A/N: Longer chapter today, folks! Enjoy! :D

Book 2: Corruption's End

Chapter 23: Storm Breaker

"Best job I ever had." – Alwin Aarsgaard, 10th Gartenwald Armored

With the knowledge that Mael was alive, Yang and her friends reported to the wall, their shoulders free of a crushing burden. After their brief sojourn to the healing tent, they found that an all-consuming sheet of grey had swallowed the sky, shrouding the sun from view. More rain was on the way.

Once she returned to her post, Yang used the rest of her off-time to clean her equipment. She dreaded donning her flak armor again. Her back and shoulders already caused her enough pain, thanks to her bust. She'd wait as long as she could to stuff the girls back into that black carapace. She fieldstripped her lasgun, a streamlined process designed to take several seconds. Burnt-black scarring covered the barrel's interior, and the power node was flaking with corrosion. With all the use it'd gotten, the weapon had gone too long without service.

A capital offense, Yang remembered with a chuffing laugh. The Imperial Guardsman's Uplifting Primer had informed them of what would happen if they let their weapons go uncleaned for too long. She smirked. I shouldn't knock it too much… it's the only source of toilet paper we've had on this rock. Even the Sarge had appropriated a few copies from his subordinates, returning it with a few pages missing from the blatantly false 'Know Your Foe' section.

Svyr sat down next to her, a lho-stick hanging from his lips. Yang gave him a quick wave that he returned with a grunt.

"Yang."

"Heya buddy."

"Gotta vizzy cloth?" Yang tossed him one, and they shared a long silence as they worked. There wasn't much to say after all. Svyr was never very personal anyway. He was an older man with a puckered las-burn wound near his lips. He kept to himself.

Returning to her lasgun, Yang scrubbed the black from the barrel, careful to cleanse every groove. Ember Celica never needed this kind of service since pumping her aura into the weapon usually kept it clear of debris. Didn't stop Ruby from being a nut about it, she thought with a small smile. With careful hands, she picked up the casing of her weapon. It was a M36 Kantrael Pattern Lasgun, whatever that meant. On its side was an Imperial Skull, flanked by angelic wings. Her hand ran along the text scrawled underneath it. A hand fell on her shoulder.

"Something you wanna talk about?" It was Ros.

"Hm?"

"Your prayer." She tapped the scrawling. Almost every Woadian had written prayers on the casings of their weapons, and Yang had mimicked them after meeting with Weiss. "Red like Roses fills my dreams and brings me to the place you rest." She shrugged, shaking out a lho-stick. "That's not a prayer I've heard before."

That's 'cause it's not a prayer, Yang thought. Just… a chorus of sorts. One that repeated itself in the dreams that visited every so often. They weren't nightmares anymore, not since Weiss had marked her with her glyphs. Still... all she saw was Ruby. All she saw was Red.

"The Lady Inquisitor suggested it." Throne, does it feel weird calling her that. Accepting a light from Svyr, Ros nodded.

"Fair enough."

"About Our Lady." Svyr said, unscrewing his barrel. "What's she like, anyways? We saw her at the funeral, but none of us know anything about her." His scar twitched. "She's runnin' this shit-show, and she's a total mystery."

"Ooh, tell us!" Caolin said, sidling up next to her.

"You just wanna fuck her." Ros said, rolling her eyes. Yang chuckled.

"No!" Caolin cried, before leaning forward within whispering distance. "Emperor, would you keep your voice down?!" He said, eyes wide with fear. "Do you wanna see me get slagged?" Ros gave him a taut grin, flicking ash over the side of the ramparts.

"It'd be pretty funny." She said. Svyr 'harrumphed'.

"Oh, fuck you. That's cruel… even for you, Ros!" Caolin said, scratching the back of his head. "And besides, it's not like that, you know?." He shrugged. "She's just got this air of mystery about her."

"And if you two kids would stop squawking, Yang could answer your damn question." Svyr said. They looked at him. "What? 'S true. Go ahead," he nodded at Yang.

