Part 2

   It's been a long time since Horus. Long time since Kharn and his torching of us, thought Evastis. Why we became the Beasts of Bazor. The only good thing we got out of it was the pyscho-surgery. He was resting for battle, attempting to sleep. Finally, he realized he would never get any, so he stood up and looked at his armour. He was very proud of his armour.

   The armour was hinging on absolute destruction. There was a chainsword gouge running from the neck down, a souvenir of the Siege of Tera. There was a flamer burn across his helmet, and shrapnel in his left shoulder. But the best part, of course, was the clotted blood.

   Every Beast poured essence of Larraman on his armour before battle, which caused blood to clot insantly when it touched the armour. Ten millenia of battle was ample time to show blood in detail.

   Evastis dragged his shredded breastplate out of the stasis field and put it on. He then added ruined gauntlets and a tortured helmet. Finally, on went the worn leggings.

   He heard similar clamour around him, and assumed Captain Farrough had kicked his peers out of their bunks. His assumption was proved a correct one when Farrough rammed into the small synth canvas tent. "Get off your la-" Farrough stopped mid-roar when he spotted Evastis, fully dressed and ready for combat. "Well, uh, um, just, just get your weapons. We don't have much time." With that, he spun on his heel and left to torture some others.

   Evastis hefted his chainaxe and bolt pistol and strode into the grey dawn.

   A scene of pandemonium greeted his eyes. The warband's one Rhino was having trouble starting up, presumably something to do with the ash that fell like snow on this world. Orders were shouted and soldiers cursed. But, they finally could leave.

   Riding in a Rhino with eleven select other warriors is an unpleasant thing. It is worse on ash-covered, bumpy dirt roads. The nightmare ended soon, however, and they piled out. Straight into the face of heavy bolter fire.