder to divine, since the forces of Chaos do not follow logic. This could be an attack against us, or it could be some demented tactic of a diseased mind.”

Gabriel nodded again. “Then perhaps the best course of action is not to walk into the trap.”

The captain nodded. “An exterminatus is a possibility. I doubt much can be taken from this world for the Imperium.”

“I beg to differ,” Chief Librarian Anteas said. He knew Captain Aren from his own service in the Fourth Company under Captain Davian Thule before his internment into a mighty Dreadnaught. He was recently promoted to Chief Librarian after...an opening appeared.

“No, Chapter Master, before the Imperium discovered the planet to be inhabited, a cursory scouting mission revealed a number of artifacts found on the surface. After checking the reports on the findings of this expedition, I found a tablet. This tablet that depicts figures that appear very similar to the Eldar hieroglyphs found on Rahe’s Paradise before its fall.”

A sudden silence fell over the office.

“Are you suggesting there may be a link between these Eldar and the alliance Azariah Vidya formed for the safety of the planet?” Gabriel asked, referring to the Chapter Master and Chief Librarian that acted as their saint.

“It is possible,” Anteas replied. “And that possibility is more than enough to keep any kind of Orbital bombardment from being viable.”

Gabriel nodded. Any history of their Chapter, no matter how trivial, must be found and recorded for the glory of the Chapter. This was not an opportunity they could miss. “So then,” he said, “if this is a trap, then our enemies have at least found some enticing bait.”

Chaplain Baltus spoke up. “Possibly for the best. There is no greater glory that to bring justice to the enemies of the Emperor.”

The Chapter Master nodded in agreement, before his eyes fell on the helmeted xeno. “What of you, Apple Bloom. What do you think?”

She blinked, and shook, like she was caught off guard. “I...um…”

Gabriel waited, and all eyes fell on her.

“Well…” she began, hesitantly, “perhaps...the best thing to do is to begin a total assault of the planet.”

Gabriel raised his remaining eyebrow.

Everyone else gave her incredulous looks.

“I...I say this because, while our enemy follows no logic, we do. They know this, and there have been numerous accounts of the enemy using this to their advantage. Now, I have been told that the Litany of Fury will be here shortly, am I correct?”

Gabriel began to smile, and nodded.

“Well,” Apple Bloom continued, “if they are to arrive, our enemy does not know this. This gives us the advantage. A total assault will make it appear that we are being rash and over extending ourselves, but if we can spring the trap of the forces of Chaos, then they will not expect the forces on the Litany to attack them. A trap for the trap.”

Gabriel smiled larger. “If we are to fight a force that does not follow reason or logic, then perhaps the mind of the Xeno will provide insight. What do you think, Captain Aren?”

The captain of the fourth smiled and shrugged. “A good of thought as any. If the Third and the Ninth were to back us we would certainly have the manpower, but a trap for a trap does have a sense of poetic justice about it.”

“Any objections?” Gabriel asked.

There were none.

“So be it, begin loading the strike cruisers.”

A knock sounded on the door. “Enter,” Gabriel said.

The door opened, and a serf shuffled in. He was like a dwarf walking into a room of giants, and barely had room to stand between the massive armor plates of the Space Marines. “Auspex reports two ships in orbit. Both appear to be strike cruiser class ships.”

Gabriel nodded. “Then we’re even. Is that all?”

The serf shook his head. “There was, very shortly, a third signature. At first, we thought there was a problem, but the techmarines report that they are not malfunctioning.”

Gabriel frowned. “This does not bode well…”

Captain Aren spoke up. “Is there a problem?”

“Possibly,” Gabriel answered said. “It’s either nothing, or, it’s more Eldar.”

---=][=---

The proud, red thunderhawks of the Blood Ravens touched down on the forested planet, and Apple Bloom and her squad of Tactical Marines stepped out onto the surface.

Already the Blood Ravens forces were beginning to set up HQs. Temporary buildings of adamantium walls and ceramite floors were being laid in place by heavy-lifting servitors, and bolted in place by the techmarines.

Apple Bloom’s mechadendrites mindlessly checked her bolter as she took an instinctive look around the clearing. The trees were massive, deciduous trees, with broad, green leaves, which reminded her oddly of apple trees. Beyond the trees lay a heavy woods, with its leaf-covered floor giving way to infrequent stone paths, carefully manicured by Eldar hands if she were to guess.

“Is that who I think it is?” a voice said behind her. She and her squad turned to see a number of white-helmeted marines approach.

“Aldwil?” Apple Bloom called.

The veteran marine laughed. “I thought it was you!” Aldwil said as he led his squad to meet hers.

“Of course it’s me!” Apple Bloom said with a smile. “Name another Space Marine with four legs!”

Aldwil laughed again as he got closer, and embraced the earth pony marine. “Look at you, eh? Tactical marine already? It seems like yesterday you were arm wrestling the scout-sergeant, now look at you!”

Apple Bloom laughed, before pushing the marine away. “Well where have you been, huh?” she asked.

“Busy delivering the Emperor’s Justice wherever it may be needed,” Aldwil said, laughing again.

One of the marines behind him gave a loud, annoyed sigh.

“Oh, enough of that, Icarthus,” the veteran said. “AB has done well, and you know it.”

Apple Bloom smirked, and shook her head. “It’s good to see you again, Aldwil. It’s been too long.”

“It has been too long, indeed.”

“Hail, young AB,” a new voice called from the squad.

“Hameal!” the pony cried, before pouncing on the marine.

Hameal, the marine that remembered for her, grunted as his arms was suddenly filled with a one-and-a-half ton suit of power armor. He staggered, before recovering, and held her in his arms, laughing all the way. “It is good to see you too, AB.”

Lazarus raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, and what am I, huh?” Aldwil said to the pony. “Chopped Grox liver?”

“It’s not often I get to see my older brothers,” Apple Bloom said, “and Hameal least of all.”

Hameal shook his head, before letting Apple Bloom down. “Nonetheless, a running leap into an embrace is not behavior befitting a space marine.”

“True,” Apple Bloom said, “but if I am allowed anything, it is the right to embrace my brothers.”

Aldwil shook his head. “Is this is what happens when I leave you alone too long?”

“Well then, perhaps you’d like to join us and right the wrongs of your absence?” Apple Bloom offered. “We could catch up as we perform the Emperor’s work.”

Aldwil held up his hand. “I’m afraid not. Chapter Master Gabriel needs my squad to defend the scouts against any chaos forces they’ll come across. Hopefully, we’ll draw them out, and begin the fight in earnest then.”

Apple Bloom removed her helmet, and looked up at him with the biggest puppydog eyes possible. “Pwease…?”

Aldwil stared at her for long second. “Now, you see, this is why the Emperor did not let women into the Adeptus Astartes. If, somehow, I can say no to that face, I’d have to face the power armor.”

Apple Bloom laughed, before replacing her helmet. “Get thee gone, Trilion, the Emperor protects.”

Aldwil nodded. “The Emperor protects,” both he and Hameal said, before turning back to their squad.

Apple Bloom then turned to her own squad. “Come, let’s not waste time.”

---=][=---

Sorcerer Festerus and Captain Kraagan stormed through the jungle, followed by a small squad of Legionnaires.

In the opposite direction of the temple they were looking for.

The Obscura-sot still followed them, and Kraagan had used a carefully constructed code language to make the sorcerer and small squad aware that they were indeed being followed. Once they knew, Kraagan marched them forward. This would provide an excellent opportunity to get the Emperor’s Children to start fulfilling their part of the plan.

One of the Chaos marines, a scout sent ahead, quickly returned to the squad. “Captain, Captain! I have news!”

“Speak, Legionnaire,” Kraagan ordered.

“Sir! It’s the Blood Ravens!”

“Right on time,” Kraagan thought with a smile.

“They’ve built an HQ on the target,” the scout told them. “And there is a force coming this way.”

Kraagan cursed. “How did they even get here?”

The scout opened his mouth to reply.

“No, nevermind. That’s not important. The important thing is what do we do with the Blood Ravens.”

“We don’t have time,” the scout answered. “They’re almost upon us.”

Kraagan cursed. “Alright, begin to fall back.”

And that was all he got to say before the air was suddenly filled with bolter fire.

“Get down!” Kraagan yelled as he shoved the sorcerer down.

Alpha Legionnaires began returning fire, bolts flying through the thick foliage, ripping leafs to shreds and tree trunks to splinters.

They fired in random, chaotic volleys with perfect discipline. They aimed with amazing accuracy that spoke of their skill.

They had their orders, and they were willing to die for them.

And the Emperor’s Children Marine watched, eyes wide and itching for more of that sweet, sweet nectar. Yet, even so, his withdrawing mind picked up the importance of everything he heard.

This was...this was…

He needed more obscura.

Kraagan stood, amid of storm of bolts. The orders he had given his men were simple. Kill all but two of the Blood Ravens. Enough to get the corpse-worshiper’s attention, but not enough to make it seem like they were setting a trap.

The Legionaaires did not give ground as the Blood Ravens continued firing, not one step backwards was taken. They stood, out in the open, letting bolter fire rain down on them from the trees.

A Chaos marine fell, and then a second, a third. They all fell, wordless, onto the leafy ground. Kraagan had hoped that there would not have been this many deaths, but they were necessary deaths, if it meant that the Blood Ravens would follow.

Another Raven fell.

“Sorcerer! Prove your usefulness!”

Festerus answered with a screaming skull of warp energy.

The skull smashed in the Blood Raven line, destroying some marines, while swallowing others whole.

It was enough. “Fall back! Fall back!” Kraagan yelled.

There were four members of his twelve-man excursion left, including himself and the Sorcerer.

Losses were heavy.

But they were worth it.

As the Legionnaires ran, the Blood Ravens stayed behind. Only two remained, and the bone-white helmets shone next to their bright red, shed blood in the filtered sunlight.

---=][=---

After another long hit, and an even longer trip brought on by Obscura, the Emperor's Children spy returned to Vulek.

“Well,” the Debaucher asked, “what did you find?”

The Obsucra-sot shook his head, trying to shake the depression of his crash away. “I know where it is…” he mumbled.

“Where what is?” Vulek asked.

“I dunno...but the Alpha Legionnaires want it…”

Vulek rolled his eyes. “So, where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

Vulek groaned. “The thing! The thing that the Alpha Legionnaires want!”

“The Blood Ravens have it,” the Obscura-sot said.

“What?!” Vulek roared, vein bulging in his tentacled head. “The Blood Ravens! What are they doing here?!”

“I dunno.”

Vulek growled in frustration. “So now we have to fight the Blood Ravens and the Alpha Legion for a prize we don’t understand!”

“Nah...we don’t.”

Vulek groaned. “Yes, we do, because I am not letting those Legionnaires pull the wool over our eyes.”

“Nah...I mean...we don’t need to fight the Legion, they’re not going for it.”

Vulek blinked. “What? Why?”

“They think if they run off, we’ll notice...they don’t want us to know.”

There was a second of silence. “So...they aren’t going to fight the Blood Ravens because they’ll think we’ll notice and we’ll try to stop them?”

The Obscura-sot nodded again.

And then Vulek smiled. “Well it seems like the Eldar will have to wait then, won’t they?”

Unbeknownst to either of them, a cultist sat crouched behind the human-skin tent of Vulek’s command center. He smiled as he listened to the other commanders, neither surprised, nor impressed by their total lack of discretion.

Lord Kraagan would be most pleased.

Everything was going just as planned.

---=][=---

Gabriel sighed.

This was a most devastating blow.

An entire squad of veterans, almost completely wiped out. Some terrible power must’ve been at this battle to destroy them like this. One of the two survivors, Icarthus, had confirmed that a sorcerer had been on the battlefield.

He shook his head again. This was not a promising start.

At the very least, they found their quarry. The bodies of the Alpha Legionnaires were being piled up, their power armor and weapons would be processed later to be sent to the Adeptus Mechanicus for purification and purging, as they required. For now, however, his attention was on the wearers.

They had no markings about them, held nothing that gave their position away, the only real information that was of any use was the tracks leading westward. They had a lead, and the Blood Ravens had worked with much less than that, he knew.

Still, the loss of what amounted to eighty marines in a single encounter. These could not be mere Legionnaires. No, this spoke of immense skill and experience, ancient marines, certainly.

“Chapter Master,” a marine said, approaching him.

“Speak, Marine,” he answered.

“We have found another survivor. It is Hameal Siras, he is alive, but gravely wounded, he needs to be entered into a dreadnaught immediately.”

Ah, some hope at last. “Do so, and do not tarry.”

“Yes, sir!” the marine replied, saluting before running off to instruct the apothecaries.

And then a new sight caught his eyes. Apple Bloom, the young marine walked calmly through the field, towards the bodies of the dead veterans.

She paused as she stood over the body of a particular marine, Aldwil Trilion.

Gabriel watched as she removed her helmet, and stared down at the body.

Her lips moved, and Gabriel heard her.

“I will...I will avenge you, Aldwil, I swear I will.”

Gabriel sighed. Well, at the least, they had their lead.

---=][=---

Kraagan stood over a massive holomap.

Icons marking the Blood Ravens, the ork, and the Eldar forces all stood proudly against the topography, along with special markers for the Emperor’s Children and the location of the Infinity Gate.

Between them all, a massive crater. The landing site of a not-so-small meteor that left many miles of blaster earth. It had been overgrown after centuries of peace, making it almost invisible from orbit, with all but the ancient fortress of stone at its lip as the only mark of its existence.

Of course, that was about to change.

He had already sent a squad ahead with heavy flamers and orders to clear the crater. Burn everything, and leave a massive open space.

It would make the perfect location for the assault.

Yes, everything was going just as planned.

---=][=---

“All hail the martyrs! On their blood is our Imperium founded, in their remembrance do we honour ourselves.”—Imperial Thought of the Day.

Alright, boys and girls, I'm back. After a short break to get finals done, I am ready to get back to writing.

"Whee!"

Next time, the Gargant marches for the Waaaaaaagh!

"Waaaaaagh!"

Orkz iz da best!

"See youz later!"

Heh...bye, everyone.

Chapter XXIII

“Fifteen Orks on a dead man's hulk

Starin' down the barrel of a gun

Gruntin' to each uvva

Through big sharp teef

Sayin' this one'll give us some fun.”

The ork camp was filled with the din of techy-ology furiously working through hundreds of tons of steel.

“Fourteen orks on a humie ship

Killing everything that ain't green

Grunting to each uvva

Through big sharp teef

Saying times are getting lean!”

Thousands of orks sang the song as loud as they could, working happily as they built one of the strongest vehicles orks knew, an idol to the destructive powers of Gork.

Or possibly Mork.

“Thirteen Orks on the captain's chest

Looking to quench their greedy thirst

Grunting to each uvva

Through big sharp teef

Saying ‘I was da wun dat found it first!’”

Of course, Scootaloo knew the truth. She knew that this Waaagh! wasn’t big enough for a gargant. They weren’t ready for it. As it was the Mekboyz were guessing as to what goes where instead of instinctively knowing the place of every bolt and rivet.

She had learned long ago that certain parts of the Mekboy brain didn’t work until the Waaagh! got to a certain size. A Mekboy in a Waaagh! of ten might not even know how to make a shootah, and Scootaloo was using that to her advantage. The Gargant would be horribly unstable to begin with, even by ork standards. Her bomb would be far more than just devastating.

Still, it was good to see the Waaagh! excited. Even if they only knew the one space-borne song.

“One Ork left to steal the loot

Wishing it hadn't turned out so

Grunting to itself

Through big sharp teef

Saying ‘I shoulda let the pilot go.’”

Facehaka, Blooddagga, and Hellspitta all stood nervously behind her, watching the orks with nervous anticipation. Scootaloo told them they were not allowed to build the titanic machine, lest they sabotage her own efforts.

She wasn’t questioning their loyalty or anything, she simply didn’t want them to lose themselves in the moment. A gargant was no small thing for a Waaagh!, it was easy to get caught up in the building of such a beast.

A young squiggoth pulled pieces and shards of metal into place. Normally a weapon in and of itself, the four-legged monster that stood as large as a tank was delegated down to beast of burden, and for that, Scootaloo was thankful. While this little beast wasn’t yet its full size, it could still do some serious damage.

But, as long as the orks used him as a heavy lifter, then she wouldn’t have to worry.

The massive machine was being fitted with klaws, cannons, guns, more guns, and even a massive steamroller on its front. One arm was nothing but guns, the other was just blades stuck to the klaw, and all of the pieces connected to the klaw.

It also had a massive cannon between legs that was incredibly hilarious, but that was sadly lost on the orks.

So much dirty humor, so little time.

“So…” Facehaka began, “What we doin’, Boss?”

“Nobgobba’s got a job fer us,” she told them, “so we’re going to do it, as though there’s nothing wrong.”

“So what’s da job?” Hellspitta asked.

“We’z get to have some fun with da Chaos Boyz,” Scootaloo told them with a smirk.

Blooddagga smiled. “Now dat sounds good.”

“Don’t it though?” she asked, grinning. “We’re going to make sure they fight us just when the Gargant starts movin’. Give the boyz some blood to spill.”

“Dat’s more like it!” Hellspita hollered. “We’z getting a proper foight!”

“Dat we are, boyz!” Scootaloo said with a smile. “And once we’re done with them, we get to fight the Eldar!”

They gave a cheer.

“And after that, we get back to Nabrot, and we won’t have to worry about Nobgobba again.”

That was something they could certainly look forward to.

---=][=---

Scootaloo and her kommandoz stood, hunched over and staring down at the Chaos camp.

Pink and black Chaos marines wandered about, most in a daze, while a handful of marines that seemed to be carrying massive guitars of some description strummed a few awful notes.

The guitar marines were no joke, she knew. The last time she saw one of them, the thing had released a riff of sonic energy that shook her to the core and blew out her eardrums with ease.

If it weren’t for her orky body she would have been out for weeks, if not months, as well as been deaf for the rest of her life.

Luckily, she was fine, and would hesitantly admit that they were kind of cool.

“Alright boyz,” she whispered. “Stikkbombs there and there. Take out the noisy ones first. Dat’ll get them angry. Blooddagga, Hellspitta youz boyz are wif’ me. Once the bombs go off, we’z gettin’ in dere and given ‘em a proper foight. Facehaka shoot the ones farthest away from us, got it?”

“Got it, Boss,” came the reply.

“Now, remember, only a few kills. The rest have got to come back with us.”

A series of nods met her.

She smiled as she loosed the stikkbombs from her harness. “Then let’s have some fun.”

The two orks and her snuck forward, getting closer and closer to the Chaos Marine’s camp. As Scootaloo approached, she could smell the thick scent of decay and the smell of something sweeter than honey mixed with rot.

Any Imperium Underhive citizen could tell her in a second what that scent was. It was the smell of bad narcotics.

She smiled, and hefted the stikkbomb in her hoof. This was going to be too easy.

Heavy fire suddenly filled the air. Bullets tore through pink armor, and Scootaloo’s eyes went wide as she saw new figures enter the field. More marines, but dressed in clean, red armor with a black bird on their shoulders.

She sent a quick signal, and ger kommandos froze.

The Chaos Marines, meanwhile, flew into a flurry of activity. “Blood Ravens! The Blood Ravens are here! Slay them! Slay them in the name of Slaanesh!”

But the Blood Ravens had the advantage. While the Chaos Marines ran for their weapons, the Blood Ravens attacked with expert precision. Firing at specific targets with an efficiency Scootaloo had never seen before. The Chaos Marines fell quickly, dropping like flies to the Blood Raven’s bolts.

Armor split, horns cracked, head exploded as the still-drugged Emperor’s Children were destroyed.

And Scootaloo had her kommandos hold.

“By the throne,” one of the Blood Ravens said, as he stepped from the trees. “The Emperor’s Children are here as well? Is there no end to the Chaos filth on this planet?”

“I would wager they are here for the Eldar,” another said. “At least, if the work of Inquisitor Lucilius Bast of the Ordo Hereticus is correct. He mentions that many heretics and traitors hunt the Eldar.”

“Truly?” The first one asked, “I have not read his work. I did read Inquisitor Sherrell Blanquart of the Ordo Malleus’ dissertation concerning the link between deamon’s and the Eldar, but I was not aware the heretics hunt them down.”

The second nodded. “He theorizes that the Eldar organs, specifically the organ that acts as the kidney, are necessary for various rituals…”

Scootaloo sat, hidden in the bushes, listening to the two go on.

“By Gork, they are nerds…” She thought. Still, she was able to pick some good information from them.

Like bait, for instance.

---=][=---

“This way!” the Chaos marine yelled, followed by the sonic blast of a noise marine and the thundering of a squad coming up behind him.

The marine led them forward, pushing through the jungle as they followed their quarry. A wounded Eldar, weak and helpless, running through the forest, just ahead of them.

The Slaaneshi marines had caught the scent of blood, and wanted nothing more than to bring the xeno to Slaanesh’s own depths of decadence.

“He’s getting away!” The leader said, firing a few bolts after the creature.

“This way! This way!” came the call.

The squad of Emperor’s Children barreled through the forest, chasing the Eldar down, licking their lips in anticipation and sending the occasional shot after him into the foliage.

“He’s getting away!” the leader called.

A glimpse of white armor caught his eye through the forest beyond, and charged after him. The leader leapt up into the air, slamming into the figure and tackling him to the ground. “I’ve got him!”

The squad quickly followed him in, finding him in a small clearing.

“I-I...have him?” he asked, standing.

The thing in his hands, however, was not an Eldar. Instead, it was a thick, steel slab, with an Eldar painted on the side.

“I...What?” the leader managed to say.

And that’s when the forest erupted into a battlecry. “Waaaaaaagh!”

The clearing suddenly exploded as a massive, spiked steamroller smashed through the woods. The leader was instantly crushed, impaled and flattened by the roller as it slammed into him, while the rest of them took one look at the massive moving structure and ran.

And all the while, Nobgobba, from the seat of his cockpit, laughed heartily. “Now dis is it!” he laughed. “Dis is da fun I’ve been wantin’!”

The massive machine slammed through the trees, its gigantic power klaw slicing trees in half and ripping the trunks from the ground.

A knock sounded on the Gargant’s relatively thin windows. “Oi! Nobgobba!”

Nobgobba groaned at the sound of Scootaloo’s voice. “Whadda ya want now, ya flyin’ git?!”

“Ya wanna know where da Chaos boyz are, don’tcha?” she asked.

Nobgobba’s face screwed into a scowl as he thought, before speaking. “Naah,” he yelled, trying to be heard over the relentless din of the Gargant’s machinery, “let’s just crush da Eldar!”

“Waaaagh!” came the battlecry, echoing through the titan.

Scootaloo smirked from outside, and nodded, before flying down, back to the forest and her waiting Kommandos. “Alright boyz, we’re headin’ for the Eldar. Nobgobba wants us to foight the sneaky gits instead.”

Blooddagga groaned. “But Ah wanted ta foight da Chaos boyz…”

Scootaloo sighed. “I know, Blooddagga, I know,” she said with a smile. “Luckily, we’z gonna change things around here.”

“But...but da Gargant…” Facehaka said.

“Just think of the explosion, though.”

The ork shrugged, nodding his head. “Would be proper orky,” he admitted.

Scootaloo nodded. “There ya go. Now, come on, let’s have some fun!”

She led them down, towards the Eldar tree forts. The orks were gonna have some fun, one way, or another.

---=][=---

The Waaagh! marched. With the Gargant at its head, the green horde simply carved its way through the trees. A giant swath of destroyed forest marked their path, and the massive billowing cloud of black smoke marked their location for all to see.

Orks don’t do subtlety, they never have, and when they marched, the world knew of it.

The Eldar strike teams returned, blasting them with high-powered las blasts from the backs of carnosaurs and hovering, anti-gravity tanks.

But the gargant merely shrugged off the attacks, its armor refusing to give to the blows for sheer stubbornness. The blue/white beams slammed ineffectual against the heavy steel plates, somehow doing nothing against it.

The titan merely shrugged the attacks off, before answer in kind with its massive trouser cannon. The gigantic weapon tore through a tank, and Nobgobba’s laugh could be heard from the control room, barely audible over the constant chugging of the massive machine.

“You ain’t notfin’ ta me, sneaky gits!” The warboss roared from his command chair. “Ah’m da biggest, I’m da strongest, and I’m da boss!”

A cry went out from the Eldar line, and they quickly began to retreat in the face of the green horde.

“No! Ya don’t get ta run away from me! Get back here and foight!”

The gun arm fired, destroying an entire chunk of forest, and leaving the dirt empty. “Where’d you go, you sneaky gits? Where are ya?”

The Eldar did not answer, mostly because they still had functioning brains.

Nobgobba roared in rage. “Get back here, you grots! Ah ain’t done foightin’ yet!”

The giant metal siege weapon stomped about angrily, searching for the Eldar forces.

An orange blur flew past the moving totem’s face. “Oi! Nobgobba! This way! They went this way!” Scootaloo cried, as she motioned him towards her.

The gargant turned to her, and Nobgobba saw her, indeed. The metal monstrosity began to turn, and as it did, it sealed its fate.

---=][=---

The legs of the Gargant connected to a massive axle, a huge beam of steel, that chugged, bounced, vibrated, and spun about the massive engine of the titan. The engine was an amalgamation of a plasma engine, a las engine (don’t ask), and the standard internal combustion, and would have made a techpriest faint just from a passing glance at it. It rummbled, burning red hot with bursts of green and blue erupting from vents and pipes held together by tape, rivets, and the Waaagh!

But next to that engine, right by the massive axle, was a bomb. A horrendous mass of stikkbombs, fuel tanks, and other, incredibly explosive materials sat strapped to the engine. No one noticed it, surprisingly, but there was certainly enough to blow the engine apart, and that would be enough to do Scootaloo’s dirty work.

Of course, this was only half of the equation. Hanging from the axle, hung a string. The sting had pulled taunt several times during the Gargant’s march, but never enough to pull the detonation ring free form the stikkbomb.

But as the Gargant began to turn, the axle began to spin. The string went taunt, and the ring came flying out of the grenade.

There was a beat, two, a third.

And then the engine was rent asunder.

---=][=---

Green, blue, and red explosions ripped across the metal hide, causing thundering explosions that sent steel plates flying and threw machinery through the air.

Scootaloo glided to the ground, dodging the plates as they exploded into the air, and ducking beneath the tree canopy, where her Kommandos waited for her. “Well, there she goes,” Scoots said as she took a look back.

The Waaagh! behind the titan slowed, gaping as the idol to Gork turned into a raging inferno of plasma, las energy, and fire.

“Do ya fink da Boss is dead?” Hellspitta asked.

“Nobgobba?” Scootaloo asked. “Nah. There are boyz that made it out of there, and if they can make it, then Nobgobba’s fine. The big question is how he’s going to react to being disowned by the gods.”

---=][=---

Amidst the rubble and debris of what remained of the Gargant, a figure slowly emerged. A green hand pushed away the massive steel plates that pinned him to the ground. A big choppa sat in one hand, and his powered armored chugged as it struggled against the massive weight of the debris.

Stomping free, he pulled himself away, and turned to look at the devastation that was once his greatest achievement.

Only silence, and the sight of broken steel met him.

Most orks would take this as a sign. For a gargant to fall, out of battle, no less, was a serious thing. A gargant was the centerpiece of the greatest of Waaagh!s, they were the great idols of Gork and Mork themselves. Any ork was willing to fall in battle, but out of it?

Only a very few orks would dismiss this as mere coincidence.

And Nobgobba was not one of them.

Mork and Gork had abandoned him. He was no longer their chosen.

He was nobody.

Nobgobba felt...hurt…

For the first time in his life he had nothing.

His fist tightened around his choppa, his teeth grit together painfully, and his armor, dented and broken, groaned as he puffed out his chest.

And he roared.

No ork, in the history of the Imperium had even given such a pained, hopeless roar. Never once had an ork soul felt such anguish.

Nobgobba, was a broken boss.

And he was never seen nor heard from again.

---=][=---

Kraagan and Festerus, along with a new, fresh squad of Legionnaires, were marching west.

Things were moving quickly. With the Blood Ravens to the east, the Orks to the south, and the Eldar to the west, three of the four pawns were already in position. Pushing the Emperor’s Children to the north, so that they may assault the Blood Ravens, put them in the perfect position to garrison the old Eldar fortress that had been abandoned millennia before.

Once they were there, the trap would be set, and blood would flow.

His squad moved over the burnt ground, his flamer squads having cleaned this section of the crater of all life. They were visible, but Kraagan was not terribly worried. All other eyes were drawn elsewhere. The Eldar, distracted by the orks, would not notice, and the Emperor’s Children were blinded to all but the Ravens.

They were safe, hidden, for now.

“How much further, Sorcerer?” the captain asked.

“Just to the crest of the crater, Lord,” Festerus answered. “Once there, the Infinity Gate will be mine.”

“Mine, Sorcerer,” Kraagan reminded him. “But even then, I would not count it won. The Eldar do have a presence there.”

“Our scouts reported only two,” Festerus pointed out. “Surely, even you alone could deal with this.”

Kraagan acted as though he did not notice the insult. “Yes, but where there is one Eldar, there are more. We will not move until we know it empty.”

Festerus sent a glare to the back of Kraagan’s head, but said nothing.

This fool would learn soon enough.

---=][=---

The fight lasted three days.

Once Nobgobba disappeared, the Waaagh! needed a Boss. The power vacuum lasted only a moment before some nob declared himself “da new boss!”

This was, of course, met with a choppa going to his face, and a cry of “No! Ah’m da new boss!”

“Ah’m bigga den you, Ah’m da Boss!”

“Ah’m stronga, so Ah’m da Boss!”

“Ah’m bigga and stronga den bothf of ya!”

And so on.

And Scootaloo sat and watched from the seat of her bike, smiling all the way.

Finally, after three days of non-stop fighting, a Boss did, indeed emerge. Grimtrasha was his name, and he was the second biggest ork in the Waaagh! and he just so happened to be fiercely loyal to Nabrot.

It’s almost like Scootaloo planned that all along.

After helping ol’ Grim secure his place with the application of a few tons of bad Squig meat, he was more than willing to listen to her.

And her plan was simple.

Kill everything, and the orks will think they’ll have favor again. Once they have favor, they can go back home.

And so, the Waaagh! marched again.

---=][=---

“He who lives for nothing is nothing. He who dies for the Emperor is a hero.”—Imperial Thought of the Day.

Alright, guys, there you go. If it felt like it took a little longer than usual, I apologize greatly.

"Aw, It's okay, Miner..."

Well, I hope so, anyway.

"Next time!"

Sweetie Belle stands in the temple! Oraban learns the truth! The greatest battle of Ursidhe-ka begins!

"Ooh! Sounds fun!"

It will be. See you next time, guys!

"Bye!"

P.S.

Why isn't anyone looking at my story! I just posted!

"Because it's 1 AM and you forgot to hit publish."

What? No I—

Oh. Th-thanks Pinkie...

"It's what I'm here for!"

Chapter XXIV

Oraban flew through the forest, leaping from branch to branch with an expertise born of centuries of practice.

He could only stay until day break, after that, the Farseer may arrive to brief them.

No, he needed to be quick tonight.

With his rifle slung onto his back, he climbed up higher and higher into the foliage. Gripping tree branches, he pulled himself up into the canopy. As his head cleared the leaves, he looked to the sky.

That’s what made hunting ork so much easier. All you had to do was follow the smoke.

He was close now.

The hunt was about to begin.

