Captain Thedden of the 1st Carron regiment cries out in pain as a bayonet is plunged into his side. Grabbing the renegade's arm, Thedden pulls him close, the smell of blood is emanating from the corrupt warriors armor, causing Thedden's nose to wrinkle in disgust. Ramming his bayonet into the traitors stomach, Thedden twists it in a jerking, twisting motion so as to do more damage to the internal organs. As the traitor falls, he reaches down and picks his bolt pistol up off of the ground.
Looking around, he sees his command squad is hard pressed to hold out against the forces of Chaos that have invaded this world, a total of at least three million renegades. He raises his bolt pistol and shoots down three renegades that were trying to muscle a heavy bolter to bear on the surviving loyalists. The surviving ten members fall back towards him, each one with at least one wound, on them. They fall back through the only room left that hasn't fallen to the traitors.
He fires more shots from his bolt pistol, covering his squads retreat. Three more traitors fall under the barrage, and the rest are forced into cover. Reaching down, Thedden picks up a lasgun from a fallen loyalist. He aims and fires it semi-automatic, keeping the traitors pinned down. As he gets through the door, his squad close the steel door, preventing the traitors from getting through. Turning, Thedden walks over to the console that resides across from the door. Punching in his authorization code the monitor sparks into life, showing Fleet Admiral Thireus, commander of the Liberation fleet.
'My lord,' Thedden begins, but is interuppted as the door blows in off it's hinges, slamming into the body of sergeant Threcius, shattering his spine. In walks a massive form, at least eight feet tall. It has a massive blade, at least as tall as Thedden. It swings it effortlessly, cutting Master of Ordnance Trechem, cleanly in half, his blood splashing along the wall. In but a few seconds it has cut through everyone of the command squad but Thedden.
Fear is like a lead ball in Thedden's stomach, and he cannot make his legs move. He sees the massive blade coming for his midsection and he still can't force himself to move. A bright intense pain erupts in his torso, and his entrails cover the pict caster.
The daemon walks up to the caster and roars a message to the Fleet Admiral. 'The worlds of the Imperium will burn, and I will feast upon the bones of the Corpse Emperor!'
'Power up prow bombardment cannon,' orders Fleet Admiral Thireus. As he says this, the automated servitors hands rapidly flash over the console, clicking hundreds of buttons in but a few seconds. Magos Cevering, standing behind the admiral, is observing the events through his augmetic eye, making sure the servitors operate as they should.
A red strobe starts flashing, illuminating everything in a red glow. As the other strobe lights flash on, one of the servitors, in their dull mechanical voice, say, 'Prow bombardment cannon ready to fire.'
'Fire on my mark,' says Thireus, his slate gray eyes looking through the viewport at the world at war that is floating lazily through space, looking peaceful despite the fact that two million guardsmen were just massacred on its surface. 'Three, two, one, fire!'
The bombardment cannon fires, leaving burning afterimages on the yes of the admiral. The bright spear of light connects the planet and the ship for the shortest of seconds, then it is cutting it's way through the surface of the planet towards its core. As it punctures down deep enough, it punctures the planets core, causing it to detonate, destroying the planet in a magnificent explosion.
The red strobe light stops, and the normal glow orbs spark back into life, putting everything back to it's normal shade again. 'Let's go home,' says Thireus to the few members of his crew that are human. As the ship flies from the planet, the red strobe lights flash back on, once again covering the rows of cogitor banks and servitors with their red light. 'What in the name of the Holy Throne is happening?' Thireus asks, confusion evident in his voice.
'Teleport homed in on our bridge, my lord,' says one of his human crew, Creteus.
'Were in the warp are they coming from?' Creteus answers, telling him that it is coming from a traitor Astartes strike cruiser. Thireus curses, then turns to the Magos, and says, 'Get your Skitarii up here to defend the bridge.' The magos nods once, then closes his augmetic eyes and communicates through the vox implant in his skull. 'Orders complete,' is all the Magos says in response to the blank look he is getting from the admiral. Nodding, the Admiral and his human crew draw the ornate bolt pistols that they have never had to use, and clutch them so hard that their knuckles turn white. The Admiral walks over to a case next to his commanders throne and opens it. He pulls out a magnificently made blade, a gift to him from the mechanicus for saving on of their research colonies four years ago. Pressing a rune on the hilt, blue fire sheaths the blade in its light, allowing it to cut through power armor easily. There is a gasp of surprise from the human serfs, 'Power sword, wonder where he got it.'
Turning around the admiral is temporarily blinded by a bright flash of light, which causes him to stumble and fall to his knees. As his vision returns, he looks up into the massive forms of Khornate berserkers. As one they begin cutting through his serfs, tearing them to shreds with their deadly chainaxes, the whirring teeth cutting through flesh and bone alike. As the last of them fall, the berserkers turn their attention on the Admiral and the Magos. Surging to his feet, the admiral calmly walks over to the Magos and stands beside him. Raising his power sword into the guard position, the berserkers charge, screaming prayers to the blood god. He blocks the blow of a chainaxe but it forces him to his knees, allowing another one to swing at his neck. Seeing that he can't dodge or block the strike the admiral does the only thing he can do, which is thrust forwards with his power sword at the original berserker. The energized blade cuts through the armor like a knife through hot butter, but, thanks to his enhanced physique the berserker survived. The Admiral's head falls to the ground, closely followed by his body as the other berserker finishes the swing of his chainaxe.
The berserkers surround the Magos, and play with a little bit, a feint here and a feint there. Finally, the leader tires of their little game and cuts the Magos down in a spray of oil and blood. As the Magos falls, the Skull Champion voxes back to his strike cruiser to teleport them back.
The skitarii get there just as the berserkers are teleported away. All the skitarii see are the bodies of the crew and the admiral and magos, lying broken in pools of their on entrails.