Once more into the breach

[Okor]

A grunt escaped Okor's black-toothed excuse for a mouth, bolt and las-fire filling the air as his massive hands turned the wheel of the landspeeder, throwing the hovercraft into a steep dive. Sparks and fire coruscated across the scorched and pitted hood, as his inept motions led their escape vehicle into a collision course with a steady stream of civilian traffic, unaware of the Legionnaires bearing down on their airborne activities. Tartaros whipped around from his firing position, taking a moment to comprehend the scene unfolding before him. "What in The Emperor's name are you doing you damn fool!? We're going to crash!" The disgusting animated piece of cloth that clung to his pale white armour shouted similar, if more obscene phrases. Okor's titanic foot pressed down on the accelerator, propelling the shuttle forward, unbalancing the lone wolf, who fired his bolter in confusion, forcing a pursuing Imperial craft to jink away. The Plague Marine's single sight focused on the shimmering wall behind the sky-lane. "Patience, brother." his voice was laboured, still recovering from the bloody battle they had fought to take their prize.

The hovercar descended upon the skylane like the flaming fist of an angry god, sparking and smoking, held together by necessity more than anything else. The civilians scattered, steering their flying vehicles out of the unstoppable juggernaut of mangled steel, still harried by the fusillade of fire unleashed by the Imperial enforcement forces. An airborne transport truck loomed in front of the marines, its operator either courageous to the point of suicide, or somehow unaware of the events unfolding before them. Okor began to throw their escape vehicle off-course, but his rotten nerves proved too slow to undertake this task. The nose of the hovercar collided with the cabin of the transport, shearing away a vast expanse of the craft. If one would look closely, they would see half of the engine falling to the streets far below. The grav-plates attached to the underside of their ride sputtered and died as they careened away from the collision, the shimmering surface of the portal growing to fill their vision. For a brief moment, all was silent as they stared at the rapidly approaching gate, idle blue waters awaiting them on the other side of this reality. Their transport was a death trap. As soon as it touched the ground, their survival was unlikely, to say the least. "Tartaros. Jump." He spoke, clambering over the side. "The hell are you doing, you crazy bastard? You'll get yourself killed!" Okor's cyclopean face turned to face his brother. "I survived the guns of... Terra. With Nurgle's favour, I will survive this."

The Luna Wolf took a moment to factor in the momentum of the craft, the rapidly enclosing stormtroopers, and weighed the odds. He was a survivor, and was not one to make rash decisions. He had, however, honed his instinct to a razor's edge. The Luna Wolf quickly leaped, falling through the air as the damnable creation of cloth pitied his foolishness. Chuckling, Okor looked once more at the portal, his gaze drawn to a lone figure standing at the base of the portal. They were small, vulnerable. Innocent. Forgotten memories, lost to millenia of aging, rot, and hypno-training began to surface. Sister. I had a sister. He remembered now. Three (Or was it two?) years his junior, with a laugh that melted hearts, a freckled face that brightened everyone's spirits when it came into view.

He couldn't save her. Not when the walking dead came to their village, hungry for the flesh of the living. Screams echoed in his mutated skull, a reminder of his failure. Not today. Not here. Today, he would save someone's little sister.

He threw his weight against the side of the vehicle, several hundred kilograms of dead flesh and ceramite sufficiently altering the vehicle's course. The hovercar tilted, granting Okor a view of the proceedings as he began to crash through the gate. Tartatos rolled along the ground, his ceramite cracked. But he was alive, and moving. It would have to do for now, until they got to the other side. His sight settled upon the small, pale child his actions had preserved. She smiled, raven dark hair falling across her shoulders, blowing in the wind as the speeding wreck passed her by. He closed his eyes and leapt, rotten teeth smiling beneath his helm as he dearly he hoped he wasn't too late to save himself. The shimmering surface engulfed him, as his ungainly form left the ruined excuse of a transport, light struggling to penetrate his closed eye, the morning sun of Costa Del Sol making its presence known.