"There isn't much to tell." Yang said. Ros cocked her head.

"Really? You kept disappearing during the trip over here. It's pretty obvious you two were up to something." Yang sighed. She didn't really want to talk about Weiss. One, she'd afraid she'd slip up and actually call her Weiss, and two, she didn't know much about her persona as 'The Lady Inquisitor'.

"She's a secretive person, you know." She started. "It's not like she lets me in on her schemes or anything." Hell, 'later' is becoming Weiss' watchword.

"So do you two just sit and stare into space?" Caolin said, nudging her. Yang snorted, shaking her head.

"Nah. She likes wine though, I can tell you that much." Watching Weiss slug bottle after bottle concerned her. She's drinking like… well… me. Yang spat on the corroded power node, ready to scour the rust away. On Remnant, she'd shame us all for having as much as a sip of booze in her presence. And that time we got Ruby drunk I thought she was gonna burn all of Beacon down. How times have changed…

"Everyone likes wine, Yang." Svyr said.

"Fair enough." She sighed, reaching for the unguent. "Well, she wears something else other than power armor."

"Shut up." Caolin said, a smirk stretching out his snake-line scar. Yang grinned too.

"It's true. She's got this leather get-up. And I mean… it's like… all leather." Svyr gave a low whistle. Ros nudged her. "What is it?" The red head have her knowing quirk of the eyebrow. "Oh ha-ha. Very funny. And no. Absolutely not, no way." Weiss had always been cute, sure, but she'd been too frail for Yang's tastes. Now, she was the opposite: paranoid, frigid, unyielding.

"Did I miss something?" Caolin asked.

"Nah man." Yang said, punching Ros on the shoulder. "Ros thinks she's funny." Caolin huffed.

"She's as funny as Commissar Daniloft." He said. Svyr rolled his eyes, squeezing out his vizzy cloth in some filthy brackish water.

"Dick." Ros mumbled under her breath. Yang patted her on the back.

"He is right though." She replied.

"Traitor."

Yang laughed, screwing her barrel into place and locking the power node into place. Good as new. A high-velocity round sream past them, shooting tufts of red hair onto the walls. Ros fell face-forward into the ramparts.

"Ros!" Caolin screamed. Yang echoed him, scrambling to turn her friend over. Svyr was pressed into the stone floor, shock ruling his face. Woadians scrambled into action around him, reaching for their lasguns.

"Ros! C'mon!" Yang shook her friend.

"Can you flip me over?" Ros said in a deadpan. "I think I'm done on this side." Yang snorted with disbelieving laughter. Excluding a messy haircut, Ros was untouched.

"I can't believe it." Caolin breathed, salt wetness crawling down his cheeks. "She made a joke. The lengths you go to prove me wrong." Ros shook her head with a grunt.

"Yeah, yeah. Now keep your head low and find out where that sniper is." Caolin nodded, wiping his eyes before crawling over to his kit a few yards away. Another bullet hissed overhead, its passing spilling heat into the air.

"By the Throne!" Ros hissed. "Since when have they got a sniper?" Yang buckled her helmet on, throwing her friends a smile.

"Well at least they can't shoot for shit!" She said, ramming a power cell home. Her lasgun hummed with glee, polished and running smooth. "It's almost insulting!" The sniper's shooting was odd, however. The second shot had passed well above them, even though every Woadian concealed themselves behind the stonework.

Yang peeked out of a firing slit, scanning the Yǒng-lo lines. They were shifting, but even with markedly superior eyesight, nothing popped out at her. The third shot went flying over her head, and she whipped around, looking for its target. It soared into the bell tower of a distant cathedral, soaked up by the unyielding stone. She turned back to the battlefield, scanning for the source. Is he even aiming for us?

Thunder pealed, sharp and distant, but lacked the flash of lightning. Her fingers wrapped around the knurled grip of her lasgun, her tongue rasping over her lips. What are these bastards gonna try next? She looked over at Caolin, who had pulled his scarf up, covering his head from view. The barrel of his long-las was just behind a firing slit, parsing the battlefield.

