Chaos resides everywhere in the galaxy. It tears apart worlds, consumes stars, engulfs entire sectors of space. In many places, there are renegade warbands, composed of warriors from all walks of life; many served in the forces of Chaos beforehand, searching for glory outside of the numberless traitor regiments, others were once civilians which had been lead into the jaws of Chaos on a bread crumb trail. Among them even resided a few Adeptus Astartes; the Emperor's Finest, believing, knowing that the bounty of Chaos would be greater than anything the Imperium could give them.
One such warband, the Brotherhood of Thorns, had been formed by a group of renegade Space Marines. The Brotherhood of Thorns controlled the Algira system. One planet within the system was Aplora, which on the last few years of the 40th millennium rebelled. They had made contact with the Astronomican briefly before the psykers had been killed, but the message was past; Aplora would have to be destroyed, but soon Imperial Forces would be upon them.
Character Template:
Name:
Age:
Equipment and Armour:
Weapons:
Warband:
Alignment:
Bio:
Appearance:
Name: True name unknown, known as Sandman to his immediate allies, due to his tendancy to crush things into dust.
Age: 270 (Unknown by Terran/Materium timeline)
Equipment and Armour: Artificer Armour, Iron Halo
Weapons: Force Sword, Bolter
Warband: 25 Night Lords
Alignment: Tzeentch
Backstory: Sandman was once a Librarian of the Night Lords, following the Soul Hunter in his quest to avenge Curze. He was almost the only Officer to survive the ambush by the Eldar, alongside a small force of roughly 150 Marines. Sandman escaped with the Echo of Damnation, and has since lead many small hit-and-run attacks into Imperial Space for nothing more than the sheer enjoyment of it, and a large number of attacks with some actual coordination against Imperial Worlds of some Value (Manufactorums etc). He was the one who lead the Night Lords during the massacre of Grendel's World. He was also prone to such antics like those displayed during the Khai-Zhan uprising. Since the dawning of M41, Sandman's hatred of the Imperium has only increased since the days of the heresey and the aimless killings in the centuries after.
Most of the raids on decent tergets have gone a little too well for a force so small, especially since each attack has inflicted a toll on his numbers. After launching a raid on an etreamely High Value target, a world hosting a Titan Manufactorum, Sandman finds the majority of his forces crushed by a Full Company of Imperial Fists, something that shouldnt have even been there.
Bio: Always pissed off about something, but has a very tactical approach to things. Tzeentch/Telekine Psyker. still uses Loyalist-grade equiptment, due to having not 'upgraded' his equiptment with bound Daemonic Essence
Appearance
Please ignore the fact it has a Thousnad Sons icon, I couldnt find a decent Night Lord one
Name: Rygar
Age: unknown (really can't think of an age)
Equipment and Armour: power Armour,
Weapons: Chaos Heavy Bolter(relic), Bolt Pistol and Chainsword.
Warband: Night Lords
Alignment: Chaos undivided
Bio: one of the few real successful attempts at replenishing the ranks of the night lords post heresy that didn't end in horrible mutations and mental instability. Rygar took to the battlefield, his allegiance to no one ruinous power but his Havoc unit often hired out to various warbands of various gods. Mostly found himself employed by the Red Cosairs where he had spread terror and indulged in his destructive desires. His greatest pleasure being Decimating enemy forces (and on occasion non Night Lord allies) with as much firepower possible. His last employment ending with his unit being abandoned planet side as his 'allies' made a retreat. Managing to escape with the few survivors of his chapter deployed he grew further disgusted with the war bands fueling his indiscriminate destructive tendency.
Personality: silent believing the muzzle of his weapon speaks for him. Cares little for tactics beyond his own capacity to support his allies with a hail of bolter fire. really only cares for the lives of those from his chapter.
Appearance: see picture.
Question, how would someone of my rank (havoc) address a night lord sorcerer? Unsure of any special designation
blood reaper
Spoiler:
blood reaper wrote: Name: Kain
Age: unknown
Equipment and Armour: Power armour with inbuilt targeting systems, and Signum
Weapons: Twin-linked Auto-cannon, Bolt pistol and Grenade (Smoke and Frag) launcher mounted on his backpack
Warband: Iron Warriors
Alignment: Chaos undivided
Bio: Kain has no sense of brotherhood or loyalty to anything but his weaponry, which has made him an excellent fighter over the years. Roaming the galaxy seeking new technologies to enhance his weapons, armour and his body, Kain has become a well tuned killing machine at range with his trusted Auto-cannon. Few can match his aim in combat, though his sanity and ability to reason have been costed by his quest to advance his weapons.
black templar
Spoiler:
black templar wrote: Name: Deliphas
Age: 480
Equipment and Armour: Power armour with jump pack.
Weapons: Plasma Pistol, Lightning Claw and two krak grenades.
Warband: Night-lords
Alignment: Turning to Slaanesh
Bio: Deliphas has fought the False Emperor ever since he left his old chapter 'Blood Angels' during the Thirteenth Black Crusade, he led his squad into the deepest but after his squad was slaughter after a failed assault against World Eater forces he began to see the false chains of the False Emperor. When his next attack began he turned on his fellow warriors and joined the forces of chaos (The Nightlords) he launch deadly assaults against his former brothers to prove to his new brothers he was a fierce warrior, he led full on assaults and lightning raids draining the Lapdogs but the Imperial Forces pushed them back and claimed victory. Now Deliphas launches raids on any Imperial forces now and normally takes slaves back to trade for different equipment and weapons.
Appearance:
Toastedandy
Spoiler:
Toastedandy wrote: Name: Bronsk
Age: Unknown
Equipment and Armour: Power armour, Juggernaut,
Weapons: Combi-melta, bolt pistol, Chain glaive
Warband: The Forlorn
Alignment: Khorne
Bio:
Abandoned by the Imperial forces besieging the fortress world of Malodrax, he was captured by Apothecary Aethon of the Twisted Blades and taken off world. After months of grueling torture, Bronsk managed to break the bonds binding him in place, and throttled Aethon. Finding their only Apothecary dead at the hands of a prisoner, The Twisted blades sold Bronsk to a gladiatorial fighting pit on a Daemon World within the Eye of Terror. There he fought for years, struggling to hold onto his sanity and loyalty to the Emperor. At the outbreak of the 13th black crusade, he was sold to Black Legion forces.
He was constantly thrown into the bloodiest breach's and meat grinders, slowly succumbing to Khorne. His freedom came as he boarded the strike crusier "Emperors wrath" of the Imperial fists, the rest of the Imperial fleet was destroyed, and the Legion moved on. Abandoned again, Bronsk united his brethren under his banner, and claimed "Emperors wrath" as his own.
Appearance:
The glass ninja
Spoiler:
The glass ninja wrote: Name: Cato Luthian
Age: Dates before the Heresy
Equipment and Armour: MK5 Heresy Power armour
Weapons: Combat knife. Articifer bolter
Warband: The Fractured sons (Splinter group of the Sons of Horus/Black legion)
Alignment: unaligned, Renegade.
Bio: During the great crusade, Cato was recruited by the Luna Wolves. He served loyally, fought by the side of his legion and risked his life for his brothers. When the stirrings of the Heresy began, he was there.
He saw his primarch falling from grace. Saw him becoming something else. He still served, his father needed him, no matter what happened. When the Istivaan IV dropsite massacre came around, he realised that his father was going mad, but he still lived and so still had his loyalty. But within his company, there were whispers of desertion from the maddness of both the Imeprium and the legion. Cato mixed into this, learning about the idea.
They would leave and be their own soldiers, fighting when and where they wanted, not controlled by anyone. They wanted to steal a stock of geneseed, and had the plans laid. He managed to convince his brothers to wait, to see if Horus improved.
He didn't. Horus died at the hands of his own father, the emperor. The brothers who wished to leave did so immediatley, taking weapons, armour and supplies with them. Their vessel, the Pallicier. With haste, they fled the imperium and the Traitor legions they had called brother.
What followed was mellinia of building power and skill. Their ranks swelled and they kept the old belifes strong. They took acolytes from various imperial worlds, disguising themselves as loyalists. Eventually, they claimed a world on the fringes of the Imperium for thier own, using piracy to build a greater fleet. Eventually, they began to strike out at both Imperial and Chaos forces, fighting for themselves, plundering equipment and weapons. Some simply went exploring in the universe, fighting where they wanted.
Cato was one such. And he wanted to fight on Aplora.
Name: Lurtzion Chronus
Age: Unknown
Equipment and Armour: Power armour.
Weapons: Combat knife, plasma gun, bolt pistol.
Warband: None. (Formerly Ultramarines).
Alignment: Complex.
Bio: Lurtz was one of the Ultramarines, a perfectly normal, run-of-the-mill tactial marine, with the highlight of his years being the honour of bearing a plasma gun. He never thought of it as an honour, the thing had burnt his arm badly over the decades.
Years passed, nothing of interest happened. He fought in many battles, but never did anything considered particularly heroic. An estimated 47 years ago, during a conflict against an above average size Waaagh, Lurtz temporarily had a large chunk of metal lodged in his head.He began to suffer severe hallucinations soon after the battle. Before long, the gaps between the hallucinations shortened to the point of nonexistancy. Now, each of his battle brothers bore the visage of a twisted chaos marine, each shining Aquila was now a vile star of chaos. Worse yet, the opposite was true, the followers of the Dark Gods were now the mighty protectors of Humanity and appeared as loyalists.
Alone amongst a sea of corruption, Lurtz soon escaped off to join his loyal brothers in the eye of terror, a haven for the followers of the Emperor.
