Orazinio cannot fall, otherwise the entire Dagon-Mora system will.

In the dark depths of the  Hive City of Mistor there is a sprawling maze of catacombs built in a forgotten age. The dank, dripping walls sweat with a stench as foul as rotting corpses and with the odour the air feels thick. It is a place long ignored and forgotten by the ruling class, a place that the High Lord of Mistor has forsaken and left in dire peril.

The High Lord of Mistor has been a recluse for a good number of years now, only being seen for occasional ceremonies; mainly coming of age ceremonies for the local militia recruits when all of the city folk Gather and chant “Ich Sze Bara” whilst the new recruit endures torture and public trials.

The Upper-City of Mistor is a typical Hive City, no different in build, design, style or culture to any other well known Hive Cities.  The markets are laden with stolen treasures, heirlooms of reputable renown, and junk that passes as usable weaponry to defend against any enemies.

The markets however have a darker side to them and an unspoken code that the traders all follow for fear of repercussions from the ruling gang at the heart of this City. Known only to a few, but the markets and trading of the City is controlled tightly by a gang of thugs known as the Hivers, who operate as complete silent-partners unless their skills of manipulation and persuasion are needed. The Hivers control the Undercroft, and not just the markets or bustling terminals of machinery banks - but the catacombs too.

Few enter the catacombs often for there are rumours in the Upper-City of something terrible hiding away down here and killing all who enter. The rumours tell of a beast of unbelievable size and power stalking the narrow spaces and dark places of the Undercroft. Even the Hivers, as powerful as their control is in Mistor dare not venture under the streets and into the dark unless for a great reward or prize.

It is here the journey begins for our two adventurers, two souls both on a path that will ultimately bring them to the same end, the murder of the High Lord. It is not in our adventurers interests to slay all of the Hivers, or assassinate them one by one; for even those in the Legions know of the odds of hundreds or maybe thousands to one rarely play in the underdogs favour.

The Knight-Errant was not used to being kept waiting. Since his last encounter with other marines, four standard Terran years previously; he had become accustomed to being distinguished or respected when it came to the punctuality of those with whom he was doing business with. But he thought that maybe, just maybe that in dealing with some of his kind he would be considered in the same manner when it came to arriving to the meeting point on time.

The first of the adventurers was sent here by a death note from his Sergeant; a note that was posthumously delivered in the event of the sergeants death. He was to be at the entrance to the Undercroft at midnight every night following the notes delivery, but he had not showed. The Knight-Errant knew this to be strange. He knew better than most that a direct disobedience of the Sigilite would result in punishment and possible denunciation from the Legion from which he hailed. It was also concerning to the Knight-Errant, who waited with the entrance to the Undercroft in sight, but not as concerning enough for this warrior to take action. He knew that the first adventurer was off-world when the note was delivered; something even this Knight-Errant hadn't predicted - a band of traitors drew the attentions of the Fourteenth Legion and it meant that a battle among the moons of this planet took place.

The second, and final adventurer is here purely for reasons known only to he, and the Knight-Errant knew of the futility of trying to discern these and get the answers was akin to getting lifeblood out of rock. This adventurer was the only one of the two that the Knight-Errant openly protested to the Sigilite about their involvement, knowing with no doubt that the Twentieth Legion are not to be trusted, as such is the way with uncertain things; be it the roll of a dice, the flip of a coin or the drawing of a straw - one cannot simply predict the actions from this adventurer that will bring about the conclusion of this mission. It was however this argument that brought a smile to the lips of the Sigilite, to which the Knight-Errant questioned whether he was being mocked - and the Sigilite simply replied:

“No, I am not mocking you, Nathaniel. I simply smiled because you have just laid out the very reason why we must include this warrior of the Twentieth - because the future at present is very unpredictable, and to combat this unpredictability we must ensure that we can be predictably unpredictable."

+That damn Sigilite always spoke in riddles+ would be the constant thought through the Knight-Errants mind in the days leading up to now.

It was at this moment that the Knight-Errant spied some movement through the darkness, having not got his helmet on he relied on his eyesight to see through the darkness, but could clearly make out the movement of something roughly the size of an Astartes approaching the entrance to the Undercroft. The marine was of the Death Guard, Mortarions sons. His light coloured battle-plate looking worn and battle-damaged.

The marine approached the heavy, nondescript door and tried the keypad next to it, punching in what seemed a random sequence of four numbers - the door didn’t open. The Knight-Errant couldn't help but smirk at this - surely the Son of Mortarion didn’t think this was going to be this easy. After seeing the Death Guard input another set of numbers to no effect that was when the Knight-Errant revealed himself and spoke aloud.

“You will not get that door to move, should you try a thousand times." He spoke the words calmly and made no attempt to hide his enjoyment at the fact that the Death Guard was unsuccessful.

The legionary didn’t turn around, but sighed loud enough for it to be heard before saying “I thought you were dead, and here you are; when I am at my lowest point. Have you come to kill me for following our father?" His voice was gruff and his breathing laboured.

Garro didn’t know exactly how to respond. It surprised him that his Battle-Brother of old expected this to be conflict and a retribution for the actions of all of the turncoats; given this Death Guards situation. Garro knew from experience that a legionary adrift of his legion is a very vulnerable soldier.

“No, I am not here to bring about your end, rather to offer you chance for redemption...”