The roar of the Thunderhawk Gunship's engines echoed outside the torn breach in the Cabal base's hull, like the growl of a metal beast.
Lorgar sat in the gunship's cabin, watching the outline of the disc-shaped spacecraft grow steadily larger through the viewport.
It had been a long time since he had ridden in such a conventional transport. Usually, he either stayed aboard his flagship, the Law of Faith, attending to his duties, or teleported directly with psychic energy, moving from one place to another in an instant, wreathed in golden flames.
But today, he had chosen to take a Thunderhawk Gunship.
The gunship shuddered slightly as it passed through the breach in the torn armour.
Damaged metal edges swept past the viewport, scorched black and rent with twisted gashes.
The lights inside the gunship flickered, then steadied.
The pilot deftly guided the gunship down the Cabal base's broad Central Passage, slowing down, adjusting its attitude, then lowering it gently onto a relatively intact stretch of deck.
The landing gear met the ground with a hiss of hydraulics and air valves. The gunship rocked gently, then settled.
The hatch opened.
Lorgar rose and rolled his shoulders, holding the broad-bladed Greatsword in a reverse grip, its spine resting against his forearm and its point facing down.
He wore a simpler suit of dark grey Power Armour, better suited to close combat. Its plates bore no unnecessary ornamentation, only the Insignia of the Word Bearers branded onto his chest.
He descended the Thunderhawk Gunship's ramp, each step steady and forceful, his powered boots thudding against the metal deck.
Behind him, Hercules followed close on his heels.
As always, Hercules carried a Greatsword as broad as a door slung diagonally across his back. He stayed half a step behind Lorgar, his wary gaze