Name: Gray
Age: 24
Equipment and Armour: Scavenged flak armour, part scavenged part homemade forcefield generator (that always cuts out at just the wrong moment)
Weapons: "Modified" combo-autogun-lasgun, electrified combat knife
Warband: 2nd-in-command of a large cultist warband who tag along with any chaos marines that will take them
Alignment: Leaning towards Tzeench
Bio: Gray was born on an agri-world far from anywhere, where there was always a shortage of techpriests and the govenor had commanded that those techpriests that remained tech a few of the brightest students the basics so that the machinary could be cared for with a minimum of trouble. Gray was selected for this training, however found himself being slowly pulled into a cult that taught that the machine spirit was not what the priests claimed it was. At the first opportunity, he managed to stow away on a cargo vessel to one of the larger planets where the majority of this cult resided. Gray was forced to kill some of the guards at the docks when he arrived, and found it surprisingly easy, taking one of their lasguns to simplify things. He soon met with the cult, and quickly rose to a high position due to his abilities in mending and modifying the weapons that the cult was stockpiling and occasionally using. However, despite a tactical mind he never displayed the charisma required for leadership, and found himself in a high position but not rising.
Civil war followed soon after, with the cult displaying its ability to bring down a large sector of one of the hives, though many of its members were killed. Though Gray fought where necessary, he was generally repairing or creating weapons, or else using bombs to damage the hives before anyone could react to it. Soon after the civil war, the forces of Chaos arrived on the planet, and Gray (by now the 2nd-highest ranking in the cult) found himself following their armies, marching to war.
Appearance:
Lord Magnus
Spoiler:
Lord Magnus wrote: Name: Achiaros "Herald of the Plague
Age: unknown
Equipment and Armour: Power Armour, Krak and Frag grenades, minor Psychic abilities, Poisonous insect hive, living on power pack.
Weapons: Toxin soaked Power Sycthe, Bolter with infectious Pestilence rounds (basically poisoned ammunition.)
Warband: Brotherhood of Thorns (Formerly Death Guard)
Alignment: Nurgle
Bio: An ex- Death Guard marine, Achiaros followed his brothers and Primarch when they gave themselves over to Nurgle. In the war on Armageddon, Achiaros heard of the defeat of Mortarion at the hands of Draigo Kalgor. With this, Achiaros felt that the legion had failed Nurgle, and brought dishonor to the Death Guard. He spent long years searching for warband to join, and he found that when the Brotherhood of Thorns could successfully usurp a planet, they would be worth his time. Now he is on Aplora, preparing for the eminent Imperial invasion (more background to be revealed as the story progresses.)
Appearance: Pre-Heresy Death Guard armour, looking like a Death Guard sergeant from before the heresy, with the exception of his power pack, which has large insect hives built into it.
I will definitely hop in on this, however, I would like to see some others sign up first before I make a character, I like filling in the little spots that no one chooses.
Can I join this as an Aspiring Sorceror? (No, I dont want a squad of Thousand Sons)
Actually, thinking about that, could I lead my own Warband? The idea I had is that Ive just suffered a catastrophic defeat so I pledge my own forces to the main Warlord to avoid being eradicated.
How's this? Not intended to be OTT, call me on it if he is Name: True name unknown, known as Sandman to his immediate allies, due to his tendancy to crush things into dust. Age: 270 (Unknown by Terran/Materium timeline) Equipment and Armour: Artificer Armour, Iron Halo Weapons: Force Sword, Bolter Warband: 25 Night Lords Alignment: Tzeentch Backstory: Sandman was once a Librarian of the Night Lords, following the Soul Hunter in his quest to avenge Curze. He was almost the only Officer to survive the ambush by the Eldar, alongside a small force of roughly 150 Marines. Sandman escaped with the Echo of Damnation, and has since lead many small hit-and-run attacks into Imperial Space for nothing more than the sheer enjoyment of it, and a large number of attacks with some actual coordination against Imperial Worlds of some Value (Manufactorums etc). He was the one who lead the Night Lords during the massacre of Grendel's World. He was also prone to such antics like those displayed during the Khai-Zhan uprising. Since the dawning of M41, Sandman's hatred of the Imperium has only increased since the days of the heresey and the aimless killings in the centuries after. Most of the raids on decent tergets have gone a little too well for a force so small, especially since each attack has inflicted a toll on his numbers. After launching a raid on an etreamely High Value target, a world hosting a Titan Manufactorum, Sandman finds the majority of his forces crushed by a Full Company of Imperial Fists, something that shouldnt have even been there. Bio: Always pissed off about something, but has a very tactical approach to things. Tzeentch/Telekine Psyker. still uses Loyalist-grade equiptment, due to having not 'upgraded' his equiptment with bound Daemonic Essence Appearance Please ignore the fact it has a Thousnad Sons icon, I couldnt find a decent Night Lord one
Tell me if anything needs to be changed, first time taking part
Name: Rygar
Age: unknown (really can't think of an age)
Equipment and Armour: power Armour,
Weapons: Chaos Heavy Bolter(relic), Bolt Pistol and Chainsword.
Warband: Night Lords
Alignment: Chaos undivided
Bio: one of the few real successful attempts at replenishing the ranks of the night lords post heresy that didn't end in horrible mutations and mental instability. Rygar took to the battlefield, his allegiance to no one ruinous power but his Havoc unit often hired out to various warbands of various gods. Mostly found himself employed by the Red Cosairs where he had spread terror and indulged in his destructive desires. His greatest pleasure being Decimating enemy forces (and on occasion non Night Lord allies) with as much firepower possible. His last employment ending with his unit being abandoned planet side as his 'allies' made a retreat. Managing to escape with the few survivors of his chapter deployed he grew further disgusted with the war bands fueling his indiscriminate destructive tendency.
Personality: silent believing the muzzle of his weapon speaks for him. Cares little for tactics beyond his own capacity to support his allies with a hail of bolter fire. really only cares for the lives of those from his chapter.
Appearance: see picture.
Question, how would someone of my rank (havoc) address a night lord sorcerer? Unsure of any special designation
Name: Kain
Age: unknown
Equipment and Armour: Power armour with inbuilt targeting systems, and Signum
Weapons: Twin-linked Auto-cannon, Bolt pistol and Grenade (Smoke and Frag) launcher mounted on his backpack
Warband: Iron Warriors
Alignment: Chaos undivided
Bio: Kain has no sense of brotherhood or loyalty to anything but his weaponry, which has made him an excellent fighter over the years. Roaming the galaxy seeking new technologies to enhance his weapons, armour and his body, Kain has become a well tuned killing machine at range with his trusted Auto-cannon. Few can match his aim in combat, though his sanity and ability to reason have been costed by his quest to advance his weapons.
DeathRex - They would mostly likely address the sorcerer by his title; i.e. if he was called Malagai the Consumer, he would be referred to as Malagai or by his full title.
Name: Deliphas
Age: 480
Equipment and Armour: Power armour with jump pack.
Weapons: Plasma Pistol, Lightning Claw and two krak grenades.
Warband: Night-lords
Alignment: Turning to Slaanesh
Bio: Deliphas has fought the False Emperor ever since he left his old chapter 'Blood Angels' during the Thirteenth Black Crusade, he led his squad into the deepest but after his squad was slaughter after a failed assault against World Eater forces he began to see the false chains of the False Emperor. When his next attack began he turned on his fellow warriors and joined the forces of chaos (The Nightlords) he launch deadly assaults against his former brothers to prove to his new brothers he was a fierce warrior, he led full on assaults and lightning raids draining the Lapdogs but the Imperial Forces pushed them back and claimed victory. Now Deliphas launches raids on any Imperial forces now and normally takes slaves back to trade for different equipment and weapons.
Appearance:
Name: Bronsk
Age: Unknown
Equipment and Armour: Power armour, Juggernaut,
Weapons: Combi-melta, bolt pistol, Chain glaive
Warband: The Forlorn
Alignment: Khorne
Bio:
Abandoned by the Imperial forces besieging the fortress world of Malodrax, he was captured by Apothecary Aethon of the Twisted Blades and taken off world. After months of grueling torture, Bronsk managed to break the bonds binding him in place, and throttled Aethon. Finding their only Apothecary dead at the hands of a prisoner, The Twisted blades sold Bronsk to a gladiatorial fighting pit on a Daemon World within the Eye of Terror. There he fought for years, struggling to hold onto his sanity and loyalty to the Emperor. At the outbreak of the 13th black crusade, he was sold to Black Legion forces.
He was constantly thrown into the bloodiest breach's and meat grinders, slowly succumbing to Khorne. His freedom came as he boarded the strike crusier "Emperors wrath" of the Imperial fists, the rest of the Imperial fleet was destroyed, and the Legion moved on. Abandoned again, Bronsk united his brethren under his banner, and claimed "Emperors wrath" as his own.
Appearance:
Name: Cato Luthian
Age: Dates before the Heresy
Equipment and Armour: MK5 Heresy Power armour
Weapons: Combat knife. Articifer bolter
Warband: The Fractured sons (Splinter group of the Sons of Horus/Black legion)
Alignment: unaligned, Renegade.
Bio: During the great crusade, Cato was recruited by the Luna Wolves. He served loyally, fought by the side of his legion and risked his life for his brothers. When the stirrings of the Heresy began, he was there.
He saw his primarch falling from grace. Saw him becoming something else. He still served, his father needed him, no matter what happened. When the Istivaan IV dropsite massacre came around, he realised that his father was going mad, but he still lived and so still had his loyalty. But within his company, there were whispers of desertion from the maddness of both the Imeprium and the legion. Cato mixed into this, learning about the idea.
They would leave and be their own soldiers, fighting when and where they wanted, not controlled by anyone. They wanted to steal a stock of geneseed, and had the plans laid. He managed to convince his brothers to wait, to see if Horus improved.
He didn't. Horus died at the hands of his own father, the emperor. The brothers who wished to leave did so immediatley, taking weapons, armour and supplies with them. Their vessel, the Pallicier. With haste, they fled the imperium and the Traitor legions they had called brother.
What followed was mellinia of building power and skill. Their ranks swelled and they kept the old belifes strong. They took acolytes from various imperial worlds, disguising themselves as loyalists. Eventually, they claimed a world on the fringes of the Imperium for thier own, using piracy to build a greater fleet. Eventually, they began to strike out at both Imperial and Chaos forces, fighting for themselves, plundering equipment and weapons. Some simply went exploring in the universe, fighting where they wanted.
Cato was one such. And he wanted to fight on Aplora.
