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***
The rain was pouring down as if someone had overturned a bucket of water. Lightning flashed immediately overhead, the concussive blasts of thunder slamming into everyone below. It was as if the sky had been stabbed in the neck, its lifeblood violently ejected.
The gale sent a tidal wave into Melchoir's eyes, blinding him and making his uniform flap wildly. He desperately struggled just to remain upright in the storm. Everywhere was grey, and water, and chaos. The officer shouted at his men, but his words were obliterated by another peal of thunder that forced him down to the ground instinctively.
He desperately slipped on the muddy ground as the wind nearly knocked him off of his feet. It wasn't even a matter of keeping discipline now. It was a matter of surviving against nature. Melchoir desperately attempted to wipe his eyes free of the downpour. He could scarcely see anything.
Before him, he could make out the ruins of a building, its broken, jagged form spiring up into the rain. He scrambled to attempt to make it to cover. As he approached, he lost his footing on some rubble, causing him to fall over. His hand reached out and found a piece of a twisted steel pipe to grab onto to try and keep his footing. The wind blew him around like a kite. The deluge made it difficult to do anything at all.
In a blinding flash, lightning hit one of the ruined buildings near him. The concussive blast of the thunder knocked him down into a window well. The officer flopped into the ruined building.
The lack of wind and rain was a shock to his body. His muscles ached as they strained against forces no longer attacking him. Water was pouring in through the cracked window well like a faucet, sending a steady stream into his helmet and armor.
Melchoir scrambled over to where some of his guardsmen were cowering in the storm.
Several of them were huddling in around the priest, who was situated under the remains of some floorboards. The officer made his way over.
"Did you see it?" Sanario shouted over the deafening roar of water slamming into the ground, and whipping around their heads.
"I don't know!" the officer shot back.
"It's right in front of us! We have to move out!"
"Like hell we do!" Melchoir shouted.
The priest got up, gently pushing some of the guardsmen to the side. He squatted face to face with the officer.
"This is the most important thing you will ever do in your life, Melchoir Theleos!" Sanario shouted over the storm, "The whole crusade here hinges on it!"
"I don't even know what 'it' is! I don't have orders to do anything! I don't intend to do anything in this!" he shouted. The air was lit up by a strobe of lightning. Thunder crashed into the ruins a half second later.
"You don't need to know. You just need to do."
Melchoir stared blankly at his priest. What was even going on here?
Another surge of wind pounded into them, the blast screaming through the ruined windows and knocking the officer down to one knee. The gravel soup gave way beneath him. The priest reached out to steady the officer.
"Trust me!" Sanario shouted, "Have faith."
Melchoir scowled, "Just what do you think your purpose here is, Sanario? I'm the one in charge here. I'm the one who is responsible for making it work EVERY TIME. What are you? You can't tell me -"
"Melchoir!" came a shout from the lascannon team bravely weathering the storm from what was left of the upper floor of the ruin. "Melchoir! I think there's something out there!"
"War is for soldiers and officers," Melchoir finished, "not for old men with an attitude."
Melchoir looked out into the storm. The torrent of rain made visibility all but impossible. He strained his eyes as more water poured into them.
Wait, there. He thought he could see it.
"We've got something out there!" Melchoir shouted to whoever could hear him, "Hold your fire until they close!"
Slowly, the enemy tanks in front of him continued to slog their way forward through the storm. Melchoir could hardly believe it. What was so valuable that the enemy thought it worth while to attack in all of this? The russes struggled as their massive bulk sunk into the sopping ground. They were barely making any progress. It was pure insanity.
Some of the rubble gave way in front of the guardsmen, causing water to pour in through the gap. A small pool quickly began to form as a few more rocks gave way. The wind and the rain lashed on the tanks upfield. Their tracks desperately spun as the lumbering behemoths tried to get traction.
"We've got to go!" Sanario shouted, still stinging from the rebuke. We have to get the relic before the enemy does! We'll make it faster on foot than they will on tread!"
"Get what?" Melchoir angrily demanded, "What relic?"
"I can't tell you, but it's important," Sanario replied.
As the enemy tanks rounded the corner of a collapsed wall, they suddenly began to open fire. Massive gatling cannons poured out a flaming stream of hot lead that nearly put the storm to shame. Back and forth, the laser-like deluge of chaingun fire swept slowly across the field.
The beam raked over the ruin, sending a hundred shots slamming into the building, shaking it violently. The guardsmen cowered against the awesome display of rate of fire. Bits of dust and rubble collapsed in, causing even more water to gush in from above.
