The Masters Emerge

Olaf Bitterfrost and his scouts prepare to escort Tempestor Kane to safety for extraction, before they must resume the hunt. 
Sven Keenear patrolling the ruins parameter picks up movement among the surrounding buildings, Cultists of the Perfect Path moving swiftly from cover to cover. Hulking forms of Astartes looming in the shadows. 
"Ambush!!" Called Grey Padfoot over the comms from the other end of the building.
The Wolves and their ally readied their weapons for the coming assault. 
Xavier Twosoul strolled the streets surrounded by followers of the Perfect Path as they rushed towards the servants of the False Emperor. He was bored and couldn't wait to face the Imperial dogs in combat. He gripped his double bladed power sword tight at the thought of cleaving through the filthy Imperials. 
Thule took up a position with the more heavily armed cultists.  His senses pulsing with combat elixers, his heavy bolter weighing almost nothing in his grip. More than anything else he wanted to fill his senses with a cacophony of bolter fire and screams. He looked towards his battle-brother, Inlune, set casually on the balcony with his plasma gun trained on the building across the street. His trophy rack adorned with kills, Thule knew his calm demeanor only hid his desire to claim more trophies. 
Xavier gave the order to attack. Frag grenades were lobbed into the entrance by the cultists. As the grenades exploded, the Perfect Path let lose an exultant cry as they stormed through the doorway, pushing at each other  to get to the enemy first. Each one conscious that their masters' eyes were upon them and hungered for their favor.
The first wave was cut down by bolter fire, with more appearing even before the bodies even hit the ground. Each cultists singing praised to the Dark Prince and craving slaughter. The Death of these Imperials on Saga is all that stand between them and perfect ascension. 
As cultists swarmed into the entrance Xavier waded in behind them. His boredom has become a painful hunger that needed to be satisfied. Only facing an Astartes of the False Emperor in combat could he hope to feel anything at all.
Xavier dispatched to Astartes with distaste. "The Sons of Russ. What filth." He thought. A grizzled looking scout rushed him, as if he thought he stood any chance at all against a veteran of the long war. Xavier swung his powers power sword in an arch, a disemboweling blow, but the old scout parried the blow, and the two subsequent strikes. Xavier leaped back.
"You are a decent duelist, dog. What is your name?" 
The old wolf spit at Xavier's feet. "Olaf Bitterfrost, of the Space Wolves." He replied. So fast that Xavier didn't even see him draw, he was looking down the barrel of a bolt pistol. With a bark Xavier's head jerked back, he stumbled two steps before falling to the ground.

Olaf and his squads moved out, hoping to get tempestor Kane out of the city, leaving the corpses of Xavier and his cultists to rot in the ruins. 






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