Name: Lurtzion Chronus Age: Unknown Equipment and Armour: Power armour. Weapons: Combat knife, plasma gun, bolt pistol. Warband: None. (Formerly Ultramarines). Alignment: Complex. Bio: Lurtz was one of the Ultramarines, a perfectly normal, run-of-the-mill tactial marine, with the highlight of his years being the honour of bearing a plasma gun. He never thought of it as an honour, the thing had burnt his arm badly over the decades.
Years passed, nothing of interest happened. He fought in many battles, but never did anything considered particularly heroic. An estimated 47 years ago, during a conflict against an above average size Waaagh, Lurtz temporarily had a large chunk of metal lodged in his head.He began to suffer severe hallucinations soon after the battle. Before long, the gaps between the hallucinations shortened to the point of nonexistancy. Now, each of his battle brothers bore the visage of a twisted chaos marine, each shining Aquila was now a vile star of chaos. Worse yet, the opposite was true, the followers of the Dark Gods were now the mighty protectors of Humanity and appeared as loyalists.
Alone amongst a sea of corruption, Lurtz soon escaped off to join his loyal brothers in the eye of terror, a haven for the followers of the Emperor.
Lurtzion Chronus seems like a fun character, would love to see how he interprets conversations and the more overly chaos actions of his 'loyalist' companions.
Sorry it took me a while to get it over here from the signup thread. I've got a better pic, though I think a cultist will probably be massively underpowered. Oh well.
Name: Gray Age: 24 Equipment and Armour: Scavenged flak armour, part scavenged part homemade forcefield generator (that always cuts out at just the wrong moment) Weapons: "Modified" combo-autogun-lasgun, electrified combat knife Warband: 2nd-in-command of a large cultist warband who tag along with any chaos marines that will take them Alignment: Leaning towards Tzeench Bio: Gray was born on an agri-world far from anywhere, where there was always a shortage of techpriests and the govenor had commanded that those techpriests that remained tech a few of the brightest students the basics so that the machinary could be cared for with a minimum of trouble. Gray was selected for this training, however found himself being slowly pulled into a cult that taught that the machine spirit was not what the priests claimed it was. At the first opportunity, he managed to stow away on a cargo vessel to one of the larger planets where the majority of this cult resided. Gray was forced to kill some of the guards at the docks when he arrived, and found it surprisingly easy, taking one of their lasguns to simplify things. He soon met with the cult, and quickly rose to a high position due to his abilities in mending and modifying the weapons that the cult was stockpiling and occasionally using. However, despite a tactical mind he never displayed the charisma required for leadership, and found himself in a high position but not rising. Civil war followed soon after, with the cult displaying its ability to bring down a large sector of one of the hives, though many of its members were killed. Though Gray fought where necessary, he was generally repairing or creating weapons, or else using bombs to damage the hives before anyone could react to it. Soon after the civil war, the forces of Chaos arrived on the planet, and Gray (by now the 2nd-highest ranking in the cult) found himself following their armies, marching to war. Appearance:
The glass ninja wrote:Looks more like a subtle chaos corruption.
Most indeededly.
DeathRex wrote:Lurtzion Chronus seems like a fun character, would love to see how he interprets conversations and the more overly chaos actions of his 'loyalist' companions.
He'd probably hear particularly chaotic things such as dark Gods, heretic and daemon as Emperor, loyalist and reinforcements, and so on.
Name: Achiaros "Herald of the Plague
Age: unknown
Equipment and Armour: Power Armour, Krak and Frag grenades, minor Psychic abilities, Poisonous insect hive, living on power pack.
Weapons: Toxin soaked Power Sycthe, Bolter with infectious Pestilence rounds (basically poisoned ammunition.)
Warband: Brotherhood of Thorns (Formerly Death Guard)
Alignment: Nurgle
Bio: An ex- Death Guard marine, Achiaros followed his brothers and Primarch when they gave themselves over to Nurgle. In the war on Armageddon, Achiaros heard of the defeat of Mortarion at the hands of Draigo Kalgor. With this, Achiaros felt that the legion had failed Nurgle, and brought dishonor to the Death Guard. He spent long years searching for warband to join, and he found that when the Brotherhood of Thorns could successfully usurp a planet, they would be worth his time. Now he is on Aplora, preparing for the eminent Imperial invasion (more background to be revealed as the story progresses.)
Appearance: Pre-Heresy Death Guard armour, looking like a Death Guard sergeant from before the heresy, with the exception of his power pack, which has large insect hives built into it.
The fortress rose high above the decrepit city below, taking up a solid two square miles of the centre of the city. Jagged obsidian walls wrapped the massive spire in a glistening darkness, etched with the symbols of Chaos and lined with the bodies of those who would wish to return to the False Emperor's beacon like a fly to the light. On the northern face, a huge flat area was marked with the insignia of the Brotherhood of Thorns; a mailed fist, grasped around a rose with blood pouring from it. The blood wasn't simply painted on; the sacrifices and opposition of the Brotherhood kept a steady sanguine river flowing all the way down to the courtyard. Around the city, all there was was a huge basalt plain; if you drilled a meter downward, you would quickly be covered by pressurized lava shooting 15 meters upwards in a spectacular fountain, This was Cotera, one of the moons of the capital planet of the Algira system, Aplora.
Inside the fortress, on the highest level, members of all the fighting forces of the Brotherhood sat around a huge table, each with a standard bearer. At the entrance to the chamber stood guards and musicians. Small imps and servants, pierced with spikes, covered in tattoos, scurried about the room, making sure the food and drink was constantly full.
A transmission to the Astronomicon had recently been intercepted from Aplora. They knew that the False Emperor's filth would soon come searching for them. They needed to be prepared.
Archios stood just outside the hall doors of the leaders hall. While he was a seasoned warrior, leading was not his strength. He was not counted among the leaders of this band. He was, however, an excellent fighter, and so he would stand vigil outside. He found it ironic that the only guard to stand just outside the great doors was death itself. He was a reaper, all things wasted away in time, but he could provide Father Nurgle with piles of rotten bodies in minutes. And so he stood, not speaking, alone, Scythe raised and ready for those who dared to approach the door without his consent.
Cato sat idly above the rest of the leaders in the room. He was present to hear their words, not recieve their orders. He might even give a few orders of his own, as far as he could tell, he was the only one of them that was even slightly sane. His bolter hung by his side, the bayonet he'd used to carve his way through countless loyalists and chaos servants alike gleaming evilly. He had a bandolier of magazines for the mighty weapon strung over his front, and severl on his belt. Though he often took the role of scout or sniper, he used many bullets.
Leaning down to better observe the conversation, he removed his helm to reveal a bald, scarred head and face. The faceplate of his helmet usually didn't give anything away, other than his allegiance, the face was much the same. His eyes, ice blue and narrow scanned the room, looking for things lurking in the shadows. A cultist, scampering here or there, roses stuck into every orofice and brutally driven into flesh. Sometimes, he dispaired for the normal humans. They were foolish enough to venerate the chaos gods without realising some of the consuqences. It was why he and his brothers avoided all chaos taint, and all taint of the imperium too.
He didn't know if the others had noticed him yet, he didn't really care either. His pff-white ceramite plate was hard enough to see in bright daylight in this city. In darkness, he doubted that even astartes warriors could without some effort.
"The imperials are attacking" He said, his voice quiet "I think this'll be fun"
Kain sat quietly with his Auto-Cannon across his lap, cleaning and repairing the great gun, which bore a pair of scowling faces for its twin barrels. He listened to the words of the decadent leaders, but such was the folly of fleshy beings. They squabbled and bickered, unable to see that if they stood united the Imperials would crumble in the ultimate conflict, but he knew only of one form of ally that would stand beside him with loyalty. He smiled down on his Auto-Cannon, felling the power of its ‘spirit’, blood stained and well fed with the souls of its dead. He looked forward to claiming more weaponry for his arsenal, to build an army of weaponry that would allow him to counter any foe he engaged, no matter how long it took. His bionic arms hefted up the Auto-Cannon with ease, loading it's ammo into the feed as he strode across the chamber, seeking someone to converse with.
Lurtzion had never before been so pround. Amongst meticulously clean and gleaming icons of his beloved imperium he sat, golden walls bedecked with ornate tapestries of great battles and long-lost heroes. Around the spacious chamber scurried the occasional serf or service-servitor, each covered in various purity seals and censers. Thin wisps of smoke followed behind them, he could smell the scented incense even though his armour's filters. This was truly a place fit for the most devout of Ministorum priests.
The expression of cheer and awe upon his face masked by his light blue helm, he glanced briefly upwards to the high celing, where there lay a colossal painting of considerable quality, detailing the immaculate armour of the Emperor, who stood victorious upon a mound of mangled and charred Daemonic corpses.
The corroded throne of ceramite let out a worrying groan as the bone-white and bladed form of a chaos astartes shifted upon it, each gauntletted hand crimson with long dried blood. He took in a great breath as a hunched and mutilated slave passed, the scent of a charnel house filling his nostrils. About the filthy walls were scrawled countless symbols of chaos and depravity, each seemed to shift about a little when not observed, taking a subtly different form when next seen. The marine's gaze fell upon them momentarily, a look of admiration hidden by scarred helm.
Chaos was coming to this place, the heretics would soon be scratching at the door. But he was confident he and his brothers would meet them with clensing fire and holy fervour.
"For the Emperor."
He muttered, a grin spread across his face.
Deliphas stud looking over the table at each warrior around all different, all deadly, all violent, each warrior armed ready for any wrong move and it would turn this meeting into a blood bath.
"Those Lapdogs are attacking this fortress..." Deliphas muttered pausing as he looked each Marine.
"I suggest small assault against their weak points. Whittle them down force them to try and reinforce those points forcing other areas to become weak. This will turn the tides!" Deliphas growled as he slammed his Claw down against the table cracking it. When nobody responded to his answer he turned his back and walked to the window looking out watching the darkness choke the light from the land.
Gray surveyed the men that were the majority of the cult. Well, not his cult. He was only second in command, and even then it was the cult of the chaos gods really. But it felt as though they were his. The chaos marines certainly wouldn't care whose they were.