He dropped back down to the tree branches, his feet hardly making a sound as he leapt from branch to branch. He suddenly paused, hovering over a handful of orks. The creatures all milled about beneath him, without purpose and completely oblivious.

This was a perfect start.

He dropped from the trees, and his wraithbone knife sang. The knife ripped the ork’s throat open, sending a shower of black blood into the air.

“Oi!” Came the shout, only for Oraban to disappear back into the trees. The thundering of the of the ork boyz shootah flashed and rumbled in the forest, but Oraban was gone.

“What was dat? Where’d he go?” The lumbering thing grunted.

Oraban leaped again, his knife flashed, ripping out another throat with practiced ease.

Oh, this felt good.

Another volley of large ork bullets followed him into the trees, but the dim-wits could not follow behind.

“Dere he goes!” an ork yelled, before Oraban leapt back up into the tree, bounding off the branches to leap back behind the orks.

The ranger dropped again, slitting a throat, before leaping back up into the canopy.

“Oi! What happened to ya!?” the last ork called to his dead friend.

Oraban leapt on him once more, digging his blade into the monster’s back and dragging it down the spine. The psychoplastic destroyed the ork’s backbone, splitting it perfectly down the middle, killing it instantly.

This felt so incredibly good.

Jumping back up into the branches, Oraban smiled to himself. Oh, this was so easy…

He moved closer to the Waaagh!, undetected as he leapt from branch to branch.

He stopped suddenly, as he found himself only two trees away from being in the massive opening the orks carved from the forest. It made an excellent sniping position.

Unslinging his rifle, Oraban braced his back against a tree and took aim into the horde.

Orks always had an odd signature through a pan-spectral sight. While most things appeared blue in various degrees of brightness, orcs were green, and for the most part, all the same brightness. It made it a little hard to see the ork in the psychic spectrum, and so, Oraban started in visible light.

His scope skimmed over the orks, searching for something big enough to pick off.

Orks were easy to target. Just find the biggest one and turn his skull into a smouldering las burn.

No, not big enough, not big enough. Also not—

His eyes went wide.

He blinked.

A quadruped figure, with bright orange fur stood in his sights.

Years ago, Oraban had asked Sweetie Belle about her home and her friends. She told him about everything. The Cutie Mark Crusaders, Rarity, Ponyville, he saw it through his mind’s eyes as she spoke of the home and friends she lost.

He knew her friends.

And the only thing that the monster in his sights could be, was one of her friends.

In the blink of an eye, a thousand thoughts ran through his head. Her friend was alive. He should let Sweetie know. But she was in the company of orks. What was the best way to get her out? Would she even cooperate, having lived with orks so long?

And all these thoughts froze as a new one dominated his mind.

Wings.

The words of the Prince rang through his mind. “They were being led by a strange, winged creature I am told, and it killed all of them.”

Rage flooded his being, and it took only the practice built of millennia to contain himself. His hand shook, and the only reason his rifle didn’t veer wildly off course was the gyrostatic arm keeping the rifle steady.

That thing, is what killed his friend. That thing murdered the King and brought danger to these innocent Eldar.

And yet he didn’t pull the trigger.

She sat right there, perfectly in the crosshair. All he we need was a faint squeeze, and the King and Mesira in a single strike.

Yet he didn’t.

His finger hovered over the trigger, and as it did, all he could see was Sweetie Belle’s face. She looked so disappointed with him, so angry, and so terrified.

He wanted to destroy this abomination. He wanted to fire a bolt of blue-hot las straight into that monster’s head.

But he couldn’t.

He remembered the first nights, when she wept as she slept, murmuring the names of her friends, gone forever. She had lost them forever that day, and yet, her friend was right there, at the end of his rifle.

And he himself knew how it feels to lose a friend.

Could he put her through that again?

She wouldn’t even know that the little monster is here, a voice whispered from the dark corners of his mind. A single shot, and all that would have happened was that your little pet would have lost something she already believed was gone forever.

She wouldn’t know, he thought to himself. There was no way for her to know. The only one who could tell her was himself, and if he made the shot, he would have no need to share.

Only one shot, one squeeze. You’ve made a thousand shots like this before, killing hundreds of lesser races before.

What’s the difference?

She still sat, right there, in his sights.

All it would take was the smallest squeeze.

He sighed.

He aimed.

And he squeezed.

And Rangers do not miss.

---=][=---

Sweetie Belle recoiled from the gate.

She blinked, her hooves shaking as she stared, mouth open at the bare, wraithbone surface.

That was Applejack. There was no doubt in her mind about who that was.

All she could do was stare at the wraithbone gate, as her mind raced and reeled with the the possibilities of what this meant.

She could go home.

She could actually go home. It was right there. Only days away…

Ponyville was just within reach.

It would only take another two days and she could leave all this pain and suffering behind.

It was...right...there…

Tears formed in her eyes.

She could go home.

After thirty years…

The psychic field she set up rippled, and she felt someone enter the area around the temple. It took her only a second to recognize Oraban’s psychic signature, and she breathed a sigh of relief she did not know she was holding.

She stood, quickly heading back the way she came, before pausing suddenly.

She took one long look at the Infinity Gate.

She had five days…

Sweetie ran down the hallway, heading back for the entrance.

She barely made it in time to meet him at the door. “Oraban! Is everything ok? It took you a little longer than I thought,” she said, smiling as she found him walking up the last few stairs, rifle slung over his shoulder.

He said nothing. Instead, he merely looked down at her with big, sad eyes. He stared at her, and Sweetie Belle did not need to read minds to feel the cloud of emotions that hovered about him.

He simply stared at her.

“Oraban?” she called.

“This was good for me,” he said, finally. “I’m glad I went.”

But Sweetie Belle knew better.

He was not happy.

---=][=---

Only a few hours after Oraban returned, a new presence entered the field.

Sweetie Belle blinked, before she spoke up. “I think that’s the Farseer…”

“Hm?” Oraban asked, looking up from his rifle as he cleaned the focusing crystals.

Sweetie Belle stood, before heading towards the temple door. “I think that’s Farseer Elahina.”

“They’ve arrived?” he asked, standing.

“They must have,” she said, before heading outside.

Oraban followed.

As they came to the temple’s threshold, he found that the Farseer had indeed arrived, along with a small squad of warlocks, psykers who had mastered the art of warfare. The warlocks spread out, taking positions around the temple as the ranger approached.

“Sweetie Belle, a pleasure to see you again.”

“Farseer,” Sweetie greeted with a bow. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

Elahina smiled, before turning to Oraban. “The situation has changed.”

The ranger blinked, before gripping his rifle. “How?”

“The forces of Chaos have arrived on the planet,” she told him.

“Chaos?” he asked, fear edging into his voice.

“And the Children of the Emperor of Man are here as well.”

Oraban cursed. “Is there no end to them?”

“The worst is yet to come, I’m afraid,” Elahina said.

“How can it get worse than this?” he asked. “We are surrounded on all sides, what could be worse than this?”

“We have no plan,” she said simply. “All we can do is face them on the battlefield.”

“What?!” The ranger gasped. “A-are...is...is there no other way? Have things got so bad that we must resort to this?”

“We have found none, no,” she told him.

“Th-then I suppose you will need me at the front line?”

“No, Oraban. I need you and the warlocks guarding the Infinity Gate.”

“I understand.”

“Unfortunately, we’ll need to take Sweetie Belle with us.”

Oraban blinked. “What?”

“Her skills as a healer would be most useful on the front line than here.”

“And...I...must stay?”

Elahina regarded the ranger for a moment, before speaking once more. “Is that a problem?”

Oraban hesitated. “No...no. It’s fine.”

Sweetie Belle opened her mouth. “If I may…?”

Elahina turned to her. “Yes?”

Sweetie Belle opened her mouth before a psychic voice spoke to her. “You will return before the fifth day, I promise.”

Sweetie Belle’s eyes went wide before all of her mental defenses slammed into place. “How did—?”

“Who taught you how to erect your defenses, Sweetie Belle?” Elahina asked with a smirk.

Sweetie Belle frowned. “Reading my mind is not fair,” she thought back.

Elahina smirked and gave a light chuckle. “Perhaps it is not fair, but it’s for the best, I’m sure you would agree.”

Sweetie Belle continued to frown.

Elahina smiled, before turning back to Oraban. “We must be off. Protect the temple with your life, that is what your Craftworld asks of you, Starstrider.”

Oraban slowly nodded.

“Come, Sweetie Belle, we have little time, and the world will not wait for us.”

Sweetie Belle nodded, before turning to the Ranger. “I’ll be back, alright?”

Oraban simply nodded, gripping his rifle.

---=][=---

The wave serpent hummed gently as it hovered in next to the massive carnosaur. The massive reptile had a gigantic artillery cannon strapped to its back, while Alaitoc warriors worked on the tank.

For not having a plan, the Eldar knew what they were doing. The Farseers had only found that the fight would take place in the crater just south of an abandoned Eldar fortress. There, the carnosaurs and the tanks would sit on the ridge, firing from long range while the rangers, warriors, dragon knights, and the Aspect warriors, the elder who walk the path of the warrior, would face the enemy on the field.

Shortly after her arrival, Sweetie Belle actually found herself walking through the camp of Alaitoc’s warrior cast, passing by the fractured camps where each Aspect held their own resting place.

Each Aspect had their own style of combat, that they had mastered over centuries of training. They all had their own special rune and colors, and their own leader. The Exarchs, those that had lost themselves on the path of the warrior, lead each Aspect shrine, and were currently away, speaking with the Farseers for guidance as they set their strategy.

This suited Sweetie Belle fine. She met most of the Exarchs, and there was no love lost between any of them.

Still, she had nothing to do, and felt the need to stretch her legs.

She watched with mild interest as she walked past the Dire Avengers, the blue and white ranged infantry that were masters of the shuriken catapult.

She gave the white, red, and green Howling Banshee’s a wide berth. The highly mobile melee specialists always gave her a chill, their psychosonic amplifying masks always put the unicorn on edge.

Beyond the banshees stood the Striking Scorpions. Dressed in green, gold, and black, the Scorpions were a melee unit as well, focusing on stealth rather than the howling power and speed of the Banshees. They made no sound as they moved through the camp, and even their chainswords whirled silently.

The Fire Dragons, in contrast, held their pre-battle rituals loudly. The anti-tank force were the most prominent force here, in their bright reds, yellows, and oranges, and would have been most effective against the armor-heavy ork forces. Now, however, they were willing to bring their fusion guns and melta bombs to bear against the tanks of the forces of chaos, Astartes, and greenskin alike.

The only other Aspect on the field were the red and white Warp Spiders.

Sweetie Belle had always felt an odd kinship with these brave warriors. They kept to their own, and had a unique, bleak outlook on life. They were unique in that they risked not only their lives, but their very souls in the name of victory. Their massive, heavy armor held what was called a Warp Spider Jump Generator, a warp generator that would jump the warrior into and out of the realm of She who thirsts, so that they may navigate around obstacles in the world around them. Their weapons could shred a man to pieces via a monofilament wire, and their very method of fighting made them the bravest warriors in Eldar culture.

That and the fact that they were named after Button’s species made them somewhat oddly cute in her eyes.

She walked through the Warp Spider’s small camp, receiving the occasional nod from the stoic fighters, but little else. She nodded back, offering services to repair their armors and perform maintenance on their weapons.

Most refused, while a few needed her to perform quick fixes on the psychoplastic that encased them.

It was here that Elahina found her.

“Farseer,” the wraith spider greeted.

Button chirped, also greeting the farseer.

“Kelmena,” Elahina greeted back. “Sweetie Belle, I wished to speak with you.”

“Well I am here,” Sweetie Belle said. “What did you wish to say?”

“We have decided that you shall be a field medic, working while the battle rages on.”

Sweetie Belle felt her mouth go dry. “Very well,” she said.

“To protect you,” Elahina continued, “you shall be attached to a small squad of wraithguard.”

Sweetie Belle grimaced.

She had made it a point to avoid the wraithguard. When there were not enough guardians, not enough Aspect warriors, when the might of the living was not enough, the Craftworlds would occasionally call upon the dead.

The souls of the departed, held in the Infinity Circuit of the craftworld, could be pulled out and placed in wraithbone constructs, the smallest were twice as tall as an Eldar man, while the largest were gargantuan titans, where that same Eldar man would only stand at the ankle.

While mighty machines, the idea that they were once living Eldar disturbed Sweetie Belle to no end.

They couldn’t see her, either. Since they relied on psychic sight to navigate and find their targets, her own condition made it difficult to see her. This, unfortunately led to a few issues with almost being stepped on during her first meeting with the possessed machines, and she had never really forgiven them.

“Could I be with someone else?” she asked. “Anyone else?”

“I understand your hesitance, Sweetie Belle, but you need not worry. You shall be accompanied by a warlock.”

Sweetie Belle grimaced. That only made it slightly better. With a psyker nearby, the wraithguard could use his sight to better their own.

“I’m not going to get a choice, am I?”

“We have no choice,” Kelmena said as she worked her joints and checked her armor once more. “We are all pawn of fate, and fate brings death.”

“I would still prefer if my death did not come from being stepped on,” Sweetie Belle told her, before she finished reinforcing the armor.

“This is your duty, Sweetie Belle. So we have spoken.”

Sweetie Belle sighed. No arguing out of that one.

---=][=---

Kraagan burst into Vulek’s tent, ignoring the various debaucheries he proudly displayed on every skin wall.

“Hey!” the Emperor’s Children captain growled, head tentacle waving about angrily. “You get out of her—”

“It’s time Vulek,” Kraagan said, his voice silencing the Slaaneshi captain.

“What?” Vulek asked, confused.

“It’s time for war,” Kraagan said simply.

Vulek opened his mouth on the very edge of stammering.

“Prepare your men, we march for the fortress north of the crater.”

Vulek began to growl, before he stopped, and seemed to consider something. “I see...and your forces will be there?”

“Of course,” Kraagan replied. “That’s where we plan to perform the summonings, and bring our force to bear against the Eldar, ork, and the corpse worshipers alike.”

Vulek paused, and regarded the old, helmeted captain for a long second. “Very well, Kraagan... we shall move.”

“I can play your little game, Legionnaire. I can work your shadows as well as you.”

He had no idea that he wasn’t even on the same playing field.

---=][=---

While Kraagan told Vulek it was time to move at the Chaos camp, Kraagan was also walking through forest with a small squad and his sorcerer.

Perhaps it was through some secret sorcery, or perhaps through an art only known to Alpharius Omegon’s children, who can say?

Yet still, while Kraagan began to lead his forces, he also stood outside the temple of the Infinity Gate.

“Why have we not moved?” Festerus complained. “The gate would have been easier to take with only the ranger and creature to guard it, now we have traded the small beast for six warlocks. We should have attacked sooner.”

“We will attack when we must,” Kraagan told him. “The timing is wrong. We must wait.”

Festerus almost growled. “Timing? We are wasting time!”

“No,” Kraagan said. “We have two days yet. Just two days…”

---=][=---

“Not Even The Dead Know The End Of War.”—Imperial Thought of the Day.

It's time, Ladies and Gentlemen.

It's time for the war, and everyone's gonna get a piece. Ork, Astartes, Eldar, and the forces of chaos all gathered in one place.

We'll see you all next time.

"Are we just gonna gloss over the fact that you killed Scootaloo!?!"

Bye!

Chapter XXV

“Get off! Git off!” Scootaloo roared as she pushed the goblins, Doks and Mekboys off of her. “Get'cha filfy hands off me!” she yelled, before she brought her power klaw to her head.

She had been lucky, all things considered. The shot had been basically superficial, even though it did destroy a good chunk of her face. The same could not be said for the ork behind her, who had taken the same shot through the brain, leaving only a smoking hole and a dead ork.

Her power klaw clinked against the metal of her bionik eye, and she growled at the giant, red glass lense that replaced her now ruined left eye.

“Somefin’ wrong, Shootaloota?” a deep voice laughed.

“Stuff it, Grimtrasha,” she snarled.

“Dat’s Boss Grimtrasha ta you,” the new warboss grunted. Now the largest ork in the horde, the Cybork with the massive bionik leg and arm, was certainly not one you’d want to meet in a dark alley. Towering over everything but a killa kan, the only thing that was incredibly odd was that he was rather lean for an ork, but he won, so he was the Boss.

“Yeah, yeah,” she growled, “So we ready?”

Grimtrasha grinned. “The Waaagh!s on da move.”

Scootaloo grumbled. “Good. One of those gits owe me an eye.”

---=][=---

Thunder rolled across the hills of Ursidhe-Ka. There was not a cloud in the sky, yet still the air around the crater shook. Orbital bombing from the Omnis Arcanum had commenced the night before, beating whatever lived in the crater after the fire into a literal pulp.

Every vox transmission they received from the battle barge flying above gave reports that several large collections of lifeforms were converging on the crater, and Gabriel was quick to order a bombardment to clean the area.

Apple Bloom eagerly waited for it to end, her mechadendrites holding her bolter at the ready. She stood with her squad, and among them, she was the most eager to bring justice of the Emperor to her foes.

As daybreak appeared over the horizon, the bombing slowly ended, and Apple Bloom smiled beneath her helmet.

Finally, Aldwil would be avenged.

Dreadnaughts, the massive machines that held the horribly damaged remains of the heros of the chapter, stood, waiting in the wings. The first company, with a select few dressed in mighty Terminator armor holding powerful storm bolters, were as eager as any other soldier.

And she was the most eager of all.

“Battle Brothers!” Gabriel Angelos cried as he stood atop a Land Raider. “The time has come to do our duty, and we shall not be found wanting! The time has come to bring the Emperor’s light to this dark world.”

“We will not be found wanting!” Came the battle cry from the enhanced throats of the Space Marines.

“Now, my brothers! Charge! For the Emperor!”

Apple Bloom racked the slide, chambering a bolt, and charged, roaring as she ran.

---=][=---

The Eldar began to move. The mon-keigh had bombarded the crater to the east of the Eldar camp. And Sweetie Belle snickered at the thought that the barbaric humans had missed her forces that badly.

Now, however, her mood soured. Surrounded by four massive wraithbone construct, and a single Eldar warlock named Kaelyth.

Kaelyth was not a nice Eldar, which, at times, felt like saying he was par for the course. He practically lived with his head at a forty-five degree angle and his ego was probably as big of the planet itself.

Again par for the course.

Of course, the issue was more that. Upon meeting him, Kaelyth pet her like a dog and then he did not actually talk to her in any way that remotely suggested she had intelligence.

That annoyed her.

Also being surrounded by possessed wraithbone machines that could barely see her didn’t make it any better. The worst part about the whole ordeal was that in order to be as safe from the giant stomping feet as possible, she needed to be as close as possible to the warlock, which was just such a wonderful experience.

She really wished Oraban was here.

As the giants began to lumber forward, holding massive power swords and their reality-ripping wraithcannons forward as they began to head for war.

---=][=---

Vulek the Debaucher stood on the northern lip of the crater.

The Emperor’s Children had spent much of the night summoning the daemons of Slaanesh, sacrificing a few of their own and the Alpha Legion volunteers to boost their numbers.

Now, backed by three daemon cannons called Soulgrinders, daemonettes, the fifteen-foot-tall, six-breasted Keeper of Secretes, and scores of Chaos Spawn, the mutated failures that thought they could use Chaos for their own benefit, Vulek was eager to enjoy the battle. With the Chaos Spawn leading them as the front line fodder, followed by their own ranks and the daemons, there was no end of the misery that would flood through the planet this day, and the promised sensations were enough to visibly arouse the daemonettes.

It was time for war.

Their enemies were gathered, the orks to the south, the eldar to the west, and the corpse-worshipers to the east.

He smirked as he saw them all, all fools that would fall to him. Slaanesh would be most pleased with this offering. The various forms of pleasureable torture the survivors would be forced into would strengthen the Prince of Perfection so, and the souls of the eldar would be most delicious.

Kraagan stepped forward. “Are you ready, Vulek?”

“Captain Vulek,” he corrected. “And yes, we are ready. Are your men ready?”

Kraagan smirked beneath his helmet. “I provided men who were willing to die for you summonings, and you question me now?”

Vulek spat. “Then let’s go. Charge!”

---=][=---

Scootaloo was in the thick of it. She was fighting things she had never seen before and she was loving it. The Emperor’s boys were probably the most interesting. They loved getting in fights, up close and personal, and they swung chainswords, power swords, and a few of them even had thunder hammers, which shattered the ground beneath them as the slammed into the earth. The eldar were still a little flighty, and the Chaos boyz typically got pushed behind by the daemons who were far more interested in the fight than they were.

The daemons didn’t impress Scootaloo, that much, but the actual boyz were a better fight.

A massive woman, with six breasts, half of them sagging while the other was pierced with more steel than Scootaloo really wanted to think about, roared in front of her. Two of its four arms ended in massive claws while the other two carried massive daemonic blades. She smiled to herself as her red bionik eye centered on the Keeper of Secrets. That would probably be big enough for her.

Spreading her wings, she took to the sky, claiming her space on the battlefield as she leapt into the air. Her shootas were firing a constant stream of bullets as she leapt onto the Keeper’s back, invisible to the daemon. She latched on, her power klaw digging into the monster’s skin even as she continued to fire.

The beast turned violently, trying to snatch the thing that was hurting her, only for her eyes to pass right over the pegasus.

“What’s da matter?” she yelled, as her shootas kept firing, sending a spray black ichor back into her face as her power klaw ripped into daemonic flesh.

The Keeper of Secrets swung its blades behind herself, trying to catch Scootaloo, and she answered with another grievous wound from her Klaw.

A Space Marine with a thunder hammer ran up, and with a mighty strike, he completely destroyed the Keeper’s knee.

“Oi!” Scootaloo yelled from the daemon’s back. “This one’s mine, Space Marine!”

The Marine looked up, just in time to see Scootaloo’s power klaw rip out the monster’s throat.

And he took a long look at her.

His hand went to his ear, and he began to speak into his vox relay, only for an eldar shuriken to slice through his neck, leaving him to die as he drowned in his own blood.

---=][=---

Apple Bloom fired into a small skirmish between a striking scorpion and a chaos marine. Her bolter spat round after round into the forces in front of her, destroying her foes with all of the fury she could manage.

From crater lip to crater lip, there was nothing but heretics, and xenos, and it was her duty as one of the Emperor’s chosen to cleanse their filth from the face of the galaxy.

Her bolter continued to fire, destroying yet another lesser daemon with well placed shots to the head, even as a powerful kick sent an ork flying.

Her squad was behind her, laying down fire, while backed with Lazarus’ own Warp fire.

Apple Bloom was leading her squad, further and further north, towards the chaos forces, firing into the ranks of Alpha Legionnaires, and Emperor’s Children alike, ignoring anything that got in her way.

She dived down into a smaller crater inside the larger one, using the lip as a form of cover as she fired into an Emperor’s Children line. They answered back, their bolts exploding as they hit the lip of the their cover. Ramiel slammed into the dirt next to her. “Alright, Xeno, what’s your plan?”

“My plan?” she asked, smiling. “What are you—? Ah!” She cried as a bolt round slammed into her helmet.

“Apple Bloom!” Karlon yelled as he followed up next to her.

A mechadendrite ripped her helmet off of her head, and she cursed as her mane went everywhere. “I’m fine. My auto senses are damaged, though.”

Coberos landed on the other side of Ramiel, even as Apple Bloom’s mechadendrite reached down beneath her neck for a long, almost forgotten ribbon. “I’ve heard reinforcements will arrive soon. A dreadnaught is to be dropped from orbit.”

“Good!” Karlon laughed. “That should get their attention!”

Once her mane was secure, she connected her helmet to her magnetic belt, and leveled her bolter once more. “Well anytime now, would be good,” she muttered.

As though to answer her, a massive bomb of adamantium and ceramite slammed into the Chaos line. It’s long gangplank doors fell open, and were joined by a rain of bolter fire and small missiles, leaving the payload to walk free.

A large, boxy machine walked out of the drop pod, one of its massive arms firing las blasts while the other held a massive claw that grabbed whatever poor traitor was within reach and crushed him. “Vengence is mine,” a booming, robotic voice called out from the dreadnaught, “even in death.”

“Hameal?” Apple Bloom called.

The Dreadnaught turned. “Ah! Apple Bloom! Join me! The Emperor’s Justice must be carried out!”

Apple Bloom smiled. At least she still had one friend.

What she did not realize, however, was that she was being watched.

An eldar, off to the side of her climb, noticed the four-legged marine, and could only stare as she began to climb up after their machine.

He began to open his mouth, almost as if he were about to say something, only for an ork choppa to catch him in the back.

---=][=---

Sweetie Belle always knew that the forces of Chaos and the Eldar were traditionally at odds with each other, but this was just horrifying.

One of their artillery machines was...well…

It was a farseer, or, had once been a farseer. The poor woman was stripped naked, and bloated to a horrid size. She sat on a throne carried by feminine legs, and was mockingly decorated with spirit stones. A massive cannon protruded from her pregnant belly, and her six, shackled arms dug into her own skin as she fired balls of daemonic fire.

She was moaning, but from pain or pleasure, she could not tell.

Then again, this was a product of She Who Thirsts, it could be both.

The worse issue, beyond the horrid mental scarring, was how powerful the cannon was. A good hit had already damaged one of the wraithguard beyond repair, and he lay useless behind them, despite Sweetie Belle’s best efforts.

Another blast of evil incarnate slammed into the dirt, rocking the ground beneath her and the warlock. The wraithguard slowly turned, before firing their cannons off towards the soulgrinders, trying to hit them with their warp-vortex blasts, but their short-range weapons could not reach.

The warlock did his best to aid them, throwing bolts of warp energy, but those too, failed to connect. A Space Marine charged, while the wraithguards were busy and distracted with the soulgrinders, firing his bolter as he tried to kill the Eldar sorcerery.

Sweetie Belle answered with a wraithbone spear, the psychoplastic slicing through the joints of the power armor with shocking ease, and crippling him where he stood.

She waited a second, before she drove a new blade into his neck, in the space between his armor and his helmet.

The warlock, meanwhile, began to push towards the soulgrinders, cursing in the eldar’s musical language, and filling the air with a storm of psychic energy.

“Kaelyth! What are you doing?” she asked as they began to move.

“The Soulgrinders!” he roared. “Attack them!” he ordered.

She sighed, recognizing the order as though it had been given to a dog, but nonetheless began to follow.

A small squad of orks screamed, catching her attention as they ran up to her, wielding choppas as they roared their battlecry. “Waaaaaagh!”

Sweetie Belle readied a set of blades, and defended herself as the ork launched themselves at her. The first attack split an ork completely in halves, the wraithbone passing through skin and bone with ease. The next strike took a head cleanly off while the third gored an ork through the heart.

The fourth ran up, yelling, before suddenly stopping as he took a good look at Sweetie Belle. “Wait…’Ang on a minute…”

And that was a far as he got before one of the wraithguard fired his cannon, opening a portal to the warp directly on top of the ork, sucking him up, and away.

---=][=---

Vulek cursed.

He stood behind the army, watching as his forces were being decimated. Both the Eldar and the Space Marines prioritized his forces over each others, putting their differences aside just to kill a daemon or Chaos Marine before returning to murdering each other.

The only one he could count on to show no bias were the orks, who were happy to kill whatever crossed their path.

No, this was not appearing to go well.

“Is everything well?” A voice said behind him, and he turned, tentacle flailing, to see Kraagan.

He hissed. “What does it look like, fool? Or have you gone senile in your old age?”

Kraagan slid over to him. “It seems to me that our forces...are failing.”

“Your forces are failing,” Vulek growled.

Kraagan glanced down at Emperor’s Children captain, and Vulek finally noticed how tall he was. “Then perhaps a change of tactics is in order?”

Vulek glared at the tall Chaos Marine. “What’s your game, Legionnaire?”

“Perhaps it would be best to pull back? Let the enemy waste themselves on our daemons and destroy themselves on each other, while we pull back for a new weapon?”

Vulek turned to him, staring. “New weapon? What new weapon?”

Kraagan stared at him, and Vulek could tell he was smiling beneath his helmet. “What weapon indeed?”

---=][=---

Scootaloo roared as she found herself next to a Killa kan, a horrendous machine piloted by a grot, forever encased in a body far stronger and deadlier than he originally had. The gretchen laughed maniacally as years of repressed memories and violence resurged as he finally had a chance to let loose.

Scootaloo stayed behind it, because you never could trust a Killa Kan to be civil.

She leapt into the air, firing her shootas into a eldar warrior that was screaming at her in a way she did not appreciate. As soon as she silenced her throbbing headache, she turned again to rip a Space Marine’s chest open with her klaw.

“Haha!” the grot in the kan bellowed, as his spinning saw blade sliced an Eldar in half. “Who’s da small one now, eh? Who’s da small one now?!”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes, before something caught her eye. A massive tank, painted red, crested a boulder, firing las blasts from the side-mounted, twin linked lascannons.

And, in a most orky display, a single Space Marine stood on the tank, swinging a hammer at anything that got close, smashing skulls and crushing heads with ease.

She blinked at the display, shocked to see something so orky from someone that wasn’t an ork, and it almost cost her her life.

A sudden las blast scorched through the air, and slammed into the Killa Kan. The machine’s metal body began began to heat, turning red until the gretchen inside boiled, and the Kan burst open. The explosion rocked the pegasus, and sent her flying.

She soared through the air, spinning as she flipped end over end.

Finally, she landed, and she landed hard. Another rock, unearthed from the bombardment, appeared beneath her, sharp shards of stone cutting into her skin.

She growled, grunted, and pushed herself up.

And then she stopped.

She turned.

And she couldn’t believe her eyes.

---=][=---

“Get back here, cowards!” Apple Bloom roared, firing her bolter. “Get back here and die!”

The chaos forces were retreating, heading north once more and disappearing into the trees. Her shots trailed after them, even as she was being swarmed with daemons that sought nothing more than sensation. They formed a living wall of profane flesh, blocking her even as Hameal’s heavy, mobile sarcophagus slammed into them with his dread claws.

“Get back here!” she roared again, before lobbing a glob of acid spit into a daemon’s face. “Aldwil will be avenged!”

Before she could shout another word, a massive claw swung down at her, snapping her up, into the air. Her mechadendrites worked quickly, slamming into the sides of the claw to keep it from snapping her in half, before her own arms moved to do the job.

A Keeper of Secrets grabbed her in one of her lower arms, numerous piercings running through her chest, and a face that not even a mother could love screaming in orgasmic pleasure. Apple Bloom growled, glaring at the daemon before she freed her mechadendrites, and fired her bolter directly into the Keeper’s breasts. (S)he howled in pain as the bolts exploded in her skin, and she reveled in masochistic joy.

Swinging her hind legs up and around, she threw herself over the claw, landing on its surface as the daemon began recover. She ran along the claw, trying to keep her balance as she charged forward, the energy field emitters whining as they charged up.

The Keeper’s second lower arm began to cross over, his giant claw reaching out for the red, armored thing crossing it's arm.

And then Apple Bloom kicked.

Her hooves struck with the strength of Thunder hammers, and combined with her already incredible strength, the blow was enough to rip the Keeper’s chest in half.

Now suddenly airborne, Apple Bloom tumbled through the air, falling far faster than she wanted.

Rolling into a ball, she did everything she could to protect her neck as she landed.

She fell hard onto rough stone, but her armor held, and her augmented body would not break so easy.

She spun onto her legs, leveling her bolter at a nearby creature.

And then she stopped.

She turned.

And she couldn’t believe her eyes.