"Anything?" Ros asked.

"We got movement… yeah, we got foot-mobiles!" He replied, tension stiffening his spine, shoulders taut against his weapon.

"No sniper?" She pressed.

"Nothing. Just… ah, shit." He replied.

"What? What is it?" Ros asked. She hit him on his shoulder. "C'mon, spill, dammit!" Yang peeked out, and sure enough, the line was opening up, revealing a file of heavily armored heretics.

"We got about a thousand troops out there. They've got some serious gear. Up to their tits in armor. Lasguns too." He cursed again. "They got tube-charges! They're gonna blow the gate!" The metal gate is thick, sure, but how's it gonna stand up to a few braces of tube charges? She shook her head. She didn't want to find out.

"Fuck!" Ros said. "They movin' up?"

"Jogging speed." Yang said, pressing her weapon into her shoulder. "Let's get to work."

"What about the sniper?" Caolin asked. Ros slipped her bayonet on, the blade snapping into place with a metallic click.

"We'll just have to hope his aim stays shitty. Keep your eye out for him, but start drilling those bastards as soon as they're in range." Caolin nodded, already lining up his first shot. She turned to the other remnants of Gamma platoon. "Asgeg, you and Theni man the stubber until the ammo's gone. Get ready to repel!" They nodded. "Let's get to work boys and girls. Conserve your ammo, and remember: The Emperor protects!"

"THE EMPEROR PROTECTS!" They echoed, forty fists striking the sky. Caolin's long-las barked, a hot-shot bolt flying into the midst of the approaching Yǒng-lo. Shouts and the clamor of battle rang out as the Woadians settled into firing positions, the walls of Shao-la bustling with soldiery.

Yang fired a burst of lasbolts into the heretics, meeting a wall of think metal blast shields. These were not Ranshan troops, she realized. Instead of piecemeal bits of black armor and green cloth, they were clad in a baroque set of navy blue flak armor, with embroidered silver cloaks fluttering about their shoulders.

"I can't hit them!" Svyr cried. "Those damn shields are soaking everything up!" Yang gnawed on her lip. It was true. Not only that, but they were disciplined, organized. Shock-troops. They marched in step, the front row pressing forward and spreading out to soak up the punishing volume of lasbolts.

The back row returned fire, splashing the walls of Shao-la with crimson light. Yang felt the stone heat and smoke behind her. Shit, my flak armor! She thought, grimacing. Oh well. There's no time to buckle it on now, and I made do on Remnant. She turned and fired, grinning as a few beams slipped between the enemy shields.

The war-horns returned, and with them, the Yǒng-lo surged forward in their thousands to support their well-equipped brethren.

"By the Emperor!" Theni shouted. Lightning flashed, flickering light shining of the tide of besiegers. He racked the stubber and opened fire. It tore into the shock troops, metal impacts ringing across the battlefield. Tracers whined and whizzed, scouring the row of shields before dancing off into the mass of warriors. The thunder hit them, crackling and violent. The rain started then, a drizzle of fat droplets pattering off the masonry.

"Who do we shoot?" Asgeg cried, flashes of red shining bright in the whiteness of her eyes.

"Bring those blue bastards down! Pour it on, Gamma!" Ros cried. The bolters opened up, great blasts of noise and brimstone that shredded the shock troops apart. To their credit, they stormed onward, closing the gaps with unerring tenacity. They returned fire, piercing lasbolts scorching the ramparts. Three Woadians fell, screaming as they were cut down.

Silver capes flashing, a cadre of shock troopers stormed forward, long black tubes slung over their shoulder.

"ROCKETS!" Jorvis bellowed from within the gatehouse. Yang flicked her lasgun to full auto, unleashing a barrage of lasbolts onto the rocketeers. One fell, spinning as a red lance buried itself into his shoulder. His rocket launcher went off, sailing into a squad of Yǒng-lo and shredding them apart. Another flash of lightning, and the rain began its assault as well. It lashed against them, guardsmen and heretics alike.

