*Presenting a teaser for an upcoming story: Diem Infamia*

Somewhere somewhen

The Serrati Stellas had long been a thorn in the Imperium's side. A dense cluster of gravitic anomalies, ionic interfere and warp disturbances that befuddled sensors, fouled Astrogation and obscured the distant Astronomican. Dark and desolate worlds orbited toxic neutron stars, while lone planetary wanderers drifted aimlessly. Such a place was a haven for pirates, slavers and Orks, perennial threats to Imperial rule that simply would not die. For millennia Battlefleet Karyl had attempted to police this shoal of anarchy, aggressively patrolling for growing threats but it was an impossible task. There were too many places to hide and never enough ships to be had. So all that could be done was swat down each threat as it arose.

As the centuries passed a sense of complacency crept over the rulers of the Saint Karyl Trail, that swift following warp current that allowed safe passage between segmentums Solar and Tempestus. Threats emerged and were defeated, pirate kings arose only to be cut down, Orks swarmed but never amassed enough force to overwhelm the lynchpin worlds of Tectum, Sucaris or Glaeba. Familiarity breeds contempt, as the Imperium preaches, so the high and mighty peers of the sector came to see the Serrati Stellas as nothing more than a nuisance, a minor concern best left for another day. Only those unfortunates living on worlds nearby actually feared its potential, but nobody in the corridors of power cared if some colonists were seized by slavers or killed by Orks. The coming of the Noctis Aeterna had done nothing to change that mindset, the plethora of new threats drawing their attention elsewhere. Yet had anyone been aware of what the Serrati Stellas now concealed then they would weep at the folly of their overweening pride.

Orbiting a lifeless planetoid was a fleet, one whose existence had blighted a million worlds. Infamous killers of the void hung in the dark, their crenulations and battlements standing proud against the vacuum. Great battleships loomed over smaller cruisers and escort frigates, while shoals of attack craft swept the area ceaselessly. Ramshackle assault barques brushed past haughty thoroughbred warships, while refitted and captured transport hulks bristled with one-shot torpedo tubes. Some craft were even stranger, twisted and warped abominations that oozed perversion from every fleshy rib of their hull. One ship even had a bulbous eye growing out of its prow, a single orb ten stories high that rolled about to peer at its compatriots.

No two vessels were alike, some bore convoluted spires and elaborate flying buttress that described the mark of Tzeentch. Others bore great brass icons of Khorne, impossibly defying the laws of physics as blood boiled along their edges despite the cold of space. Other were blurred by mouldy growths and fungal fronds, where snotlings capered around icons of Nurgle. A few even had corpses hung over their towers, eternally fixed in perverse positions as praise to Slaanesh. They were as different as could be imagined yet each and every ship shared one feature, a Daemon's head surrounded by flames. The badge of the Word Bearer Traitor Legion.

Amid that display of insanity hung a rather more mundane ship, a mere cruiser, the Cruenta Caede. She was an old Hades class ship, weary from long voyages and hungry for the blessings of the shipwrights of Sicarus. She was not the most powerful, or feared ship, in the fleet but she was the command vessel, for she had long housed the Crooked Path warband, whose flag this fleet sailed under. On her bridge stood a proud warrior in crimson plate, marked with the litanies of lost Colchis. He had a pale and angular face, with sharpened teeth and an elaborate top-knot. One of his hands rested on his bolt pistol but the other was a skeletal claw, with long talons that constantly wept fresh blood. He was Kasarox the Unhallowed and he was Coryphaus of the Crooked Path.

Kasarox stood gazing out of the towering oculus, counting ships passing by and was satisfied at his handiwork. For many years he had laboured to amass this fleet, acting as an emissary to his Dark Apostle Abulaz. Many bargains had been struck and many promises made, but it had all paid off. This fleet was powerful and deadly, a match for anything the hated Imperium could muster and he intended to make the most of it. Behind him there was a cough and Kasarox turned to see his comrade Raruma fidgeting beside him. Raruma was a possessed Marine, one who was bonded with a Neverborn and as such had a bestial appearance. His hands were long claws and his feet sprouted talons while his helm's faceplate moved as if alive and the fires of hell burned in his mouth. Raruma was blessed and cursed in equal measures, granted unholy vigour but also condemned to take nothing seriously, hence his sobriquet, 'the Mocker.'