Many of the weapons they were carrying had been carefully modified by him in one way or another. While most were based on either an autogun or lasgun, here or there you would see a one-use flamer or with some kind of focusser on the end of a lasgun. They wouldn't stand a chance against anything like a space marine, but he had the special weaponry for that...
So now all that remained was to wait for orders and create new weapons.
"Strike at their weak points? All we'll be fighting are guard, I heard no mention of Astartes" Cato dropped from the rafters above, landing in a crouch behind the raptor. He made almost no sound, only the scraping of his ceramite boots as he straightened up. "We should crush them, they fear us, they see only the glorious warrior astartes of their emperor." He had his helmet on again, the red topknot he'd cut from the head of an eldar farseer and fashioned into the decoration swishing left and right as he spoke, the blood red hair remindning him of the cries of the witch. His Librarian had ordered him to kill her, and kill her he did. That was back when he still had his squad around him. They'd all died a few months before, at the hands of Grey Knights, no less. A fitting foe.
"I say we find where they plan to land, then we set up ambushes. As soon as they take a step from their landers, we fill them with holes." His voie rasped through the vox speakers that allowed him to speak, the iron studs on his pauldrons and greaves shining gently in the weak light. "Are you not a raptor? A master of striking from the skies, ambush that will cripple the foe, then you are gone in a flash?"
Deliphas turned to look at this warrior he could see he was much older and much more experienced in combat but a head on assault even against Guardsmen would result in high casualties.
"I know the humans are only weak but their weapons are strong enough to punch a hole in our lines! Each position will have autocannons and Heavy bolters on their lines this will result in death. If we assault weak positions with lightning strikes and long range weapons resulting in terror in their ranks, this will result in disorder causing them to flee, leaving positions undefended." Deliphas said looking at the Ancient warrior the paint chipped away from places mostly chesplate and shoulders. Deliphas grabbed his Plasma Pistol from his hip and began to lift it to the other warrior but before he lifted it half way the Ancient Warrior's bolter was point blank in Deliphas's face.
"Hm...... I am Deliphas of the Nightlords. I believe you may be right in a way." The Raptor chuckled extending his arm to the other warrior.
"You are a pup. Learn to use those claws, your draw was obvious" Cato said nochalatantly. He'd dealt with Raptors before. Killed most of them. He held his bolter one handed, his other hand on his knife hilt. Slinging his weapon once more, he glanced out of the window. "I find that landers don't really have time to disgorge their cargo when we're busy ramming rockets into them" He grinned behind his helm, vicious and angry. "I have been fighting these fools for ten thousand years. An ambush will work, especially against guardsmen. The fools flee before us, they cannot hope to have enoug bolters to stop us" He grabbed the other warriors wrist, his ceramite encased hand clanking dully.
"Cato, Sargeant of the Fractured sons Under Lord Morranon. A fragment of a long lost legion" Releasing the night lords hand, he drew his blade and walked to the table. Placing it on the surface, he looked up at each of the warriors sitting around it in turn.
"We will face the imperial scum on this world, that is true. But if we can stop them from landing as many warriors as we can, then the battle is half fought. What have we in the way of air defenses? Hydra batteries? Lascannons? Is there anything left from the imperial defenses that were undoubtably here?"
Bronsk stood unmoving, his eyes fixed on the astratus in front of him.The brotherhood had grown fat off the misery inflicted on the planets of the Algira system, almost complacent. They hadn't fought for months, and Bronsks hands twitched in anticipation of the inevitable conflict promised to them.
Where others in his company bore a grim smile or proudly wore their battle helms, Bronsks face was a mess of scar tissue and jagged bone. He wiped the beginnings of a nose bleed with the back of his hand before he spoke. When he spoke, his voice was alow and dangerous growl.
"I shall engage them in orbit, of the defenses on this rock, I have no idea. But we have been betrayed, brothers. The imperial forces have been warned of us by some loyalist dog cowering in the shadows of this fortress, surely you have not forgotten."
"Once out-gunned and out-manned the Imperial Guard will collapse. They have no means of victory other than their tanks and weaponry, and once both are in too little supply, the Guard will loose their resolve." His voice was almost robotic, lacking emotion and feeling. "But I feel we must target the weaknesses of the mind first. Without the gun of a Commissar at the backs of their heads, they shall break and flee. Kill the head and the body falters."
Achiaros stood outside, continuing his lone watch. Inside the room, even through the massive metal doors, he could hear the voices. He could not make out their words, but the intensity was heightening.
"Finally." he muttered to himself. "It is about time some progress was made rather than sitting on this damned rock."
A serf with a nose pierced with a spike, and Tzeentchian tattoos passed him, walking toward the doors.
"To close..." Archiaros muttered.
The serf stopped and began to speak "My Lord, I am just passing to recie-"
His voice was cut short by the scythe piercing his chest. The tray the man was carrying clattered to the ground, staining his robes even more crimson than his own blood.
"Tzeentchian pig" the plague marine spat.
Did this man deserve to die? Archiaros did not much care. He was a simple human, a worthless cultist, fodder, and Tzeentchian at that. The soft buzz that constantly hovered in the air around the chaos marine grew louder as the tainted insects in the hive flew out to consume the body. Another day on this rock.
The Imperials would come soon, and by the end of this war, they would know the name of the Plague Herald.
OOC: Are we going to make an OOC and/or discussion thread? Also, I love your character RobotLol, he is fantastic.
Gray was now tinkering with his forcefield generator. While mostly he had no idea how it worked, he knew roughly how to up the power, although if he didn't do it just right, there was a good chance of an explosion.
A shame, he pondered, because normally he'd rely on his forcefield to protect him from an explosion. Not that it would, probably. It was more of a last-resort defence, though it was rather heavy. He stood behind a thick plasteel wall with just his arm showing, and slowly tweaked one screw as far as he dared. He had a feeling it would be worthwhile in the coming battle.
"Give me a tower and a line of sight on their lines and its done." Cato patted his bolter lightly. "I've been doing long range sniping with this toy of mine for many a year. If we cut of the head, then the rest of the bovine dies." He chuckled at his own joke. It was one told to him by a brother centuries ago, comparing the imperium to a cowherder and all of its armies and people as cattle. He'd watched the very same brother torn in half by a Blood Angel dreadnought a few hours later. That had been quite the loss.
"We also need to assess how many soldiers we have, what our armoured support is, our munitions"
"Naivety will be the death of us, no commander worth his salt would land on the front lines" growled Bronsk, smashing his fist on the table "We must bleed them before any commander will risk revealing themselves."
"Commisars charge into battle. I've had to gut one or two" Cato grinned, picking up his knife and spinning it gently in his ceramite gauntleted hand "They'll be foolish enough."
"It's in the nature and job description of the Enforcer to charge into battle, for the purpose of inspiring the troops. It does however, make then highly visible and easy to pick off."
For the first time in the discussion, Lurtzion leaned forward, his helmet's inscrutable gaze looked blankly at each of his brothers in turn.
"Make sure to kill them all quickly though, chop one head off and another might just take its place."
"A point, brother. However, the mewling warriors they send agianst us, the guard, once they see their enforcer dead on the ground, his head a puddle of gore, then they will know fear. And that is when we strike"
IC:
Sandman looked at the two Marines across from him, arguing as to how best kill off a pesky Commissar. The telekine was making an unused Bolt round slowly spin in the air above an upturned hand.
"A point, brother. However, the mewling warriors they send agianst us, the guard, once they see their enforcer dead on the ground, his head a puddle of gore, then they will know fear. And that is when we strike" one of them said, patting his Bolter. The other Marine opened his mouth to respond. Before he could say anything, Sandman flicked his wrist slightly, sending the Bolt speeding across the room, before he brought it to a quivering stop between the two Marine's heads by closing his hand into a loose fist. The two Marines looked across at the Night Lord Sorceror. Sandman got to his feet.
"I believe the best course of action is a counter drop." He began walking around towards the other two marines, the Bolt floating back towards him.
"We can pre-target No-Mans-Land with whatever Artillery is left in this place, which will cripple their forces as they come to us. Meanwhile, I will lead those who I have left, and any of you who want to join me, and we will Drop in on their backfield units, such as that Pesky Commissar. Take out whatever Coordination they have"
Sandman came to a stop next to the other two marines, the Bolt above his hand again.
"Then we recreate Isstvan V, and crush them", clenching his fist and turning the Bolt to a crumpled lump of Metal to emphasise his point.
"I was at Istivann, Sorceror. We can never recreate that" A note of anger had come into Cato's voice. The slaughter of astartes and the turning of the legions at that battle...it had disgusted him that his warmaster could think of such a deceitful plot. He had killed warrior after warrior by himself. "Watch what you do with bolt rounds, my friend. They explode" He moved, smoothe as liquid, slapping the crumpled bolt from the sorcerors palm. It skidded across the room and bumped up against the wall, where it promplty detonated. A few chips of old stone flew across the room and pattered against Power armour.
"You would have recreated the crippling of an imperial munitions dog there, if you hadn't have been careful" Cato turned back to the table. "I personally doubt you can do much against the enemy, even with your warp powers. Enough lasguns will take you down. I say that we seed the city with snipers, minefields, roadblocks. Many different fortifications. Then we wait till they appear. They'll try scouting us out, when they do, we'll simply kill them as they land." He turned his head to the sorceror. "Nothing like Istivann"
Sandman looked at Cato coldly. "Explain then, how you intend to remove the possibility of escape? You should know only to well that if any survive and get out to tell the tail, Imperial Astartes will be on our Doorstep in a matter of weeks, if not days." The Sorceror began walking toward the window, to look out and survey the city. "As for seeding the city, I think the best approach to that would be to rig the sewers. Set up choke points with your 'roadblocks and minefields', then blow out the sewers, collapse the roads beneath them."
"Sorcerer, such magnificent tactical planning could never be replicated, nor could the slaughter, the din of guns and the clash of swords. You delude yourself. Diluting your mind with magic, but I see potential with the other Night Lords plan, effective."
