“So, brother, you wish to hear of the STC struggle? Eagerly will I tell it thee, for it is a tale soon told, and gloriously!

“Our noble Chapter, Force Trifecta, had decended onto a backworld just outside Imperial borders. Supposedly there was a sighting of STC components—yea, the Standard Template Construct materials that we hoped had survived the Dark Age of Technology. A High Lord had heard of this sighting and dispatched we Space Marines to recover the artefacts.

“Chaos was there, waiting, craving not only the lost technology but our very souls. It was the World Eaters Legion, who of late had delivered a whole company of our battle-brothers unto the Emperor. These blood-mad heretics would pay dearly, and that right soon…

“Five STC modules lie in plain sight: one on a hill on our left flank, one just south of our deployment zone, nested in a convenient crater, one on our right flank inside a stand of trees, another above that on this right flank, amid some ruins, and the last awaited us patiently in the Chaos deployment area. Here the Daemon Prince Mastema crouched, coveting what he thought his due. Many a time had his affrontery gouged into the ranks of our mighty thousand.

“The ’Eaters were without their famed Defiler that day, perhaps doubting its uses in a recovery operation. As we were to learn, however, the necessary litanies and blood sacrifices had been made, inviting two packs of foul Demons to contest us. Glad are the days we send them screaming back into the Eye of Terror! As for us, we had realized the novel nature of this mission and so we used a Deep Strike with 3 of our units, those being our elite unit (the famed Terminators), our lieutenant Librarian, and a newly-built Drop Pod containing five Marines. These arrived at various points, laying claim to the STCs and pouring fire into those blasphemers which yet lived. When your eyes spy a blasphemer, give him his rebuttal apace with your trusty bolter!

“In the first phase of the battle, the Berserker army seethed with rage, such that they could not even bring to bear on us their best guns. No shots came our way and instead the mob quivered as it came forward, having thrown most of its might on the right flank, hoping to reach the majority of the STCs and thus win this battle. All of us felt emboldened by the storied slaughter of our First Company on a far field, and so we hurled hate at a lone Obliterator, the first krak missile powering through his giant chest. No sooner had the soil soddened than I led my Asssault Squad up this right flank toward the trees with their prize, followed by a Tactical Squad and our Revered Chapter Master, Ironknuckle. A bold sight he was, already arcing his power sword about him!

“Aye, the morning had just shewn us a sight of what was to come. The skies wept gouts of greasy blood as the Daemons materialized, the ferocious Bloodletters arriving far off on the left flank near the hill, while the slavering Flesh Hounds (the Emperor’s best curses be on them all) appeared just short of my position on the right. Chaos still came on, a squad of Berserkers ready to reach us in a few minutes more. Chainaxes buzzed with open vendetta. Pink eyes regarded us with a most unmanly hate. But where was Mastema in all this? Secreted away with his STC, hoping his minions would be enough! Fool! We sprang into action even as his lieutenant, Faust, glided toward us with Daemon wings, wielding a hell-forged weapon. Our laser sights painted the Hounds’ hides as we shot them to pieces, not one surviving to receive our charge. Meanwhile the Drop Pod had crashed through atmosphere, wood and mounds of earth to settle uneasily north of our woody destination, unleashing its crew to pick off many of the Berserkers as they came. With bated breath and a prayer to the Emperor we gained the trees and guarded the STC as Faust came on.

“His bloody arrival marked the fight’s third phase. Very simply, and here I am saddened to tell it, he slew three of my brothers in the accompanying Tac Squad with his cursed Aether Lance, slewing through powered armor with no regard for our artificers’ care. Whipping the Lance about to heap blows on them in close combat, he only managed to down another Marine. Needing no command from him, his Berserkers charged into the Pod’s crew of five, cutting them down to a man and receiving no casualties of their own! Foul fate, to treat us so! However we were rightly incensed by this and leapt upon the traitor Faust from the trees, my own power sword perhaps matching even the might of my Master Ironknuckle’s as we dove in. The Tac Squad joined us in our charge and it was they who cut through unholy armor to wound Faust twice, leaving him but one heart left. Though the press of bodies was heavy about him, we could not end his life at the very moment desired, such that he lived to run riot a little longer with us.

“In this fourth phase, the most auspicious on the field, some of our brothers did bear witness to the crash of our precious Land Speeder on the left flank, as it had been similarly swarmed by the hellglaives of the Bloodletters and the lightening claws of the Possessed (may they feel not His mercy!). The day shone arightly brightly on us however, as our trusted Terminators reaped the Emperor’s wrath upon teleporting in just south of them. Assault cannon and storm bolters blazing, they felled two of the Bloodletter Daemons, leaving six.

“But the blood rushed too hot and fast in my head to mix my tale with matters on the other flank. My own blade had slashed across foul Faust’s chest, and I am told that I fell as he fell, striking him again and again, yelling Hate! Kill! Cleanse! as my Master taught me. In time I allowed myself to smell the death wreathing him. I righted myself, put a pair in his diseased brain, and advanced with my assault squad alongside the Tac Squad and our Master Ironknuckle.

“This unstoppable advance heralded the final triumph of our doings that day. The lone Berserker on my flank was seen to retreat, actually retreat before us! Clearly the ’Eaters can muster what sense they have when they must! An entirely new phenomenon, this culled hoarse shouts that seemed to herd the axeman into the momentary safety of the ruins. On the left flank matters were even more thoroughly concluded, and I can testify to this sight! Our fatigued Master smiled grimly as he pointed out his lieutenant Librarian, jets of electricity warping around his distant, hunched form. Newly teleported in, he was clearly enjoying himself as much as we! Under his psychic assault a full four Daemons bubbled away to nothing, and the remaining two were in no fitness to contest our objective! Indeed, when all this was told, there remained no more than these, some one or two of the Possessed, the lone shape squatting in the ruins, and their infernal lord.

“Mastema emerged from his shelter, lashed his tail angrily at the STC at his feet, then turned and quit the field beating his grimy pinions. We had no time to pursue or to rout his beleaguered force as we consulted our brother Techmarine who patiently secured three of the STC units, then made ready to teleport off-world, back to our Chapter’s battle-barge. I took a last look and spat into the afternoon gust; the day was as sweet then as the remains of it that linger on our banners even now!

“So it was that the World Eaters were bested in the STC struggle, and I tell it thee that thou may tell others in thy turn. Aye, we are indeed the very Angels of Death.”

—Assault Squad Sergeant Dorag Hame, Space Marine