---=][=---

Sweetie Belle ran after the warlock.

Kaelyth had charged forward, either drunk on the courage of being backed by three wraithguard, or a stubborn tunnel vision that only an eldar or an ass could possess.

The larger issue was that he was walking through the heaviest fighting in the crater.

Ork trukks and battlewagons bounced wildly across the crater walls, carrying massive bulks of green skin whooping and hollering as they bore down on the armored Space Marines. The mon-keigh answered in kind, firing a hail of bullets at both the orks, and the lumbering wraithguard as they passed before them.

She cursed under her breath.

“Kaelyth! Kaelyth, stop! It’s too dangerous!”

The warlock did not answer, throwing warp bolt after warp bolt at the slowly retreating soulgrinders.

She could feel it.

The warlock had felt something in seeing the farseer cannon, and it bled out into an aura of anger that Sweetie Belle could tell you was almost tangible. He strode forward in a fury, casting every ounce of psychic power he had at the infernal machines.

“Kaelyth, stop!” she yelled. “This is insane!”

The warlock was becoming dangerous. His fury burned brighter than a man’s could, and it was beginning to affect his discipline. She could feel the barrier between the Warp and reality weaken about him as he pushed himself to greater and greater attacks.

“Kaelyth! It’s too much!”

The Warp had already begun to seep into reality. Sweetie Belle found her breath becoming shorter, the stones began to bleed, a veil of darkness surrounded the Warlock, and a thin layer of frost covered everything around him.

And still he pushed.

She yelled once more, only for her voice to be silenced by an unseen force.

She tried to warn him.

She tried to stop him.

And she could not.

Kaelyth prepared a new attack, throwing everything he had into a new attack, and it was only when the Warp howled behind him that he realized his mistake. A portal had opened behind him, and a mighty gale whipped about him.

And the last Sweetie Belle heard of Kaelyth was his tortured scream as She Who Thirsts swallowed him whole.

With the psyker gone, however, the wraithguard were now on their own, and they could no longer see Sweetie Belle.

A giant foot slammed into the ground next to her, and she said something very unladylike as she was thrown up into the air by the stomp.

She yelped, before yelling up at the wraithguard. “Hey! I’m right here!”

If it heard her, it showed no signs.

And that’s when she realized, to her horror, that both ork and Spcae Marine were beginning to fill the space between the constructs.

The wraithguard began firing their cannons into the space between them, and Sweetie Belle ran for it. Anything would be better than being thrown into the warp by her allies. It would be an accident, she knew, but she wasn’t going to let them have the chance.

Bolting for an open space, free from her wraithguard escorts, Sweetie soon found herself surrounded on all sides by both orks and Astartes. In answer, she pulled blades from her back, aiming for the necks, the weakness in the Space Marine armor, and as good a place as any for the ork.

She spun, a hair’s breadth away from panicking as she suddenly found herself in the center of a fight for her life. Her blades sang through the air, slicing at anything that got to close, while a third arm formed a simple shield to protect herself with. Plates of wraithbone grew from her body, oozing out from her flanks to armor herself.

A Battlewagon had pulled up behind her in the confusion, and while she did not notice, a Space Marine did.

A missile flew over the battlefield, screeching through the sky before it slammed into the tank. The resulting explosion sent Sweetie Belle flying, and she landed hard on a rock nearby.

She groaned, before she pushed herself up.

And then she stopped.

She looked up.

And she couldn’t believe her eyes.

---=][=---

The three ponies stared at each other, eyes wide.

Apple Bloom, armored in the power armor of the Adeptus Astartes, decorated with the Imperial Aquila, glanced between the other two. Her eyes darted wildly, and her bolter kept snapping between the two. Her mouth was drawn in a hard line, but it would not take a psyker to recognize the uncertainty in her.

Scootaloo was covered in blood, stiches, and scars. The first one was new, born from the battle, while the latter were made from years of living with the abuse and trials of the Waaagh! Her power klaw slowly closed, and she blinked with her only living eye, while the red glass of her bionic stared on.

Sweetie Belle seemed to be the best and worst off all at the same time. Large studs of ivory stuck out from her back, many transforming into odd blades, or other odd shapes. Her skin was littered with wraithbone, and her eyes looked like they had seen horrors that the others could only imagine.

“S-Scootaloo?” the unicorn spoke, “is that you?”

Sweetie’s eyes danced across the pegasus’ form, a part of her incapable of believing that her friend had fallen in league with such barbaric creatures.

“A-Apple Bloom?” Scootaloo called.

The poor mare looked like she was on the edge of simply killing them both. Her bolter was still leveled at both of them, yet everyone one of them could see that it was shaking slightly in her mechadendrites.

“S-Sweetie Belle?” the Blood Raven finally called, her voice shaking as she eyed the unicorn.

The xenos taint was everywhere about her. From the wraithbone that seemed to live in her, to the disgusting eldar influence in the shape of the blades she carried. Even her movements stank of the alien’s impressions.

Silence hovered over the three of them for a moment.

And then Scootaloo gave a barking laugh. “Ha! All the worlds in the galaxy, and you all had to come here!”

Her laugh sounded hollow.

“Well…” she said, speaking again, “I want to say it’s good to see you…”

“It’s not…” Apple Bloom said.

Sweetie Bell could feel the conflict of duty and joy in the Space Marine’s mind. She wanted to be glad to see them.

Scootaloo nodded. “Yeah, we kinda have to kill each other, don’t we?”

Another moment of silence.

“So…” Scootaloo said again. “You’re one of the Emperor’s boyz now, eh?”

Apple Bloom did not lower her bolter. “Eeyup. You’re an ork now?”

Scootaloo smiled. “Deffskullz. We’z da best!”

“And you, Sweetie Belle?” Apple Bloom asked. “A member of the Eldar.”

She grinned sadly. “You can’t be an Eldar without being an Eldar. I’m closer to being a pet, but yes…” she said, before her eyes went to Scootaloo. “You...you were the one who killed the king, weren’t you?”

Scootaloo nodded. “Heard about that, huh? Yeah...I...They rub me the wrong way.”

Sweetie Belle nodded. “Yeah, I get it…”

There was silence again.

“We can’t…” Sweetie offered.

Apple Bloom merely nodded. “No, we can’t.”

She still did not lower her bolter.

And all they could do was stare at each other.

“It...it’s been a long time, girls,” Sweetie Belle said.

Apple Bloom nodded. “Too long.”

And indeed it had been. It had been too long for it to matter anymore.

They all knew the truth. They were enemies now.

Friendship was dead.

Apple Bloom’s ear twitched.

“Sister Apple Bloom?” a voice called, and three pairs of eyes went to the source.

Karlon and her squad stood next to her, standing next to an Eldar, who stared up at the three of them, confused.

Looking around, they could all see that the fighting was beginning to slow. With the Chaos forces gone, the Eldar were more concerned with defending themselves than actively fighting. The Space Marines, were quick to notice Apple Bloom, as well, and news spread quickly amongst the Astartes.

Eldar, Space Marine, and confused ork all stopped to stare at the three ponies.

Sweetie Belle could feel a few curious warlocks touching her mind, and a wave of empathy could almost be seen passing through the Eldar ranks.

And before long, all in the crater was quiet.

Until someone had to be an idiot.

“Oi! What’s goin’ on!” an ork yelled from the crowd. “Why’s we talkin’ instead of fiogtin’?”

Scootaloo growled. “Stuff your zoggin’ gob, or I’ll cut yer legs off and send ya off ta tha pain boyz!”

Sweetie Belle shook her head, and Apple Bloom’s mouth was drawn in a tight line. “We’ve wasted enough time here,” she said, before she turned, and began walking away.

“Apple Bloom?” Sweetie Belle called.

The Space Marine shook her head. “No, it’s been too long. I...I won’t kill you today, if for nothing else but respect, but I will not hesitate tomorrow.”

Scootaloo nodded. “Sounds fair to me…”

Sweetie Belle looked between the two. “What? Girls, no! We...we don’t…”

Apple Bloom shook her head, and Scootaloo spoke. “No, Sweetie Belle. We do. It was good seeing you both.”

And Sweetie Bell simply stood there as Apple Bloom and the Blood Ravens marched east, while Scootaloo and the orks went south.

---=][=---

“What is the terror of death?

That we die our work incomplete.

What is the joy of life?

To die knowing our task is done.”—Imperial Thought of the Day

Chapter XXVI

As midnight encroached upon them, Oraban sighed. The temple holding the Infinity Gate stood silent against the forest, hidden by the psychic fields of the Warlocks, while the ranger watched the perimeter.

The forest was alive with the croaks and creaks of frogs and crickets, and the noise was enough to hide the eldar’s steps from any that wanted to hear him. He stepped from tree branch to tree branch, holding his rifle up as he scanned the world around him.

So far, there was nothing that really needed his attention, and before long, he simply fell into his own thoughts. He wondered, and would even admit, hoped, that Sweetie Belle survived the battle. He also hoped that she didn’t find her friend.

Well, he did…

He also didn’t…

He didn’t know.

The idea that her friend was alive was confusing enough for him. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like for anyone else. Much less her.

And then there was no telling how her friend was going to react. Living with orks all that time? It would be incredible if she could still communicate properly.

He did the right thing, not telling her that one of her best friends was still alive. Really...honestly…

He sighed, how did things get so complicated?

The worst part was that he knew he wouldn’t even care if it were not for the empathetic blast Sweetie Belle used back on Arconar. He knew it was her fault, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to blame her at all. He had felt the injustices towards her that drove the young unicorn to attacking him like that, and well…

He sighed.

She had to go and make things complicated.

He shook his head as he landed on a new branch, and took a long sweep across the landscape.

Nothing.

He shook his head.

The crack of thunder roared behind him, and he turned towards the temple.

There was no storm that night.

A psychic cry for help echoed into his mind as a warlock screamed in pain inside the temple.

Oraban cursed, and ran for temple, even as shots began to ring in the clearing around the massive structure.

He leapt up the stairs, before he stopped in front of the door. Dropping into a crouch, he held his rifle ahead of him, watching as his pan-spectral sight showed nothing.

Not even the warlocks.

He walked, crouched, into the hallway. His head and rifle were almost on a swivel, sweeping across the wraithbone temple, searching for anything that could have possibly done this.

And yet he saw nothing.

There was not a single sign of anything around him. Not a single psychic field.

He moved deeper into the temple, and passed another body, his spirit stone glowing faintly now that it held the soul of the warlock.

Why couldn’t he see something? There should be something around here. They couldn’t have possibly disappeared, could they?

They couldn’t—

His mind stopped.

All he could do was look down at his stomach, where an awful, wicked blade had pierced his hide. Engraved in foul sigils of the chaos gods, it pulsated softly, even a his life slowly began to fade away.

Oraban finally made a sound, a pained gasp that echoed in the air. He choked, a weak gurgle escaped his lips before a power-armored boot kicked him off the blade.

Kraagan shook his head as he watched the ranger grasp his stomach, clutching himself as he weakly began to crawl away. “Fool,” he muttered, before he strode back towards the gate.

Festerus and his squad surrounded the Infinity Gate, and Kraagan walked into the room even as the sorcerer stared at the wraithbone monument, mere moments away from cackling, and wringing his hands.

“The time approaches,” Festerus said, leaning heavily on his staff. “It shall open once the sun rises, and then countless worlds will be ours.

Kraagan smiled. “Excellent. You have served your purpose well, sorcerer.”

Festerus turned, regarding the captain with cautious eyes. Nonetheless, he spoke calmly, never betraying his suspicious. “What are your plans now, Captain?” he asked.

Kraagan smiled. “What indeed?”

As though to answer his question, every Chaos marine turned, and fired into the sorcerer. Bolts slammed into his elbows, knees, and shoulders, rendering them useless before the sorcerer had a chance to so much as raise his hands.

He roared in pain before falling forward, landing on his face.

“I’m sorry, Festerus,” Kraagan said, in a tone that suggested he was most certainly not. The captain kicked the sorcerer over, and towered over him as he leaned on his blade. “Unfortunately, my plan requires some evidence of our passing to come this way.”

Festerus growled. “You fool! Do you realize what you’ve done? You cannot use the portal without me!”

The sorcerer could hear Kraagan smile behind his helmet. “We’re not using the portal.”

Festerus blinked, confused.

“I’m afraid it’s a ruse. Now, I really can’t tell you more, you never know who is listening after all,” he said, as he stabbed his power sword into Festerus’ arm.

The sorcerer seethed.

“But I will give you at least one thing,” the Captain said, as he brought his hands to his helmet. “I will let you look at the face of the man who will kill you.”

Festerus cursed him, begging the gods to ruin the man before him. He cursed and raged and spat.

Until the helmet came off.

Then he went quiet.

Because that was not the face of Kraagan.

---=][=---

Sweetie Belle sat in the middle of the eldar camp, staring at the ground as the world moved around her. Button sat on her head, chirping sadly as the unicorn simply sat, unmoving.

Button came down to her face, stroking her cheek to try and get a response, and yet Sweetie gave none.

The eldar were moving to camp, setting watches as night began to pass, huddling around fires and keeping to themselves.

And Sweetie Belle still sat.

Alone.

Button gave another worried chirp, and she finally responded. A gentle push with a wraithbone arm. “They’re right there, Button…” she said. “Both of them. I thought I would never see them again, and there they were.” She shivered, “but they might as well have been a galaxy away.”

“Perhaps that’s what we need,” a comforting voice said.

Sweetie Belle looked up, and saw Farseer Elahina looking down at her as she leaned on her staff. “A place away from all these troubles. A galaxy away is perhaps our best hope.”

Sweetie Belle gave a snort. Not something she wanted to hear.

Elahina sat next to the unicorn. “Sadly, we cannot go a galaxy away. Our place is here, in this galaxy, and we must play with the hand we drew. This is our world, we have changed it, and we can change it no more. There is no more hope for us.”

Sweetie Belle sighed.

“Of course, there might still be hope for others,” she said. “Your friends, perhaps?”

Sweetie Belle shook her head. “No, they're long gone. They were raised by mon-keigh and orks. They’ve tried so hard to survive they’ve become the forces we fight. They’re become our enemies whether I like it or not.”

Elahina nodded. “In this galaxy, perhaps,” she said, before she stood up. “But perhaps there is hope in another?”

Sweetie Belle looked up at her, and her eyes began to widen as the Farseer walked away.

The Gate.

The thought rang through her head like a bell knoll, and the thought of all three of them going hope caused her heart to swell.

She...she had to tell them.

She leapt onto her hooves, and ran for the edge of camp. Once there, she began to set up her wraithbone struts to amplify her psychic abilities. They went up quickly as a new, excited energy began to flood Sweetie Belle’s frame. As soon as they went up, she turned her focus eastward, searching for her friend.

Her mind shot forward across the crater, and soared to the Space Marine camp, hovering over them like a spirit from an ancient text. Her psychic eyes sweeping over the camp as Astartes looked to their weapons and armor.

Techmarines and serfs milled about, taking care of various machines that needed to be fixed. She searched, looking for the unique not-quite-presence of psychic energy that marked herself and apparently her friends as well.

Finally, she found her. The odd not-void surrounded by armor that could have only been Apple Bloom.

Her voice warbled oddly as she took what appeared to be a helmet from a marine with a large robotic arm on his back, before she turned, and headed deeper into the camp.

She waited, even as the void that must be Apple Bloom strode forward. Sweetie Belle didn’t want to catch her in the middle of the camp, it would probably keep her from moving, and that would draw attention.

The moment Apple Bloom was alone, Sweetie Belle pounced, at what she saw there shook her too her core.

Most minds were open, almost waiting for a psyker to read them. Apple Bloom’s mind was something else. A twisted fortress of pain and resolve, Apple Bloom’s mind was all but impregnable, and...and it hurt to look at. It was as though everything that made a mind great had been stripped away, leaving nothing behind but pain and fear.

“Who are you, and what is your business?” came a guarded call, but Sweetie Belle was quick to recognize the mental voice of Apple Bloom.

“Apple Bloom? Is that you? What have they done to you?” she asked.

A feeling of resigned annoyance came back at her. “Ah, so you’re a witch as well, Sweetie Belle? Why am I not surprised?”

“Apple Bloom, Apple Bloom, listen! It’s important.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“No, Apple Bloom! Please, just...just give me five minutes!”

“I gave you far more than that on the battlefield yesterday.”

“Apple Bloom, we can go back!” she cried.

There was a pause. “Go back? What do you mean?”

Sweetie Belle’s heart leapt. She had her attention. “The Eldar have a gate! It’s open for the next three days, and it will take us back to Equestria.”

There was a long pause.

“Equestria?”

“Yes! We can go back, back to Ponyville and Canterlot. Back to Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Applejack. We can go back!”

Sweetie watched as the fortress wavered. It shook for only a moment or two, before the walls of pain steeled themselves.

And then Apple Bloom said something that Sweetie Belle honestly didn’t expect, “So?”

“So?” Sweetie repeated.

“So?” Apple Bloom said, her voice cold and distance.

“Apple Bloom we could go home. We can go see our families!”

“This is my family,” Apple Bloom said, and an image of the Blood Ravens flashed into her mind.

The Imperium of Man shone into Sweetie’s mental eyes, a beacon of stubbornness that refused to be shut out, or argued with. The Adeptus Astartes, the glory of man, the God-Emperor of Mankind, and..

Was that…

“Celestia?”

The beacon paused, and the light dimmed, revealing only Apple Bloom’s fortified mind. “What about Celestia?”

There! That’s your target! Sweetie’s own mind cried. “Yes, what about her, Apple Bloom? Or rather...your duty to Celestia?”

The fortress was silent.

Sweetie pushed, trying to get through the massive walls with words alone. “We all have a duty to her, AB,” she said, using her childhood nickname. “Shouldn’t we go back just to let her know we’re okay? Don’t we owe her that much at least?”

There was silence.

“I’ll…” she began. “I’ll think about it.”

Sweetie sighed. Somehow, she knew that was the best she can do. “If...if you decide to come with us, meet me at the westernmost point of the crater. I hope to leave by daybreak.”

There was a general feeling of acknowledgement that washed over Sweetie Belle, but that was it. Nothing more.

Sweetie shook her head. “I hope to see you there,” she said, before pulling away.

---=][=---

It was 0400 hours, Imperial Standard Time.

And Apple Bloom had thought about it. She had thought about it long and hard.

Harder than she wanted to.

In the end, she finally decided that she was not prepared to make the call. So, for better or worse, she stood in the temporary office of none-other than the Chapter Master himself.

Gabriel Angelos sat on a small throne, looking over a plasteel desk, and staring at her with a gaze that could stop a charging hive tyrant in its tracks. His massive, armored hands sat in front of his mouth, as his elbows rested on the desk, his fingers interlocked, but she knew his face was an impassive mask of stone.

And with every passing second, she was beginning to regret the decision of bringing this to the Chapter Master.

He did not speak, but she could hear the mechanics in his bionic eye whir as it focused and refocused on her. The seconds stretched on for minutes, and they seemed to go for hours, and then finally, when Apple Bloom did not think she could take any more, he spoke. “So...you can return to your world.”

“Yes, Chapter Master,” she answered, eager to break the silence.

“You can return, but to do so, you must go with your friends, who have both been tainted by xenos.”

“Yes, Chapter Master.”

“And you are asking me if you should go?”

“Yes, Chapter Master,” Apple Bloom answered.

Gabriel shook his head. “If you were anyone else, I’d have you shot on the spot.”

Well that was good news…

The Chapter Master level his glare at the pony once more. “Before we even think about discussing this almost heretical line of thinking any further, I’m going to ask you why I should even consider this.”

Apple Bloom nodded, before doing her best to appear pensive. Truthfully, she’d already spent a hour racking her superhuman brain for anything that she could use. She just...didn’t want to seem too eager.

“Well, firstly, doing this would weaken both the Eldar and Ork forces by removing both an influential figure, and a powerful resource, while we only lose one man.”

Gabriel nodded.

“Secondly, it would…” she squirmed a bit, “it would clear the Chapter of a potential source of corruption.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, but offered no comment.

“And finally, to follow the assumption that Princess Celestia is an avatar of the Emperor, then returning would simply be reallocating resources to an Emperor who lacks her finest warriors.”

There was a moment of silence between the two, before Gabriel spoke. “You have thought about this much, haven’t you?”

Apple Bloom winced behind her helmet. “Perhaps more than I should have.”

Gabriel nodded. “Remove your helmet, Apple Bloom.”

She did so without question.

“Look me in the eye,” he ordered.

She obeyed.

“Do you want to leave?”

“I will not abandon my post without—”

“Not what I asked,” Gabriel said. “I asked if you want to go. If your duty did not interfere, would you leave?”

“I…” Apple Bloom began. “I...I don’t know. I think I would?”

Gabriel nodded. “Now, what would you do if I ordered you to destroy it? To destroy the only way you’ve found to get home?”

“I…” she began, swallowing hard, “I would destroy it, sir.”

Gabriel did not answer immediately, instead, he glared into the Tactical Marine’s orange eyes. There was a long moment of silence in the office, before Gabriel abruptly stood, and turned his back to her, instead facing the shrine to the Emperor that occupied the back of the temporary building.

The gilded adamantium shrine depicted the Emperor, in his living glory, standing triumphant while a chorus of angels and cherubs surrounded him. Below him, staring up with reverence, was Azariah Vidya, the saint of the Blood Ravens, holding a power sword as the angels sang around him.

Gabriel stared at it for a long second, before he spoke. “Have you heard of Cyrene, Apple Bloom?”

Her ears perked at the name. She had, indeed heard of it. She had also been told to never, ever mention it around the Chapter Master. “I...I have not,” she said.

“I was born on Cyrene,” Gabriel said, “I and my friend Isador Akios. When the Blood Trials came to Cyrene, Isador and I stood back to back, bringing any that would face us low.” He smirked. “At least, to hear Chaplain Prathios tell the tale, I remember no longer. Now, Isador and I were good friends, even after the trials. When I became Captain of the third company, it was Isador that became my advisor. With his guidance, I accomplished much…

“And then, many years later, I was selected to oversee the Blood Trials on Cyrene, and what I saw…” Gabriel shook his head. “The corruption and heresy on the world I once called my home sickened me to no end, and who else but my father was at the center of it?”

The Chapter Master reached for his belt and pulled the bolt pistol that magnetically hung to his side. “I ended his life with this very pistol, before I called the Inquisition to destroy my own planet.”

Apple Bloom was silent.

Gabriel then turned, staring down at her, pistol still in hand. “Soon after that, there was the Tartarus Campaign.”

Now Apple Bloom had heard of this.

“Myself, Isador, and the third company were on the planet Tartarus, where the Alpha Legion were trying to release a daemon from a stone prison. Unfortunately, the daemon, as well as a sorcerer named Sindri Myr began their foul works, corrupting the Imperial Guard forces on the surface, as well my friend…

“When I discovered his treachery, I killed him myself,” Gabriel said, as he placed the bolt pistol on the desk, “with this same pistol.”

Apple Bloom stared at it. The craftsmanship on the ancient weapon was exquisite, and there was certainly no equal for a firearm made in the last three millennia. Proud, golden skulls trailing the wings of angels shone in the candlelight of Gabriel’s office, and the gunmetal was a clean, glossy black.

“On that day, personally, I wanted to be rid of it,” Gabriel said, motioning to the pistol, “but the techmarines saved it, and dubbed it ‘The Left Hand of Gabriel,’ as though I were some kind of saint.” He gave a snort. “Yet somehow, despite that, it became a symbol even to me.”

Apple Bloom looked up at him.

“It became a symbol of fulfilling your duty, even when you wished there was another way. As time went on, with every successful surgery, it became obvious to me that my duty was to make you a Space Marine. And now, I believe it is your duty to return to your Emperor.”

Apple Bloom looked up at him, and nodded.

“But,” Gabriel said, “if you find that this is a deception of the enemy, then I expect you to answer in kind,” he said, before picking up the pistol and handing it to her. “No matter how painful…”

She nodded, understanding, and took the pistol in a mechadendrite, before connecting it to her side.

“Any further question, Marine?” Gabriel asked.

“Sir, no, sir,” she answered.

“Dismissed.”

Apple Bloom nodded, saluting before bowing to the shrine.

As she exited the office, however, she was met with a new sight.

Her squad.

“So where are we going?” Karlon asked.

Apple Bloom blinked.

The squad stared back.

“No,” she said. “You have your own duty to perform and—”

“Chapter Master!” Coberos yelled. “Requesting Permission to escort Sister Apple Bloom to her objective location?”

They could hear the sigh that came from his office. “Granted…”

“Thank you, sir!” Coberos called.

“Face it, Xeno,” Ramiel said as he stood next to her, “you’re stuck with us a little while longer.”

Apple Bloom gave him a glare, but smiled. They were her family after all.

---=][=---

“Duty prevails”—Imperial Thought of the Day.

Alright, guys, next time, meeting up, for real.

"Whee! Good stuff!"

You got it!

"See you all next time!"

Bye!

Chapter XXVII

Sweetie Belle sat on the western edge of the crater battleground, trying her best not to pace. Scootaloo didn’t like it when she paced, something about the way she walked. Oddly, not pacing forced Sweetie to subconsciously mind-read, thus realizing that Scoots didn’t like the pacing.

“You shure she’s coming?” Scootaloo grunted.

Not a clue.

“She’ll be here,” Sweetie said, thinking very hard about not pacing, and also accidentally learning that Scootaloo didn’t really believe her.

The pegasus sighed, before her red eye whined. “Look, Sweetie Belle. Ah knows a bit ‘bout da Emperor’s Boyz. Dey don’t fink like da rest of us. Dey’re all about their Emperor. That’s it. They don’t follow anybody else.”

Sweetie found it odd that Scootaloo kept falling in and out of her ork accent.

“Now I don’t see her coming, and I don’t fink it’s moi Bioniks actin’ up.”

A part of her hoped that she was wrong. Another part could not help but think that Scootaloo was correct, and Apple Bloom would not join them on their way home.

The last part was far more concerned that half of the words Scootaloo just said weren’t actually words.

“We have to hope, Scootaloo.”

Scootaloo snorted. “If you still have hope, then your life must’ve been a dream so far.”

Sweetie Belle said nothing, but she was certainly not amused.

The sun was beginning to rise, and peek over the horizon, lighting the trees on the far side of the crater aflame with light.

It was daybreak.

It was time.

And Apple Bloom was nowhere to be seen.

Sweetie Belle sighed. “I had hoped…”

The sound of branches cracking to their left got both of their attention, before an armored figure emerged from the underbrush. “Well that was your first mistake,” Lazarus Briehl said, “for hope is the first step on the road to disappointment.”

Scootaloo’s wings flared as she glared at the psyker, before an entire squad of Space Marines began to fill their small clearing, and chief among them was none other than Apple Bloom.

“Xeno,” her voice said through her helmet, nodding at Scootaloo, before turning towards Sweetie Belle. “Witch.”

Sweetie Belle sighed again. They’d have to work on that. “Good to see you again, Apple Bloom.”

The marine didn’t even acknowledge that. “My squad and I shall escort you to this gate you mentioned.”

Sweetie Belle inhaled, composed herself, and remembered to be diplomatic. “It would be an honor.”

Scootaloo wasn’t about that at all. “If any of yous looks at me funny, Ah’ll thrash the lot of ya!”

The Bolters came up.

“Brothers,” Lazarus warned, holding up a hand. “We have here a golden opportunity to remove our enemies’ most unique resources without firing a shot. There is no need for this yet.”

The bolters slowly lowered.

Lazarus then turned to Scootaloo. “We will not harm you, xeno, as long as you do us no harm. Is this acceptable?”

Scootaloo looked up at him, glaring, before her eyes darted between both Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle.

Apple Bloom offered nothing. She didn’t even look to either Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, but the unicorn did nod enthusiastically.

When Sweetie Belle approached her with this promise of returning, she wasn’t completely sure about it. It would not be beyond these Eldar, what she had seen of them, to use Sweetie Belle to lure herself out in the open.

Now that the Space Marines were here, she was far less sure, for completely different reasons.

“So who are these marines, Apple Bloom?” Scootaloo asked, as she glanced around.

“They are my brothers and my squad,” she replied, staring into the forest.

“Brothers, huh?” she asked. “Looks like the Apple Family reunion just keeps getting bigger every year.”

Apple Bloom glanced at her, regarding the pegasus with a long, hard look.

“I suppose I ain’t gots a choice,” Scootaloo said eventually, lowering her wings and standing. “I won’t attack.”

Ramiel smirked beneath his helmet. “Smart for an ork.”

Scootaloo turned to him, before giving him a wide, toothy grin. “Da smartest, most cunning ork of all.”

Sweetie Bell quickly stepped up. “Perhaps it would be best if we began moving?”

“I think it would be best,” Apple Bloom said.

Sweetie nodded. “Follow me, gentlemen,” she said, taking the lead. “I will take you straight to the Gate.”

---=][=---

Sweetie found the Space Marines to be clumsy at best. Their armor constantly clanked and whirred, and while it was quiet, it was not as quiet as she would have liked. She hadn’t said anything, though, mostly because she realized that she was starting to sound like Oraban.

What she had done was calm down a bit. She had stopped her wanton mind-reading, reigning her psychic powers in as they moved around the Eldar camp and towards the temple of the Infinity Gate.

The only other thing she had to complain about by that point was their attitude. They did their best to keep their thoughts to themselves, but Sweetie had heard a few grumbles from beyond the walls of their pain fortresses. For the most part, they all sounded like Apple Bloom, talking of Xenos and Witches. The only problem she had, was that this was getting rather annoying.

Sure, she could forgive them. Sweetie had seen enough of Apple Bloom’s mind to know that they had all gone through some…”mild mental reconditioning.” It was more how annoying it was. Even the psyker called her a witch in his mind, and they shared the same power.

Still. It was fine, she would not have to worry about it for long.

There were going home.

“Dis sure is taking a while,” Scootaloo noted.

“We’re almost there,” Sweetie told her as they approached the temple. “Just be sure to stay close, last I saw there were a few warlocks protecting the Gate, and they should have kept a field of confusion around it. I should be able to navigate us through the forest without a problem.”

“Will the warlocks present a problem?” Apple Bloom asked.

“No,” Sweetie Belle, while secretly hoping she was right.

Truth be told, she was more worried about the ranger.

She had no idea how Oraban would react, first to her arrival with the Space Marines, and then to the news she was leaving. He might celebrate with her. Or he could lead the warlocks in attack.

“Maybe,” Sweetie corrected. It was probably best not to let the Space Marines think she lied to them.

“You don’t sound dat sure,” Scootaloo noted.

“The Eldar are like that,” Sweetie admitted. “They may not care, or they may care a lot, who knows?”

Apple Bloom gave a snort at that. “At least we can agree on that.”

“Sneaky gits,” Scootaloo added.

Sweetie smiled.

And then she frowned. “Something’s wrong,” she said.

The marines snapped into action, bringing up their bolters. “What is it?” Apple Bloom asked as Scootaloo readied her claw.

“The field’s not up. The warlocks haven’t kept it up.”

“Is it possible the eldar dropped it purposefully?” Karlon asked.

Sweetie shook her head. “The warlocks did not return to camp, and the Gate is too powerful to leave unprotected.”

“We move forward,” Lazarus said. “Be prepared for anything.”

“But what if it’s a trap?” Sweetie asked.

Apple Bloom turned to her. “It most assuredly is,” she said, before moving forward towards the temple.