As the fire lifted, it displaced down onto a group of conscripts that were hiding out in the storm. Immediately they began to shout in panic as the beam of gunfire sliced through them like a knife through butter. Desperately, those who weren't instantly made a casualty attempted to flee for better cover.
The lascannon teams scattered around began to return fire into the driving rain. They could scarcely see their targets, so they fired for the muzzle flash of the spinning cannons on the tank turrets. One shot rang out, and then another. Anti-tank fire began to return against the tanks. Whether or not they were having any effect was impossible to tell.
"Melchoir!" the priest shouted.
"No!" the officer shouted back.
Another flash of lightning lit up the air followed by another deafening crash of sound. The officer looked up. Water gushed into his eyes from the clouds above. He blinked away the stinging and tried to shield his face.
Could it be possible?
A second bolt of lightning followed in quick succession after the first. As the thunder washed over him, he could see dark shapes floating against the sky. There were aircraft up there!
"What?" Melchoir shouted incredulously. What could possibly be so important that it was worth FLYING through this?
He looked down and could see that one of the aircraft had dropped off some enemy soldiers right in front of his lines.
The enemy fliers hovered around the guardsmen on the ground. Without warning, they began to open fire. Lascannons and heavy bolters strafed down into them. The men on the ground desperately attempted to take cover. The rain poured into their faces as they attempted to look up at their assailants. Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed.
Then, from the side, another enemy tank opened up. This one had managed to move undetected through the storm, only to make its presence known as its punisher cannon spun up to speed and began to rip a long, loud steam of shots into the side of the ruins. The building began to quake. Guardsmen began to get ripped apart.
The enemy was everywhere. Melchoir didn't know what to do.
"Melchoir!" Sanario shouted.
The officer looked down at the priest.
"Melchoir, the enemy is taking the relic!"
"Not now!" the officer shouted back. "Everybody! Return fire! Bring those fliers down!"
Lascannon volleys began to trade back and forth between the heavy weapon gunners on the ground and the fliers who were somehow being able to stay airborne in the straightline winds. The vehicles bobbed up and down, left and right, while their shots strafed across the top of the ruins.
With any luck at all, they all just might be able to survive. The storm would give them cover from the aircraft.
"Melchoir Theleos!" Sanario shouted, pointing into the storm, "The enemy is getting away! We have to assault them!"
"No! We! Do! Not!" Melchoir shouted in return, practically screaming into the priest's face.
The clergyman remained unmoved.
"I don't know who you think you are," Melchoir seethed, wiping rain off his face, "But I'm in charge here!"
***
Dammit, his long-wave vox was completely dead.
The sentinel pilot could scarcely believe it. There he was, driving through the middle of a hurricane and thunderstorm combined, in a giant metal walker. Worst off, the vehicle was open-topped.
The sentinel struggled to make headway against the driving winds and endless gushing of rain. The sentinel's cab was half-filled with water. The pilot had been trying to desperately bail out his vehicle while keeping it moving forward, but it was little use. He was now swimming in hit seat. He was certain he was going to get electrocuted soon.
He flicked the switch on his vox set to short wave. A loud snap shot a few sparks at his face. The pilot flinched as his electronics completely died.
"Dammit!" the pilot shouted at the storm. He looked over at the two other sentinels in his squadron. The others were likewise desperately attempting to keep their vehicles operable as the walkers struggled in the mud and the drivers struggled with the controls. There was water everywhere.
The sentinel pilot steeled himself. He didn't know for certain what his mission was, but he knew well enough to understand that it was going to be worth whatever hardship he was going to have to face. Plus, he was in recon. Doing the worst jobs in the worst possible weather was pretty much at the top of his job description. He'd been through worse before, if not by much.
The vehicle began to slip and skid as the articulated legs struggled to stay upright in the mud. The pilot reached down between his knees and threw back a small lever. At least the mechanical systems still worked, even if his electrical ones didn't.
The sentinel's actuators instantly stiffened as the tension line was drawn back. The pilot gave the vehicle everything he had, and the walker began to jerk and hop forward. Slowly and erratically, the vehicle managed to scramble up the side of a low earthen berm.
The pilot turned and looked behind him, the downpour lashing at his face. Behind him, both of the other sentinels were likewise struggling with the slope. One of them managed to get up while the other's legs kept locking up, causing the vehicle to slide down the hill. He squinted through the rain. He really, REALLY hoped he wouldn't need to break out his tow cable.
The lagging sentinel gave it one final push and just barely managed to clear the earthworks.