Kain moved forward, his Auto-cannon at the ready as he moved close to the Sandman;
"I doubt that magic is good for your mind, I hear it dulls the senses and reduces the reality around the user to nothingness."
"If you were a wise one Librarian, you would not perform such pathetic shows of power amongst us, do you take yourself for a mighty psyker or some conjurer of cheap tricks? You would not to spout such blasphemy of Istvann. It was a slaughter, not a victory by any means, or has your mind grown dull?"
Lurtzion spat, a look of distain upon his hidden face.
"Leave tactics to the tacticians, and they will leave the magic to you."
Kain turned to the newcomer, looking over his armoured form, but confused by his words. He spoke as if a zealous Space marine, distasteful of the Sorcerers words. He lowered his Auto-cannon and extended a hand to Lurtzion;
Sandman turned back from the window, and clasped his hands behind his back.
"Do not take me for a conjourer of cheap tricks. I am not trying to get you all killed, I am meerly pointing out that the tactics employed by the Warmaster were effective at the time. I think that similar tactics will work well here, considering Guardsmen will run back from whence they came as soon as the Commissar has fallen, however that may happen.
And if I may, what is wrong with Isstvan? It may not have been anything to be proud of, but it worked. That is all that mattered"
"Nothing, simply such tactics could not work here. I would not attempt to replicate it. As we lack the forces, and ability to commit such actions. I would suggest a removal of their commanders through assassination, before we reel in their remaining forces into our own armies."
Archiaros was tired of waiting. He had entered the hall, just in time to see the antics of the sorcerer, and to hear of Isstvan. Then he spoke.
"Or, we could get off this damned time bomb of a moon, before the bombardments destabilize it, reach the planet itself and move from there. I do not wish to be sitting here when the crust of this rock is penetrated and the magma spews from the wounds. We would be better off making our enemy seek us, rather than face him on unstable ground. This fortress is nowhere near impregnable."
Kain nodded, knowing that this was not some trick. The man was truly mad, his mind in taters, probably over some form of psychosis but the words of the next new comer had some substance;
He gritted his teeth as the talks progressed, his prized heavy bolter that he pried from the death grip of his Sargent gripped tightly in a mix of excitement and frustration. "bah!" he stood tall, his heavy bolter resting it's tip atop the table. "I agree with my battle brother Deliphas and his strategy.. It's easy enough to strike their leaders once their line is diminished and confused, effectively cutting off any avenue of escape should be an easy task for those I see before me" he took a breath "...but if this moon is as unstable and unfortified then tactically retreating planet side sounds best.. But I ask if this moon is so unstable could we not use this to our favor? Either luring the filth here or destroying their ship, detonating the moon sounds like a tactical choice"
His sentence trailed off into a snarl before he silenced himself.
"The tactics employed by the warmaster, fool, involved tricking the Loyalists into thinking that the majority of the forces they were using to strike at him were still loyalist. We cannot do that, for we have no infiltration into these imperial dogs."
Cato almost spat the words, turning his head to stare at the sorceror. "I was there, a Son of Horus! We won through deceit. The tactic we are discussing here is the destrction of the enemy as they leave their landers, not as their second wave comes in and stabs them in the back, as the battle of Isstvan was conducted" The fool sorceror obviously knew nothing of the battle. "The Dropsite massacre was conducted by the Iron Warriors, the Word bearers, The Alpha Legion and your own Night Lords. They were supposed allies the loyalist forces there, and where what their second attack wave consisted of. When they landed, they shot the true loyalists as they returned to resuplly and allow them their chance to strike at the legions who supported our warmaster openly on that world"
He stopped, staring at the magician for a moment. "Your idea of copying the tactics of Isstvan will not work", unless you have agents you've yet to tell us of?"
OOC: I do know how the battle played out. Also, the idea Ive had/youve stumbled upon is ok right?
Sandman looked Cato straight in the eye. "About time you caught on to what I was saying, you fool. My 'agents' are not many, but they is under orders to shoot the retreating Imperial Guardsmen, assuming them to be Cultists. I hope this is not a problem to any of you?" Sandman sneered behind his mask. It had taken two attempts to get this fool to understand, and he called Sandman the tactically flawed one. He turned back to look out of the window.
"Now, do we have a plan, or are we going to kill each other first?"
OOC: I doubt that it would work, as Cato will state below
"I'll happily make sure you're dead. I'll meet the rest of you down on the planet" Turning around, Cato strode to the doors. "You should have said you had agents in the first place. Just know, these will be iconic soldiers we'll be fighting. Probably cadians. The cultists I have see around here so far don't look very cadian, so your 'agent's will be assumed tratiors themselves." He grinned and moved to the doors, pushing them open and striding past the deathguard marine outside. "I'll begin organising whats left of the planetary defenses, The capital city is where I will be if we must meet"
He grinned behind his helm, his mind going through various ways to kill them all. He wouldn't, he didn't feel like killing chaos marines. Imperials would be so much more relaxing.
Within twenty minutes, he was out in the city, walking along slowly to where he left his small shuttle. A pair of serfs stood outside, the pilots. He climbed in, the two following and booting up the engines. The small craft lifted off, engines flaring and dust flying around. Cato had taken a seat inside, removing his helm. If he didn't, the topknot brushed against the ceiling. He smiled as he felt shuttle lift away from the moon, then shoot off towards the main planet.
OOC: After talking with BBB about this.. May I introduce...
Spoiler:
Name: Kal'urek the Entombed Age: Unknown, Interment after the Iron Cage Incident Equipment and Armour: Contemptor Pattern Dreadnought Chassis (not full Contemptor since the heresy is over). Weapons: DCCW w/ Heavy Flamer, and Kheres Assault Cannon Warband: Iron Warriors Alignment: Chaos Undivided Bio:
Having fought through the worst parts of the rebellion against the Emperor, Kal'urek retreated into the Eye of Terror with his Primarch and with the remnants of his brother Legionnaires. It was there that Chaos slowly crept into his mind and his soul. Blindly following his father, Kal'urek fought during the Iron Cage incident. It was there that he brother Astartes once more. The thrill of combat coursed his veins, but this wasn't the blood spilling that the roused the 12th Legion, this was true warfare. The type of war that singes the nostrils with the smell of bolter ammunition exploding against ceramite and tunnel walls. The chilling screams of Astartes dying miles from their ships. Kal'urek killed many Astartes in those three weeks, but there was one that had gotten the better of him to this day. One Astartes that had bested him in fair combat. Better with a gun than a blade, Kal'urek found himself cut off from the rest of his squad, and in a brutal fight with an Imperial Fist, encased in Tactical Dreadnought Armor. For a short while he danced around his slower opponent, taking grazing hits that would have felled a lesser man. Light as they were, the internal bleeding caused by the force slowed his movements and gave an equal footing to his loyalist opponent. Using the tunnels and traps to his advantage, Kal'urek slowly pulled him deeper into a trapped tunnel. If he would not survive this fight, neither would his enemy. Slowly he was pushed backwards until he ran out of tunnel, and with a lunge the Imperial Fist grabbed him with gauntleted fist, and just as he brought back his power fist, the energy rippling in the cavern, Kal'urek knew he would not survive a blow hit the dead man's switch in his gauntlet, collapsing the tunnel on the two of them.
It was several hours before his brothers found him, but the blast had crippled him, crushing arms and legs, burning flesh and singing nerves... But the Imperial Fist had taken most of the blast, the husk of terminator armor covering the withered remains of Kal'urek. He was interred with the sacred rights into one of the last remaining chassis still in control by his legion. Centuries would pass, and as the warlords changed, so too did Kal'urek's allegiences, but faithful he remained to his Iron Warrior Brothers. Dispensing advice as best as he could from his timeless sleep. Preferring to only be used when a battle would necessitate his help.
As one of the few remaining chassis from the Great Crusade, Kal'urek's armor is the cobbled remains of loyalist armor and patterns picked up over the years. The only things that truly remain of the Contemptor Pattern is the left handed claw with flamer, the Kheres Assault Cannon, and a half functioning Atomantic Shield (If he were to be used on the table, assume a 6+ invuln save no matter what instead of the 5+ invuln save vs. shooting).
Appearance:
Thanks and credit to painter of this awesome Dread
Edit: If you guys feel it's not appropriate to the "group" I've got a few other ideas tucked away
Slightly irritated that his lust for destruction and collateral damage would have to go unsated for a little longer as his attempt to destroy the ground currently under foot went unaddressed. Something he was used to amongst his own 'legion' as his ideas were considered reckless and often ignored.
He watched the back and forth between the top knotted Marine and the Sorcerer with growing displeasure. The tone the other took with the sorcerer grated against his paper thin patience as he slowly moved his way across the room toward the Sorcerers side. His annoyance at the situation obvious in his voice as he greets him in Nostraman then speaks "so is this how it will be then.. He barks, walks off and we fall in line?"
"So is this how it will be then.. He barks, walks off and we fall in line?" Sandman was a little suprised that anyone besides himself in this room could still speak the Native tongue of the destroyed Night Lord homeworld. He joined the Havoc in his Legion's native language. "So he seems to think." Sandman turned his head to look at the Havoc. "I have other ideas. My agent is a Platoon Commander by the name of Carnak. He has been ordered by me to have the 30 men under his commend to open fire on his own allies as they fall back from our forces, as they will as soon as Top-Knot takes out their Commissar." The Havoc drew a breath to begin speaking, but the Sorceror forestalled him by raising his hand and turning to face him fully. "I have a task for you. In my own group of Night Lords, there is the remains of a Havoc squad. 2 Autocannons and a Missile Launcher. These three men are now under your command, and once we get down to the Planet below, I want you to take them and set up a position where you can see Main the Imperial Landing Zone. Once there, await orders"
OOC: Deathrex, Im assuming you are looking to be my wingman here?
OOC: Just to point out, the Imperials probably won't land in the one area, and they'll blow the crap out of the area all around it if they do. They know they're fighting chaos marines, so there forces will probably be huge.
Kain cocked his helm, amused by the sorcerers sense of command. He'd dealt with such Astartes before, and had no good news about them, but sport could be made of this mans offer;
"I have no need of your men sorcerer, but if you wish to establish some form of hierarchy, I will take them under my own command. The Imperials may be foolish, but let us wait until they have made their move."
