40K SN Battle Report – Grey Knights vs Daemons of Khorne

The wind which seared the skin but yet sent chills down your spine carried the half-heard cries of the damned, and the obscene curses of those that had damned them. Thirteen ignored the voices, just as he had for the last sixty two solar days, though solar days were hard to keep track of when this systems star frequently reversed its course through the blighted heavens or froze in place all together for hours at a time. He had made the frozen shadows his home, enshrouding himself in the inky darkness, as tangible as a blanket. There he had become as still as the rest of this dead city, his breathing and heart rate had slowed to the point that all but the most precise medical equipment would fail to detect life in him at all. His entire life’s purpose was condensed into what he could see through the multi-spectrum scope lens of his exitus rifle. “If looks could kill” Thirteen thought, allowing himself a rare smile. Chastisement. Admonishment. Concentration lapse.

Probability of one-shot kill below 87%. Concentrate. Enter target meme mantra. Thirteen cycled through the mission and target parameters which had been psyk-seared into his frontal cortex. In his mind he could see the target as clearly as if it stood not a metre in front of him. Decades of training and psidoctrination took over as Thirteen went over his target information and the most efficient means to expedite a kill shot. Target class: Astartes. Psyker Grade: Kappa Alturis. Multiple vital organ redundancies. Reinforced skeleton and fused ribcage. Combat abilities rated at: Omega Mortis. Equipment: Tactical Dreadnought armour of unknown mark. Known weaknesses’: Eye lenses, rear knee, elbow and thigh joints. Gorget. Shoulder joint and rear cooling ducts vulnerable if suitable upward firing arc can be attained. Coriolis effect correction: Complete. Trajectory: Clear. Addendum: Storm Shield provides 100% ballistic protection to approximately 33% of target from left side. Target right side for increased lethality percentage. Target specialises in asymmetric, anti-malefic combat. Conclusion: eye lens shot from distance only chance to clear objective. Chance of agent survival 15%. Thirteen exhaled as he recalibrated his Exitus Rifle sight to compensate for a slight alteration in air pressure.

The ridiculously low chance of survival did not bother him. He was the mission. Nothing else mattered. The fact that he had been mind-wiped was testament to the fact that the Temple had rated his chances of making it back as negligible. His name and memories erased so that his target could not psychically rip that information from his mind. Accordingly, Thirteen had destroyed the courier vessel that had unknowingly brought him here. Its crew reeling from the shock of translating into the wound in reality that was The Harrows instead of the routine run to Praexis that they thought they had been on. They did not have long to linger in their horror as Thirteen had efficiently dispatched the crew before they could reverse course. Staying hidden from the human crew for 4 months had been mere child’s play for an operative of the Officio Assassinorum. Staying hidden from his quarry would be on another order of magnitude entirely, Astartes being to normal men what cats were to mice. Blind mice.

A gust of scorching wind howled through the desolate plaza beneath Thirteen’s hide carrying sibilant whispers of blood, death and skulls upon it, giving the impression it was the ragged breath of the warp itself. The hairs on the back of Thirteen’s neck bristled but not because of anything so prosaic as fear or apprehension. His enhanced metabolism and mind rendered such human afflictions impossible. No, his senses, tuned to a razors edge, had picked up on a massive spike in air pressure as well as a precipitous drop in air temperature. Thirteen pressed his rifle against his shoulder and trained it at the actinic flash that engulfed the plaza below. A score of silver armoured titans of war stood on the blasted grey earth, arcs of warp lightning sparking from their armour. Before the Astartes had even fully translated back into the real, Thirteen held his breath as he gently squeezed the trigger. The rifle bucked violently in his grip sending a turbo penetrator shot straight through the right eye lens of his intended target.