---=][=---

The temple was clear of anything for many hallways, leaving the Space Marines constantly on guard as they moved forward. It wasn’t until Sweetie Belle said they were halfway in that they found the first body.

The warlock’s body was a mess of gore of blood. His arms were cut cleanly off by an unseen blade, and a single, deep, gash that ran along his chest.

“Well, it ain’t our work,” Scootaloo noted.

Apple Bloom looked over at the pegasus. “How do you know?”

“Too clean,” she said. “If these cut were made by a choppa, they’d be rough and jagged. We would have crushed his head and ripped his arms. Besides, da only ones dat could have caught them like dis would be mah kommandoz, and we haven’t been over here yet.”

“So who would do this then, then?” Apple Bloom asked.

Sweetie Belle looked down at the body, before she found his cracked spirit stone. “It must to be Chaos. It must be.”

“We get to kill heretics?” Ramiel asked. “This is turning out to be quite an enjoyable mission.”

“Move with caution,” Lazarus ordered, holding up his powerstaff. “Israfiel, watch behind us, Sweetie Belle, lead the way.”

The unicorn nodded, before they began she led them forward, and as they got deeper, the more they found.

The six warlocks were spread through the halls of the temple, all ended with simple, clean strikes. Bolt wounds appeared among two of them, cementing the theory that Chaos was to blame, and then, finally, they met a living soul.

“Oraban!” Sweetie cried as she ran to ranger’s side.

He did not look well. His skin was pale, a white that almost matched the unpainted wraithbone of his armor, and the only color on him was the proud Alaitoc blue and yellow, and the large red gash that ran across his belly.

“Sweetie Belle,” an unfiltered, unfocused mental voice called. “Sweetie Belle…”

“Oraban! What happened to you?” the unicorn asked, frantically, as her horn began to glow, and magic and psychic energy both engulfed his stomach.

The Blood Ravens stood behind, hearing the Ranger as his psychic voice weakly echoed in their minds.

“Sweetie Belle...you have...to warn them…” Oraban mentally muttered.

“Stay still, Oraban. Just...I can heal you.”

“No…” he said, “It’s been too long...I’ve lost too much…”

He had. Sweetie could tell that there was not much to work with, and while she still could knit his flesh back together, his heart was already beating weakly, and she could not replace his blood.

“I can still try!” Sweetie replied.

With all his strength, Oraban lifted his arm, and brought his hand up to grab her hoof. “They’re going...to raise...a Daemon Prince.”

Everyone in the hallway froze.

A Daemon Prince?

A Keeper of Secrets could destroy an entire company of guardsman. A Daemon Prince? They could destroy an entire planet.

“You have...to...warn...them…” he told her.

“O-Oraban…”

“Warn...them…” he said, before his last breath and his last ounce of strength to hand her his rifle. “Save...them…”

And Oraban died.

His spirit stone, the only one still whole, began to glow as it accepted his soul, and Sweetie Belle could only stare.

“Long-range vox is down,” Coberos said. “I cannot contact the Chapter Master.”

“We need to speak with him immediately,” Lazarus said. “We cannot waste time.”

Sweetie Belle slowly reached forward, and grabbed the simple spirit stone necklace.

“Forgive us, Apple Bloom,” Lazarus said, turning to her, “but we must leave immediately.”

“I understand,” she said. “The Emperor protects.”

“The Emperor protects,” Lazarus answered, before the squad began to file out.

And Sweetie Belle stared at the body of her friend.

“How much further in, Sweetie Belle?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Really?” Scootaloo asked. “Her Eldar pet/friend/thing just died.”

“I have a mission to complete.”

“Yes, the great mission of running away.”

“Do not speak to me like that,” Apple Bloom warned.

“Doesn’t change da fact dat your boyz are off going to foight a Daemon Prince, and you gonna have us all leave.”

“It is my mission to escort you,” the Blood Raven said. “Besides, didn’t you want to go home?”

“Yeah, Ah do,” the pegasus answered. “But at least the Deffskulls taught me ta be loyal.”

“I will slay you in the Emperor’s name if you do not cease this blasphemy!” Apple Bloom roared, leveling her bolter.

“The both of you stop it!” Sweetie Belle roared, before spinning around. “Please! Stop it, the both of you!”

Both Scootaloo and Apple Bloom stared at her, their weapons aimed at each other, before Sweetie stood, Oraban’s long rifle in her magical grasp.

“We have to warn them,” she said. “We can’t let them die without telling them.”

“Chapter Master Gabriel will be notified,” Apple Bloom told her.

“Yes, the Space Marines will know, but what of the Eldar, or the orks?”

“What of them?” Apple Bloom asked, getting a growl from Scootaloo.

“If neither the ork nor the Eldar know, then they will attack the Astartes indiscriminately. If they knew, then they might unite.”

“If you think the orks would unite wif you squishy gits over a Daemon Prince, you need ta zog off,” Scootaloo grumbled, still annoyed.

“But the Eldar would,” Apple Bloom grumbled. “They are the oldest foe of Chaos, they would turn against them before attacking the Astartes.”

“You see?” Sweetie asked. “We need to let them know. If we could turn them against Chaos, then we could save both your brothers, and...my…” she said, before turning towards the corpse, “and save the people that saved me.”

“And what about me?” Scoots asked. “What about the ork? They can just die against all of you? They saved my life, too. They’re up for a good fight, but to be attacked on a united front, and then a Daemon Prince?”

Apple Bloom sighed. “Is there nothing that could convince them? Nothing at all?”

Scootaloo went silent, before speaking. “I might be able to do something…”

Apple Bloom took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter. We have a chance to go home, and now that it is mission to escort you there, I cannot risk the chance. We need to leave, that’s final.”

“The Gate will be open for the next three days,” Sweetie said. “We have time.”

Apple Bloom sighed. “Then we don’t have much time, do we?”

Scootaloo smiled. “Now that’s somefin’ I can get behind.”

“So how do we convince both Eldar and ork to join the Blood Ravens?” Apple Bloom asked.

“I might be able to convince the Farseer,” Sweetie Belle said, “but I would need to get there in time, which is something I do not think we have.”

Scootaloo was already walking. “Leave that to me.”

---=][=---

Lazarus and his squad ran through the forest, rushing for the Blood Raven’s camp. Their power armor thundered as they crashed through the trees, snapping branches as their powered armor smashed into them.

“We must hurry,” Lazarus said. “We do not have much time.”

“We know, Lazarus,” Ramiel cried, charging through forest, keeping his bolter up and ready.

“Hydra Dominatus!” a voice suddenly cried from the left, before their entire left flank exploded in Bolter fire.

“Get down!” Israfiel roared, diving against Lazarus and dragging him to the ground as the Alpha Legionnaires began laying down fire against the Blood Ravens.

“Return fire, Brothers!” Karlon yelled. “Purge the heretic scum!”

Bolters began roaring as bolts went flying, and the Space marines ripped down trees to make cover. Lazarus regained his footing, and began to fill the air with warpfire. “Die, heretics!” he roared, as he brought his powerstaff around.

“Movement ahead!” Coberos yelled, and two of Space Marines turned to face their second front.

“To the right!” Ramiel cried, before the air on that side became filled with bolterfire. “We’re surrounded!”

“Then we shall stand! Prepare yourselves, men!” Lazarus yelled. “Today, we either win, or we die! We shall not be found wanting!”

---=][=---

Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo went southward, towards the ork camp.

“We’ll need to wait for the Orks to start headin’ out, but we’ll catch up, trust me,” Scoots said.

“What is your plan, filthy xeno?” Apple Bloom asked.

“What does dat even mean? What the zog is a xeno?” she asked.

“An alien that is not human,” Apple Bloom explained.

“So, aren’t you a xeno?” Scootaloo asked.

“Silence, xeno!” Bloom yelled, while Sweetie Belle sighed behind her.

Button sat on the unicorn’s head while she carried Oraban’s rifle, chirping as she marched behind the armored Apple Bloom. “No, they weren’t always like this, Button,” she told him, unheard by either of her friends. “They used to be good friends,” she told him.

He chirped again.

“No, I don’t think this stop anytime soon.”

Another chirp.

She smirked. “Yes, I want this, I’m sure,” she said, before turning to her friends. “The both of you need to stop if you want to sneak up on the orks.”

“Nah,” Scoots said. “We’ll be fine. I’s and yous is purple, and Bloom’s red. We’re sneaky and fast!”

Sweetie Belle blinked. “What?”

“Old ork superstition,” Apple Bloom explained.

“And how do you know that?” Sweetie asked.

“I’m a most honorable Blood Raven,” she answered, as if that explained everything.

“I…” she began. “I’m not even going to ask. Not now, anyway.”

“Alright boyz,” Scootaloo said. “Yous about to enter an ork camp. Now all wes gotta do is to keep quiet and wait.”

“For how long?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Not long at all, Bloom. Not long at all.”

---=][=---

On the opposite end of the crater, in the defiled eldar fortress, the forces of Chaos were at work.

Legionnaires sacrificed themselves, bleeding into a massive sigil the filled with their blood as the Chaos Marines fell.

A low, droning chant echoed through the air, bouncing off the walls of the defiled stone and wraithbone. Rising with power as the chaos grew.

Vulek watched, confused. Their Sorcerer was nowhere to be found, and yet they performed their ritual with perfect timing, it was as though it was a ritual so rehearsed and practiced that the Legionnaires simply knew what needed to be done. They knew, and willingly died for this.

Kraagan stood next to the Debaucher, smiling as his own men slaughtered themselves.

Vulek, meanwhile only shook his head. “Why?” he asked.

“Why, what?” Kraagan asked.

“Why do you sacrifice your men?” he asked. “Why not the cultists you brought with you? Why the marines?”

Kragaan turned, about to answer, when they both felt a presence.

Vulek turned, and stared into a half-formed being. A cloud of darkness and hate that glared in his soul with burning eyes. The Debaucher could only gape as the daemon who hungered for a body glared into his eyes.

“Because,” the thing said in a voice like wine, “power demands sacrifice.”

---=][=---

“Success is measured in blood; yours or your enemy's.”—Imperial Thought of the Day.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the time is here, the forces of Chaos will raise with an old face at their lead, and only Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo have the knowledge to stop him.

It...is on.

"That was so cheesy, you could call it fondue."

Thank you, Pinkie.

"Next time!"

I have but one word...

SSSSSSIIIIINNNNNDDDRRRRRIIII!

"See you then!"

Bye!

Chapter XXVIII

On all sides of the crater, the armies began to gather.

The Eldar forces, beaten from yesterday, had gathered in somber silence, as though this were their last day. They’re numbers were far lower than the previous day, but they were here, ready to face the invaders.

Farseer Elahina looked to the sky, watching the clouds roll in above her. The omens of today did not promise good things, and while the coming events were too close for her sight, she could tell that this coming battle would not turn in the Craftworld’s favor. She sighed, hoping that at least, a few souls would escape the devastation today.

And then, something began to happen. An air of pain, sadness and depression began to surround her, and her hands began to shake as the source began to get closer. The faint ringing of a small bell sounded behind her, and it took all her might not to psychically scream as whatever presence was behind drove nails into her mind. “You have done well, Farseer,” a masculine voice said behind her.

She turned, a found herself staring at a male figure, tall, athletic, and lithe. He was dressed in a long, black, hooded cloak, with huge, almost comically-oversized lapels, decorated in a checkerboard pattern of cyan and magenta. At his waist was a large belt of magenta cloth, and at it’s center, a hand-sized red gem that reflected the scene about her. The black and gold buttons that held his cloak in place, left the coat open at the legs, where the same checkerboard pattern decorated his legs. His feet were encased in large, pointed shoes, the points curling up on themselves like a jester’s. Around his ankle was a golden band, and from that hung a small golden bell, shaped like a laughing face.

The band alone would have marked this Eldar as a Harlequin, a servant of the Eldar Laughing God, Cegorach. The brightly-garbed Eldar were beyond reproach, and the kings and Farseers of the Craftworlds and Exodites listened when they spoke. Even their dark cousins and the Mon’Keigh listened to the Harlequins, even allowing them to perform their elaborate and artful plays on their own planets.

But all that passed by the wayside as soon as she saw the horned, daemonic mask that adorned his face.

“You’ve done exactly as I asked, Elahina,” he said.

She swallowed as she saw the mask. The thing that marked the figure before her as a Solitaire. They were the loners of the Harlequins, but were arguably the most powerful among them. Of all Harlequins, only a Solitare could play the part of Slaanesh in their performances, as any others who tried lost their minds and fell into an insanity most vile.

“I-I have, Solitare,” she said, trying to recover her resolve. “The one known as Sweetie Belle has left for the Infinity Gate, as you asked.”

He nodded. “Yes, the Laughing God has seen, and he approves of your service,” he said, before moving, dancing before her in soft, smooth, gentle movements.

Elahina could not help but glance at the weapon attached to his forearm. The long tube known literally as “the kiss of doom” in the Eldar tongue glinted in the morning light.

“You have done well,” he said, his voice musical, yet even behind the stoic mask he wore, “and I would have you know that plans in plans have been set in motion.”

Elahina tried her best to bite back a bitter thought, yet even still, an aggressive tone leaked from her voice. “Will one of these plans save our people?”

The Solitaire regarded her for a moment, and the Farseer once more found herself unnerved by his mask.

It was as though the face of She Who Thirsts himself was staring into her soul.

Staring most hungrily.

“All you need know, Farseer,” he said, before his dance took him further and further away, “is that you need to listen to the voices on the field.”

“The voices on the field?” she asked confused, turning back to crater. “What do you mean by—”

But the Solitaire was gone, leaving only shadow and the morning fog where he once stood.

The Farseer blinked, before sighing. “Somehow, I can’t help but think that this is how the Mon’Keigh feel when we speak to them.”

---=][=---

Morning was rising on the Blood Raven’s camp, and Gabriel Angelos was ready for it.

The camp was already abuzz with activity as Space Marines prepared boxes of ammo and readied vehicles for today’s battle.

Gabriel took it all in with an expert eye, watching his brothers move while he walked towards the Land Raider.

The Litany of Fury would arrive in orbit today, and Apple Bloom’s trap would spring. With drop pods falling behind the Chaos, Eldar, and Ork lines, their victory would be all but secured. It would be a difficult fight against the sheer numbers of the enemy, but it could be done.

Still, it was a shame that Apple Bloom would not be here to watch her plan unfold.

He sighed, before he checked the Daemonhammer in his hand, a gift from a now-passed Inquisitor, gained the same day Isador was offered the Emperor’s peace. He gripped it in his hand, before grabbing the massive rungs of the Land Raider, and climbed up onto the chassis of the massive tank.

“Brothers!” he cried, getting the attention of the Space Marines around him. “The time has come!” he yelled.

The Blood Ravens quickly collected into their squads, forming ranks and files of super soldiers.

“Come, my brothers!” he yelled from atop the land raider. “It is time! For the Emperor!”

---=][=---

The ork were moving quickly.

Apple Bloom couldn’t help but notice that they were incredibly eager to move Northward towards the crater, so eagerly, in fact that moving in her mighty power armor went unnoticed by them.

Scootaloo was ahead of them, ducked down behind a large chunk of metal that probably passed as a wall, by ork standards. “‘Ang on,” she said, holding out her hoof behind her. “Not yet.”

“I am beginning to wonder if we will move at all,” Apple Bloom muttered.

“Oi, do you want ta lead?” Scootaloo asked. “Because unless you can speak ork, I don’t fink any of them will listen.”

“They probably wouldn’t listen anyways…” Sweetie said.

If Apple Bloom heard her, she didn’t act on it. “Oh yes, because grunting with a lisp is so difficult to master. How on earth would I ever learn to speak orkish?”

“You can stuff yer gob,” Scootaloo growled. “Or I can stuff it for ya.”

“The two of you need to stop it!” Sweetie Belle hissed. “We’re not here to make noise, we’re here to help defeat Chaos, and maybe save everyone who saved our lives in the process! Now can you both be quiet for the next thirty minutes so we can help them?”

Apple Bloom sighed, looking to the sky, before she spoke. “Very well, silence it is,” she said.

“And can you take your helmet off?” Sweetie asked. “I’m sick of staring at a mask of metal.”

Apple Bloom regarded her for a moment, before her mechadendrites slowly grabbed her helmet, removing it. “I suppose I can follow the tradition today,” she said, before connecting it to her belt. “I will need to move closer, now,” she said, “I will not have access to the Vox arrays without it.”

“Well, thank you, anyways,” Sweetie said nodding.

“If you two are done,” Scootaloo said, before waving them forward. “Da coast is clear.”

The three ponies ran through the now abandoned camp, Scootaloo leading the way. “Now there should be some trukks around here.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Apple Bloom whispered. “We’re going to blow up even before we get there.”

“Apple Bloom,” Sweetie warned.

“Have you seen a trukk?” the Space Marine whispered back. “It’s a miracle they don’t shake themselves apart on the road!”

“‘Ere we go!” Scootaloo called, before they found themselves before a battle-damaged trukk. The bed was still in one piece, but beyond that, there was little keeping it on its wheels. The entire front end of the trukk was missing, no driver’s seat, no engine, nothing but a hook of twisted metal. “This should be just fine!” Scootaloo said.

Apple Bloom blinked. “S-Scootaloo,” she began looking at the wreckage that would soon be their transport. “I know you orks are used to driving junk, but I don’t think even you could drive this.”

Scootaloo smiled, before saying. “Just wait ‘ere. Oi’ll be roight back.”

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle looked at each other, not perfectly confident in her sudden declaration, but they waited nonetheless. When the sound of a chugging engine and belching smoke began to sound and get closer, however, they both were surprised to see a massive red bike rolling up next to them. Scootaloo smiled as she sat on the bike’s seat, before saying with a toothy grin. “Who said anyfin’ about drivin’ da trukk?”

---=][=---

The Alpha Legionnaires were almost gone, most having killed themselves for sacrifice after sacrifice to this daemon named Sindri. Their dedication to this cause was impressive.

And terrifying.

In his thousand years of service to the Prince of Pleasure, Vulek the Debaucher had never seen anything like this. He had witnessed cultists, the small, puny things slaughter themselves before, but a Marine? They were a cut above these simple men, and yet at a word they threw their lives away.

And now, a Daemon Prince was forming.

So far, it was only his upper body, and that was more than enough for Vulek to be unnerved.

In one hand, he held a massive, daemonic blade, while the other was a massive set of claws, twisted by magics that were beyond the Debaucher’s understanding. The eight-pointed star of Chaos Undivided was embossed on every surface, save his face, which was a massive red welt on all reality.

“My vengeance is near!” Sindri roared. “The Ravens will curse the days of their birth, and their mothers will weep until the Corpse Emperor is drowned in tears and blood!”

“It is almost time!” Kraagan laughed. “Almost time!”

Vulek slowly began to back away from the courtyard, trying to avoid the gaze of the daemon that was slowly forming before him. Something about this wasn’t right. This daemon Prince was bought with the lives of Alpha Legionnaires, and the Prince was a Legionnaire himself. Everything about that was sounding off warning bells in his head. This was too greatly in the Legionnaire’s favor, and every servant of Chaos knew you did not trust a Legionnaire.

He continued to back away, keeping his face towards the daemon, before finally stepping into the keep of the Eldar fortress.

He suppressed a shiver, before cursing himself. What was he? A Corpse Worshipping fool? No! He was a Captain of the Emperor’s Children! He had committed horrors that would send these Legionnaires running terrified. He was beyond this petty fear he felt.

Which is why he wasn’t going back into the courtyard.

“Sir?” A Chaos marine asked behind him, drugged up by the sound of his voice.

Vulek growled, partly for the anger at the weakness in his bones, partly for the impotence of his own men. “Prepare the Soulgrinders! We march!”

“What of the Legionnaires?” the Emperor’s Child asked.

“Forget them!” Vulek roared. “We march now!”

---=][=---

The world shot past Sweetie Belle as she sat in the back of the trukk, rattling beside the surprisingly still Apple Bloom. Button hung onto her hair, trying just as desperately to stay in the makeshift wagon as she was. It took all she had to stay put, all the while, holding onto Oraban’s rifle. “Are you sure this is safe?” she asked as she felt the bed of the trukk bounce on its suspension and heard at least one unseen piece of machinery snap.

“It’s ork machinery,” Apple Bloom said. “None of it is safe.”

Scootaloo’s bike squealed as it ran up a ramp, flying through the air and trailing smoke and roaring through the trees like it was some kind of dragon.

“I don’t know if I can hold on!” she said, before the trukk bounced upon landing.

Apple Bloom didn’t look at her, but a mechadendrite did shoot out, and grabbed her by one of the growths emerging from her spine. “I can,” she yelled back.

Scootaloo suddenly pointed westward. “Look, there’s da Waaagh!” she yelled, and both ponies looked over to see a wave of ork, all running and screaming as they headed north.

“They’re going to outpace us!” Sweetie yelled.

“Like zoggin’ ‘ell they will!” Scoots growled, before her bike shot forward once more.

Sweetie Belle yelped as she bounced in the wagon bed, only for Apple Bloom’s strong, mechanical mechadendrite to grab her. “Don’t go running out on me now, Sweetie Belle,” she said. “After all the trouble you put me through, you best stick with me.”

Sweetie smiled. “I will do what I can.”

---=][=---

Lazarus cursed as he sat behind cover. The Legionnaires were keeping them pinned. So far, they had suffered no casualties, but they could not stand staying still for so long, not when the Chapter Master needed to be warned.

“Any confirmed hits?” Lazarus asked.

“Negative, Librarian!” Israfiel’s robotic voice answered.

Lazarus cursed again. “We need to go!” he roared.

“Shall we make a push for the crater?” Ramiel asked.

“Watch for an opening, but do not move unless it is guaranteed.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” Came the answer.

And then something most strange happened.

The bolter fire stopped.

There was silence.

“What’s happened?” Karlon asked.

“They ceased fire?” Coberos repeated.

“They must have,” Ramiel agreed.

“But why?” Israfiel asked.

Lazarus silenced them. “We cannot spend too much time questioning it. It could be a trap, but we must move forward.”

Coberous nodded. “Understood, Librarian, let’s move out.”

---=][=---

The crater was surrounded on all sides. A severely depleted Chaos army stood to the North, while the armies of the Space Marines, Eldar and ork stood to the East, South and West, respectively.

They were ready.

They would all finish what they had begun the day before.

Gabriel’s Land Raider pulled forward, as did Grimtrasha and Farseer Elahina. The only leader that did not step forward was Vulek, who merely waited from the lip of the crater. Gabriel, however, stood proud, before raising his hammer. “We will not be found wanting!” he roared, and the Space Marines behind him all roared in answer.

Not to be outdone, the orks roared, and the single word “Waaagh!” echoed across the crater, loud and proud.

The Eldar, being a more refined race, said nothing, but the hum of Wave Serpent Grav tanks and warp-weapons sounded as they began to power up and ready for the battle.

The forces of Chaos writhed as the Emperor’s Children stood at the ready, and the Noise Marines let their sonic weapons wail in anticipation.

The Land Raider began to move forward, as did Grimtrasha and Elahina, with their own soldiers following behind.

All eyes were on them as the world went to war.

And then the sound of a rumbling motor cut the air, as did the sound of a feminine voice screaming with joy.

A bike, pulling a shoddy, makeshift wagon shot through out of the forest, from the spaces between the armies, and flew over the crater lip. It landed, jostling wildly as it hit the dirt. “Scootaloo!” A voice yelled as the bike flew down the hillside. “I know you were raised by orks, but do you have to drive like them?”

A laugh was the only response as the the bike continued to fly down the crater, all eyes on them. The bike then roared as it began turning westward. Apple Bloom stood in the wagon, her magnetic soles holding her to the bed of the trukk, mechadendrite still holding onto Sweetie Belle, before yelling. “This is your stop, Sweetie Belle!” she yelled, before she threw the unicorn out of the trukk.

Sweetie flew up, soaring through the air, before her growths became large, wraithbone legs, holding her in the air as she moved forward like a spider.

The bike screeched and turned, kicking up dirt as the bike tore towards the Astares. “Your stop’s next!” Scootaloo roared.

Apple Bloom nodded. “I got it. Are you sure you know how to get orks to fight Chaos?”

Scootaloo smiled from her seat. “You just worry ‘bout da Emperor’s Boyz. I can get da Waaagh! movin’!”

Apple Bloom nodded, before leaping out of the trukk.

---=][=---

Sweetie Belle ran up towards the Eldar forces, moving as fast as her wraithbone legs could carry her.

Elahina watched her, blinking all the way.

“Farseer! Farseer!” Sweetie Belle cried. “Farseer! The forces of Chaos are trying to bring forth a Daemon Prince!”

The Eldar behind the Farseer began to gasp, and a wave of worry passed through the army, followed by another wave of incredulous questioning and suspicion.

Sweetie felt it all, before she yelled back in her defense. “Oraban the ranger heard the enemy say it. They want to raise a Daemon Prince, and they will turn it against all of us! We have to face the forces of Chaos, and we must do it together!”

Elahina blinked, but she could feel the psychic tide behind her. The scandalized, confused, and horrified wave of a single word. “Together?”

“We need to face the enemy! All of us! Ork, Space Marine, and Eldar! We must!”

Elahina stared down at little Sweetie, and could only wonder.

---=][=---

Apple Bloom landed on the ground, crushing any pebbles beneath her, before running towards her brothers.

Gabriel watched her run forward, confusion on his face.

“Brothers!” she cried. “Brothers! I have news!”

The Astartes stared on.

“Brothers, the archenemy is bringing forth a Daemon Prince to their aid. They mean to destroy us all!”

The Space Marines said nothing, and Gabriel watched her with a curious eye.

“My old friends are doing what they can to convince the xenos to turn their attention to the heretics that wish to face us, and I only ask that you leave them alive long enough to deal with our enemy!”

Gabriel stared down at her from the Land Raider, before a crackling in his ear suddenly sounded. “Chapter Master! This is Librarian Lazarus! We have news!”

---=][=---

Scootaloo and her bike pulled up before Grimtrasha and the orks, and smiled big and wide.

“Whatcha’ doing, Shootaloota?” Grimtrasha asked.

“Came ta ask ya da same fing,” she said, still smiling wide.

“Oi’m gonna foight!” Grimtrasha growled. “What are yous doin’?”

Scootaloo smiled, before she leapt up, flapping her wings, until she landed on the high headrest of her seat. “Oi! Yous gits!” she yelled into the Waaagh!

“What?” came the answer.

“Da Chaos boyz got’s betta loot!”

There was silence across the Waaagh! Silence for only a second.

“Waaaaaaaaagh!” they roared, before every single ork, a Deathskull to his core, began charging to the North, running for Chaos.

Scootaloo smiled, before she slid back down into her seat, and gunning the engine.

---=][=---

Gabriel had heard all he needed, between Apple Bloom, and Lazarus he was certain this was the truth.

He spoke into his vox relay, speaking directly to Land Raider. “Prepare to charge the Heretic’s line.”

“Yes, Chapter Master,” came the reply.

Gabriel then began to turn, to face his brothers and lead them into battle, only to hear the battlecry of the ork.

He watched, blinking, as the ork all charged northward, and the strange pony on the bike to pull up, waiting on Apple Bloom.

Gabriel blinked again, before turning to the Blood Ravens. “Well, brothers? Are you going to let the ork take all the glory?”

Apple Bloom smiled, before leaping back into trukk, bolter at the ready.

“We will not be found wanting!”

---=][=---

Elahina suddenly understood.

These were the voices on the field, and she had to listen.

She knew that, but the others? All of them? Was there anyway to convince them?

Then the orks charged.

Then the Space Marines.

Only the Eldar had not moved.

The Farseer turned.

“Well?” she asked them, a psychic message that rippled through the army. “Are we going to let the younger species fight our enemy while we sit by the wayside?”

The ork bike pulled up, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom waiting. “Sweetie, it’s time to go!” Scootaloo yelled.

Sweetie Belle looked between the two.

And Elahina spoke to her. “Go, Sweetie Belle. We will follow. Even if I must shame the entire Craftworld into action, we will follow.”

She smiled, before her wraithbone legs shot her up into the trukk bed. “Floor it, Scoots!”

The bike’s wheels spun crazily, before catching the dirt and sending the bike shooting forward.

And Elahina stared down her army.

Apple Bloom yelled. “Sweetie, anchor yourself here, here and here!” she said, pointing at various points on the bed.

She obeyed, her wraithbone legs pinning her to the trukk.

The Blood Raven then chanced a look back. “Are they coming?”

“You better believe they will!” She said with a smirk.

---=][=---

Vulek watched as the strange little ork vehicle careened into the crater, and could only look on, confused as two strange, four-legged creatures leapt out of the little vehicle, stood before the Eldar and the Space Marines while the bike then ran over to the ork.

It seemed so strange.

What were they? What were they saying? Why hadn’t they been shot yet?

“Sir, your orders?” a nearby marine asked.

Vulek just stared. “I…prepare to charge,” he said, eventually.

And then the orks cried.

They charged forward, running into the crater before they began to charge the northern face.

And then the Space Marines roared.

They ran, joining the ork in the climb towards them.

And then came the Eldar, silent, but twice as fast, charging into the fray, and running up towards the Chaos line.

“Sir?!” the chaos marine cried again.

Vulek blinked, before the true horror of what was happening began to set in. “Don’t charge! Shoot them down! Kill them where they stand!”

The roaring of a engine suddenly filled their ears, and the laugh of a crazed maniac filled the air.

Scootaloo’s bike cleared the crater lip, flying into the air.

“We’s gonna have a foight!”

---=][=---

The forces of Chaos were surrounded on all sides.

Ork choppas, Eldar blades, and the whirling Chainswords of the Adeptus Astartes ripped into the ceramite and adamantium of the Chaos armor. Bolters roared, shuriken whistled, and ork bullets exploded for no particular reason. The entire north side was a mass of writhing bodies, and blinding attacks.

Scootaloo’s bike tore through the enemy lines, running over any Chaos marine she could find.

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle stood in the trukk bed, the former, firing her bolter while the latter use Oraban’s long rifle. Her pinpoint, blue shots found the weak points between the armor, while Apple Bloom’s shots tore through armor.

Scootaloo laughed. “Just like the good ole’ days, huh, girls?”

Sweetie Belle took another shot, the blue las bolt slamming into the space between a Noise marine’s helmet and his chestplate, turning his throat into juice. “You and I remember the good ole’ days very differently!” she said.

Apple Bloom fired into the Chaos ranks. “Less talking! More shooting! Scootaloo! Find the captain, and run him over!”

Scootaloo smiled. “Can do!”

---=][=---

“Yes! Yes!” Sindri yelled, his form almost complete. “It is upon us!” he roared.

Kraagan watched as the daemon began to move, tearing at the limits that still kept him in the warp.

“Bear witness to my resurrection!” he roared, breaking free at last. “Let the galaxy burn!”

Kraagan watched as Daemon Prince finally stood free, before raising a single hand.

And with that the remaining Legionnaires slowly backed away.

---=][=---

“A hundred thousand worlds, ten hundred thousand wars. There is no respite, there is nowhere to hide. Across the galaxy there is only war.” —Imperial Thought of the Day

Next time!

"The united front against Chaos!"

Sindri joins the fray!

"All this and more!"

We'll see you then!

"Bye!"

Chapter XXIX

“Die heretic!” Apple Bloom roared, as she filled the soon-to-be-pile of meat with bolter rounds.

Scootaloo’s bike screeched across the warzone, with the pegasus driving it laughing all the way. Her tires squealed as they bit dirt, and she leaned out to the side, power klaw extended. “Come on, boyz! Let’s ‘ave some fun!”