The glass ninja wrote: OOC: This is planetary war, there probably isn't a main landing site, only many large ones that could be ambushed.
Yeah, and we wouldn't know where the other commanders were at, and even if your spies we're in one of the larger sites Nids, what are they going to do?
Deliphas grew tired of all this talk it was going nowhere he turned and made his way out of the room, two cultists pushed open the doors grunting because of the weight, weak and disgusting.
"Move out of my way!" Deliphas growled pushing the guards out of his way and exiting the building, the night turned everything black forcing Deliphas to adjust his optics to see in the darkness.
"My lord." A voice whimpered from behind the Raptor. In one swift movement Deliphas grabbed his plasma pistol and spun around to come face to face with a masked cultist marked with some minor Damned force.
"What is it?" The Raptor replied his voice sharp and booming.
"Your squad awaits your orders." The little man whimpered terror could be heard in his voice.
"Tell them to meet me on the north wall." Deliphas replied before firing up his jump pack and blasting into the air leaving a screech that could pierce a man's soul.
"Without any sort of support, your cultists would die before they could be used effectively." The metallic voice of Kal'urek boomed forth from the vox speakers on his metallic Chassis.
He had been awakened not long ago, and had been sitting in respective silence as this small warband bickered over which attack strategy would be the best way to rout the loyalists that were surly on their way.
Kal'urek stirred in the corner, the gears and joints moving as he got used to having limbs once again.
"These humans under your control Night Lord could still be of use. Can they sabotage communciations, or anything else that might give us the edge in this fight?"
"So sorcerer, you believe that 30 men could make a difference when part of at least several thousands. What are you, a fool? They will make no difference in the greater cause, and will lead to our deaths if we attempt any assault or strike now. Let us wait till the Imperials have landed, once we have reduced their numbers in orbit, we will wait till they have their sense of security. Then we will strike."
"Whether or not the Sorcerers agents will be of use depends on their rank and ability. Are these men officers? Communication or demolition specialists? Are you giving us 30 soldiers, or 30 spies, capable of actual sabotage?"
Archiaros was tired of talking, and tired of waiting.
"And also, are these men afraid to lose their lives? They will all die, make no mistake. How useful are your contacts, Sorcerer?"
While the discussions were continuing, Gray considered how he could use the moon's lava for the battle. Perhaps firing at it with his weapon's full power all at once? It was unlikely to break the thick crust enough for large amounts of lava to come out, unless he fired directly down which didn't sound like a great idea to him.
He looked over towards the weapons boxes, within which were a variety of grenades: Frag, Krak, and some of his own, including attempts at an EMP and even the highly unstable astartes-killers. Those wouldn't be worth using on guardsmen though; as soon as you pulled the pin out there was a 90% chance of it exploding in your hand and taking out your whole squad, and then even if you survived that the timer mechanism was far too random for anyone's liking.
Perhaps the krak though, with an entire squad of cultists firing his upgraded weapons at it and the surrounding rock? There was a chance, at least. And if it could take out a platoon or two of the guardsmen, it would be worthwhile.
(OOC: ihatenids, if ya needs my help I'm all willing)
Rygar would spit if he wasn't wearing his helmet. He address the comments aimed at the Sorcerer "what would be the use of infiltrating men of that number if they were not skilled in Espionage and sabotage?" he felt the tremor of impatience radiate from his heavy bolter, it's spirit's temperament worse than his own when caught in a battle of words instead of a hail of bolter fire.
He looked toward the Sorcerer once more, by design he was sure the Sorcerer had felt the same taint the insignificant flesh he could eye all across the room had. Rygar had served many sorcerers in the past and despite their lack of words always had something of a plan and despite this particular sorcerers taint he was still a Night-lord. "sandman"
"The point of infiltrating is not the number of men, but what they can do. Sure it matters who has the biggest gun, but it makes a hell of a lot more whos shooting it."
He looked at Kain for a moment, then back to the Rygar.
"The 4 of you Havocs can do a lot of damage from an elevated, fortified position, because you will be able to take out the areas of most resistance without fighting your way through."
He looked back to Kain.
"30 guys, whilst talking in a vacuum, will accomplish absolutely nothing. However, 30 guys in the right place can do almost anything. Especially considering they will follow my orders. "
He looked over at the Dreadnought.
"They will be able to do anything, provided the mojority of the Imperials are away. Need some artillery, they'll kill the crews as soon as I tell them to. Want to remove any chance of escape, get them to kill their old allies as they run away. Anything can be done."
He then turned back to the room at large.
"Another thing you all seem to be missing is the fact none of this is going to happen to a fully armed Invasion army, as I am sure we will not leave a lot of them alive when they attack us."
OOC: As far as I know I'm the only one in command of a warp capable ship, But I doubt it would be the only ship.
My forces would be about 30 Marines, a dreadnought, and various serfs and menials.
I'd say our space forces would probably be a couple of frigates, Cruisers escorts etc. Nothing like an Imperial battlefleet, but can still hold its own.
OOC: Cato brought a Rouge trader with him (Near useless in battle), and about fifty/sixty Serfs from the Fractured sons. They're all on the main world, setting up defenses on the primary hive.
"Every strategy spoken here is good, up untill the Imperials are on our doorstep. We are outnumbered and outgunned, frontal assaults are out of the question. Somewhat dishonorable tactics are required here. I'll leave the battle plan to whomever thinks themselves leader of this rabble, they have my pity." spoke the voice at Bronsks side. Captain Ilissus voice surprisingly was clear and authoritative, considering her company.
Each astratus stiffened at being commanded by a human, as she turned and left the room Bronsk smiled, it was a sinister thing, a curving of the scar where his mouth used to be.
"This one isn't intimidated so easily, a reason I have brought her here." he growled as he followed her.
Rygars eyes glare at backs of those who marched out the room both slightly impressed and annoyed with the little human "yes Sandman, my men itch at the opportunity to support the offensive"
his eyes looked across the room once more scanning the room at those still present. "the infiltrators be few but they still offer possible advantage we once didn't have.. Be that served as sabotage or distraction to our enemies"
His loud steps echoing threw the still room, the towering form of the dreadnought in it's worn steel stood statuesque against the chaos adorned Back drop. It gave him pause as such weapons of destruction only could between battles.
"tell me dreadnought what say have you?"
Looking down at the Night Lord, "I would find the best defensible position we could have, something with expansive firing lines for us, while remaining relatively safe. A former Administratum building, or monastary. From there we should be able to place the heaviest weapons upon the top of the building where they will be harder to hit, but have the greatest opportunity to fire upon the imperials as they land and move to surround us as they most likely will try to do."
Kal'urek moved, his metallic feet scraping across the floor as he shuffled towards the remnants of the hololith in the center. "Though knowing the worshipers of the False Emperor, they will most likely attempt to destroy any sort of height advantage we have, and thus I would avoid such tall towers. Take to the tunnels and avoid the initial bombardment, and head for fire points 1, 2, or 3." He said, pointing to three easily defensible positions on the map. "From there I would force them to come towards me through this open area, where they could easily be picked off by our larger battery of weapons. At the same time, Sorcerer, alert your men to take over any artillery they can, and jam any level of communications they can besides our own. Tell them to shell this position when we tell them to. It will disorient them, coupled with the additional lack of communications we should have little trouble mopping up any sort of initial resistance.... Unless they send Astartes after us. Then we might be in for a longer fight."
Counting on his centuries of experiencing, and having served under the Perturabo during the Great Crusade, Kal'urek sought to give some direction to the warband.
"Well, I will not involve myself further in this.. planning. When there is fighting to be done, I will be prepared."
Archiaros strode out and down outside the walls of the small fortress of the tower. His Arvus Lighter was there, everything he owned rested within it. His small supply of ammunition and grenades, He hung his scythe and bolter on the wall, and sat down. The transport, modified with a single nose autocannon, sat, he knew his 2 serf and single servitor crew would be back soon, with whatever meager supplies they could purchase. This was his life now, no Battle Brothers or companions.
Kain looked up at the ancient Dreadnought, which bore the colours of his own legion, the Iron Warriors. Being that he was encased in venerable Contemptor Pattern armour, something far too rare to be gifted to weaklings. He must have been a veteran of the Legion, someone deserving of respect. Kain strode forward and bowed before Kal'urek; "My greetings warrior of the legion."
He nodded his head in agreement with the assessment given by the lumbering dreadnought "I agree" he turned to the Sorcerer giving him a bow of respect speaking to him in Nostraman "I will ready my unit for battle, seek me if you are of need" he slings his heavy bolter around and Makes his way toward and threw the massive enforced doors.
Despite his insignia and pride in his chapter he had long been thrusted into the service of others. Watching his battle brothers used as common fodder by the undeserving until his hatred for the other war bands nearly rivaled his hatred for the cattle of the false emperor. Almost everyone of them who sat in that room made his blood boil and Heavy bolter bark for blood.. Soon he would have something to kill, have a chance to rain death on his bitter enemies. He pushed his thoughts to the back of his head.. He Refocusing to his surrounding. The sight of the cultist that had gathered under the flags of chaos gave him little assurance that if things did turn in the imperiums favor, that much could be done by such unskilled meat.
BlapBlapBlap wrote:p_gray, the crust is rather thin. Only like a meter thick.
OOC: Yeah, but I imagine the rock's fairly hard and you could probably do with a decent-sized hole to kill the most IG/cultists possible.
BIC: Apparently they were readying for war. Gray had no idea what the battleplan was, but it was almost certainly going to involve cultists being a meatshield. Fine by him, so long as his best cultists could stay a little further back, not get killed, and try out his awesome weaponry. He checked he had plenty of spare ammo and power for the forcefield, then ordered the cultists around as best he could until their leader came back with orders. Not long now until most of them die.
Looking down at the Iron Warrior bowing in front of him, "Rise Brother, formalities and pleasantries can be shared later. For the moment we are at war." His voice boomed, as the dreadnought looked back at the hololith, figured out the best location for him. Looking at an enclosed building, he saw a place that would serve as a good firebase for him and his assault cannon.