One of Weiss' Valkyries neared, the humming roar of its engines adding to the cacophony. Its bolters blared, scything down shock troops and warriors alike. Death-screams and foul curses filled the battleground, smothered by the deluge of rain. An enemy rocket soared into the walls, blowing a chunk out of the gatehouse. Bits of shrapnel sliced through the air, accompanied by the cries of injured Woadians.

The Valkyrie pivoted and Ira leaped out onto the walls, sword in hand. Two of Weiss' guard accompanied him, faceless and silent.

"Sergeant Jorvis told me there's a situation afoot, Corporal!" He bellowed over the driving rain.

"Damn straight, Sir!" Ros replied, turning her back to add another stream of lasfire. Her lasgun smoked as she popped out its power cell, the rank scent of ozone filling their nostrils. "We got some troops here that aren't from Ranshu!"

Yang let loose once more, taking stock of the situation as she filled the mud-choked enemy with the rest of her ammo. The advance had slowed, but had not stopped. They were still a few hundred yards away, and no sizable dent appeared in their forces.

"Siege machines?" Ira asked.

"Nope, they're coming at us with tube-charges!" Yang said, reloading.

"I got one! Got 'em right in the fucking head!" Caolin yelled, face pressed into the scope of his weapon. "Fuck you, scum!"

"Can you hold them?" Ira said, pulling his hood over his head.

"We can try, Sir!" Ros said. "But they'll probably make it to the gate before their shields give up!" A rocket soared over their heads, smashing into the Valkyrie. One of its engines erupted into a ball of flame, and the pilot fought for control as the craft spun and sank. It soared over the walls, the engine nearly searing the Woadians into a crisp as it passed over. It crashed, slamming into the earth in front of the gate, spitting mud and dirt as it dug itself into the ground. A wail went up across the walls, followed by a ragged cheer from the enemy.

"Omnissaiah protect us!" Ira shouted, scrambling to edge of the ramparts to survey to the damage. A hand went to his ear. "Chung, do you read me?" Yang's microbead crackled from its place on her collar.

"Loud and clear, Lord." The voice of Serviceman Chung said, bitter and full of pain. He coughed. "That really hurt."

"Stay put Chung; we're coming to get you." Ira said, his mechanical voice now calm and level.

"With all due respect, Lord, have your circuits misfired? I'm a dead man." Chung said. "I gotta laspistol. They won't-" another cough, "they won't take me alive." To Yang's surprise, Ira chuckled.

"You always had an ego too big for your voider's boots." He said, unhooking a long spool of wire from his hip. "Nice try, but we need that Valkyrie of yours, and I have to greet the enemy for Our Lady. Lieutenant Varo! Get your boys ready for a scrap. OPEN THE GATES!"

"Are you sure my Lord?" Varo answered, his voice bearing the nasal whine of an Elodian accent.

"Absolutely, Lieutenant. Now fall in line!" Ira replied. Varo's grumbling filled the comm line.

"Hard copy. All tanks, get on my ass! Lock and load!" Yang grabbed her power sword.

"I'm coming with you." She said, slinging her lasgun over her shoulder. Those shock troops needed to die, and she was the best one for the job. The gates of Shao-la opened, and the rumble of tanks roared in the driving rain. Ira hurled the coil of wire over the ramparts, gesturing to Weiss' guard.

"Acknowledged. Corporal! Take as much firepower you have and do your Emperor-given duty. Get the Ranshan bowmen up here as well." Ros saluted, eyes passing over Yang.

"Yes, Sir! Yang-"

"I'll be careful." Yang said, cutting her off. "Flak plates just slowed me down anyway." The Elodian armor opened fire, great peals of cannon-fire that crippled the encroaching heretics. The clatter of bolter-fire filled the air, adding to the sheer, unrepentant squall of ear-shattering noise. Yang smiled, a grin wide enough to touch her ears. The battlefield was singing to her, and she couldn't deny it any more: this is where she belonged. It was the ultimate expression of her duties as a huntress, to protect the people and kick some ass at the same time. Maybe… maybe I do belong here.