She gunned it, cranking the throttle, and sending the bike, and the open, waiting jaws of her klaw flying forward.

Sweetie Belle growled as she loosed another shot at a noise marine, before Scootaloo’s klaw snapped down on another marine, forcing the bike to spin to a halt. The sudden stop jolted her, and if it were not for the gyrostatic arm she would have missed entirely.

“Scootaloo! Slow down!” Sweetie cried. “If you keep speeding around like this, this trukk bed’s going to turn into a blender!”

Scoots looked up, a crushed head in her power klaw. “Slow down?” she asked.

“Belay that!” Apple Bloom yelled, smiling. “Greater speed means faster justice! For the Emperor!”

Sweetie gave a long-suffering sigh.

“Die dogs!” a chaos marine roared, firing into trukk side.

A blue streak of blue-hot las energy tore out his throat. “We’re ponies!” Sweetie yelled.

Apple Bloom laughed. “That’s the spirit, Sweetie Belle! We can turn you into a proper soldier yet!” She roared, before her bolter unleashed a line explosive ammo into another soldier of Chaos.

“There it is!” Scootaloo guffawed. “Something to agree on! Kill ‘em ‘arder!”

Sweetie sighed again. “Why is it that I have a feeling that if Chaos doesn’t kill me, you two will?”

Scootaloo laughed, before she gunned the throttle again, throwing the front of her bike upwards in a crazed wheely. "'Ere We Go, 'Ere We Go, 'Ere We Go!"

The battle field was a mess. Large pockets of ork, Blood Raven, and Eldar all fought hard against the Emperor’s Children, destroying them at every turn. Even still, the forces of Chaos were fighting well, throwing grenades and explosive rounds into the large crowds of the allied forces.

Allied, but not together.

Even the thickest of orks could see that the armies were divided. The Blood Ravens stood with the Blood Ravens, the orks, with the orks, and the Eldar with the Eldar.

At the very least, they were not shooting at each other, and that was far better than everyone really expected.

Apple Bloom suddenly yelled. “Scootaloo! The left!”

The pegasus checked to where the Space Marine pointed, and saw a 72-ton-tank breach the forces of Chaos like a whale breaches water. Gabriel Angelos stood proudly upon the roof, swinging his hammer, and crushing the enemy before him. Of course the real problem was the twin-linked lascannon was pointed directly at them, charging.

“Left!” Scootaloo screamed, before turning hard, Sweetie almost flew from the trukk bed, and would have certainly gone airborne if not for the supports of wraithbone she had made for herself, although the broken bed did creak, groan, and bend beneath Apple Bloom’s magnetic soles.

A scorching las shot thundered less than a foot away from Scootaloo’s bike and her makeshift trailer, and Sweetie yelped as the metal beside her began to heat up. It was gone in less than a second, and that was the only thing that kept the three ponies from burning alive.

“Oi! Watch where yer shootin’!” Scootaloo growled.

Gabriel roared, before leaping down from the Land Raider, and bringing God-splitter, his hammer, down onto the skull of another Chaos marine. He smirked before stepping forward. “Sister Apple Bloom, I must say I am surprised see you. I thought you would have returned home by now.”

“Sir!” Apple Bloom said. “When we heard the forces of Chaos were attempting to summon a Daemon Prince, we decided it was best to warn you.”

“A parting thanks to those who spared our lives,” Sweetie explained.

He nodded. “This I can understand,” he said. “I merely hope your efforts have indeed kept the monster at bay.”

“Of course we did!” Scootaloo said. “We’re awesome like that!”

Gabriel raised his eyebrow, before turning back to Apple Bloom. “Have you lost your chance to return to your Princess?”

“No sir, we still have three days, sir,” she answered.

“Excellent,” Gabriel said with a nod.

The ground suddenly shook beneath them, and the trukk groaned once more. “I don’t think this is terribly sturdy,” Sweetie said, before Apple Bloom gasped.

“Chapter Master!” she yelled, pointing at the top of the ridge.

Gabriel turned, and he cursed. A massive figure was appearing on the ridge. A massive, silhouette crested above the horizon, and a hideous head glared into the fray. “I have come!” the monster laughed. “This world shall drown in blood!”

Gabriel growled. “Sindri…”

Scootaloo sighed. “Zoggin’ ‘ell…”

“I agree with your sentiment,” Apple Bloom noted.

“Sister Apple Bloom,” Gabriel ordered.

“Sir!” she answered, saluting.

“I need to take the fight to the beast,” Gabriel said, holding up God-splitter. “Clear the way for me.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “Sir, yes sir! Scootaloo?”

“Ah ‘eard him!” she yelled, before she opened the throttle. The tires squealed again, and it kicked up dirt as it shot forward.

“Is this a good idea?” Sweetie asked as the trukk bed groaned beneath them.

“The Chapter Master wields a Daemon hammer,” Apple Bloom explained. “It is our most effective weapon against him. What of the Eldar?”

“Our weapons are wraithbone,” Sweetie said. “They will cut warp flesh as well as any.”

“Excellent, what of the orks?” Apple Bloom asked.

“We’z got choppas,” Scootaloo said.

“And…?”

“And gunz.”

Apple Bloom blinked. “Alright, well...if the orks want to fight the Daemon, we’ll let them.”

Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes, before taking another shot at a Chaos Marine.

“Just drive towards it, Scootaloo.” Apple Bloom said, as her mechadendrites took aim at the enemies around them. “We’re going to bring him down.”

---=][=---

It would be him.

After all these years, it could only be him.

Gabriel gripped God-splitter in his hands, and the blessed thunder hammer almost hummed in his armored hands. “Sindri…and here I thought that Daemon took you from me.”

Somehow Sindri escaped the Maledictum daemon, somehow saving his soul from the monster’s appetite. Only a sorcerer as twisted and devious as him could find a way to escape even the machinations of a daemon.

But he would not escape justice this day.

“Sindri!” Gabriel yelled, as he stood on his the mighty Land Raider. “It is time to meet your end!”

The Daemon Prince looked up at him.

Maybe he heard Gabriel.

Maybe his psychic field had felt an old, familiar presence. The presence of the man who defeated him once before.

Gabriel gripped his hammer, even as the Daemon began to stomp forward, and as he did, he whispered a prayer to the God-Emperor.

And then, his prayer completed, he whispered two small words. “For Isador.”

---=][=---

“We’re almost there, Scootaloo. The Daemon will taste the wrath of the Emperor today!”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes, and kept driving, grabbing anyone that got to close with her mighty power klaw.

Sweetie was taking aim once more, before a resounding las shot tore through the air. “How much further?” she asked, before she checked the ammunition counter.

“Two hundred meters,” Apple Bloom answered.

“I’d say more two hundred and twelve,” Scootaloo said with a smirk.

Apple Bloom glared at the back of her head, before her eyes caught the sight of a new figure on the horizon. Far smaller than the Daemon, the massive, hulking figure ambled toward them, unleashing deafening blast after blast of sound. There was no mistaking it, it was most certainly an infernal engine of Chaos. “Dreadnought!”

“It’s not enough!” the Sonic dreadnought yelled, as the Dirge Casters on its armor played an eternal loop of shrieks, screams, wails, and propaganda. “It’s not enough!” It’s massive sonic weapon then turned on a poor, unfortunate ork that had wandered too close to the interred warrior, and got caught in the sonic discharge of his weapon.

Scootaloo watched in horror as his eyes burst.

“Turn!” Apple Bloom ordered.

Scoots threw all her weight behind the handlebars, and the bike went sliding. It went almost flat as the bike’s momentum carried it sideways, and the entire right side was scratched by the dirt beneath them.

And with that sudden turn, the trukk could take it no longer. The hook of twisted metal, the one that Scootaloo had made into a makeshift trailer hitch, snapped in half, and the trukk went soaring forward, going airborne as hit a stone ramp.

Apple Bloom cursed, instinctively drawing her knife, and Sweetie Belle leapt out of the trukk bed entirely, flying through the air like a wraithbone spear. Both ponies flew forward, straight towards the Sonic Dreadnought.

“We will not be found wanting!” Apple Bloom roared, before both she and Sweetie Belle slammed into the armored sarcophagus. A wraithbone blade, powered by psychic might, sliced through the armor, and Apple Bloom’s knife slammed straight through the Sonic Dreadnought's visor.

“At last!” the Dreadnought laughed. “Feeling at last!”

“You will only feel death!” Apple Bloom roared, before she stabbed him once more.

Sweetie Belle followed suit, her wraithbone blades slicing through the tainted armor with surprising ease.

A sudden explosion rocked to their left.

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle both looked over, and saw a Chaos Marine with a smoking missile launcher.

They also saw Scootaloo sitting over a crumpled mess of metal rubble.

“My bike!” Scootaloo cried, before turning to the Chaos Marine. “I’ll zoggin’ kill ya!”

Apple Bloom sighed, even as Scootaloo tore the man to shreds.

Once the chaos marine lay in pieces, she called out. “Scootaloo!”

“Whatcha want?” the pegasus asked, obviously trying not to cry as she held the decapitated, and heavily damaged helmet of the late heretic.

“We can mourn your bike later, now we have job to do,” Apple Bloom told her.

Scootaloo sniffed, before standing. “I’m gonna kill all of dem.”

Apple Bloom smiled. “Then help us bring down the big one.”

She nodded. “I can do that.”

The three ponies stood together, armed with blades, hooves, and klaw.

“Attack!” Apple Bloom yelled, as the they charged back into the fray, swinging blades, and kicking with their hooves.

Scootaloo’s power klaw ripped through armor, tearing ceramite plates and flesh apart with ease. Sweetie Belle followed behind, a whirlwind of wraithbone death, and the occasional shot from the long rifle. Not far behind came Apple Bloom herself, a charging bull of a Space Marine, her knife slashing through flesh, and the Left Hand of Gabriel spitting fire.

---=][=---

Vulek the Debaucher cursed.

He had not moved since Sindri took the field, instead choosing to lead from the hill. Now, he simply watched as the Daemon Prince lumbered towards the Blood Raven’s Land Raider. And he also watched as three, strange, four-legged xenos cut through his ranks like a power sword through armor.

Whenever he saw them, he just felt rage boil through him. Who did they think they were? Who were they to come against the Great Slaanesh? Who were they to unite these enemies? And where were the Alpha Legion?!

Vulek growled, before he yelled into his own vox relay. “The first one to kill those four-legged xenos gets a double portion of narcotics, and first choice of the prisoners! Kill them now!”

---=][=---

Sindri stomped forward, crushing any fool that stood beneath him. Gabriel Angelos was here, and that was more than enough reason to destroy everything in his way.

“Sindri!” Gabriel yelled, staring up the Daemon Prince, gripping his hammer tightly. “I will end you this day as ended you on Tartarus!”

“I will bathe the galaxy in your blood!” The Daemon roared, before he charged the two.

Gabriel’s Land Raider opened fire with both the two twin-linked lascannons, and the twin-linked Heavy bolters at Gabriel’s feet.

The Las blasts, that same that would evaporate a Chaos Marine’s unarmored head, simply slapped the Daemon’s flesh. The bolts exploded against him, small shots of shrapnel flying off upon impact, but not a shot penetrated his skin.

Sindri’s power sword, on the other hand, was eager to bite through the adamantium of the Land Raider’s armor, and if it were not for a single leap on Gabriel’s part, both of them would be dead.

The tank was ripped open, the armor gave easily to the Daemonic blade, and the Land Raider now lay dead, completely destroyed. The Machine Spirit could not survive the blow.

The hexagrammic sigils on God-Splitter glowed softly, reacting to the Daemon’s presence. “I shall bring you to justice!” Gabriel yelled.

“You will die!” Sindri growled, swinging his massive, clawed hand. The power that radiated off his claw sparked and shot off in purple lightning, arcing across the sky before striking the ground with power. “You will all die!”

“All units!” Gabriel yelled into his vox. “Focus fire on the Daemon!”

“I will end you!” Sindri roared, before his massive hand came up, ready to strike once more.

A sudden, psychic blast rocked upward and Sindir stumbled backwards a step, two steps, before falling backwards.

Gabriel checked his side, and was surprised to see the blue and yellow armored figure of an Eldar. She wore an impressive cloak, and in her hands rested a wraithbone spear. When she spoke, Gabriel could almost hear her smile. “I will not let you take all the victories this day, Space Marine.”

Gabriel smirked in answer. “Then you will need to take if from me, Eldar.”

“Oi!” a voice called behind them, and both turned to see an ork with a bionic arm and leg stomp toward them, with a two-handed Big Choppa in his hands. “Are you two da bosses?”

Both Gabriel and Elahina blinked. “Um...yes?” she answered.

“We are,” Gabriel nodded.

“Den lay off da big one! ‘E’s mine!” Grimthrasha grunted.

Elahina blinked. “Excuse me?” she asked.

“‘E’s mine, cuz Ah want ‘is choppa!”

Gabriel blinked, before looking back to the recovering Daemon. “His sword?” he asked.

“Roight! Ah want da choppa, so Ah foights ‘im, and Ah’ll get da loot!” Grimthrasha told them.

“But…” Elahina began, “but the blade is a part of his manifestation, it cannot anchor itself to the material realm without—”

Gabriel raised a hand. “Eldar, if the ork wants the blade, he can keep it.”

Elahina looked to him, before slowly nodding. “Of course he can…”

Gabriel nodded. “You see ork? The loot is yours.”

Grimthrasha laughed. “Yous a so easy!”

“Either one, or one thousand,” Sindri said, finally regaining his foot, “it matters not! You will all die!”

Gabriel grinned as he gripped his hammer. “And if we take you with us, then so be it!”

---=][=---

The Bolt pistol in Apple Bloom’s mechadendrite clicked empty, and she growled just long enough to switch weapons. “I’m running low on ammunition,” she yelled.

“Join the club!” Sweetie Belle answered, the long rifle slung across her back.

“Klaws don’t need bullets!” Scootaloo laughed, slicing through yet another Chaos Marine. “But my Shootas aren’t ‘ere.”

“You have firearms?” Apple Bloom asked.

“I left them back at camp this morning!” Scootaloo said, before she grabbed onto a Chaos Marine’s arm, and began to squeeze. “Flyin’ quiet ain’t easy with them on!”

“So why didn’t you pick them up when we got your bike?” Sweetie asked.

A beat.

“Scootaloo?”

The Pegasus glared, the remains of an armored arm in her Klaw. “Not a word out of you. Understand?”

Sweetie rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

“You are also low on ammunition, Sweetie Belle?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Yes,” she groaned in answer, “that’s what I said! I should have grabbed Oraban’s extra power cells.”

“You should have,” Apple Bloom said, before her bolter roared once more.

They were surrounded on all sides, fighting a new swarm of Chaos Marines as they flooded around them. Yet despite the sea of enemies around them, they stood. An island of justice, the three ponies attacked with klaw, blade, and bolt, destroying those who approached. Between the multiple blades of Sweetie Belle, the intense training of Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo’s years of living amongst some of the most violent aliens in the galaxy, not a single Chaos Marine could touch them.

They stood, back-to-back-to back, Apple Bloom firing with her bolter while Sweetie skewered the fools that charged them, and all the while, Scootaloo ripped men to shreds. With long, medium, and short range covered, there was nothing that they could not destroy.

And somewhere, in the back of her mind, Apple Bloom could feel something coming alive again, a word that echoed from her life before. It wiggled and niggled in her mind, begging to be remembered once more.

Her eyes wandered from the sea of Warp-addled minds, directly up the the Daemon, who struck with his blade as blasts of Warp energy, and a crazed, jumping ork shot past him.

“We need to aid the Chapter Master!” Apple Bloom yelled.

“Who?” Scootaloo asked. “More importantly, we need to ‘elp Grimthrasha! Ah worked too hard to make him Boss only for ‘im to die by a Daemon.”

“I sense the Farseer there as well!” Sweetie said. “They will need our help!”

“We’re agreed then? We must go to the Daemon?” Apple Bloom asked.

They both answered the affirmative.

“Then Scootaloo, grab Sweetie Belle and fly for him, I’ll be behind you!” the Space Marine said.

“You want me to carry her?” the pegasus asked.

“We need someone to distract him!” Apple Bloom answered. “And nothing will distract him more than a face full of wraithbone!”

Sweetie nodded. “She has a point.”

Scootaloo groaned. “Fine, but let’s hurry!”

Apple Bloom nodded.

Ah, yes…

That was the word…

“Crusaders! Charge!”

---=][=---

Gabriel’s hammer swung hard against the Daemon’s flesh, and Sindri roared in pain. The massive blade swung around, trying to catch the Chapter Master and end his miserable existence. The blade was then caught, somehow, by the whining Big Choppa that Grimthrasha held in his hand.

Not to say that he left unscathed.

The very presence of the daemonic blade burned the air around it, and the skin along Grimthrasha’s arms began to boil. Yet even then, the ork didn’t so much as scream, instead, he only gave a pained grunt. And that was all the old ork was going to give the daemon, that, and the blade of his choppa.

Warp blasts shot into Sindri’s back, and he turned his attention to the Eldar Farseer.

The energies of the Warp surrounded Elahina, and her eyes glowed brightly as she faced her enemy. Blasts of purple fire and lightning shot forward, while pure energy spiralled about her. “Return to the Warp, beast. Go, and return to your masters.”

Sindri growled. “I will destroy you all.”

Grimthrasha laughed. “'Ere We Go, 'Ere We Go, 'Ere We Go!”

“You will try, heretic,” Gabriel said.

Elahina floated beside him, energy crackling about her. “Yet you will fail.”

Sindri’s face twisted in rage. “Be silent, fools!” he roared, before sweeping his arm above them. A wave of energy washed over the three leaders, and despite their best efforts, they fell backwards, stumbling as thousands of pounds of force pushed against them.

“You will all die!” he roared.

“Waaaaaagh!” a voice yelled behind them.

Sindri turned.

And there, an orange streak across the blue sky, was Scootaloo.

And right beneath her, gripped in her forelegs was Sweetie Belle.

Sindri had enough time to blink at the strange creatures, before Scootaloo threw the unicorn with all her might.

Sweetie Belle flew forward, spreading out four wraithbone legs before latching onto Sindri’s face.

“Ah! What is this?” the Daemon roared, before a sudden burst of warp-fire erupted from Sweetie Belle’s horn.

He roared in pain once more, before he moved to push her off his face.

She scurried away, crawling out of the way just as Sindri’s massive, gauntleted hand slammed into his own face.

He staggered back, even as Sweetie Belle ran across his horned head, like a spider across a wall. Shortly behind, came Scootaloo, gliding down, and klaw outstretched. She roared as she slammed into him, and her klaw crackled with energy, even as it bit into Sindri’s flesh.

And right behind them came Apple Bloom, charging even as the power generators in her legs began to whine. Her bolter thundered as shot after shot slammed into Sindri’s legs.

Sweetie Belle scurried around his head once more, distracting him as Scootaloo’s klaw bit into his sword arm.

And that’s when Apple Bloom kicked.

Her hooves struck true and struck hard, and Sindri tried, but failed to keep upright.

He slammed into the ground, and the Crusaders were on him in an instant.

“Attack, Crusaders! Attack!” Apple Bloom yelled.

And they leapt.

---=][=---

“What nonsense is this?” Sindri thought.

The daemon had answered his summons, and was eager to bring about his revenge. It was to be such a simple thing. Just a little warm up before he burned the planets to ash.

And yet this happened.

These three xeno had hit him with a strength he had never before felt.

He could hardly see them, half shapes in the materium, and voids in the warp, the only reasons he knew they were upon him was the force with which they struck, and the glowing rainbow of color in their eyes.

Something was very wrong here.

He tried to get up, tried to regain his feet, but an overwhelming strength slapped him back down. “What is this?”

All three of these creatures stood on him, glaring down with power and color in their eyes.

This was wrong.

Their eyes held the red of Khorne. The rage, anger, and strength of the Blood God turned and focused into righteous fury. It had the blue of Tzeentch, the cunning and plotting of the god of change harnessed into wisdom and strategy. Nurgle’s green was also there, the cycle of life, death, and stagnation finding balance for a single, hopeful moment. Even Slaanesh’s purple shone there, her passion and love finding an odd purity that he had not thought was not possible.

They were all there. Together. In harmony.

It didn’t matter. Even if he were to fall here, he would live. Daemons could not be killed, only banished.

He tried to raise his blade once more, tried to kill them where they stood.

“Oi! Dat choppa’s mine!” a voice said beside him, and he turned to see an ork grab his hand.

He should have been able to toss the ork aside, but...he felt so...weak.

His other hand moved, before he felt a hammer strike slam into his palm.

A force, that cursed Eldar held his feet.

And the three creatures stood on his chest.

And then a single word echoed in his ears.

“Crusaders!”

And then the world exploded in color.

---=][=---

In the depths of the warp, deep in the Blood God’s Domain, the Brass Citadel stood proud in the Cracked Lands. Khorne heard and felt the Wave, pass over him and his skull throne. Slowly, the constant din of fighting began to fade in the blood god’s fortress.

In the Realm of the Sorcerer, the Impossible Fortress loomed over the crystal labyrinth. Tzeentch had planned and plotted in his tower since the dawn of time, but as the Wave passed over it, the wheels in his mind began to slow.

Nurgle stood in his garden, looking over his boiling cauldron. The foul diseases and plagues that had emerged from that pot had ravaged the galaxy for years, but as the Wave passed over his land, his mansion and his garden, Grandpapa Nurgle looked up, and blinked. He then turned to Isha, the Eldar goddess of healing, locked in her cage, and blinked once more, even as she smiled with hope.

Even Slaanesh, who sat in her palace, and stared down into the Six Circles of Seduction, paused in his debauchery as the Wave passed over him. The moans and groans of pleasure and pain quieted as the poor souls in her palace felt the Wave.

And then, for a single, solitary moment, the Warp was perfectly, completely silent.

The world had changed in that moment.

A Daemon was dead.

Really, truly dead.

Harmony had come to the Galaxy.

---=][=---

Vulek cursed.

Something had happened.

Something beyond explanation had ruined everything. Those cursed xenos had somehow defeated the Daemon Prince, and some strange, multicolored power had washed over the entire planet.

And now something had happened to the enemy.

What was once three separate, allied armies, had somehow become a single, unified force. Ork, Space Marine, and Eldar all, stood side by side by side, united in a single force. The orkish viciousness, paired with Eldar accuracy, was a dangerous combination to begin with, but furthered bolstered by the Space Marines, they had formed a force that simply couldn’t be stopped. “Retreat!” Vulek yelled. “Retreat to the fortress!”

Ork choppas and Astartes chainswords tore through the retreating ranks of the Emperor’s Children, all the way up the crater ridge.

“Keep running you fools!” Vulek yelled as his tentacle wiggled wildly.

Eldar las blasts and Astartes bolts shot past them, peppering them from behind.

“Get to the fortress! Close the gates!” he yelled as his army began to push and shove their way into the open gate of the ancient ruins.

“Waaagh!”

“Get in there, you fools!” Vulek cried, before he began yelling into his vox. “Kraagan! Kraagan, I need your help!”

No answer came.

Vulek’s forces had taken massive casualties now. He only had a handful of squads left. “Close the gate! Close the gate!”

They moved as quickly as they could, working ancient mechanism to close the gate shut. A portcullis of wraithbone began to fall, ready to slam down on the fresh earth, and begin a long, tiring siege.

Only for a pair of green hands to grab it.

“Waaaaagh!” the ork yelled, as he began to lift the portcullis, keeping the gate open.

“Shoot him! Shoot him, shoot him, shoot him!” Vulek roared.

The Chaos marines leveled their weapons, ready to unload into the straining ork.

And then the Striking Scorpions ran through. Their silent chainswords cut through the enemy with ease, keeping the ork alive even as more troops began to pour into the fort.

“Kill them! Kill them!”

The Chaos forces turned on the Striking Scorpions, trying to take down something, only for Space Marines to fill both sides of the ork, laying covering fire as they protected the Eldar.

“No! No! Kraagan, where are you!”

Still no answer came.

The allies quickly filled the courtyard, and the Emperor’s Children fell quickly to the ork, Eldar and Astartes.

“Kraagan! Kraagan!” Vulek roared.

“Kraaaaaaagan!”

---=][=---

“Victory needs no explanation; Defeat allows none.”—Imperial Thought of the Day.

Alright, guys, the battle is over.

The day is saved.

Next time, it's time to go home.

"See you then!"

Bye!

Chapter XXX

When the Litany of Fury arrived, they were baffled. True, alliances with Eldar were not unheard of, but they were typically short-lived, and ended with one side betraying the other. Typically the Eldar betraying the Space Marines, or the Space Marines pre-emptively betraying the eldar, for surely they would.

But they were all here, with orks even, and even though they had separated, every side seemed to hold a new respect for the others.

Even the Eldar were being respectful.

They were separated once again. The camps were alone once again, and the ork, Eldar, and Astartes were once more separated in their proper camps, and everything was as it should be, as far as Apple Bloom was concerned.

After destroying the remaining Emperor’s Children, a search did begin for the Alpha Legion, but so far there was no sign of them.

But, Apple Bloom only had three standard days, and not nearly enough time to join the search. Now, she stood here, back in the Temple of the Infinity Gate, with her friends by her side.

Her friends.

The Crusaders, together at last.

Farseer Elahina was with them, as well as Gabriel and Apple Bloom’s squad, along with three, “sneaky” ork that seemed to follow Scootaloo around.

And for once, it didn’t matter.

Apple Bloom stood with her squad, bidding farewell to Lazarus, Coberos, Karlon, Israfiel and even Ramiel.

“Well, Apple Bloom, it is time for you to go, it seems,” Karlon said.

“Off to serve this strange, living Emperor,” Coberos said. “It’s quite the honor.”

“Be sure to let him know we continue to serve!” Karlon said.

“Apple Bloom’s Emperor is female,” Coberos noted.

“As I said.”

Apple Bloom shook her head, before turning to Lazarus.

The Psyker regarded her carefully, a soft smile on his lips. “Well, Apple Bloom, it has been a long time.”

“Thirty-one standard years?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Almost,” he said, nodding, “and now you must return. Return to the world of...what was it? Sweet Apple Acres?”

The name stirred something in her, and images of the endless sea of apple trees appeared in her mind. “Yes, Sweet Apple Acres is correct,” she said.

Lazarus nodded. “Did I ever tell you that I was born on an agri world?” he asked.

Apple Bloom shook her head.

“I was…” he said. “Or, at least I think I was. It’s one of the few things I forgot. The one thing I remember the most, however was the sight of my father’s orchard every morning, that sea of endless trees.” Lazarus sighed, before his armored hand rested on her shoulder. “Perhaps that’s why I brought you to the Chaplain, maybe that is why I let you live.”

Apple Bloom nodded.

“Ah, well…” Lazarus said. “Just be sure to keep it safe for me, will you?”

She nodded again. “Yes, sir,” she said. “I will do that.”

Lazarus nodded, before he patted her armored shoulder to send her off. “Blessings of the Emperor on you, Apple Bloom.”

She nodded, before turning towards the gate.

“Hey, Xeno,” Ramiel said, still holding his bolter.

She turned to him.

“Stay safe,” he said.

She nodded, and turned for the gate.

Sweetie Belle, meanwhile, looked up at the Farseer, the long rifle in her hooves. “I...I suppose I should return this,” she said, staring down at the rifle, with the blue, proud ribbon that declared its name and history. “It belongs with Oraban.”

Elahina looked down at the Spirit Stone in her hands, where Oraban’s soul now resided until they could release him into Alaitoc’s Infinity Circuit. “He did our craftworld a great service, and made many sacrifices for his people,” she said, before her eyes returned to the unicorn before her.

Sweetie looked down at the rifle in her hooves, eyes sad and teary as she remembered her first friend in this world.

“But you have also made sacrifices, Sweetie Belle,” Elahina said, “and at times, sacrifice should be rewarded.”

Sweetie looked up at her.

“Eldar do not own their weapons, Sweetie Belle,” Elahina said with a smile. “The Craftworld delegate their weapons to whoever needs them most, and now, I can think of no one who needs it more than you.”

Slowly, a smile began to spread on the unicorn’s face. “Thank you, Farseer.”

She nodded, before Sweetie Belle turned away from her, and towards the Gate.

Scootaloo’s conversation, however, was far less heartwarming.

“Alright, boyz,” Scootaloo said as she talked with her kommandoz. “So ‘ere’s da plan.”

“But how’s we supposed ta remember da plan?” Hellspitta asked.

Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “Ya ain’t never had a problem before, Hellspitta, ya’ll be fine.”

“But dat ‘cause you’ve always remembered da plan for us, Shootaloota,” Facehacka said.

“What are ya, a grot? Ya can remember da plan, it ain’t complicated.”

“But Shootaloota,” Blooddagga whined.

“No, yous can do it, alls ya gotta do make sure dat Grimthrasha gets back to Nabrot, and make sure he don’t have any problems handin’ over da bosshood, alroight?”

“But boss,” they whined.

“No buts!” she grunted, before she grabbed her shootas and moved over to the Gate. “Yous’ll be fine!”

Gabriel then stepped forward towards the Gate, looking down at the three Crusaders as they were about to embark on their last mission. “Well, it seems the hour of destiny is upon us. It is time at last, for you to return to your Princess and begin your service anew.”

Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo all looked up to him.

“It’s time for you to take a new flag.”

Apple Bloom spoke up. “My lord,” she said, stepping forward, “it is no new flag. It was one set down many years ago, but it is a familiar one to us all.”

The three ponies looked to each other, they looked at the scars, the wounds, their weapons, armors, and even the glint of violence that still lived in their eyes. And yet, they could look past it all. They saw past these marks that war had left on them, they saw past all the blood, all the weariness, and there, at their core, they could still see it.

“We are the Crusaders.”

---=][=---

Applejack sighed.

The elder Apple sister walked through the crystal halls of Twilight’s castle, shaking her head as she went.

This was going to be her last visit, she had decided. For the past five years she had sat in front of that thrice-cursed mirror, staring into its perfect surface. She sat, she cried, and she blamed herself.

She had to go and open her mouth, she had to ask that dumb question which started it all. “Do Y’all reckon this mirror can go other places? Are you thick in the head, Applejack?” she muttered to herself.

She sighed once more.

No point in getting mad at herself now. After it was all too late.

She finally came to the room, the last place where Apple Bloom and her friends had been. Their last view of Equestria before that was taken away. She walked inside the room, and stared up at the monolithic mirror, that cursed, evil thing that tore her family apart.

It hadn’t changed much in the past five years, though Twilight had run herself ragged trying to fix the thing, and even though its surface had survived intact, the frame needed a lot of help. These days, however the mirror looked every bit like it had before this whole debacle happened.

And Twilight…

The poor mare had spent every waking moment trying to save them. For the first three weeks she didn’t sleep, in fact, it was only because she literally fell asleep on her hooves that she stopped at all. She may have slowed down since then, but this was still the only thing she focused on when she had the time.

Applejack walked past the table where Twilight and her notes sat. The Princess had fallen asleep at her work once again, a common occurrence, if Spike was to be believed.

The farmpony shook her head, before she finally sat down, in front of the mirror. She sat, and stared up at the massive portal, before releasing a shaky breath. “Hey, Apple Bloom,” she said, “Ah...Ah didn’t want ta leave you on...well...Ah didn’t want ya ta see me cryin’, and bawlin’ like Ah was. Ah...Ah wanted this one to be more...well...Ah wanted ta leave ya on a better note.”

