As Allain ran with all the strength he could muster through the corridors of the lower deck, he could hear the groans and shouts of pain as the rest of the party held their own against the Chaos-lover back there. He could sense also that some of the Spawn were moving to aid their master, as none of the monstrosities had thus far come upon him, but he could hear their gurgling cries and their ponderous footsteps made harsh, metallic sounds as they ran across the deck. Ahead, he could see the stairs and the lift to the center deck. He put all his remaining enrgy in reching that lift, as now, he could see that quite a crowd of the Chaos Spawn had entered from another corridor and was moving after him. He just didn't have the time to deal with the damned crewmen!
He looked back once. A long and thick arm, ending with tiny fingers and one long and bony spike where the center finger should have been, was reaching for him and trying to bring him down. Allain fought down the urge to turn back and sweep a path of terrible destruction through these lesser beings. He shook his head as he looked back to the waiting lift. Where were these ruinous thoughts coming from? He had never felt so keen to fight and kill his enemies before, to maim and leave them crippled upon the floor, to utterly ruin them before he even gave them the liberty of dying. He wanted to feel their blood stain his armor and his skin. His eyes narrowed, and he forced himself to hold back that rage as he saw the lift again, just ahead. He leaped.. and landed directly on the edge of it, ten feet ahead of the swarm of Spawn. He slammed his hand onto the activation rune, and the lift shuddered once, then began to quickly move up.
A thick blue tentacle curled up around the platform, and then the Spawn slowly, but surely, began to ascend onto the lift, each eager to appease their new god and master with the blood of a Space Marine. Techmarine Allain only gave them one thing. Their own blood. He carved his way expertly through the choking mass of mutated ex-humans that had found their way onto the lift, some even landing from above, jumping down from other higher decks. He snarled with anger as a thin and spindly claw ripped his facemask away, and another of the abominations nearly took his Power Axe, but he quickly cut down each of the fools, and stomping the head of another into jelly and pulp. He laughed with pleasure as he fought his way through the mass, laughing and slaying with every moment. Eventually, the lift was finally clear of any life but his own, the bodies piled so high that several of the dead were rolling clear with every minute or so of ascension. He finally got off the hellish lift, streaked with both their tainted blood and his own, his armor scored and dented on all surfaces by the Spawn as they and he both desperately fought to survive each others desperate assaults. Looking around, he could see the panic had worsened. The Black Ship they had seen in the Warp had just entered real-space moments ago, this he could see through a porthole, and the rumors of a daemon of the warrior Blood God lurking around the ship had been almost confirmed by the finding of remains of unarmed servitors and crewmen, terrifically butchered where they stood. Even now, word must have spread to the passengers of the loose Chaos infestation in the lowest reaches of the truly massive ship, and if the vox-network was to be believed, Grey Knight Terminators and some Deathwatch marines were making to secure the bridge, where no one was replying to their reports and power had gone dark.
This was what worried Allain most. If the bridge of the ship, where the Captain and the Lord Inquisitor were supposed to be, had been taken by some unseen enemy, perhaps the Daemon who had slain his friend, then they no longer had control of the ship's heading, and would no doubt find themselves somewhere in the Eye of Terror soon. He pressed himself harder to reach the bridge, where Telemnos and Amrasam were heading. Around the next bend, a unit of Guard from the Luther McIntyre 87th set up their defensive positions, so Allain moved up to the hardy Deathworlders to find out was going on. One of the officers, only identified by his cap and the huge pistol he was loading, nodded slowly at the newcomer. "Trooper Connely, bring that vox-caster over here. Mitsuragi, set up that Multi-Melta on that platform over on the right! Jameson, help him out! Move it, move it! Before the demon-fondlers can get onboard an help you die!" Allain decided that they were busy enough and moved on to reach the bridge. He could see that the Black Ship, now plainly marked as a vessel of some Chaos renegade's warband, was moving in to board, not even bothering to fire it's broadside cannons or the massive-barreled cannon that extruded over the front of their ship, it's maw shaped like a laughing daemon as it approached it's prey.
Allain moved faster. Soon the ship might be engaged, if they didn't hurry up and reach the world they had come searching for, this 'Prospective.'