"Let's go, Trooper Yang!" Ira said, throwing himself over the battlements. Yang joined him, rappelling down the thin metal wire. Her aura kept her hands from burning as they rocketed down the cord. Lasbolts smacked in the wall next to her, the pungent knife-scent of steaming rock filling her nostrils.

Her boots touched the carpet of rotting corpses, and she sprinted off to join Ira. The kasrkin fired as they ran, hosing the shock troopers with crimson beams of light. Answering las-fire flew past them, boiling the squalling rain away as it struck the wall behind them.

Ira stopped before the Faith-Hammer, gesturing at the tank with his power sword. "Hook up what you can, and drag him back! Post-haste, Sergeant!" The tank's commander saluted, closing a hatch behind him. His crew scrambled out, pulling at a thick cable.

A lasbolt struck near Yang's feet, spraying her with boiling mud. Her aura kept it from scalding her, and she dove into cover behind the fallen Valkyrie. Down here, the approaching enemies were far more intimidating, forming an impenetrable wall of greens, blues and flashing silver capes.

Ira dove behind the Faith-Hammer as a rocket sailed past, slamming into the walls of Shao-la. The armored fist of the Lady Inquisitor returned fire, and the noise deafened the world around her. Lightning filled the sky, almost invisible behind the thick sheets of rain.

Ira was gesturing. 'Get Chung' he seemed to be saying. Yang nodded, crouch-running under the storm of las-fire to reach the cockpit. With a roar she could barely hear, she smashed the glass open with the butt of her lasgun.

"Yang?" Chung mumbled, blood pouring from his nose.

"Bet you wish you had that sword right now!" She screamed over her deafness. He looked at her in disbelief. She hauled him out, and a lasbolt struck her in the back. "GAH!" She weathered the flash of pain as her aura saved her life. Her semblance growled within her, begging to be unleashed.

"You better be grateful you little bastard!" She yelled, sticking him on his feet. "Go!" She said, pointing at the Faith-Hammer. Giving him a hearty slap on the ass, she sent him limping off towards Ira. She turned to face the advancing enemy. Oh fuck. Too close.

The Ruin of Heresy was suffering the brunt of the enemy rockets, each one slamming into the Leman Russ and erupting into a geyser of flame. One slipped under its turret ring, and it burst into a roiling inferno. Its crew spilled out, fire consuming their flesh. The lucky ones were cut down by las-fire, while the others slumped over, collapsing into the mud as their skin sloughed away.

"Bastards!" Yang roared, firing into the thick metal shields. They were on top of her now. Even as the Valkyrie began its return to gate, it wasn't moving fast enough. She ripped her power sword free, thumbing the activation rune. Now for the fun part. Ira stormed forward to join her. He'd removed his robes, and bore his bare chest to the world. His hands split and deformed, bending at unnatural angles as they reached for his sword.

"What's the plan?" She bellowed.

"Buy some time!" He replied. As his own sword ignited, his arm split apart at the joints and began to spin. The blade whirred faster in faster in his augmentic hand until it was a blue circle of humming death. Yang ran with him, charging the shock-troopers and screaming a wordless battle cry. Weiss' guardsmen stayed behind, using their hellguns to puncture charred holes in the enemy's shields.

Ira cut into them with aplomb. Severed limbs spun and flew into the air, and a blizzard of gore sprayed the troops, churned into a storming frenzy by Ira's unrelenting advance. Yang joined him, throwing all her might into a powerful stroke of her sword. It cut through the thick blast-shields with ease, slicing the navy blue armor and sending his torso spiraling into the air. The shock troops swarmed around them, undeterred by the flashing swords.

Yang hacked them apart, one by one. Arrows fell among them, rattling of shields and flak-armor. One buried itself into a gap in a heretic's armor, and he fell screaming. The Ranshan bows had arrived. Las-fire helped as well, falling like the rain: just as hard and just as plentiful. A bayonet slipped off her chest, fueling her with a surge of power. Yang roared, throwing her arm around in a wide swing. It caught three of the enemy in its vicious arc, cleaving them in two.