The mirror offered nothing.

“‘Cause, well…’casue this is going be the last time, Apple Bloom. We...we’re goin’ hold yer funeral tomorrow. We ain’t...we have ta...we’re...we’re gonna…”

She choked.

“We’re gonna...we’re gonna let ya go,” she said, her eyes becoming wet.

The mirror stayed silent.

“It’s been five years, Apple Bloom, and...and Granny can’t take the thought that ya might come back some day, only for ya to never come…” Applejack shook her head. “Ah’m sorry, Apple Bloom...Ah’m sorry…”

She sniffed, before a small, nervous laugh broke through. “Oh, look at me, here Ah said Ah’d leave a bit more dignified, and here Ah am, bawlin’ all over again.”

The mirror did not answer.

Applejack sighed again, shoulders slumping, before she reached up and grabbed her hat. She pulled it down to cover her eyes, and took a breath to steady herself.

She then looked up, before she spoke one more time. “Ah’m sorry Apple Bloom. Ah just wished Ah could’ve said goodbye.”

The earth pony then stood, and began to walk away, taking her leave, for the very last time.

She stood in front of the door, before taking one last look at the mirror, as though hoping her sister would come running from it.

But there was nothing.

She sighed, having given the mirror its last chance, and opened the door.

Her ear twitched.

She blinked, frozen before the door as a breeze began to flow through the room.

She heard something.

She knew she did.

She turned, blinking, and felt her heart stop as the mirror stared back, its surface swirling with purple energy.

Twilight’s notes began to flutter, flying off the table in a mess as the wind in the room began to pick up.

The gears of the mirror machine began to chug and spin, apparati began to glow, fluids began to bubble, and the entire thing began to shake to life.

“Huh? Wha—?” Twilight said, waking from the sudden sound.

And then her eyes went wide. “Applejack!” she screamed as her notes went wild, the wind becoming a full on gale. “Applejack, what did you do?”

The farmpony opened her mouth to speak, but anything she would have said was drowned out.

Not by a hellish scream, not by the wail of tortured souls, but by a song.

A sweet, simple tune that echoed through the room, and shook the very crystals as the mirror portal opened and swirled.

And then a white unicorn entered the room. Tall and slender, she seemed to command the very air about her, and the off-white growths from her back, though oddly disturbing, were still elegant and beautiful.

Her voice filled the air as she hummed, and the portal’s energy seemed to calm at the sound. She commanded the room with her presence, and it was only after three very long seconds that either of the two ponies noticed the strange insect on her head.

Following her was Frankenmane’s Monster, if the monster was an orange pegasus with a massive metal claw for a hoof and a red, glowing eye. The pegasus blinked as she looked around the room, her single, purple, living eye glancing about in wonder.

And finally came an armored giant. The wall of red metal stepped forward into the room, her own eyes glancing about suspiciously, as though some unseen enemy would leap at her from any shadow. A sword hung buckled to her hind leg, barely a knife to the giant, and a pair of strange tentacles held a strange, metal, rectangular box aloft.

The unicorn stopped singing, and the portal then gently closed, as though nothing had happened at all. “There,” she said, satisfied. “Who knew we just needed some harmonic, psychic resonance to stabilize everything. We might’ve even arrived in the same place had we done so the first time.”

“Sweetie,” the pegasus said, catching the unicorn’s attention.

She blinked as she looked over to the bulky pegasus, before following her gaze to the two ponies on the other side of the room.

“Oh,” the unicorn said, a smile forming on her face. “Princess Twilight!”

Twilight blinked, mouth agape, and stared until some semblance of control returned to her mouth. “S-Sweetie Belle?”

The unicorn nodded, before bowing, her wraithbone growths lowering the long rifle as she flourished.

Twilight then turned to the pegasus, still blinking. “Scootaloo?”

The orange bulk of muscle gave a toothy grin. “Yup! We’s back!”

Twilight then turned to the armored giant, and her breath caught in her throat as she saw Applejack staring up at her, mouth agape, and tears in her eye.

The giant stared down at her, silently.

Sweetie Belle spoke up. “Uh...now...Applejack, y-you should know that Apple Bloom’s been through a lot, she might have a hard time remembering—”

The the giant spoke. “You are the one known as Applejack, yes?”

Applejack nodded.

Apple Bloom nodded as well, before she spoke again. “You are my sister, yes?”

The Farmpony nodded again, tears in her eyes.

“There is not much I remember from my time here,” Apple Bloom said. “Most of my life before is a blur, but there were a few things I do remember, Sister Applejack.”

The farmpony waited.

“I remembered a phrase, a motto, if you will. ‘An Apple ain’t nothing without her family,’” she said, reciting the words from memory. “Is this correct?”

Applejack nodded again.

Apple Bloom knelt down, staring her sister in the face. “Then even when I was gone, I stayed an Apple at heart, and I am something once again.”

Applejack nodded, before she gave her armored sister a hug.

And Apple Bloom returned it for everything she was worth.

---=][=---

Princess Celestia regarded the ponies in her throne room very carefully.

It was midnight now, and Twilight Sparkle had sent her an emergency message not two hours earlier for a meeting. While unusual, it wasn’t an unheard of phenomenon, so she prepared the throne room for an emergency audience.

So far, nothing unusual.

And then a massive mare, almost as tall as she was and twice as thick, covered head to hoof in titanic red armor burst through the doors, swearing fealty, service and a disturbing eagerness to destroy her enemies.

Usual then decided that it had overstayed its welcome, and took its leave.

The armored mare was followed by a slightly smaller pegasus, and a very lithe unicorn, as well as her student and three other of the Bearers of Harmony.

Introductions went around, and the three missing fillies then shared their stories.

Rarity, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Twilight all hung on every word, listening intently as they told their tales of these strange creatures from beyond, great ships that sailed the aether, and the forces of an evil so great it sickened the Princess where she sat.

In fact, Rarity seemed permanently attached it her younger...er...now older sister.

That thought still boggled her mind. Thirty years in five…

Anyways, ever since they had entered her throne room, it appeared that the unicorns were attached the hip, the bearer talking constantly as she gushed over her returned sister. In fact, the only time she stopped talking was to let the three returned mares tell their story.

The Crusader had finished telling their tale, a task which was prolonged by the commentary and questions of the ponies around her, and all the while, the Princess had to wonder, “What am I going to do with them?”

“And thus is my story,” Apple Bloom recited from her perfect memory.

“Just as boring as I’d thought it’d be,” Scootaloo grunted.

“Boring?” Rainbow Dash screamed. “They have chainsaw swords! Their cannons shoot tiny rockets that explode! How is any of that boring?” she asked, almost sounding betrayed by her surrogate sister.

“‘Cause we’s got bigga gunz!” Scootaloo roared.

Rainbow found it hard to argue with that logic.

“We have bigger guns,” Sweetie Belle corrected, earning a pleased look from the Princess of Friendship.

Scootaloo rolled her eyes.

“I wouldn’t waste your breath, Sweetie Belle,” Apple Bloom said.

“Oi! What’s dat mean?” Scootaloo growled, hooves slamming into the table, causing the wood to break and crack.

“It means, good Scootaloo,” Apple Bloom said, smirking, “that spending so long a time with such thick-headed creatures has obviously left its mark on you.”

“Tell dat to my klaw, Space Marine!” she growled, before leaping over the table and tackling Apple Bloom to the ground.

Together they slammed into the floor, and the tiles shattered beneath their force.

“Apple Bloom!” Applejack cried, panicked, before Sweetie Belle rested a wraithbone appendage on the farmpony’s shoulder.

“Their only playing, Applejack,” she told her, “they will be fine.”

“You sure?” Applejack asked, as she looked at the two titans slamming into floor.

Sweetie nodded. “I know their minds, Applejack. It’s innocent enough.”

“Innocent, indeed,” Celestia thought, worriedly. If this was an innocent scuffle between friends, she shuddered at the thought of an actual fight between the two.

“If that worries you Celestia,” Sweetie Belle said suddenly, “then just know we three have seen far, far worse.”

And excuse Celestia for saying so, but that was creepy.

“Telepathy usually is the first time around,” Sweetie said.

Celestia sighed.

Suddenly Apple Bloom shot up from the floor. “Wait! You!” she cried angrily, glaring at Sweetie even as she sat there.

Sweetie Belle turned to her.

“You dare read the Emper—I mean, Princess’ mind? You dare search her thoughts and will, Witch?”

Sweetie looked at her, appearing as calm as a summer day, and said nothing, even as Apple Bloom stomped over to her.

“Uh, Apple Bloom?” Scootaloo called, having remained on the floor.

Sweetie continued to look up at Apple Bloom, even as her eye were turning red in fury. “I assure you, Apple Bloom, I did no such thing.”

“You tried to taint the Holy Princess with your blasphemous magics!” she yelled.

Sweetie said nothing, but an eye did glance over at the Princess. “She’s serious, by the way. You may want to play up your holy empress act.”

The princess blinked at the voice in her head, before she stood. “Apple Bloom,” she said, her voice commanding and powerful.

The Space Marine gave the alicorn her full attention.

“That is enough. Return to your seat.”

“But, Princess,” Apple Bloom said. “The power of a psyker is not to be trusted, I cannot, in good conscience allow such foul taint to approach your magnificence.”

Princess Celestia mentally sighed, before her face went hard. “And am I incapable of defending myself?”

Apple Bloom blinked, before her ears splayed flat against her head. “Y-yes, yes. Forgive me, Princess, I spoke out of turn. If you believed her a danger, you would have dealt with her.”

Celestia nodded, before closing her eyes. “Oh this is going to be worse than Discord.”

“To be fair, Apple Bloom,” Sweetie said, “the dangers of the Warp in the far galaxy were numerous. Here it is far less so.”

The Space Marine looked at her, eyebrow raised.

“The Realm of Souls here is incredibly calm,” Sweetie Belle said. “I’d be surprised if we needed any defenses at all if we made a Warp jump here.”

Apple Bloom gave a snort. “As though I would trust the Warp.”

“E-enough! Enough!” Celestia said suddenly. “I am done with this, today. In fact, today ended four hours ago, and I have been up since seven in the morning. This should be Luna’s problem right now, but this is too big for either of us to do alone. I will come to a decision tomorrow, and not a moment before. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Your Excellency!” Apple Bloom answered, saluting.

“Youz got it, Boss,” Scootaloo grunted.

Sweetie Belle sighed. “We understand, Princess.”

“Good, for now...go home. See your families. I’m sure they’ve missed you.”

There was a nod of assent, and the ponies began filing out of the throne room.

And all the while, the draconequus known as Discord watched.

---=][=---

“Carry the Emperor's will as your torch, with it destroy the shadows.”—Imperial Thought of the Day.

Another Chapter done!

“Whee!”

Next time! Soldiers in a time of peace! Plots revealed! Equestria’s new power, and a new, bright future!

“See ya then!”

Bye!

Chapter XXXI

Sweet Apple Acres was quiet.

Then again, Apple Bloom supposed all of Ponyville was quiet at 0330 hours. It seemed the issue of Feudal worlds, once the sun went down, the lights were quick to follow, and the hemisphere went to sleep within the hour.

Then again, a Feudal world was perhaps an incorrect classification. They had functioning electricity, and she thought she remembered seeing gunpowder. Yet, even so, the main weapons of the world were simple bladed weapons characteristic of Feudal worlds. They even seemed to lack the internal combustion engine, which only made the advent of electricity all the stranger.

These thoughts and more ran through Apple Bloom’s superhuman mind as she lurked about the orchards of her childhood home.

As a Blood Raven, she could not sleep, and while this did not normally affect her, she found herself wishing she could one more time. Here, she quickly found that the quietness of the planet left her with only time to herself. This was...odd. Especially since her incredible intellect ran through a thousand subjects by the time a mere mortal was finished with three.

Before an hour had passed, she had already thought about too many things, most of which dealt with her own fate. What would happen to her? What would Holy Celestia, in all of her wisdom, do with herself and her two friends? Equestria was a place of...peace. Hideous, hideous peace.

She was a soldier, made for war, even now, some part of her mind was working through the thousands of possibilities of ambushes and traps that could have been laid against her. Her bolter still sat ready in her mechadendrites, and the Bolt Pistol at her side was eager for action.

Her grandmother “Granny Smith,” had ordered her to bed, and any attempt to help her understand that she literally could not sleep was met with the old matron telling her to get to bed. Unable to best the mare in stubbornness, Apple Bloom went to bed on the ground floor, and lay there, her eyes closed for an hour or so, before sneaking out of the house to patrol the orchard.

She walked through the orchard, passing the hundreds of Apple trees, with a faint sense of nostalgia hovering at the edge of her mind. She had passed an old, worn tree house a few hours back, and had found herself staring at it for...perhaps far too long.

Other than that, her patrol met no obstacles, and no other problems.

Other than her shadow, of course.

She didn’t know who the pony following her was, but she knew that whoever it was was flying, and was quiet. If her senses had not been so incredibly powerful, then Apple Bloom might have missed the soft beating of wings in the air.

Yet the figure following her did nothing, and Apple Bloom was not yet willing to sacrifice the advantage of knowing that someone was following to act. And so, the both carried on, walking through the orchard, each wary of the other.

As the night got deeper, and Apple Bloom continued to make rounds, however, things began to change.

Her shadow was getting closer, looking deeper at the Space Marine as curiosity took hold. Or so Apple Bloom inferred.

Yet still no action was taken against her.

Her patience wearing thin, Apple Bloom finally turned, and spoke. “I tire of this, intruder. Identify yourself.”

“You tire of us?” a feminine voice called from the trees, and Apple Bloom raised her bolter in the direction of her voice.

“I do,” Apple Bloom answered. “You have been following me for the past three hours and twenty four standard minutes.”

“Have we?” the voice asked amused.

“I heard you,” Apple Bloom said. “And were I wearing my helmet, my autosenses would’ve picked up your thermal signature. Now, I will ask only once more, identify yourself.”

A soft laugh floated through the trees, before a blue-furred figure approached. “We are Princess Luna, sister of Celestia,” the alicorn said.

Apple Bloom raised a brow, but did not lower her weapon. “I have no memory of you.”

Luna nodded. “We are used to the feeling,” she said, almost sadly. “However, Celestia warned us that your memory has been addled—”

“Refined,” Apple Bloom corrected.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Luna said, nodding. “Nonetheless, many sacrifices have been made for this refinement, no?”

Apple Bloom hesitantly nodded.

Luna then continued. “My sister told us of your coming, you and your friends, and we regret that we had not the chance to meet you before you left.”

Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“We had helped both Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, long ago,” Luna said. “They were troubled by dreams, and we offered whatever counsel and aid we could.”

Apple Bloom frowned. “You are a psyker?”

“No,” Luna said. “At least, not from what Sweetie Belle explained to us. We may see into another’s dreams, but no more. It is my own power, as Princess.”

Apple Bloom did not like it.

“We have already met with the others,” Luna continued, “and our sister had told us that we would need to see you ourselves, to gauge your power and ability now that you have returned. Yet…”

“Yet?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Yet you have not fallen asleep. We could not enter your dreams for you have not rested. This made if far more difficult to meet you, and we had to fly out ourselves to see you.”

Apple Bloom smirked. “Nor will I.”

This time it was Luna’s brow who furrowed. “What do you mean by this?”

“I cannot sleep, it is…” Apple Bloom said, a smile growing on her face, “another of the many sacrifices I made.”

“You...you cannot sleep?” Luna asked.

The Space Marine nodded. “I have not slept these past twenty-six years.”

The lunar princess blinked. “B-but how? How do you rest then?”

“My mind does not function like those of mere mortals,” Apple Bloom said. “Sections of my brain may rest at a time while I continue to function. I only just woke the section of my mind that can speak before I turned to face you.”

Luna blinked. “So you truly cannot sleep?”

Apple Bloom nodded once more. “A soldier cannot perform well if he is constantly in danger of facing fatigue.”

Luna stared at the space marine in front of her for a long moment, before a smile began to grow on her face. “Apple Bloom, we think that perhaps, we will come to enjoy your company, very, very much.”

---=][=---

As the sun began to rise, Granny Smith rose as well. She was always an early riser, and getting old only really ever changed how many naps she took in the day. Her joints creaked as she got out of her bed, and groaned as she began to head to the kitchen.

Using her walker, she moved forward, into the hallway, with the stairs.

She slowly moved past, taking another look at the broken stair Apple Bloom left last night, which was all the sign they needed to see that Apple Bloom should probably stay on the ground floor of the farmhouse.

She’d have to get Big Mac to fix that.

She soon found herself in the kitchen, and was surprised to see Apple Bloom hovering over the stove.

“Apple Bloom?” Granny asked. “What’re ye doing up this early?”

“I cooked breakfast,” Apple Bloom answered as her mechadendrites carried a massive pot to the kitchen table.

Granny blinked. “Is that mah Chili Cauldron?”

“Is it?” Apple Bloom asked.

The giant pot was cast iron, and almost as big as Granny Smith herself, and was so blackened that other pots didn’t talk about it.

“Apple Bloom, we can’t eat this much food. Ya’ve gone and wasted three days worth of oatmeal!”

Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow. “You underestimate both my stomach and my appetite, Grandmother.”

“Don’t call me grandmother!” Granny Smith yelled. “It makes me sound old!”

Apple Bloom blinked, before she sighed, and proceeded to serve herself her first bowl of oatmeal.

---=][=---

Twilight Sparkle yawned as she stepped into her work room, ready to start the day with a brand new project.

Or, she was, until she saw Sweetie Belle standing in the middle of the room. A thousand wraithbone arms streaked across the room, moving pages and notes back and forth. She cross referenced her cross references, and Button, the strange insect that followed her, chirped excitedly as she moved.

“Um…” Twilight began, looking about the room as everything spun about her.

“Ah! Good morning, Twilight!” Sweetie Belle said, as she turned to face her, arms still hard at work.

“Um...good morning?” she said.

“Sorry to jump in like this,” Sweetie said, “but when we came back, I noticed your notes, and it caught my attention.”

“Um...good…” Twilight said.

“They are fascinating!” Sweetie said. “I’m afraid that, with my attention being focused into psychic abilities, my magic studies fell through. That being said, I was going through these notes, and I noticed a few things.”

“I see…” the lavender princess said, sliding towards the edge of the room, avoiding the many wraithbone arms as they moved about.

“You see, I think what happened was that you were counting on a solely magical resonance, when it encountered the solely psychic energies of the Warp. Those two created a destructive wave interference, which briefly cancelled both the psychic and magical radiations of both galaxies, creating a sudden void in each of locations, which resulted in the two realms trying to fill the gaps caused by the sudden void!”

Twilight blinked. “That’s…” she said, before slowly approaching. “That actually...makes sense…”

“Doesn’t it?” Sweetie Belle asked, proudly. “It wasn’t until my first time interacting with psychic fields myself, that I really discovered how magic and psychic abilities react poorly with each other, and only years later that I found out how and why they reacted like that. Here, look at my notes.”

Twilight blinked as she was handed a large notebook, filled with intricate equations and notes that made her head spin. “W-w-woah...this...this is amazing!” she said, staring at the notes, before flipping through a few pages.

She suddenly shook her head. “N-now hang on! Hang on! Why are you here, instead of with Rarity?”

Sweetie Belle sighed. “Twilight, I’m forty-one years old. I don’t look a day over twenty. Tell me why you think I’m not with Rarity.”

“She...wants beauty tips?”

Sweetie nodded. “And I really don’t have the heart to tell her that it takes having a second skeleton grow in your body, leaving in you in such pain that you want to physically die for the next two weeks.”

Twilight slowly nodded. “Alright, fair enough, I suppose. N-next, I suppose, where did you learn this?” she asked, motioning to the notes.

“That’s more of the wraithbone,” Sweetie said. “It’s spent a good couple of decades acting as my skull, and the close contact with my brain may have boosted my IQ by a few hundred points.”

Twilight blinked.

Sweetie started back. “I can’t impress on you how much the pain wasn’t worth it, and that is taking into account the thousands of years I’ll have with this IQ.”

“Huh…”

“That being said, there is a good thing,” Sweetie said. “I can create, and have been working on a new wraithbone farm.”

Twilight blinked. “What?”

“Well, the entire point of injecting me with wraithbone was to make me ‘safe’ in the presence of wraithbone, what it actually did, was meld my DNA with that of the wraithbone, which probably also happened with Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, now that I think about it.” She shook her head. “Anyway, if magic is a sine wave, and psychic fields are cosine, then my magic and my wraithbone have become Tangent, which allows both energies to react with constructive, rather than destructive interference. Do you follow?”

“I believe I do. But why?”

“Well that’s my preferred medium,” Sweetie answered.

“For what?”

And this time, Sweetie hesitated. She slowly opened her mouth to answer, before closing it again. “Well...well Twilight…” She sighed again. “Twilight, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo and I...we’re broken...we can’t go back to our old lives.

“We don’t have old lives. Our best hope here...is to find something to do that somehow relates. Apple Bloom is probably going to be a guard for her entire life. My best hope is to reverse engineer the simplest Eldar machines to make Equestria the most powerful nation on this world, and I have no idea what Scootaloo is going to do…”

The unicorn slumped forward, and the ivory studs that ran down her back became more and more pronounced as she leaned.

“This...this is the best we can do.”

And Twilight nodded, set Sweetie’s notes aside, and hugged the poor mare.

Hugged her for all she was worth.

---=][=---

Scootaloo was bored.

Incredibly, mind-bendingly, disgustingly bored.

For the past thirty years, whenever there was a lull in something to do, she could always kick a grot or start a fight.

Here, however, she knew otherwise. Ponies were too soft to fight with on a regular basis, and she’d probably get in trouble with who-knows-how-many ponies. So, for the first time in thirty years, she had nothing to do.

And so she was bored.

Now, true, she was finding a good bit of joy roaring at ponies that she thought deservered it. “Hey, Mr. Breeze! Remember when you yelled at me for parking my scooter too close to the store? I do. Waaagh!”

She’d admit, she was enjoying the looks of shock and terror that followed her wherever she went, and even more the looks of faint familiarity if they figured it out. It was so fun to watch a pony go from absolute terror to that “Wait...hang on…” look.

Of course, that could only go so far for a mare that had spent so long inundated in violence, and whose main source of entertainment came from beating on beings as big, or smaller than her.

So, with little else to do, Scootaloo wandered Ponyville. She had already wandered over to Sweet Apple Acres, to speak with Apple Bloom, but she was busy gathering apples.

And accidentally knocking trees over and scrambling to put them back in the ground, as the pegasus had witnessed first hand.

Now, lumbering down the streets, Scootaloo sighed, before her bionik eye caught the sight of a sign. The word “Gym” stared back at her, and Scootaloo grunted as a smile spread across her face.

She could afford to show off. At least once.

She burst through the front door, getting the attention of every pony in the building before she also had their fear. Body builders seemed to shrink as her massive bulk walked past. Stallions who already felt inadequate almost whined as they saw her scarred skin and rippling muscles.

Weights and equipment became free before her, and soon there was not a pony in front of her. This suited her fine, of course, as she found the largest piece of equipment, and set the weights to the heaviest she could, a good three hundred pounds. With that, and a slight smirk, she began lifting, pulling the cables with a single hoof, and listening with pleasure as the weights slammed to the top of the machine.

And she didn’t even grunt.

The stallions around her gaped and cowered as she continued to work, never slowing, and never stopping as the weights rang with every powerful pull.

And then there was a new sound.

The sound of weights hitting the ground.

Scootaloo turned, and saw a large, bulky pegasus with a pair of tiny wings. Bulk was his name, if she remembered correctly.

The barbell at his hooves looked to be almost six hundred pounds by itself, and he glared back at Scootaloo with a glint in his eye.

Ah...A challenger approaches.

Scootaloo let the weights back down, before approaching the stallion. She was far bigger than him, both in height, and width, but he stared up at her with a smirk on his face.

Scootaloo grabbed the barbell with a single hoof, and lifted it above her head with ease.

Bulk nodded, before he prepared a new barbell, this time doubling the weight before he lifted that over his head, muscles rippling as a mighty cry erupted from his throat. “Yeah!”

Scootaloo smirked as the barbell hit the floor, and once more lifted it above her head with ease, but she would not let the challenge go unanswered and returned his cry with her own. “Waaagh!”

Bulk grinned, before he moved to first barbell, upping the weight to a thousand, seven hundred pounds. With a powerful grunt, he lifted that as well, with his victorious cry echoing in the room. “Yeeaah!”

Scootaloo let him finish before she answered with her own lift. “Waaaaagh!”

Back and forth they went, lifting more and more weight.

“Yeeeaaah!”

“Waaaaaaagh!”

“Yeeeeeaaaah!”

“Waaaaaaaaaaaagh!”

“Yeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaah!”

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!”

Three thousand pounds were soon over Bulk’s head, the bar was bending under the weight. “Yeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” he roared, veins bulging in his muscles. He dropped it with a grunt, stomping with victory.

Scootaloo looked down at the bar, and decided that it simply wasn’t enough. She needed more. Her eyes danced over the gym, before they settled on one of the machines.

She smiled grabbing the bar as her klaw opened enough for her to grab the machine by its frame. With a heave, she lifted the machine, weights and all, into the air, holding it above her head in such a show that the stallions in the back of the room cowered at the sight of her.

“Waaaaaagh!”

And Bulk, that crazy body builder, ran up to the orkified pegasus by the legs, and strained as he tried to lift her, even as she held everything in her hooves.

And he actually got her into the air.

It lasted only a second, but Scootaloo felt her hooves leave the ground as Bulk literally lifted her from the ground.

And then everything exploded in a mess of weights, steel, and muscle.

Scootaloo burst from the wreckage, laughing, even as she pulled herself and bulk free. “Yous ain’t bad, ya grot!”

“Yeeeaaah!” Bulk answered as he came free.

And Scootaloo laughed.

This wasn’t too bad.

Unfortunately, the gym’s janitor thought differently.

---=][=---

When they were eventually called before Celestia, the Princess finally seemed ready for whatever the girls had for her.

Unbeknownst to all but Sweetie Belle, she hoped so, at least.

“Now, ladies,” Celestia said, sitting as regally as she could. “You three present me a great challenge. Not in this age have I had three of my subjects so changed from their experiences. Never before had we to live with these abilities and mindsets.”

Apple Bloom remained silent.

Sweetie Belle nodded.

And Scootaloo picked through the food in front of her.

“But, both I and my sister have evaluated you, and done our best to determine what duties you will have going forward. Apple Bloom,” Celestia said, addressing the armored Space Marine. "You are to become the head of the Royal Guard. Your training, unfortunately, outmatches that of even my best guards, and Luna has assured me that your loyalty is beyond question. Thus, I find there is no greater duty for you.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “Give the Primarch my thanks.”

Celestia blinked. “Who?”

“Primarch Luna?” Apple Bloom said.

“Do you mean Princess Luna?”

“Is that not what I said?”

Another blink, before the Princess shook her head. “Very well. Sweetie Belle.”

The unicorn looked up. “My sister’s and Princess Twilight’s analysis of your abilities, intellect, and ability with technology both agree that you should take a place amongst our scientists, and that you shall become the Royal Engineer, in charge of creating new technologies for the good of Equestria.”

“The witch is becoming the Fabricator-General?” Apple Bloom asked aloud.

“Are you questioning your Princess?” Sweetie asked.

Apple Bloom did not answer.

“Scootaloo,” the Princess said, trying to ignore whatever headache was about to develop between the two. “You were perhaps the hardest to determine. You came from a culture that only destroyed, and did not create. You have might, but not the discipline for my guard, and the intellect, but not the technology for the position of Engineer.”

“Probably for the best,” Scootaloo commented. “Don’t think ponies could use ork techy-ology.”

Celestia blinked at the not-word that just came from Scootaloo’s mouth before continuing. “It took many hours, but it was finally Discord that came with an answer for us.”

“Glad I could help,” a new voice said, and all eyes turned to the draconequus that stood behind them.

Botler, klaw and wraithbone blades were suddenly bared, all pointing at Discord.

“Is this how you thank friends?” Discord asked.

“Sorry,” Sweetie Belle growled. “Force of habit.”

“We have been taught the forces of Chaos are not to be trusted,” Apple Bloom finished. “Much less tolerated.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Discord said, before floating across the room. “As the good Princess was saying, I found a very nice opportunity for our orange-feathered friend.” He slithered in the air, snaking around the throne as he smirked. “As you might have noticed, or remember, Ponyville is quite the interesting place! All sorts of fun things happen there, but...as dear Celestia continues to remind me, ponies don’t deal well with Chaos.

“As it so happens,” Discord continued, “Chaos lives in all sorts of little places around this lovely country. Everfree Forest, Ghastly Gorge, Froggy Bottom Bogg, even the San Palomino Desert has a few monstrous nasties that need dealing with, and while I’m sure that dear Fluttershy would berate me to no end on sending such a powerful fighter to attack ‘such defenseless, noble creatures,’ I’m sure with some proper direction, however, you would make an excellent Protector of the Realm.”

“So…” Scootaloo began. “My job is fighting things?”

“Big, monstrous, scary things, with many, many teeth,” Discord confirmed.

The pegasus grinned. “Dat sounds propa orky!”

“I’m glad you agree,” Discord said with a smile. “You have one last day of freedom before your duties begin, plenty of time to get settled, make plans...all of the...usual items,” Discord said. “Personally, I think you are all going to enjoy this. I know I will.”

And with that, he popped out of existence.

---=][=---

Apple Bloom was quick to get to work.

As would any Space Marine given charge over the Emperor’s armies.

She immediately called for the guard to gather, and was quick to take stock. “So this is it? Celestia’s finest warriors?”

They said nothing, their discipline keeping them silent as Apple Bloom criticized them. They stood in a small courtyard in the castle proper, with training dummies and archery targets to one side.

“I have seen penal regiments with more discipline,” she continued, watching as they grit their teeth. “If you had to live one day of the battles I faced you would be dead for sure.”

Still nothing. The guard stood with an acceptable amount of discipline, and Apple Bloom was pleased with the thought that, at least, she would not need to reform that part of their training. Still...she would be remissed if she didn’t push that to its breaking point.

She walked down the line of soldiers, looking the up and down as she passed them. She stopped before a guard, staring at his spear before ripping it from his grasp.

He was shocked by the utter strength of the mare, and released the spear haft before he even really knew what had happened.

“What is this?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Ma’am, a spear, ma’am.”

She took the spear in two hooves and snapped it like a twig. “This is a toy,” she corrected. “The tip is dull, and I could see your sorry attempt to secure the head with tape.”

The guard said nothing.

A stallion down the line pawed the ground.

Apple Bloom smiled. “Ah...there’s the weakness.”

The armored mare marched down to the pawing guard, and stared down at him. “Do you have something you wish to say soldier?”

The guard glared up at her, teeth grit. “Ma’am, I think you are setting an impossible standard. I doubt that you have seen a real penal regiment, much less a disciplined one.”

The Left Hand of Gabriel shot forward, and it’s stubby barrel pressed against the guard’s helmet. “Are you calling me a liar, soldier?”

The guard laughed. “What even is this? Some kind of toy?”

Apple Bloom smiled, before her mechadendrite aimed at one of the training dummies at the end of the yard. And she fired.

The guards shook as the sound of thunder roared in the courtyard, and fire spat from the mouth of the bolt pistol. The sound was so deafening, that nopony noticed the sound of shattering wood as the dummy exploded.

When they looked, all they saw was the wooden debris of the dummy, and the smoking stake where it once stood.