"What?" Kasarox spat testily.
Raruma idly picked some grit from under his claw and replied, "How much longer will this take? I'm bored."

Kasarox was in no mood for his quips and spat, "It will take as long as it takes."
Raruma snorted, "Face it, they aren't coming. You've been stood up like an ugly maid the morning after being deflowered."

Kasarox grimaced and said, "They will come, trust me."
Raruma laughed at that, "Just because I like you doesn't mean I think the Dark Pantheon sings out of your arse."

Kasarox gritted his teeth at the casual blasphemy and snapped, "They will come, they have to, we need them… Abulaz needs them."

That shut Raruma up, even he not daring to speak ill of Abulaz before the bridge crew. Their Dark Apostle was learned in the ways of the Warp, a most cunning sorcerer indeed. Unfortunately that did not equate to tactical prowess and after a series of stinging defeats the pair of them had decided their lord needed to die. Kasarox had already suborned much of the Crooked Path to his cause, but not enough to confront Abulaz directly. Hence the need for a more cunning approach.

As if summoned by the thought there was a stir at the back of the bridge and he turned to see their master entering. Abulaz had a bald head, inked with scriptures of Chaos that carried on down his armour. He wore a cloak of flayed skin and carried the Book of Lorgar at his belt and a Black Crozius in his hand. He walked confidently, projecting authority and power, an aura of presence that made one want to prostrate before him and beg to hear his enlightened words. Kasarox had come to understand that was a deliberate effect, a glamour he wore like his armour, but that didn't make it any easier to overcome. Abulaz strode up the length of the bridge and Kasarox fell to his knees to press his forehead to the deck. His hearts warred between servile grovelling and contemptuous defiance as he fought the glamour's effect. The urge to obey was potent but he cleaved to his iron will and held to the thought that Abulaz was not worthy of his adoration.

The Dark Apostle seemed unaware of the treachery in his servant's hearts as he proclaimed, "I sense a disturbance."
Kasarox and Raruma rose to their feet and the Coryphaus said, "We continue to scan local space but we have found nothing so far."

But Abulaz growled, "I can smell them."
Raruma dared to say, "Maybe they were delayed cleaning their scales or perhaps they fell asleep."

Abulaz blinked once and suddenly Raruma was flung backwards like he had been hit by a wrecking ball. The spell tossed him aside like a rag doll and left him flopping upon the deck choking for air. Abulaz looked down at him and said, "Speak to me thus again, Mocker, and you will be sucking vacuum."

"Of course my lord," Raruma grovelled, "I live to serve."
Kasarox knew it must burn Raruma to lower himself so, but he was keenly reminded as to why Abulaz was too dangerous to challenge openly. For all his inept strategy he remained a powerful sorcerer. Kasarox, licked his lips and said, "Master, I advise patience the Alpha Legion…"

Suddenly there was stir among the bridge helots, cries of alarm and distress ringing forth as their surveyors went wild. Kasarox didn't have to inspect their consoles to see why, for before his eyes something was shimmering into view, something massive. From nowhere a twin blade prow emerged, followed by a vast hull that stretched back and back for miles. Ranks of gun batteries loomed over the surrounding vessels, targeting them with insane amounts of firepower and launch bays bristled with multitudes of attack craft. Nothing in the Word Bearer fleet came close to matching this monster, it dwarfed them in every respect, for she was a Glorianna class battleship.

Abulaz peered through the oculus with avarice in his eyes and breathed, "So the legends are true, the Shadow of the Emperor does exist. The lost flagship of the XIXth Legion is restored."
"And under the command of the XXth!" a cold and sinister voice proclaimed from the bridge hatch.

Kasarox spun on his heel and beheld an impossible sight, four Traitor Marines entering his bridge. Everybody gasped at the sudden appearance, for these were not Word Bearers. Instead they had armour covered in shimmering scales and serpentine symbols. They came helmed and armed, their leader carrying a long spear with blades at either end and a scaly cloak that wafted about even though there was no breeze to be had.