Turning towards the lone human remaining in the room (Gray), the Dreadnought asked, "Human, would it be possible is some of your men could help me hold this position here." Kal'urek pointed at the building he was looking to reside in during the fight. "I would require at least one attendant to help me keep my ammo reserves up should we be able to hold it for some time. If you are worried about your men, there is a tunnel underneath the building that we would use to fall back. It is large enough for me to get through, no vehicles could follow us, and it would provide a deadly area for which we could fire at anything chasing us." While he had long turned from the False Emperor, he learned millennia ago that Astartes still needed humans to aid them, but he could not be responsible for any human aid he could get. This was to be a battle for the warband, and survival for a majority of the warband, himself included seemed unlikely.
Turning back to Kain, he asked, "When did you join the legion brother?"
Kain rose from the bow, speaking to the vaunted Dreadnought; "I have been with the Legion since the days of the Heresy, brother, but the brotherhood as been splintered with the rivalries of those leading the Companies. It has been some time since I have met another of the legion, but it is good to be with another at last."
OOC: Cool, wasn't sure if Kain had been brought into the legion after the heresy.
IC: "Agreed, it is good to see the colors of the IV Legion, it has been many decades since I was last awakened. During that time my body and sarcophagus were under under care of a warband that had the unfortunate duty of serving a foolhardy Lord that wished to increase his warband at the most recent Skull Harvest, run by that renegade Huron Blackheart. The only thing he won was a swift trip for his soul to the Warp. Blackheart's champion removed his head like Lord Fulgrim removed the Primarch of the tenth."
The metallic voice stopped for a moment, almost as if Kal'urek was reminiscing of his time as a living Astartes, "Perhaps one of these days I will be greeted with the sight of our Primarch once more, should the Ruinous Powers deem me worth."
"As do I, though I hear of Medrengard's countless civil wars have fractured the legion. I hope one day, the Primarch will return the legion to it's former glory, and remove fools from the control of the Fourth. But now these Imperials require us to show them how a siege should be conducted, as how a defense should be."
Gray looked at the dreadnought and bowed, honored to be spoken to by a creature so mighty as this. "I would be honored to serve you wherever possible, sir. As for your ammo, I'm sure that I can tweak it for maximum efficiency if you wish."
He stepped from the shuttle, sharp salutes from a group of men and women in black skinsuits. They had travelled to the planet as he spoke to the rest fo the commanders on the moon. One or two dropped to their knees as he stepped past, their strange religious fervor for the Fractured Sons present even here, a sign of the sheer power the renegade marines held over them. A short man, half his head augmetic and a gold pip at his throat stepped forwards, bowing to Cato as he made his report.
"We have, after several hours of reveiw, discovered that automated defenses are still in place across the world, Hive Primaris, here, is in good condition. Severl anti-ship torpedo silos occupy the surrounding hills, ready to open fire on any orbiting vessels. We have slaved their control to the Akiron" The Akiron, the rouge trader that had brought them here. It hung in geostationairy orbit above Hive Primaris.
The ship wasn't that big, having only just squeezed the Fractured Sons contingent into its holds. The Shipmistress, Lady Alucia Le'Franie had clung ceaselessly to Cato's arm through transit. They had been friends for many years, and making the various serfs and other marines that accompanied Cato across the galaxy think they were, as she put it, 'an item' was a running joke between them. She connected to his suit vox even as he began walking towards the huge adminadstratum structure they had claimed for their own.
"Cato, darling" She said, with a theatrical flourish. She was always like that around the Renegade Marine.
"Yes, madam?" He smiled as he spoke, a rare expression for the old warrior.
"My darling ship is so quiet without you and your people, when will you be returning?"
"When I get bored"
The call was as long and simple as that, the caprace armoured and autogun armed serfs dispersing throughout the structure they had chosen as their fortress to set up final defenses and tactical stations. They would be collaborating with various cultist leaders they'd found across the city, and the world.
Rygar finally made his way to one of the docking areas where his thunderhawk had settled, his presence met with the salutes of his men. They were once a mighty talon capable of delivering devastation upon the limbs of the Imperium, their actions spreading terror like a plague across the battlefields.. Until those treacherous bastards left them planet side.. Now all that was left of them was 'this'.. One havoc squad and the bare bones crew needed for the thunder hawk made up of servitors and human slaves. A pale imitation of what once was.
"Sergeant" the men greeted him, their voices a collective.
"Talks went as well as one could expect from such rabble. Our purpose here is as it always was, prepare the Thunderhawk for launch at a moments notice and ready your weapons.." he motions to two of his men with a gesture, they step forward ready for command "make haste and ready missile launchers, take both krak and frag for the coming battle" the men give a slight bow and do as their told.
One of his men walks closer to him, his winged helmet off being held under his arm. "Sergeant Rygar, how fared-" Rygar answered his question before he could finish asking "again Jorgan, as well as one could expect. You were correct that their were others of our Legion who rallied.. Our best chance of gathering resources and refilling our ranks rest with a Sorcerer named Sandman"
The other nightlord's face twists Showing his distaste "but Sergeant he is a psyker and even worse a slave to the ruinous powers"
Rygar stared at his most loyal marine, the horns on the sergeants helmet curved looking demonic in it's own right "we must do what we must do.. We have had dealings with Sorcerers and their kind before and unlike them he is our brother. Our talons all drenched in the blood of the imperium"
The marine stood silent in response understanding Rygars sentiment. His faith in what those who called themselves night lords should be.
"he has offered the assistance of his own remaining Havoc squad..we will handle complications as they present themselves, understood" Rygar saw a couple of marines approaching from behind his man "now go and inform the others of the situation"
Rygar walked forward to meet these men, these new recruits into his strained leadership. He never wanted to lead but would not relinquish leadership to anyone who was unworthy and as things seemed to be progressing he would be leading for some time.
The gap between them and himself quickly closed and their shapes could be plainly seen. One Astartes stood tall, his battle worn armor unlike his own men had white streaks of lightning ornamenting the sides of his armor and the shaft of his Autocannon. He wore no helmet revealing his pale marble like skin and deep black eyes, his grimace revealing fangs.
The other stood gripping his Autocannon in mark 5 heresy armor, the studs on his shoulder pads parted To reveal the chaos symbol of tzeentch. The sight of it normally would of ignited a response and inquiry of what sort of taint he might carry but now wasn't the time for such things.
The pale helmet less marine speaks "I am Tolbac and the mute is Trofen, we and these attendants have been sent here by Lord Sandman"
'lord?' Rygar found that amusing, a slight smirk hidden behind his helmet "to follow my command and massacre the sheep of the false emperor"
A slight grunt of glee escaped Trofen in response to his words, Rygar looked past them and saw the 'attendants' they spoke of. Four human males robbed in blue with patchwork plate armor, thick goggles over their eyes. Perhaps not yet adjusted to the well lit interior of the fortress when compared to the pitch black of a night lord's ship. "welcome my battle brothers, rally to my Thunderhawk 'trespasser' and join our other brothers in midnight clad"
(OOC: forgot to clarify what I had at my disposal, one havoc squad of four with 4x heavy bolters and 2x missile launchers in available war gear. sandman gave me 2x havocs with reaper cannons and 4x cultist. The crew are servitors with melee weapon claws and even fewer human slaves. My Thunderhawk 'trespasser' has standard troop insertion armaments. )
Deliphas stud at the Hive's wall looking out on the the wasteland that these fools called their 'home', cracks in the crust let out glows of light from the magma below it's shine light certain areas of the land. Howls began to echo through the sky and a low rumble along with it, Deliphas turn and looked to the sky seeing 9 strange lights shooting through the sky.
"Ah there they are." The Raptor said to himself. Suddenly the lights began to fall and the Howls turned into screams until they finally smashed to the ground forcing a dust cloud, when the cloud cleared 9 warriors in Dark blue armour and streaks of lightning stud infront of Deliphas.
"Welcome brothers are yo ready?" The Raptor chuckled.
"Brother Deliphas are we joining their battle?" One spoke out gripping a chainaxe.
"Yes we are! LET THEIR BLOOD COVER THIS LAND!" Deliphas roared and his fellow warriors cheered and screamed. Deliphas had knew that his warrior are ready for battle but they needed time to work out a perfect striking position along with transport.
"I must speak with one of the other warriors. We need to get a ship!" Deliphas growled as his Jump pack roared sending him shooting towards a tower, from there he will see if one of them owns a ship.
Sandman was walking back toward his pick up point. He was mulling over tactics in his head about how best to order his Guardsmen to gain control of the Artillery Batteries the Imperial dogs would be guaranteed to bring. He was also considering the viability of dropping his own Troops into the centre if the Imperiums Battleline during the advance. The damage that could be inflicted would be catastrophic, but so would casualties taken from the assault. He wondered if there would be anything left.
"Sandman to Echo, bring me home" he said down the Vox to his cruiser in the Moon's Orbit, signalling them to Teleport him up. The flash of light lit up the whole section of the street he was walking down, and he reappeared on the ship's bridge.
He walked up to the ship's captain, and told him to move the Damnation into Orbit on the Far side of the Planet, only stopping en route long enough to drop the Troops.
"Why there Sorceror?"
"So that once the Imperials have landed, you can move into position and eradicate them*" Also, if needs be, the Ship could turn its formidable weaponry on the Imperial dogs below, should they bring too many of their Heavy Tanks"
"You do know that the moment the ship is detected, Im as good as dead?"
Sandman smiled behind his helmet.
"This is the Echo of Damnation, it will not be destroyed by some measly Imperial battleships, we learnt that during the Heresey"
"True enough"
Sandman walked into the main hanger, where his forces were readying the Weaponry. the colossal space echoed with the clicks and scrapes of Bolters being primed, the Whir of Chainswords being spun up, and the usual pre-battle chit chat. The newest addition to this noise was the Metallic growling coming from the latest addition to his forces: a Forgefiend found abandoned on Raniihs VI, only hanging on thanks to one stubbrn Deamon refusing to give up his body. By the looks of it at that time, it had been on the wrong end of one of those Tau Railguns. Sandman had taken it in and had the ships Warpsmith fix it up, like the gift it was, due to the fact it had been left for him to find for a reason. Thank Tzeentch, as his warband was a little lacking in the Heavy Weapons department, his only AT being those two trigger-happy morons he had given over to Rygar. He went straight to his second in command, a Raptor by the name Presc.