Ira danced around his foes, his arm invisible with speed. Blood sprayed from the spinning sword, coating the crowd with thick splashes of red. The Sweet Sonjja fired, its twin-linked lascannons carving a wide gap into the flagging shock-troopers. Our Lady's Fist's cannon roared , rending a gaping hole into the Yǒng-lo lines.

"Back! We're almost there!" Ira cried. The walls of Shao-la loomed behind him. He ducked from Yang's view for a second, and for a moment, she was worried he'd been felled somehow. He reappeared in an instant, a body slung around his shoulders.

Channeling her aura into her arms, Yang slammed into a pack of heretics, her power sword hissing as it boiled their blood away. Their spotless armor and shields did them no favors against the merciless onslaught. Their numbers were dwindling now, and their advance had stalled completely.

Their shields were useless against the enfilade provided by the walls of Shao-la, and they died in droves. With a shouted order, they pulled back, bracing their shields against the torrential storm of lasbolts.

As the walls of Shao-la swallowed the Valkyrie, Yang and Ira dove into the city as the gates slammed shut behind them.

She was panting, but wore a toothy grin. They'd done it. At the cost of a Leman Russ, they'd done it. One of Weiss' guards cried out in pain, clutching at a black hole in his carapace armor. It was a glancing blow, and with some prompt attention, he'd survive. Ira was coated in blood, gallons of crimson ichor dripping off his metallic limbs and running down the skin of his chest. He threw the body he'd been carrying to the floor. It was one of the enemy.

"Go find a medic." He told the wounded guard. "I'll finish up here." The man nodded, slinging his arm around his comrade.

The shock trooper's arm had been severed by Ira's spinning sword, but the heretic still sent a cold chill running down Yang's spine. He bore no tattoos, no piercings, no brands, no gouged flesh or egregious mutations. He was clean-shaven, with a full set of shining teeth. He looks so much like a normal person… Yang thought, deactivating her power sword. For some reason, that terrified her more than any servant of Chaos had before. Blood ran from his split lip, and he groaned in pain.

"Ira!" Lieutanant Varo shouted over the driving rain. Soot covered his face, and his tanker's helmet sat askew. His fist was balled in Chung's collar, dragging him along behind him. The pilot squealed in agony, clenching his leg. "You fucking Mechanicum spook!" He snarled, throwing Chung onto the muddy street. "I lost a tank and five of my men over this sack of shit!" He kicked the Servicemen in his ribs. "You better have a good excuse for this, or by the Golden fucking Throne, I'll have Our Lady put your head on a fucking pike!" Yang stepped forward, but Ira shook his head, slow and steady. He donned his cloak, slipping his arms through the luxuriant red sleeves.

"Please restrain yourself Lieutenant. Land another blow, and you will not live to see Our Lady again." Ira said. Varo's boot flew back, ready to bury itself in Chung's side. In a flash, Ira's power sword was inches from the tanker's neck. All around them, bolters racked and lasguns whined as the Elodians readied to defend their leader.

"I apologize for deceiving you Lieutenant. I needed your tanks to accomplish a few critically important objectives. Objectives that were neither the recovery of Serviceman Chung nor Our Lady's aircraft." Ira said, his voice level and unconcerned. "Your support was necessary for the repulsion of the Silverhearts and the recovery of this reprobate." He said, toeing the heretic shock trooper.

"And why is he so important?" Varo asked, eyes narrowing.

"He is part of Josephus' personal task force." He knelt, tearing the silvery-white cloak from its place. He pointed at an embroidered raven, threaded in black. It was surrounded by the eight-pointed star of chaos, its eyes cruel and narrow. "The bastard's seal itself." Ira continued. "Our Lady asked I bring her a subject for interrogation." Varo snarled, his eyes red and inflamed.

"That's it? That's what Bolivar died for? Emperor. Fine then." An Elodian approached him, the rain washing away the black grease on her arms. She whispered a few words to him, and he nodded. He returned to his men, not sparing a second look at Chung.