“Any further questions?” Apple Bloom said, pointing her bolt pistol back at the guard.

“Y-you wouldn’t…” he muttered, staring down the barrel with fear.

“I would,” Apple Bloom growled. “But I won’t. Not yet. Equestria does not have the intergalactic population required to simply be rid of every failure we come across. Of course, if you continue to fail your Princess, then I’m sure we can find a replacement.”

The guard cowered, even as Apple Bloom raised her bolt pistol. “You shall begin your new training with training your heart, for the heart is the center of the man. Er...pony. If the heart is strong, then the pony is strong. If it is weak, then the pony should not live. Begin with five laps around Canterlot Castle. If you do not complete this within ten minutes add another five laps.”

There was a groan from the guards. “That’s impossible!”

Apple Bloom towered over the soldier who had spoken out. “Correct! It is impossible! But you are Celestia’s chosen!”

The guards went silent.

“You are to be her tools, her voice, her hooves! If she wishes something done you must complete it! If she wishes the impossible, you must do it!”

Not a word from the guard.

“If you are to serve her,” Apple Bloom continued, “then you must serve her better than anyone else can. You will do the impossible for her, understand?”

There was nod.

“Good,” Apple Bloom said. “When you finish, you shall begin your second exercise. You shall attempt to kill me. That is an order. Begin.”

The guards ran away, beginning their laps even as Apple Bloom watched them go.

“You’re going to have them kill you?” a voice asked behind her, and Apple Bloom turned to see Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo approach her.

“I am going to have them try,” Apple Bloom said. “If they are to face creatures many times their size, then they will need practice.”

Sweetie Belle sighed. “Shall I inform the palace doctors?”

Apple Bloom smiled. “It would not be unwise.” The Space Marine clipped the bolt pistol to her side before returning her sight to the Royal Engineer. “What of you? Have decided to begin working?”

“I have been setting up wraithbone gardens around Canterlot, simply to prepare a supply before I begin.” Sweetie Belle said.

“An’ she’s promised me a new choppa!” Scootaloo told her.

Sweetie Belle sighed. “I said eventually. The first things I need to do are begin to recreate the city’s power system, and attempt to recreate the power generators.”

“This still seems wrong,” Apple Bloom said.

Sweetie Belle turned to the space marine with a raised eyebrow.

“But the worries of the past galaxy are not necessarily present here,” she said, in a tired, practiced voice.

Sweetie nodded, approving. “As I was saying, once I do that, then I can work on Equestria’s armament. Speaking of, Apple Bloom, may I have one of your bolts?”

“My bolts?” she asked.

Sweetie nodded. “Well, you have a very limited number of rounds, and while I will not be able to recreate them perfectly, I do intend to do my best to keep a steady supply of ammunition flowing.”

Apple Bloom slowly nodded. “Well, you are the Fabricator-General…” she said, ejecting one of the .75 caliber rounds from her bolter.

“Thank you!” Sweetie said, snatching the bolt from the air. “This one’s going to be interesting.”

“I’m glad you find such joy from this,” Bloom replied in a deadpan.

“Personally, I think it’s wonderful she’s enjoying her work.”

Weapons were quickly brandished at the sound of Discord’s voice, and the draconequus smiled as he floated above them. “Is this going to be a habit?”

“Naw,” Scootaloo said. “One day we moight shoot ya.”

Discord nodded. “Yes, well it’s good to see you’re settling down, I wanted to check on you all before I let you loose and all, it’s just…” he hesitated, and his eyes narrowed. “Just...keep your ears open for anything...strange.”

The ponies all looked between each other, before Discord smiled.

“Well, have fun, my dears! I must be off! It’s guys night tonight, and Spike will kill me if I miss it! Toodles!”

And with that, he disappeared.

---=][=---

At an unknown location, at an unknown time, in a galaxy that was forever at war, Commander Kraagan strode into a room.

The room was large, ornate, and filled with screens and various machines that chugged a strange, purple liquid through glass pipes. The pipes ran through the room, filling it’s atmosphere with a chilling, violet glow. Black and green fabric ran across the ceiling, in a vain effort to hide the pipes from anyone nearby.

Kraagan sighed as he stepped inside, finally in a place that was not covered in Chaotic sigils, and took a moment to enjoy the air.

“There you are,” Kraagan said to Kraagan as he entered. “I was worried that you would have me face him alone.”

The one that entered stared at his counterpart. He stood in the center of the room, leaning over a desk and staring into a black screen.

“The thought crossed my mind,” the arrival said, before removing his helmet.

A handsome face met Kraagan. Bald, but chiseled, and...almost too handsome for a champion of Chaos.

The other the Kraagan shook his head, before removing his own helmet to reveal an identical face. “You would, too,” he said, before smiling.

“Has he called?”

“No, not yet,” the one at the desk said, before pouring two goblets of wine, “but give him enough time and—”

“No, no, no, Alpharius,” a new voice said, and both turned to the screen to see a draconequus staring back at them. “What you are supposed to say is ‘if you speak of the devil, he will appear.’”

“Discord,” Alpharius, Primarch of the Alpha Legion greeted.

“Omegon, how are you?” Discord asked.

“Well enough,” Alpharius’ twin answered.

“Good, good,” Discord nodded, “because I have some words for the both of you.”

“Was something wrong?” Alpharius asked.

“Wrong?” Discord growled. “No, no, you delivered. I asked for three soldiers to stop the war I saw coming, and you delivered. You also said that they wouldn’t be gone long.”

Omegon spoke up. “We did, however, almost every one of our teams failed to find the girls within the first few moments of landing. However, I think you’ll find the increased variability in their cultures to be more beneficial to your country.”

Discord did not look amused. “You were to have them for six years, train them, teach them, make them practically immortal, and prepare them for war. Instead, they have been gone five years on this side, and are absolute monstrosities! Thier sisters hardly recognize them!”

“We did what we could,” Alpharius said, “but more importantly, we made them ready. They will deal with whatever problem you have, and your country will be better prepared for any future events.”

“Yes,” Discord growled. “You have, and I will hold up my end of the bargain. Your little project will have everyone arrive on time, and where they need to be. But I want you two to know, that I am not happy.”

They nodded.

And then the screen went dark.

“Well,” Omegon said. “That could have gone worse.”

“Yes, yes it could,” Alpharius agreed, before raising his goblet. “Well, at least our plans will come to fruition. We were successful.”

“Barely,” Omegon noted, before taking his own goblet. “They could have died so many times.”

“You worry too much, brother,” Alpharius said, clasping his twin’s shoulder. “We succeeded. This marks the beginning of a new era, a new age. With the Cabal’s help, we will shape the future of the galaxy.”

Omegon smirked. “Hydra Dominatus,” he said, holding his goblet up for a toast.

Alpharius smiled as he met his brother’s chalice. “For the Emperor.”

---=][=---

“Abhor the Night, it is the Light that Endures!”—Imperial Thought of the Day

Just an epilogue to go!

"It's gonna be fun!"

By the way, if any of you wonder, the so called "project" Discord mentions.

Chapter II

96 hours before Apple Bloom’s arrival.

9 711 999.M41-Unknown planet

Scootaloo gasped as air filled her lungs, only for it to suddenly leave as she hit the rocky ground.

Rolling, she spun as she bounced, flying downhill and landing between a few large rocks. Skidding to a stop in the sandy dirt, she finally came to rest against a large orange rock.

“Ow…” she moaned, before slowing getting to her hooves. Once she was back up, she looked up to wherever it was that she had gotten shot out from, cradling her head, only to see clear blue sky.

Groaning, she rubbed her head again, calling out. “Sweetie Belle? Apple Bloom? Are you guys here?”

She received no answer and turned around. And found herself staring at a gaggle of hunched, green-skinned creatures that stood almost a head taller than her. “Um…”

“Squig!” one of them yelled, pointing directly at her.

Scootaloo blinked, confused. However, as they drew crude knives and ugly forks she quickly got the gist.

“Bye!” she said before galloping away.

The small creatures followed, yelping and screaming, hunting her down.

“Git ‘er!” they screamed. “We’re gonna gob good tanoit!

Scootaloo ran. She didn’t know what exactly they were saying, but she really didn’t want to find out.

Running through what seemed to be a desert, she careened around a large, standing stone, and slid down yet another hill.

And straight into a much, much bigger, green-skinned monster with bright blue body paint.

Coming to a sudden halt as she ran into the bulging muscle of the monster’s leg, she looked up at him.

He looked back down at her with his small, beady, red eyes.

“Um...hi…” Scootaloo said.

The large thing blinked.

She gave it a weak and hopeful smile.

The large thing then brought up its arms. “Waaaagh!”

One of the massive arms, carrying a massive, crude, heavy blade, came down on her, and she leaped to the side, narrowly avoiding a rather gruesome fate.

“Great talking to ya, bye!” she said, galloping for her life.

“Waaagh!” the thing cried again, before beginning his chase of the small orange thing that had interrupted his standing there.

Scootaloo ran, rushing past crude caves made of twisted metal and rough-cut stone. Yet, as the cry of the monster began to echo around the valley it became incredibly clear that these caves were not empty. More and more of them began to emerge, their small, red, reptilian eyes blinking in the sunlight.

They quickly, however, caught sight of her.

“Get da git!” the cry went up, followed by a thousand shouts of that single battlecry. “Waaagh!”

Scootaloo did not look back.

Yet another green monster cut in front of her from around the corner, holding a strange, thick pipe in its hands.

Scootaloo shot between its legs, neither stopping nor slowing as she ran past him. “Sorry!” she cried. The monster turned, shouldering the end of his pipe before letting a barrage of fire loose on the retreating figure.

The rock next to Scootaloo exploded as massive bullets slammed into it, causing her to yelp in surprise before redoubling her efforts. “Not cool!” she yelled before the sound of another volley sounded behind her.

Diving to the side, she narrowly avoided another barrage, causing dust and sand to kick up into the air.

Taking a hard left, Scootaloo quickly began heading towards a small chasm made by two slanted metal walls.

About halfway in, she paused, and checked the walls once more.

She gave a smile, and leaped up, her wings buzzing to give her a sustained hover long enough to jump from wall to wall.

She was a pegasus after all.

---=][=---

Scootaloo stuck to the flat roofs of the crude, blue-painted metal houses, jumping from roof to roof while avoiding the occasional green guard.

Who posts guards on roofs, anyways?

Still, she had somehow managed to stay out of sight and had managed to do a good bit of scouting of her surroundings.

Apparently she had stumbled on a massive camp, one that was bigger than Ponyville.

All of Ponyville, Sweet Apple Acres included.

The camp was nestled in a shallow canyon that ran as wide as it was long, and was made almost entirely of these crude, flat-roofed buildings that seemed more slapped together than some of their Cutie Mark Crusader inventions.

There was something in the middle of the camp, though. In many ways, it seemed to be a tank, much like the armored, mobile cannons of Equestria, yet, this was far, far larger. It towered over the surrounding buildings, and it’s massive cannon was the length of a whole swimming pool.

The fact that it looked nothing like the rest of the construction around the camp was equally suspicious.

Still, that was not the main focus here.

Below her, on the now busy street, more of the massive green monsters searched for her. Speaking in their harsh, guttural tones and deep accent. “Oi! You found da grot yet?” one asked.

“Nah, the sneaky git’s ‘ard ta find.”

“Well ‘er ‘air is purple…” one said as if that mattered somehow.

“Roight,” the other said.

Scootaloo didn’t get it.

“Oi! Youz Boyz!” a third one said, coming if from another crooked street. “Git ta work findin’ da sneaky git!”

“Zog off, ya grot!” the first one said angrily.

“Yeah, we’re lookin’ for da git, why aren’t you looking for ‘er?”

“I am lookin’ for ‘er! Yer da ones flabbin’ your gobs aroun’ and standin’ there liok yer finkin’ or summin’.”

“Stuff ya gob!” the second one said, before using an overly large knife to pick through its massive teeth. “We’re workin’!”

“Ya better zoggin’ be workin’!” The third said before stomping off, leaving Scootaloo to try and interpret what they had just said.

Shaking her head, she figured that at the least, they were still hunting her. With that in mind, she needed to find the best way to get out of the camp without being noticed.

Poking her head back up to check the camp once more, she quickly made her plan. All she needed to do was skirt the edges of the camp, and come out the other side, avoiding the center, and...what was it, southern side? Yeah, she’d avoid the southern side altogether.

A buzzing began to sound, and she flicked her ears as she tried to focus and ignore it.

Then that buzzing began to get louder.

And it was coming from above her.

She looked up.

A massive, blue, smoke-belching monstrosity flew overhead, buzzing annoyingly as it did.

That wasn’t the problem though.

No, the problem was the green-skinned thing sitting inside of the flying machine, pointing down at her and yelling at the top of its lungs. “Dere’s da git! She’s on da roofs!”

Scootaloo said something that would get her grounded.

She leaped to the next roof as the green monsters began to climb.

Taking another leap to a third rooftop, she began to figure out her route to get out of the camp.

So far she was making great progress.

Until a massive, green, and blue hand gripped the edge of one of the roofs and leaping over the side. “I gotcha now!” the thing said with a grin.

Scootaloo took a hard right, heading straight for the center of the camp, but away from her pursuers. “You’ve got nothing!” she said back.

“Get da Shoota Boyz!” a voice said behind her as she leaped to the next building. “Shoot da git!”

Salvos of fire erupted behind her, tearing chunks out of the rough metal construction. Scootaloo kept her head down, hoping and praying that no one caught her.

She kept trying to pull back left, to head towards the edge of town, only for yet more monsters to sweep in and redirect her forwards toward the center.

She began to sweat as she ran, trying to find a way back over, but all she was met with was a wall of green.

She wasn’t getting a chance to move, and instead was getting closer and closer to the massive tank.

The streets were becoming alive with activity as more and more of the creatures began to swarm, along with massive machines and squealing monsters.

She kept running, chunks of metal flying into the air as the “Shootas” behind her kept shooting.

Another street flew by under her as she leaped, and her eyes went wide as she skid to a halt.

They had almost chased her directly to the center of the camp, and now there was a massive gap between her and the tank.

The street was swarming with green-skinned creatures, all calling for her blood.

She looked behind her at the wave of them coming at her.

She checked the gap.

She gulped.

Well, she had heard of some pegasi performing great feats of flying under stress.

And she was a pegasus.

She took a step back, spread her wings, screwed her eyes shut, and jumped.

---=][=---

Now sadly, the narrative must be broken for a moment, else the coming events seem all too wondrous and convenient.

The ork, spelled with a ‘k’, is a fungal creature that infests practically every corner of the galaxy, and while they appear to be simple creatures, they actually hide the greatest power of all.

The power of the Waaagh!

Which is spelled with at least three ‘a’s and an exclamation point.

The Waaagh! holds several meanings in the ork language, including a battlecry as well as the name of a great gathering of orks, but our focus shall be on the Waaagh! as a psychic field.

Orks generate a reality-altering field about them, which gets stronger the more orks are gathered.

All an ork needs to do is believe that something is true, and it will become true, becoming more true the more orks there are.

As an example, a widely held belief among orks is that red vehicles go faster than ones that are painted another color, thus, if there is a gathering of orks nearby, a red vehicle of two otherwise identical ones will, in fact, go faster.

Thankfully the orks are unaware of this power, and this alone keeps them from becoming the most powerful beings in existence. However, the reality alteration field is still very powerful.

An ork blade, while flimsy and worthless in the hand of a mere man, can cut through some of the galaxy’s strongest metals in the hands of an ork because he believes it will cut.

Ramshackle weapons and robots function on the basis that they believe it will work.

Covering yourself in blue paint will make you luckier, as blue is the color of luck.

Purple is the color of stealth, so a creature with purple hair must be sneaky.

And if a creature has wings, it must know how to fly.

---=][=---

Scootaloo’s wings caught the wind, and she soared.

She peeked an eye open when she realized she hadn’t hit the floor yet. She looked down and saw her shadow flying above the buildings below.

“I’m flying…” she said, stating the fact as if she didn’t believe it herself.

Still, she flew.

“I’m flying,” she said, a smile starting to grow on her face.

“I’m flying!” she yelled, screaming as she began to climb into the air. “Ha! You can’t catch me now!”

A dozen shootas answered with salvo after salvo of gunfire, firing into the air after her.

And Scootaloo laughed. She was flying and she was free, and there was nothing they could—

Her right wing erupted in pain as blood shot out of a fresh bullet wound, and she spun, falling to the ground.

Slamming into the dusty ground, she screamed, pain coursing through her small body before looking up at the howling monsters still on the roof. Ahead of her was the tank.

As adrenaline ran through her body, she quickly got back on her hooves, whimpering in pain as she moved.

She needed to get away.

She made her way to the massive treads, trying to climb up the massive tank, the monsters began to close in, getting closer and closer to her as she climbed.

“She’s roight dere!” one them yelled pointing with a massive cleaver.

Scootaloo kept climbing, tears in her eyes.

“Git ‘er!”

Finally pulling herself up on top of the front tank, Scootaloo began to head for the turret.

The monsters closed the gap, standing of the foot of the gargantuan tank, they were already beginning to climb it.

Scootaloo reached the turret and turned. There was no way to outrun them now.

She was going to die.

The monsters leaped over the edge, now standing between her and freedom.

It was too late.

“Oi!” A thunderous, deep voice said. “What’s you lot doin’ on my tank!?”

Suddenly two massive green feet slammed into the tank, just in front of Scootaloo, and she looked up to see the largest of green creatures she had ever seen.

And it was standing between her and the rest of them.

“I told you lot ta stay off my tank!” The big one roared, revealing the massive, three-fingered metal claw it had as a right hand.

“But boss!” one of the braver ones said, pointing at Scootaloo, “we’re chasing dat git roight dere!”

The massive monster turned, and glared at Scootaloo. Half of his face was scarred beyond recognition, and his left eye had been completely replaced by a shiny red lens. His lower jaw was armored, with a massive plate of steel riveted to the tough skin and bone of his lower face. Along his back rested a dozen pikes, each with a shaped metal plate that looked like it was some sort of banner, the largest of which was a massive blue skull.

It’s large, wide, flat nose snorted in disgust before he reached down for her and grabbed her with his massive, green, fleshy hand.

Three fully formed fingers wrapped around her while the other two, stubby fingers gripped as tight as they could. Lifting her limp form bodily in the air, the large creature brought her up to look him in his good eye.

Now, as the weak form of Scootaloo was lifted to face the warboss, and looked him in the eye, something changed.

Perhaps it was simply an overwhelming will to live.

Perhaps it was the proud, warrior blood of the pegasi awakening in her.

Perhaps it was none of these.

But as she glared at the thing with its tiny, beady eye, she felt her anger rise, and unleash a ragged, angry growl, before slamming a hoof into the thing’s massive metal jaw.

The large thing blinked, before throwing his head back in a laugh. “Bwahaha! You’ve all been runnin’ around chasin’ this git? Bwahaha!”

The others said nothing.

He set her back down on the tank before turning to the others.

“Alroight, now, which one of youz boyz made the shot that got ‘er.”

“Well that was me, Boss!” one of them said from the crowd.

“Really? Well, come ‘ere!”

The shoota pushed his way forward, standing in front of the warboss with pride.

And in an almost blindingly fast move, the warboss grabbed the shoota’s head in his claw and crushed it.

Blood sprayed upward in a shower of gore before the body fell backwards.

The warboss stepped forward. “I’m the biggest, I’m the strongest, so I’m the leader! And we’re Deff Skullz, so I get first pick of the loot! And she,” he said, pointing at Scootaloo with his claw, “is my loot! Do ya know happens when ya mess with Nabrot’s loot?”

The crowd stayed silent.

“Ya deal with Gork’s Other Foot!” he said, stepping on the great tank beneath him.

Silence met him.

“Understand!?” he asked, angrily,

“Yes, Boss!”

“Right, Boss!”

“You got it, Boss!”

“Good,” the Boss said. “Now get off my tank!”

The crowd quickly dispersed, leaping off the sides of the tank as though the devil were behind them. With another snort, the large ork then turned and picked up the small creature. “Let’s getcha to the Mad Doks, they’ll fix ya up.”

Scootaloo’s body went limp, and she felt weak from loss of blood. “W-why did you save me?” she asked.

“Cause even though yer smaller than a gretchin, you tried to take me on, and that was the most orky fing I ever sheen. That, and yer ‘air’s purple. I loike purple.”

Scootaloo nodded, tiered and weakening by the moment.

“But lissen now. Nabrot Stub-fingers loots everyfin’, but he only keeps fings that are useful ta ‘im. So, ya better git useful, ya git. Or I’ll gob mahself.”

---=][=---

The Mad Doks were half-ork, half-machine monsters that ran from Nabrot until he grabbed them by the neck and forced them to work.

“Fix ‘er, and fix ‘er good, or I’ll fix you,” were his simple instructions.

The Mad Doks took it to heart.

So it was, with great restraint, that the ork doks did not use their “stabby bits” to perform any experimental procedures, and instead, focused on fixing her wing using the medicinal properties of the Speckled Bloodshade Fungus.

Stuffing the ork spore mushrooms into her mouth, and sowing them into her wing like it was a skin graft, they performed the most minimal surgery they had.

By the end of it, the Mad Doks were confident that she would not only live, but she’d be able to fly again.

And if orks believed it, it would come true.

---=][=---

"Blessed is the mind too small for doubt."—Imperial Thought of the Day

Man, ork language is hard to write.

“Nah, it ain’t ya just weren’t tryin’ ‘ard enuf.”

Pinkie, stop.

“But it’s fun…”

Don’t care. Now, for the rest of you, I feel a need to apologize for the narration break when I explained the Waaagh! It’s just that it’s really hard to explain organically when no one really knows what’s going on.

“And you’re apologizing why?”

Cause I wish I could have done better.

“Ah…”

So, yeah, sorry.

“Hm...is that true though?”

What?

“The Wagh stuff.”

Three ‘a’s and an exclamation point, Pinkie. But yes, it’s true. Weird but true.

“Huh…this universe is weird.”

It is indeed.

“Alright, guys, we’ll see you all next time, bye!”

Bye!

Chapter IX

“Of all of the orkish vehicles, the so-called ‘Kroozer’ is perhaps the most dangerous.

“This is not because they have superior firepower, armor, or flight capabilities. Indeed such a thought is almost laughable were it not a blasphemy. Nay, but rather it is their gift for camouflage.

“While most ork vehicles are simply fragile salvage of our most venerable tanks and machines, most Kroozers are simply space hulks, captured and re-purposed for the foul work of these evil xenos.

“Little more than a floating mass of pitted rock and twisted metal, most ork Kroozers are easily mistaken for simply that, a harmless space hulk floating through the void. Yet report after report of our great, Imperial Navy facing surprise attacks and rams at every turn, has this disgusting mass of tech-heresy to blame.

“Thus I urge you, brothers and sisters of the Imperium, be ever vigilant in the far reaches of the void, and never let weariness force you to lower your guard. Never let a space hulk pass you by, for the bowles of it may contain the horrid taint of xenos, and if you turn your back to them, you may never have the honor to face the enemy of the Most Holy Emperor again.”

—“Vehicula Inimicorum Nostrorum” by Inquisitor Hermine Marguardt of the Ordo Xenos

---=][=---

“Waaaaah!” The alarm sounded, and Scootaloo jumped to her hooves.

“Waaaaaah!” the gretchin continued to scream as it spun, strapped onto a red light, causing the room to flash red.

“Up and at’em, boyz!” she yelled as her three kommandos roused from their sleep.

Blooddagga was up first, grabbing his biggest stabby-choppa that he had, and holding his slugga at the ready. “Waaagh!” he roared.

“No lazin’!” Scoots yelled, before following Blooddagga out of the room.

She ran forward, through a massive corridor that had been cut through the otherwise labyrinthian corridors of the Kroozer.

She followed the corridor down to the bridge, with Hellspitta and Facehacka following close behind.

A hundred gretchin stood at half as many consoles, ordered by a few Mekboyz to keep them from blowing everything up. The bridge walls were covered in plasteel windows, most of which were actually covered by various rocks and walls of twisted metal. Those that remained open to the void of space, however, revealed the infinite depths being lit up by enormous explosions, and beyond those, a massive cathedral-shaped ship.

In the center of the bridge stood Nobgobba, a hulking ork only slightly smaller than Nabrot himself. Large, mechanized armor chugged and belched smoke as Nobgobba moved, and a massive, Big Choppa sat in his hand. “What’s goin’ on down dere?!” He roared, looking down a small catwalk balcony into the pit of consoles.

“We’z under attack, boss!” a Mekboy said, shouting over the sound of the grecthin siren.

“Ah can see dat, dum-dum!” Nobgobba yelled. “Who’z attackin’ us?”

“Itz da humies!” another Mekboy said, pointing at the ship outside the window.

“Da humies!?” Nobgobba yelled. “Don’t dey know who Ah am? I iz da chosen of Gork!”

“I thought it was Mork…” Scootaloo mumbled.

Nobgobba turned, and saw the three kommandos and their leader. “Whatcha doin’ here, Shootaloota?” he asked.

“Doing my job, whaddaya think, ya grot!” She said, as she walked up to the rail. “Oi! You! Spin us around!”

“Spin us around!?” Nogobba yelled. “We ain’t runnin’ nowhere!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Nobby,” she said. “Get the left and right big gunz on the line!”

A long pipe with a flared end was lowered down to the bridge floor by another team of gretchin. She grabbed it, and it sent a few of the small okanoids flying. “Alright boyz! Lissin’ up!” she said, yelling into the tube. “We have some humies that think they can out-fight an ork!”

She covered the flared tube and waited a moment. Sure enough, a large, rattling sound began to echo through hulk. She smirked. That got ‘em mad. She turned and gave Nobgobba a wink. “Are you gonna let that stand? Are you gonna let them say that?” she asked into the tube.

Another roar that caused the consoles in the bridge to rattle.

“So what does an ork do when Dakka isn't enough?” she asked.

Another, stronger rattle.

“What’s that? I can’t hear you!”

Another rattle, the words almost audible.

“One more time, boyz!”

“More Dakka!”

Scootaloo smiled as the ship began to turn, and then the entire port side opened fire, firing as much fully-automatic fire as it had.

Don’t ask how they got artillery cannons to have automatic fire. The Mekboyz aren’t even sure.

The hulk kept moving forward, now spinning as it flew forward in space towards their destination.

They had been flying through the warp for the past month and had even had a few tangles with a couple of daemons that had come on board. After a while, the looted warp engine in the hulk was beginning to die, so they had to exit and re-enter realspace.

They had come in about three weeks away from a new planet, which Nobgobba had decreed to be their new destination.

Of course, the inhabitants, watching their doom approach three weeks in advance, did not take kindly to this, and called for help.

And that help was now firing large artillery shells into the ork’s space hulk.

As the hulk kept spinning, its starboard side suddenly came into view. A salvo of heavy ordnance slammed into the imperial balustrade.

Scootaloo turned to Nobgobba as explosions ripped through the imperial battlecruiser. “Now do I have to keep going or are you going to do your job?”

Nobgobba snarled, and glared at her, even as the kommandos smirked and smiled at her. “Oi! You grots!” he yelled into the pit below the bridge, and a few of the mekboyz turned up to face him. “Don’t just stand dere! Charge ‘em!”

The Meks smiled. “Charge ‘em, boyz!”

The grots went crazy at the controls, smiling, hooting, and hollering as every gun on the ship continued to fire. The engines behind the massive space hulk ignited to full thrust, catching the spinning ship and forcing it forward at a diagonal, collision-course to the cruiser.

The Imperial Navy saw it coming a second too late. They tried to pull away, but even with every engine firing at full thrust, they couldn’t escape the massive, heavily armored-prow of the ork kroozer.

The two slammed into each other, the Imperial ship exploding as the plasma fusion-generators went critical, running down the length of the ship in massive, brilliant blue clouds as the reactors erupted.

And the gunz kept firing. They kept firing even as the massive hulk began to enter the atmosphere of the planet below. And they continued to fire as it crashed into the ground.

They just kept firing.

---=][=---

The crater from the falling ships stretched twenty-eight miles long, and twelve miles wide. It had plowed through half of the port city, destroying three major buildings and the port spire itself, leaving the only way to get from the upper atmosphere to the surface in any large capability on the other side of the planet.

It should go without saying that the orks had a field day.

A door had to be cut out of the side of the space hulk, and the surviving crew (which happened to be most of them, considering the armor on the hulk) quickly made their way into the city, shooting and looting to their heart’s desire.

Massive, exploding shells ripped through men and buildings alike, and the orks began their Waaagh! in earnest.

“Dese humies can’t foight!” Facehacka said, sighting a civilian through his scope and quickly ending his life with a burst of full-auto fire.

“They’re not the ones you need to worry about,” Scootaloo said, as she eyed the wreckage of the Imperial cruiser. “It’s the ones that have guns that you need to worry about.”

“So where are dey, den?” Blooddagga asked as they stood on a hill of rubble, watching the line of orks swarm forward, the burna boyz leading with their flamers.

“They’re coming,” Scootaloo said. “What I’m worried about are the ones behind us.”

“Be’ind us?” Hellspitta said, turning his underslung flamer on a pile of wood and books. “Whatz gonna happen be’ind us?”

Scootaloo checked the wreck behind them and frowned.

“Let’s find out, follow me, boyz.”

---=][=---

The three kommandos made their way through the imperial cruiser, with Scootaloo at their head. She switched the fire rate on her Kustom Shootas from “Dakka” to “More Dakka” as they got deeper into the ship with tighter and tighter fighting space.

They had broken in through a breach into the aft of the rear of the imperial ship and were slowly making their way to the back. The kommandos, their purple paint making them harder to see (somehow) began blurring into the walls and pipes that ran along the corridors, while Scootaloo’s mane and tail began hiding her head and hind legs. They stuck to the walls, their night vision goggles revealing the darkness beyond.

“‘Ey boss!” Facehacka said, in the ork equivalent of a whisper. “Ah’m seein’ sumfin’!”

“What?” she asked.

“It looks dead…” the kommando said as Blooddagga moved forward. The large ork nudged the thing with his foot, before turning it over. A withered, human shape with two white glass beads for eyes stared back at him. It’s mouth a metal grate and legs a clunky, wheeled stand.

The eyes lit up red, and its voice sounded in a klaxon. “Intruder alert! Intruder alert! Intruders detected on level 123/B! Intruder alert! Intruder alert! Intruders detected on level 123/B!”

Blooddagga silenced him with a knife wound to the chest and ripping through to its neck. “It’s one of the humies’ people-bots,” he said, as he lifted his head to check the corridor.

Scootaloo shivered. She hated those things.

“Sh. Lissen!” Facehacka said.

The four of them went quiet, and Scootaloo’s ears perked as she began to caught whispers and mutterings from down the hall.

Scootaloo smiled, the barest hints of fangs showing. “We’s got some humies to fight. Form up and follow me boys, stick to the shadows. We’s gonna have some fun.”

---=][=---

XCIX was a slave.

He had always been a slave, he was born one. He didn’t even have a proper name, just a number, ninety-nine. The ninety-ninth on-board birth that had survived to the age of twelve.

He was one of the thousands of slaves that had lived on the Ferrum Tumba, the exalted ship that had taken them across the galaxy. He was one of the proud members that would help load the ship’s massive guns. He and a hundred other slaves would run and work together to move the massive, car-sized shells into place.

And now, his whole life, his purpose, had become meaningless. He was born on this ship, he had lived on this ship, and he had planned to die on the ship. But now the ship had died before him, and he had nothing left.