Kasarox was seriously worried as to how these intruders had got so close to his person without being detected but Abulaz smiled at the sight and called, "You must be Beta, Lord of the Shadow."
"You are Abulaz, lord of nothing," Beta sneered.

Kasarox expected Abulaz to rage at the insult but the Dark Apostle was surprisingly calm as he said, "Do you know why I summoned you?"
Beta shrugged, "The usual, you are assembling a conquest fleet and want to add our guns to your feeble armada."

Abulaz shook his head and said, "I desire rather more than that."
From behind Beta one of his comrades snapped, "What you want doesn't matter because we're not interested. We only came to this meeting out of curiosity."
Abulaz glared at Beta and spat, "You let your underling speak so?"

Beta coolly replied, "We are a cooperative, a union of the like and the like-minded. Delta, Epsilon and Talgor are free to speak."
Raruma spoke up then, "Are you afraid your precious ship will be scratched?"

Delta spoke for them all when he replied, "No, there simply nothing in it for us."
"Not even this?" Abulaz replied gesturing to one side. From the corner came a pair of helots wrapped in iron chains, carrying a chest between them. Within that chest lay a bright red jewel, one that glowed with inner fires and Abulaz proudly declared, "The Fulgur Vitrum!"

Beta sounded impressed as he said, "Do you know what it is that you have in your possession?"
Abulaz stated proudly, "A gift from the Pantheon."

Beta snorted, "In other words: no, you don't know. How long have you had this and you still haven't uncovered its secrets, you should spend less time praying and more time studying."

Abulaz bristled at that and Kasarox found himself wondering which of the pair was more potent. He had the uncomfortable suspicion that Beta was far superior in lore and power to Abulaz and that the snake considered him a bungling amateur. The Dark Apostle also didn't seem to favour his chances for he hissed, "It is raw power."

Beta snorted derisively and said, "Oh it is so much more than that. You have in your possession a crystallised warp rift, a rupture in reality waiting to happen. With this I could build a weapon unlike any other, a warp rift cannon that could blow starships out of the void. Shields, armour, psychic wards... nothing could withstand this."
Then Abulaz prompted, "So we have grounds for a bargain."

Beta sniffed, "I said I could do it, I didn't say I would."
Behind him Delta muttered, "I told you, we're not interested."
Epsilon agreed, "I see much for you to gain from a bargain, but nothing for us."
Talgor affirmed, "It's a hard pass from me."

The Dark Apostle bristled and Kasarox sensed a conflict brewing, he thought for a second about letting them fight and maybe Abulaz would have the good grace to die, but knew that was foolish. Beta wouldn't have come here without taking precautions, ones that would likely kill Kasarox too, and there was the slight possibility that Abulaz might win and then the Shadow would blow them all away in revenge.

Hastily Kasarox stepped in to say, "Then we will have to kill Guilliman ourselves."
The four Chaos Marines paused abruptly and Delta said, "Guilliman… you plan to attack his pathetic crusade fleet?"

There was a stir amongst them and Kasarox was elated to see his guess had been right, the Alpha Legion hated the XIIIth Primarch almost as much as the Word Bearers did, their enmity was legendary. Slowly, as if pondering out loud Delta said, "The killer of Guilliman would become a living legend, endless glory would fall."
Epsilon added, "Such a deed would shake the foundations of the galaxy, power like that would set one up amongst the gods."
Talgor muttered, "A chance to slit that self-righteous martinet's throat… I'm in."

Beta cocked his helm and remarked, "It seems the ayes have it, we shall aid your little excursion."
Kasarox sighed in relief as the tension dissipated and he said, "With the power of the Shadow, joined to ours, we shall crush the Indomitus Crusade. The Lord of Ultramar won't stand a chance."

"More than you know," Beta declared, "With the power of the Fulgur Vitrum I shall forge a weapon that will seal his doom. Guilliman shall learn to fear the might of the Daemon-Maw!"