Sighing, Yang returned him to his feet, and he muttered his thanks, wincing in pain as he did so. She looked over the heretic again. His eyes were fluttering open, as blue as the armor he wore. The cauterized stump of his arm writhed in the mud-puddle forming around him.

"Thank you for your help, Trooper Yang." Ira said, stooping to collect the enemy soldier. "Our Lady did not lie: you are an accomplished fighter."

"She was lying." Yang said, wearing a small smile. "I'm a fucking great one. You're pretty good yourself. Even if you cheat a little." He chuckled mechanical chuckle, his augmentic eyes refocusing.

"It is effective though, no?"

"I'd say," she replied. He nodded his thanks, once more pulling his hood over his head.

"Our Lady requires me. I'll be off." Ira said. She waved her goodbye, sheathing her power sword. She unshouldered her lasgun, ignoring the gaping crowd that had gathered to watch the proceedings. Once more, the barrel was charred from use, and the power cell was running on fumes.

Looks like I need to clean it again.

The world is death, the world is the end of all things. The boots of the arch foe soak into its bloodied soil, laughing, cheering, reveling in their vileness. Their frivolity is cut short, and they die in droves, herded like lemmings into crossfires, crushed between the weight of battalions. Screams are all the world knows, and madness reigns supreme. She's choking on the fumes. Cordite. Ozone. There's no clean air, no light, no respite from the death.

Corpses are better than sandbags. There's more of them.

stack them high and prepare to repel she bellows, the noise a tremendous echo swallowed by the sheer scale of the battle. There's too many, there's always too many. Again! Again!

There is no honor, no corner given. To offer such things to the foe is a laughable notion. Every resource she has, she puts to its best use. An enormous funnel into which she pours men's lives, and it spits out meat. War, in its fullest, most awesome form.

The world is fire, the world is blood, the world is Red like Roses.

The Lady Inquisitor snorted awake, her face tearing away the tissue-thin page of an ancient ledger it was pressed against. She cursed inwardly. How dare she sleep? There was no time, no time for such frivolities.

"How long have I slept?" She demanded, whirling around to find Darron sharpening his knife.

"Five minutes, My Lady. No more, no less." Five minutes. She let loose a sigh of relief. Her fingers dug at the bridge of her nose, her head set in a brutal, pounding ache. How long ago did she send Ira out? The dream gnawed at her perception, demanding to be remembered and consume her thoughts. So many soldiers...

Looking over a stack of tomes, she found a worn copy of Lord Solar Macharius' On the Machinations of War. She scooped it up and stuffed it into the recesses of her duster.

A/N: Holy shit, I just now realized Ira is doing General Grievous' routine. Whoops! :P Oh well, I enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed reading it!

As always, anything you have to say is greatly appreciated. Every review you give just makes my day that much better. :3

Review Replies:

The Walrus of Eden: LOL. I hope this chapter was sufficiently crazy! :D

The Pyromaniac: Thanks so much man!

DanAbnettFan1997: I'm glad you're enjoying the kasrkin. While this is Yang's story, I think it's important to make the world she lives in feel real, and that starts with the characters that inhabit it feel real!

Enuncia: Sorry! Maion and the Tou'Her will be back, in good time...

OBSERVER01: Now that would be a shit-storm of epic proportions!

Dom380: I hope this satisfied!

Nemris: Hahahaha I guess we'll see!

Gafgar: I'm not sure if Yang can throw a party big enough to spawn a new chaos god, but damn it, I think she'd give it her best shot! XD

Galm: Thanks, dude!

Northernmegas: Huh. Interesting theory! I guess we'll see what happens!

RED Roman Pyro: I'm glad you enjoyed the breather!

Mintskittle: He can still make noises, but since most of his tongue is cut out, it's nearly impossible to form words beyond "ahh's" "ooh's" and "uh's" And damn, now that's a WMG! Only time will tell if it's correct!

dksamuri: Thanks!

By the Emperor, you guys are the best! Tune in next time for more crazy shit! :D