The others, they had something. Almost forgotten memories of planets and homes they had lost. Even his parents had a home they could remember, but not XCIX. He had nothing.

That only made leading the small army of survivors slaves feel all the more alien. He held up a small autopistol, taken from the dead Gun captain in charge of his artillery weapon. “This way!” he shouted, his voice a whisper to his ears, made deaf by the report of the massive gun.

They pushed their way forward, moving through the familiar hallways of their ruined home. “Come on! We need to get out of here!”

The ship was dying. He could hear the machine spirit of the ancient vessel groan and whine in pain. Their home was about to die.

Leaving was their only chance.

“I don’t think you humies are going anywhere.”

XCIX looked up and saw a creature he had never seen before.

Scootaloo stood in the middle of the hallway, a smile on her face and the knuckles on one hoof out and ready.

The hall shook as a massive ork landed behind them, a flamer lit and ready to envelop them, and another ork stood behind them, seeming to materialize from out of the walls.

XCIX raised his autopistol, aiming directly for the orange xeno, only for a choppa blade to go straight through his arm.

XCIX screamed in pain as the massive knife blade almost removed his arm, and he found himself staring into the green face of death.

“Now, now…” Scoots said, “let’s not be hasty. It may surprise you after all, but we aren’t really interested in killing you. You’re not much of a fight, after all.”

XCIX dropped back, his arm ruined.

“No we’re here for something else. The gunz, specifically.”

“The guns?” XCIX asked, before using his free hand to stuff his mouth.

“You know the ones,” Scootaloo said with a smile. “The big ones, with the really big bullets. We want those.”

XCIX spat at her. “You’ll never take them from us.”

She shrugged. “Alright. If that’s what you want,” she said before stepping aside, “then go ahead and go.”

XCIX blinked, before looking back at the others.

The slaves all looked between themselves before looking to the orks, who, oddly enough seemed fine with letting the slaves go.

A few took a cautious step forward.

The orks did nothing.

Another step.

Still nothing.

They all made a break for it.

XCIX lead the pack, as they began running through the hall, away from the four aliens.

And then their world became awash with flame.

And so, XCIX, the man who was born as a slave and lived as a slave, died as a slave.

---=][=---

“Waaaaaagh!” Nobgobba cried as he led his orks forward.

Bolts of lightning shot from the staves of weirdboyz and as gouts of flame shot from the flamers of the Burnaboyz. Shootaboyz fired their shootas, picking their targets and striking true.

Or missing.

Mostly missing.

Luckily the Flashgitz, the orks with the biggest, baddest, most expensive guns covered the area in so much heavy suppressing fire that the human Planetary Defense Force couldn’t even poke their heads out of cover to get a shot in.

And this gave the Sluggaboyz, the ork forces armed with small sluggas and much larger choppas, all the opportunity they needed to get in close.

A heavily armored Nob pushed forward, his power Klaw humming with electricity as he brought it down on the PDF ranks, ripping through the human’s armor as though it wasn’t even there.

“Dat’s it boyz! We’z got ‘em on da run now!” Nobgobba laughed.

A team of grots moved forward, dragging a cannon-sized gun behind them. It took a moment, just a moment to get it set up, before the grots fired, launching an angry red beam down to the PDF line, and shocking the Zzap gun operator within an inch of his life.

The Meks began to move forward, guns firing and buzzsaws spinning, and Nobgobba could hear the cries of fear at the sight of them.

He laughed.

This was a good day. “For da glory of Gork!” he cried, standing atop a collapsed, ruined building.

Suddenly, a massive explosion shook the world, and Nogobba looked up to see a wave of incoming armor.

Tanks upon tanks came rolling in on the horizon, and a few mortar artillery vehicles were firing down at the line of orks.

Nobgobba smirked. “Finally a good fioght! Let’s get ‘em boyz!”

Another explosion rocked the ground, killing hundreds of orks with a single strike.

But Nobgobba wasn’t worried.

He had the blessing of Mork.

Nothing could stop him.

---=][=---

Scootaloo and the kommandos finally found their target. A fully functional, and loaded, Stygies Pattern Bombardment Cannon. A weapon capable of leveling planetary defenses from space.

The hulk had a couple, but they didn’t work properly, and they had maybe one shell.

But this…

This was going to be fun.

“Facehacka!” Scootaloo ordered. “Open up a window for us.”

“Youz got it boss!” he said, as he began to climb the wall up to the end of the cannon and began ripping into the metal with one of his many choppas.

“So whadda we doin’ boss?” Hellspitta asked.

“What? Don’t you want to shoot this gun?” she asked.

Hellspitta looked at the gun, then nodded. “Ya got a point dere, Boss.”

“And besides,” Scootaloo said, “if we shoot it, then they can’t.”

“Wow, Boss. Dat’s cunnin’,” Bloodagga said.

“An’ its just in tiome! Facehacka said. “We’z got a buncha humies in tanks comin’ dis way!”

Scootaloo smiled. “Facehacka, point us in the right direction! Blooddagga, Hellspitta, help me shoot this thing! Alright boyz, let’s have some fun!”

---=][=---

Commissar Julius Nepos Ertelt stood proud in the hatch of his Leman Russ tank. He gave a wolfish smile as he watched the green tide fall under his perfectly executed killing field, and took great pride in the thought that these horridly stupid creatures could not even begin to comprehend what had just happened to them.

These brain-dead creatures were beneath him. They were brute force without any sort of tactical sense, and far too easy to manipulate. All it had taken was one hundred men of the PDF to lure these monsters forward to their death at his hand.

Their sacrifice would be remembered.

The killing field was a stroke of genius if he did say so himself. With the Costea 301st’s fourth company focus on artillery, it was almost the obvious thing to do when dealing with this xeno scum.

Of course, he did not mention that to General Clementina Hussian when he pointed out its strategic value. She took his suggestion readily, and, if this went well, Julius might be finding himself promoted to Captain-Commissar, with an actual rank to add to his title.

“Yes…” he thought, his thoughts interrupted by the earth-shaking thundering of the Vanaheim Pattern Basilisk Artillery Guns that blew the ork line to pieces. “This will prove most beneficial to my career.”

The Basilisks, almost ten miles away, sounded blast after blast as they fired, echoing in the commissar’s ears as they fired their 84-pound shells at the stupid, and hopelessly moronic orks below.

“They’ll murder themselves before they crest the hill,” he said to himself with a smirk.

Yes, with only a hundred deaths, this battle would be considered one of the most successful defenses in the history of the Imperium. His career was secured for the next century at least.

He sipped at his flask of Amasec. An early victory celebration for himself. He had earned it after all.

Then the earth quaked, and his tank nearly capsized.

He glanced up, and just barely caught the sight of a trail of light disappearing into the sky.

“W-what was that?!” he wondered. “Wa-was that from the wreckage?! Did they just fire one of the ship's guns?! But-but they’re orks! They’re too dumb to work—!”

And then the world exploded into light, sound, and heat.

---=][=---

Scootaloo, Blooddagga, Facehacka, and Hellspitta all wandered out of the wreckage of the imperial ship. Their ears had been ringing ever since they had woken up in the ruins of the cruiser about twenty minutes ago, and they all had the biggest smiles on their face as they made their way out.

Firing that gun was the best decision she had ever made.

Even if the actual atmosphere made the gun louder and more deadly in terms of concussive air pressure.

Blooddagga said something that Scootaloo didn’t hear, but probably went along the lines of “Dat was da best fing evah!”

She kept smiling as she began walking down to the orky hut that had apparently been erected while they were out cold.

A picket line saw her and began waving her down.

“What!? I can’t hear you!” she yelled.

One of the orks began running up to her, his mouth moving.

“What!?” she shouted.

He got up close, speaking again.

“I seriously can’t hear you!” she said.

The ork blinked, before reaching into his belt and pulling out some squig hide parchment. He quickly wrote something down before handing it to Scoots.

“Shootaloota,” it read.

“Da Boss sayz dat if ya lived he wanted ta say dat ya did a good job. Got dose humies running scared. He sayz ta keep it up.”

Scootaloo smiled. “That’s more like it. Getting paid to have some fun.” She looked back up at the messenger and yelled. “Tell Nobgobba I plan on it!”

---=][=---

“Be courageous and bold, be humble before your masters, lead with valor! These things above all others will be of use when your time comes to die.” —Imperial Thought of the Day

Alright, guys! Next time we’re back with Apple Bloom and the Blood Ravens. I hope you guys enjoyed this one though.

“You have too much fun with the orks sometimes, don’t you?”

I have no idea what you’re talking about. Breaking the laws of physics and logic aren’t that fun...

“Sure. I believe that.”

Oh hush.

“Anyways, we’ll see you guys next time, alright?”

Bye!

Epilogue

The Era of Harmony ended two hundred years after the return of the Crusaders. Equestria, at the time, was under the threat of war by the neighboring kingdom of Griffonstone. With every passing day, the Equestrian Guard, the world’s most formidable fighting force, was preparing, stockpiling power cells and their las rifles until the day would come.

And the day did come, and Discord's work proved itself.

Griffonstone did, in fact declare war on Equestria one day.

Griffonstone also surrendered the same exact day, when three figures marched into the Griffonstone palace.

The remaining kingdoms of the planet, terrified at Equestria’s power, quickly began to speak of joining the Princesses’ kingdom at the soonest possible moment.

Within another five years, Princess Celestia became Emperor Celestia, leader of a global kingdom of a thousand different races.

With these distractions out of the way, the First Imperial Era began with great leaps in technology, including the secrets of genetic modification, and the gene-seed implantation process.

Now, after another thousand years, a new Era was about to begin.

Apple Bloom, Mother of Ravens strode onto the great, open bridge of the great Wraithbone ship. “Status report!” she called.

A minotaur answered as he looked up from his console, dressed in a white robe. “My lady, warp generators seem stable and are charging. They will be ready to fire within five standard minutes.”

“Weapons systems?”

“Ready to fire!” a baby dragon answered from a different console, dressed in an identical robe.

“Gellar field?”

“Ready but unnecessary,” a voice said behind her, and Apple Bloom turned to see Sweetie Belle come to the bridge. “I installed it at your request, but I keep telling you there’s no need.”

“And you know me well enough to know that I would say that it is better to be safe.”

“Yes, yes, yes…Personally, I am more worried about the warp engines.”

“This is their first test,” Apple Bloom nodded.

“Oi! Wes ready ta go yet?” Scootaloo said, bursting onto the bridge, carrying her so-called “Big Choppa” on her shoulder.

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. “Do you not know patience?”

A white-armored figure followed behind the pegasus, a black raven on a red field decorating his shoulders. “Forgive me, Mother,” the Space Marine said, “I tried to keep Lady Scootaloo from bothering you.”

Apple Bloom waved him. “Worry not, worry not. Simply return to your post and prepare as I taught you.”

“Yes, Mother,” the Space Marine said, before disappearing from view.

“Oi still fink dat da white don’t look as good,” Scootaloo said.

“I tend to agree,” Apple Bloom said.

“You just don’t like the fact that it’s made of wraithbone,” Sweetie said.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You thought it,” Sweetie Belle said.

“Oi! No foightin’ wifout me!”

“You stay out of this!”

A cough sounded behind them, and they all turned to see a zebra, dressed in the same robe as all the other workmen. “My ladies, the Warp engines all appear steady, we but wait for the word, are you now ready?”

Apple Bloom nodded. “Everyone to your stations. The time has come.”

A sudden flurry of activity filled the bridge, and lights lit up on consoles as they prepared their final checks.

“Sure it’ll work?” Scootaloo asked.

“It will either work, or nothing will happen,” Sweetie said, confidently.

“No explosions?”

“Incredibly unlikely.”

“Ladies,” Apple Bloom said, “if you will join me?”

They nodded.

“Warp engines fire! For the Emperor!”

And with those words, the great, cathedral-shaped, wraithbone ship, The Crusader, disappeared, into the warp.

---=][=---

“No army is big enough to conquer the galaxy. But faith alone can overturn the universe.”—Imperial Thought of the Day

And this has been The Marks of War.

"Whoo! Story's done!"

Now, as promised, a new project is coming down the tubes, but that is a ways away. In the meantime, I would like to thank you for reading, and we'll see you next time.

"Bye!"

The above story is a work of Fanfiction, using the characters and setting of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic as created by Lauren Faust and owned by Hasbro, as well as the characters and settings from Warhammer 40k as owned by Games Workshop. I do not own the characters of the aforementioned property, and I am in no way benefiting financially from this work. Likewise, it is in no way endorsed by Games Workshop Limited or Fantasy Flight Games. 40k, Adeptus Astartes, Blood Angels, Chaos, the Chaos device, the Chaos logo, Daemonhunters, Dark Angels, Dark Eldar, Dawn of War, the Double-Headed/Imperial Eagle device, 'Eavy Metal, Eldar, Eldar symbol devices, Eye of Terror, Forge World, Games Workshop, Games Workshop logo, Genestealer, Golden Demon, Gorkamorka, Great Unclean One, GW, GWI, the GWI logo, Inquisitor, the Inquisitor logo, the Inquisitor device, Inquisitor:Conspiracies, Keeper of Secrets, Khemri, Khorne, the Khorne logo, Lord of Change, Necron, Nurgle, the Nurgle logo, Ork, Ork skull devices, Sisters of Battle, Skaven, the Skaven symbol devices, Slaanesh, the Slaanesh logo, Space Hulk, Space Marine, Space Marine chapters, Space Marine chapter logos, Tomb Kings, Trio of Warriors, Twin Tailed Comet Logo, Tyranid, Tyrannid, Tzeentch, the Tzeentch logo, Ultramarines, Warhammer 40k Device, and all associated marks, names, races, race insignia, characters, vehicles, locations, units, illustrations and images from the Warhammer 40,000 universe are either ®, TM and/or © Copyright Games Workshop Ltd 2000-2012, variably registered in the UK and other countries around the world. All images and instances on this website used without permission. No challenge to their status intended. All Rights Reserved to their respective owners. Please support the official release.

Chapter I

In the nightmare future of the 41st Millennium, there is only war.

Our galaxy has transformed into a universe of constant violence, where everyday men and women walk a fine line of survival and extinction.

Aliens threaten our lives as they try to reclaim what was once theirs. Evil gods laugh as they reach for our souls, devouring them while offering promises of power in exchange for their allegiance.

Yet still, we must look to our own backs, for if those promises fall deaf on our ears, others amongst our own ranks may yet hear them.

No one is above suspicion.

No one is innocent.

The hope of mankind is dead and sits upon of throne of gold, an idol of better days.

Now there are no better days.

Forget the power of science and technology, for so much has been forgotten, never to be relearned.

There is no peace.

Only war.

Yet this story does not begin here.

This begins in a world of peace, billions of lightyears, and planes of reality away.

This story begins in the castle of a newly crowned Princess of Friendship in the magical land of Equestria.

---=][=---

It all started in a palace made of crystal that had grown in the shape of a tree.

Beaded sweat rolled off Twilight Sparkle’s brow, and her tongue stuck out in concentration.

The lavender alicorn made a quick, careful note as her eyes darted across the readings that were coming out of a nearby machine.

Twilight, ever since she had been a little filly, was always a curious one. It only took a single question to spark a fire of curiosity that burned until every single outcome was found.

This time, that question had been posed by her good friend Applejack. It had started when they all were sitting around, waiting as Twilight sorted through yet another pile of books. Applejack, the farm pony in question, found herself staring up at Twilight’s enchanted mirror.

It was innocent enough, to begin with.

Now here she was, running around the heavily modified machine, checking and rechecking numerous figures and readouts as a thousand other machines cranked out page after page of test results.

It was quite an amazing artifact. Every 30 moons, a portal would open to another world, transforming whoever walked through it as it brought them. Twilight herself, in a moment of desperation brought on by a friend in need, had altered it to allow her unlimited access.

And then came the million-bit question.

“Do Y’all reckon this mirror can go other places?”

Twilight looked up from her books. “What?”

Applejack looked over at her. “Well, Ah mean, if there’s this human world, what other places are out there?”

Twilight stared at Applejack for a long time after she asked that.

The thought had never occurred to her.

And now that it had, she needed an answer.

Ripping a new page of readouts away from her machine, she quickly read it, looking for the tell-tale signs of a wormhole along with the proper indicators to show that the wormhole had gone somewhere, anywhere other than the human world she was now familiar with.

Today she had fourteen negative tests, where the wormhole failed to form, and three false positives, where it had opened, but back to the same world. Still, Applejack’s hypothesis had some weight to it. With each false positive, there was enough variation to suggest that the mirror portal was in different locations in the same world.

All she needed to do was figure out which plane to move it on…

“Hiya, Twilight!” someone said behind her, causing the princess to all but jump of her skin.

Scrambling to keep her clipboard from falling to the floor, Twilight turned to see three young fillies looking up behind her.

She quickly recognized them; Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo. Her three students, and her best friends’ sisters. Even if one of them wasn’t technically blood-related.

“Oh, hi, girls. What are you doing here?”

“It’s Thursday,” Apple Bloom said. “It’s Twilight Time…” she explained.

“Oh,” Twilight blinked, wondering where the week had gone. “Well, uh...let’s get started!” she said, as she made her way, blinking in surprise, to her supply closet.

The three foals, however, stared up at the mirror.

When Twilight returned, a chaotic and wide array of items in her telekinetic grasp, she sighed. “I’m sorry girls, I’ve just been concentrating on this mirror lately.”

“Why? What does it do?” Sweetie Belle, the unicorn of the group asked.

“Nevermind, girls, it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Yes, girls,” Twilight said, setting up various workshops. “Just leave it alone.”

She suddenly blinked, realizing she was missing something. “Oh, shoot. Hang on, Scootaloo, I forgot your scooter building kit, give me a second,” she said, before ducking out of the room.

As the princess left the room, the three little ponies turned to the mirror.

There was a beat of silence.

“So…” Scootaloo, the pegasus of the group, said. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Sweetie Belle, the unicorn shifted nervously. “Yes, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Ah’m with Sweetie Belle,” Apple Bloom said. “We shouldn’t mess with it.”

“I was just thinking that we should look at it,” Scootaloo said with a smile. “Looking at it can’t hurt. Besides, you know how Twilight is, she’s probably missed some sort of incredibly obvious thing that’s just in the way…”

The other two looked at each other.

“Well…” Sweetie began.

“Ah guess it couldn’t hurt ta look…” Bloom finished.

“Alright! Let’s check it out!” Scootaloo said, leaping off her chair and heading towards the mirror. “And hey, who knows maybe we’ll get our cutie marks in magical engineering!”

“You mean artificing?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Sure, whatever,” Scootaloo said, as they got closer to the massive machine.

The orange pegasus leaped up into the air, her wings buzzing as she hovered forward.

The others followed, gawking at the monolith of magic and machine that loomed in the room.

Apple Bloom began to walk around the mirror, staring at the gears and cogs that lined it, connecting to a thousand different apparati.

Sweetie Belle tentatively checked the front of the mirror, searching its silvery surface for some sort of sign of something amiss.

Scootaloo twisted a dial.

Apple Bloom reset a gear.

Sweetie Belle’s face scrunched in concentration as her horn began to glow with a soft green light.

They waited.

“Well that’s boring!” Scootaloo said.

“We haven’t even done anything!” Apple Bloom said.

Sweetie Belle focused harder, bringing the green glow of her horn to an even brighter strength, feeling the mirror resonate with her.

“Ya can’t just expect it to work because you pushed something! Ya hafta work with it!”

“Says who?” Scootaloo asked.

Sweetie’s face contorted as she tried to hold the magic.

And that’s when things went wrong.

Sweetie felt her magic snap, slamming back into her like a rubber band.

The resonating properties of the mirror, however, caused the magic to go wild, sending sparks and uncontrolled bursts of arcane force. A burst exploded out of the gears, sending Apple Bloom tumbling and engines whirring to life.

“What’s happening?” Bloom managed to shout before another a small twister formed above them. She looked up to see fans spinning crazily and pistons chugging at an insane speed.

“I...I don’t know, I…” Sweetie Belle stuttered as she moved back from the now chugging machines.

The three fillies began to back up.

But it was far, far too late for that.

Metal whined and rent, disfiguring as the mirror began to glow, first blue, then red, before changing to a bright, purple color.

And then the mirror howled.

“Girls,” Apple Bloom said. “This may have been a bad idea…”

The mirror then opened, whining, whirling, and howling as the very air began to be sucked from the room. Twilight’s notes, that had been sitting somewhat piled on the table suddenly scattered, flying to the four winds before being eaten by the vortex of the mirror.

Scootaloo’s eyes went wide as she felt herself lift of the ground. “Woah, woah! Help!” she cried as she went airborne, heading straight for the mirror.

Sweetie Belle grabbed her. “I’ve got you!” she yelled, just in time to see the alchemy set fly.

It smashed against the rim of the mirror, shattering to pieces, before being swallowed whole.

Sweetie Belle began to skid across the ground. “Apple Bloom!” she cried.

The young earth pony bounded forward, grabbing the unicorn as she went into the air.

Sweetie screamed. “Help! Somepony help!”

“Sweetie Belle!” Scootaloo cried. “Don’t you dare let me go!”

The wind whipped and howled, trying to swallow the three little fillies.

“Ah’ve got ya both!” Apple Bloom grunted, her forehooves wrapped around the others, skidding across the floor as the mirror began to suck them closer.

Her hooves slid across the tile floor, offering almost no resistance as she and her friends were brought closer and closer to the edge. The earth pony quickly grabbed onto the table as they passed by, holding on for her life as the mirror angrily demanded for them.

“Help!” She cried, looking toward the door for salvation, her voices drowned out by the howl of the mirror.

Bulbs burst and belts split apart, the force shaking the mirror apart.

“Hold on!” Scootaloo yelled. “It won’t be able to keep this up much longer!”

The door opened, Apple Bloom’s face brightened as she saw Twilight Sparkle open the door, mouth agape. The scooter kit hovered beside her, caught in a telekinetic grasp.

“Help!” Apple Bloom cried, hope filling her.

Twilight blinked, before she moved to help, as though shaken awake.

And in doing so, made the worst mistake of them all.

As she moved, the scooter kit, which she had brought with her, was released from her magical grip, and it flew forward, toward the mirror, and towards Apple Bloom.

It slammed into her, and the shock caused the young filly to release her grip.

And the three went flying into the wailing maw.

Twilight leaped after them. “Girls!”

But it was far too late for that.

There was only the swirling, purple vortex that had swallowed them.

First Scootaloo.

Then Sweetie Belle.

And finally Apple Bloom.

And all the while, she could still hear the cry of worried panic.

“Girls!”

And the mirror closed shut.

---=][=---

4 723 999.M41-Meridian

The sky-scraping spires of Meridian stood proud against the red, smoky sky. Massive smokestacks belched billowing clouds of smoke, turning the sunset into a hazy, reddish mist that hung over the massive, planet-spanning city.

But all was not well.

Meridian was burning.

Flames burned along the spires and screams echoed in the catwalk-like streets. As crowds of people flooded the walkways, trying desperately to run from whatever was chasing them, a small, purple portal opened in an emptied alleyway.

Apple Bloom cried out as she was ejected from the cold, swirling purple that had become her world.

This was followed by the cold taste of metal as she hit the walkway.

She fell, rolling as she hit the ground, screams echoing in her ears as thousands of people ran for their lives.

“Twilight?” Apple Bloom called as she stood up, hoof to her head.

As the world came into focus around her, her eyes began to scan the tall spires, the gothic arches and buttresses, and the red, hazy sky.

“This don’t look like anywhere Ah’ve been…” she said to herself, before turning around.

And there the lay the body of a creature she had never seen before.

It was long and gangly-looking, with pink, exposed skin and only a small tuft of hair on the top of its head.

But...but the body…

Massive chunks of flesh had been ripped from its chest, and blood pooled on the floor in front of her, reaching her hooves as the creature stared up at her with clouded, blue eyes.

Its belly was split open, and...and…

Apple Bloom lost her lunch.

When she finished, she was shaking.

What...what happened to him?

Another scream hit her ears, and she looked up to the end of the alley, just in time to see another one of these figures run into her view.

She was tall, wearing a dress of some sort. Blood ran down her leg, and she seemed to be limping.

Apple Bloom, ran down to the end of the hallway, hoping maybe to get some answers.

A thunderous explosion shook the filly to stock stillness as the creature in front of her screaming in pain as chunks of her flesh were ripped from her body.

She fell to the ground, dead.

And then Apple Bloom saw the bringer of death.

A massive, hulking figure, not unlike the creatures that lay dead on his feet, but completely different.

It was far taller. Taller than even Celestia. Its skin was like metal, green and blue, with a three-headed Hydra decorating its shoulder. A massive foot, almost as big as herself slammed down into the woman, her bones audibly crunching beneath the giant.

And then its head turned to face her.

Apple Bloom stared up at the monster, whose face seemed frozen in an angry scream, and she began to feel incredibly small.

The giant hesitated a moment, staring at her for a long time, before raising a large, metal rectangle up, pointing it at her.

The sound of thunder sounded in her ears once more, and the wall next to the giant suddenly exploded in metal shrapnel.

“By Khorne!” The giant said, spinning around with incredible speed.

“For the Emperor!” A voice cried, and Apple Bloom looked down the way to see yet another giant, this one red, black, and cream. It’s own, massive weapon leveled at the green giant, its muzzle coughing bright flashes of light that roared with the sound of thunder.

“They’re cannons…” Apple Bloom suddenly realized. “They’re firing cannons at each other. He was going to fire at me!”

“Hydra Dominatus!” The green giant yelled, rolling to the side before firing his cannon with three rapid, successive shots.

Apple Bloom ran, galloping away from the massive green giant, even as large shards of metal went flying through the air. She ducked behind a large cylinder, which once may have served as a trash can. Once there, however, she found she didn’t have anywhere else to go. The green giant was between her and one end of the long walkway, while the red giant was between her and the other.

All she could do was watch.

The giants stood opposite each other, firing round after round as they circled and dodged, trying to hit the other first.

The green giant roared in pain as his head snapped around and sparks flew from its face.

And then a massive hand came up, and ripped its own face away, revealing its true head. It looked surprisingly like the face of the creature that now lay dead in the alley.

The green giant roared, throwing the ruined helmet aside, and firing another salvo at the red intruder.

The red giant rolled out of the way as the walkway was quickly riddled with massive holes.

“Die, Blood Raven!” the green one yelled, before another burst of fire slammed into the red giant’s arm.

The red giant roared, before his arm dropped uselessly, before he raised his still healthy arm, holding his cannon in one hand.

The red giant fired twice.

Both shot far too wide.

The green giant laughed, before firing at the legs of the red one.

The metal of the knee joint was ripped apart, and the red giant went down.

The massive green monster stood, chuckling darkly as he lorded over his opponent.

The red one raised his cannon once more. “Die, Traitor!”

A sudden shot from the attacker slammed into the crippled soldier’s helmet.

“I’m going to make your death slow, Blood Raven,” the green one said with a smirk.

Apple Bloom stared on at the scene, her face twisted in horror as the green monster then pulled a massive, sword-length knife from a sheath on his leg.

How...how could he do that to him? Why? Why would he want to wish that much pain?

“I...I need to do something…”

The thought scared her.

She couldn’t stop that thing...there was no way.

“But...I need to do something…”

So that’s what she did.

She stood out from her cover, took a deep breath, and yelled at the top of her lungs. “Hey! You! Ugly!”

The green monster turned to her.

And that’s when the red one made his move, dropping his cannon, his one arm grabbed his own massive knife. The blade came down with ferocity, diving into the space between the massive, metal legs, and causing the green monster to roar in pain.

The green monster growled, before throwing a powerful punch to the red’s helmet.

Reeling, red’s grip released the knife, before almost automatically grasping for his cannon.

The monster ripped it from his hand, tossing it aside, and letting it clatter loudly at Apple Bloom’s hooves.

The green monster leveled his weapon at red’s head and fired, silencing the warrior for the last time.

And that’s when the green beast turned to Apple Bloom.

She froze.

“You, little xeno,” he said reaching down for the knife in his leg, “have caused me, a lot of pain.” He ripped the blade free, coming away wet with blood. “And now, I’m going to pay you in kind.”

It seemed, for Apple Bloom, that time began to slow. As her heart began to throb in her ears, and the monster began to charge, it was as though her mind suddenly jumped to a new level of thinking.

Her mind raced, screaming at her body to move, and receiving only the slowest of responses.

And then her eyes landed on the red soldier’s cannon.

Decorated with wings, and what looked like strange skulls, the weapon almost called to her.

He was her only chance.

Her hooves reached forward, grabbing the massive, rectangular machine of death and rolled to the side, and out of the way of the charging giant.

The giant skid to a halt, but not before Apple Bloom turned and raised her weapon.

She pulled the trigger.

And the cannon roared in response, kicking out of her grasp.

Whether divine intervention or amazing luck, the miniature rocket that launched from the muzzle flew straight and true and hit the giant, armored creature, straight between the eyes.

And then the upper half of his head exploded.

The massive body tilted, before falling forward, causing Apple Bloom to jump in the air as almost a thousand pounds of metal, flesh, and bone slammed into the walkway.

And then she was alone.

She stared forward, into the gore that she was responsible for.

Her mouth tried to form words as she stared, her fear-filled eyes welling up with tears.

It...it had been so fast...

She...she didn’t…

She was shaking, adrenalin rushing through her system.

She felt nauseous, but her empty stomach had nothing to offer.

Her mind reeled with a thousand different emotions, each trying to sort itself as her mind spun.

“It’s...It wasn’t my fault…” she muttered.

“There!” A voice called behind her, and she turned to see three more figures running towards her. Three more giants were heading for her, two completely identical to the red giant, while the third was bright blue with an open face.

Apple Bloom shot up and began to run, but not before she felt something press against her mind.

“Halt!” one of the giants said behind her, and her body froze in response.

Apple Bloom’s eyes went wide, and breathing became erratic as she tried to move her body.

The presence that pushed against her mind forced itself deeper in her skull, and her body refused to answer Bloom’s commands.

She strained and pulled, trying to get away.

“Take our Battle Brother back to the Thunderhawk,” one of the giants said behind her. “Apothecary Arrius will perform his duty there. I shall take care of the alien.”

She tried once more, throwing every ounce of her will against the invisible bonds that held her.

And then she felt a massive hand wrap around her belly, lifting her into the air.

The blue, open-faced giant held her in a single hand and stared into her eyes. “What kind of alien are you?” he asked.

The blue one then spoke aloud, seemingly to know one. “Prepare a containment unit. I have found a new alien that requires study.” Turning back to her, he said. “You shall live, for now, xeno. But worry not, we shall provide you with a quick death soon enough.”

And so the giant began moving away, away from the scene of her first kill.

And as she did, she hoped that her friends were spared this new hell.

---=][=---

"Hope is the first step on the road to disappointment."—Imperial Thought of the Day

Alright! Ladies and Gentlemen, we’re back!

Now, here’s the basic—

“Wee! We’re back!”

Pinkie? I thought we agreed you wouldn’t join me in the Author’s notes anymore?

“But we can’t do that!”

Why not?

“Because how else are you going to preemptively answer questions from the readers to explain yourself whenever you make questionable decisions?”

T-thanks...Pinkie.

“Also, I’m kinda on your Avatar. You’re stuck with me!”

Ah...I...f-fine. Look, guys, I’ll get back to you, I’ve got to work things out down here before we keep going, but uh...yeah. Enjoy!

“We’ll see you next time!”