The sentinels continued on through the driving rain. The pilot took one hand off the controls to loosen his actuators again. Floating on the top of the water in his cab between his knees was his mess kit. He took a moment to bail a few cups of water before continuing forward again.
Then, right overhead, a pair of valkyries flew overhead. FLEW, in this weather. The sentinels picked up the pace as the fliers came down to drop off their cargo. They could just make it out through the whipping cascade of water. It was Kingsguardsmen!
More flew overhead and dropped in. The sentinels could just see it now. Right in front of them, some enemy tanks had just begun to open fire at something in front of them as they struggled with the mud.
They could see flashes of light as some of the stormtroopers rushed in to attack the tanks from the rear with their meltaguns and krak grenades.
It was to no effect, though.
The tanks began to traverse their turrets around to handle the new unseen threat, spinning around in the mud to bring hull weapons to bear.
With insane firepower, the tanks let into the stormtroopers with their gatling guns. The brilliant spray lit up the millions of raindrops cascading around them.
The stormtroopers desperately began to scatter in the face of the awesome power of the retaliatory strike.
"All right, boys!" the pilot shouted, as if anyone could hear him over the driving rain and the punisher cannons, "Lets get 'em!"
The three sentinels moved in out of the storm for the kill.
With lascannons blazing, they rushed the back of the nearest tank. One of the shots burst clean through the turret, sending punisher cannon barrels spinning off and killing the tank commander instantly. Another burst of energy ripped through one of the side sponsons.
The tank began to groan and creek as it began to pivot to meet its new threat. More lascannon shots bounced off the front armor as the massive vehicle turned. Its own lascannon fired and hit the sentinel in front of it, the shot punching through one of the vehicle's legs and slamming into the other.
The sentinel pilot shouted angrily at the battle tank. He twisted the cab to realign his cannon. The air split open as he threw another shot into the front of the vehicle. This time, it hit the lascannon mounting, punching through into the vehicle itself. He could just barely see smoke beginning to emerge from the engine block.
The pilot attempted to turn his sentinel, but it was no use. The actuators had been shot clean through. He waved at the other members of his squad. They would have to go on without him. The other two got the message and began to try to find new targets in the storm.
He looked up and could see even more aircraft who were insane enough to brave the impossible. These appeared to be those of the enemy, though, and they were shooting down into some presumably friendly ground units.
The two other sentinels raced forward and tried to engage them only for another flier to swoop in and fire down on them with its lascannons. In a pair of catastrophic explosions, the two other sentinels blew up in a blaze of horrible glory. The sentinel pilot winced as the enemy aircraft swooped overhead and out of sight.
He looked forward. From a nearby ruined wall, someone was firing a flame thrower at someone else. As the blaze cascaded down, lasgun fire started to go back and forth.
Wind and rain slammed into the sentinel pilot.
Well, there was one thing that was certain, he wasn't going to be doing anything in a junked walker. He reached down and picked up his mess kit. It was now floating on a pool of water that was up past his navel. He flicked a few switches to power down his sentinel, and then used his arms to push himself up out of his seat.
***
"I don't know who you think you are," Melchoir seethed, wiping rain off his face, "But I'm in charge here!"
"Not now!" the priest replied.
"What?" Melchoir shouted.
Sanario leaned in and grabbed the officer by the collar. His scowling face came in almost close enough to touch. He looked the officer straight in the eyes.
"Melchoir Theleos, you are a part of something now that you can not fathom, much less begin to understand. You and your troops are going to go forward and they are going to seize that relic. Your life depends on it, and so does your soul."
"What are you-"
"Silence! You will obey me - a sanctified servant of the God-Emperor and of his servant, the king of Folera. I have orders from higher than your faithless mind will believe. Whatever personal fear or delusion of power you have right now, stay it from your thoughts.
You may think me an old man with an attitude, but I am more than you think, and I am telling you now what needs to be done."
Melchoir stared at the priest in shock.
From behind them, reinforcements were arriving, having been drawn to the battle around them.
Rain poured down on the two of them, water pouring down their faces and off of their armor.
"You heard him!" Sanario shouted to those nearby, "We're moving out, let's go!"
"Where are we going?" Melchoir managed to stammer.
"Come on, men, CHARGE!" was his only reply.
***
Cratfworld Alaitoc (
Order of the Red Mantle (
Grand (little) Army of Chaos, now painting! (
WAAAGH!!!
It's brown and white, not orange and white.
MRRF 300pts
Adeptus Custodes: 2250pts 