"How are preparations coming?"
Presc turned to his leader.
"They are coming well. We will be ready for a drop in ten minutes."
"Good. I think Blood will be spilt before this week is out."
The Raptor grinned at that news.
Spoiler:
*something like this will happen to the Imperium Ships
*something like this will happen to the Imperium Ships
Can I also fave a Forgefiend please?
OOC: I worry thats getting a wee bit OP, especially if that is supposed to be a psy attack. I also doubt two-four ships could really stand against more than an equal number of impie ships, and that is only if they're the same tonnage.
OOC: No, thats just supposed to be a weapon of sorts, im just using that as an example. Its actually a beam of Plasma, but 40k dosent have that, so itll be something a little less OTT. Also, I figue if the Cruisers are landed as per the cover of C:IG, their main weapons wont be able to point upwards
OOC: The Imperials have landers for a reason, their battle ships, corevettes and cruisers can't land very easily, not touching the ground, without damaging themselves and nearly everything around them. They can take low orbit, but thats still in the startosphere region.
Kal'urek saw that everything was starting to come together, perhaps they might make it off of this rock alive, and send the Imperium flying away with their tails between their legs.
He turned and left the room, heading back towards where he had been stored in stasis until they had woke him hours before, "Priest, ensure that everything is ready to go. I wish to survive another day." he said to the priest that had roused him from his slumber. As he stood there, the priest went to work, using his "servitors" to ensure that every moving part of Kal'urek's chassis was in good working order.
With preparations under way, the entombed Astartes wondered how the battle might play out, but quickly shook the thought from his head. There was no room for speculation, there was simply preparation and siege. He only wished that they were taking this planet, and not holding it long enough to escape. The Astartes of the 4th and 8th would have excelled at the warfare needed to take this rock, but he had his doubts about whether they could hold it.
Gray and a select group of his cultists (not including their cult's leader) were gathering their special weaponry, which Gray had just finished tinkering with. They had also worked together to make another ammo box for the dreadnought for if he should want to blow up massed infantry in one go (with a small chance of exploding those nearby instead, of course).
OOC: You do know Nids that Chaos fleets are out-matched in most naval battles with the Imperium? Chaos fleets rarely go for full on engagements, and use a mix of ambush and hit and run to properly defeat the enemy vessels. Over Vraks, Anarchy's Heart was only able to cripple a few ships before being blown to smithereens after leaving cover.
well, Ambush I have already said, Hit and run will go later
OOC: Well then, you won't be able to properly conduct such an attack. Also, it's fairly OP, just to destroy an Imperial craft in one shot. Most naval engagements of 40k don't just take hours, they take days. We have enough time before the Imperials enter the atmosphere to properly weaken their forces.
well, Ambush I have already said, Hit and run will go later
OOC: Yeah, Chaos Fleets are glass cannons unless they happen to be corrupted Imperial ships that we hijacked/taken when the warband went traitor.
In Character:
Achiaros's servants had returned. They had food to sustain themselves, and would soon be ready to depart. Achiaros did not usually eat, he was both literally and figuratively fed in combat. The hives that existed in his power pack also lived inside him. He was a psyker of Nurgle, and the minds and bodies of these insects were intertwined with his. When the swarm fed and returned to his body, it sustained him. As his servants finished, the servitor pilot started the lander. Achiaros sent a vox message over several of the higher up channels,
"Does anyone has some orders? I grow weary of sitting."
Kain had returned to working on his Auto-cannon, tinkering with the weapon in order to prepare it for the battle with the guard, despite not knowing of what the Imperials would bring with their invasion. He knew that they would dominate the orbit of the planet if the ship-masters where not able to conduct themselves in a coordinated manner, for the Imperial invasion fleets where armed with weapons that could carve apart the planet and their small fleet. Kain hoped that the fortifications that they had under their control could sustain the fire from the Imperium's ships, but if even a fraction of the landing craft, or troop transports where destroyed, he and his allies would have a chance. He wasn't too much of a pessimist, but he'd realised the low amount of forces they had at their disposal, and the weaponry and technology that was required to deal with the Guard. He hefted up the Auto-cannon, and aimed the heavy weapon at the pile of rubble he had gathered up and formed into a guard sized figure. He flipped of the safety and aimed, quickly setting the cannon to a specific ammunition type withing his helm. He fire, watching as the pile exploded as the standard round slammed into it. He quickly changed the ammo type as he turned to the next pile, firing it, the shell impacted, releasing acid all over the stone and metal. It quickly became corroded and burnt. He smiled. A way to deal with both tanks and groups of infantry at the same time. His com buzzed, relaying a message, which he quickly responded to;
"I'm guessing we will recieve them once the Imperials arrive."
"Plauge marine Achairos" Cato said, over the vox, his position at the top of the hive spire giving him a good reception to those on the moon. "I suggest that you, glorious servant og Nurgle that you are, travel to the surface of Aplora and gather together as many cultists as you can, then chose a place to defend, be it hive Primaris with my forces, the cults we have gathered and I, or another hive." He paused for a moment, his voice muffled as he issued orders.
"It would be useful to have more soldiers around the primary hive, it is the most populous and the most difficult to defend"
After a quick walk threw of the surrounding area he took notice of the cultists or more importantly their weaponry. They normally were crudely fashioned but despite the obvious limitations put upon resources their weapons seems rather refined by their standards. Perhaps a skilled hand behind their crafting. He Thinks back to the war room, few humans were present and not serving as waking monuments of ruinous worship and decoration. Other than that brash women their was another who caught Rygars attention, the human male who stood mostly silent seemingly lost in thought. His position amongst the weak willed meat shields must be elevated for his presence during a war council to be tolerated so perhaps he was behind it.
He made a mental note of this and his possible future use to his units equipment. Rygar opened Vox channel with his 2nd in command Jorgan "status"
Jorgan took a moment but replies " the 'trespasser' sits ready for assault with both it's crew and weapons made ready. The men stand in midnight clad"
It impatience in Jorgan's own voice reflecting that of his men, this brought a odd grin across Rygars face. His men brought fury to the battlefield once teased with battle as it did with him. His blood boiled as another tremor from his heavy bolters machine spirit barked at him.
"Good. Im making my return now"
He turned to return to his ship opening Vox communication with Sandman "this is Havoc Sergeant Rygar, Your men have been received and my Thunderhawk stands ready. Have you and that..Luna Wolf reached a strategic compromise?.. My assessment of the forces gathered here is grim if were spread to thin"
he pushed to see what he would get back, was or had sandman lost his mind? Some of the things he said made little sense but so it was with those of his nature..tzeentch. 'eh' fact was lives hung in the balance, night lord lives and the legion was in dire need to preserve their numbers when at all possible. Those unfit to properly lead a night lord band..should not lead.. But better a Sorcerer than a damned Luna Wolf. Rygars hate for the black legion ran deep but not deeper than his genetic rage aimed toward the Emperors will.
'I will do as I have to.' he tells himself.
His thoughts drifted as he approached his Thunderhawk awaiting a reply from the psyker. The deep dark blue color brought comfort to Rygar, as did the night lord emblem painted across it side.
"This is Kain, I'm attempting to contact you Night lord in the attempt to recieve a ride to the main hive-city of this planet. By any chance would you be able to deploy your help by getting their using the Thunderhawk?"
Kain?.. Ah the Iron Warrior who spoke at the meet. He found the bickering of ideas irritating and in turn Kain but that was no reason to deny him. Beyond his own Legion the Iron Warriors were one of the few he didn't have to tolerate and being a havoc had swept over many a field of battle with them at his side. Not all victories, even some against other Iron warriors but still.
"Kain, this is Rygar of the Night Lords Havoc squad. Our orders and deployment positions are not yet given and are currently in stand by.. We will take you to your destination Iron Warrior but until further Orders I Cannot give any further support than this. Head to the Docking bay"
((OOC : if you want can just jump to being dropped off or actually rp the ride with me either way is cool.If your just going to jump to being dropped off you can take ammo, grenades and such stuff. )
OOC: Can we have Alfndrate's character added to the first post please?
BIC: Gray called for one of his cultists to clean up the mess that had so recently been one of his best followers carrying a modified lasgun/grenade launcher. He had turned the power setting on his forcefield and weaponry down a little after the incident, although logic told him that it had been unlucky. He'd tested the weapon out of a less important cultist first, after all.
Kain and Rygar both now aboard the Thunderhawk it begins to lift off. Jorgan of the Nightlord's sat in The pilots seat shifting from side to side reaching over the many levers as the Thunderhawk took off. All necessary clearance already taken care of not to be shot done by whatever defenses the strong hold most likely had prepared for the coming tides of war.
The Newly integrated marines glared at the Iron Warrior, perhaps out of some misplaced anger or loyalty to their 'lord' Sandman. Had the specifics of who opposed his plans Become such common knowledge? Rygar took further note of this and the nature in which Sandman might operate amongst allies.
Rygar made his way back from the side of the pilot, a well placed glare dismissing their attentions from the Iron Warrior.
"Battle brother you are alone? I expected a squad to follow your lead into the coming battle" Rygar's question as genuine as one could get.
His eyes fell onto Kains Auto-cannon, it was worlds beyond those that recently fell under his command. It's upkeep was impeccable and was obviously the extension of the veteran before him. He took similar care of the Relic he held across his hip, it belonging to his Sargent and mentor.
Rygar nooded acknowledging his words. "truly a glorious weapon, not many of it's condition can be seen amongst the war bands." the Thunderhawk shook violently for a moment before Jorgan's voice came over Vox "approaching primary Hive" Rygar met the news with silence focusing on the Iron Warrior.
"tell me Kain, what your purpose being dispatched to the Hive? Are you to rendezvous with the dreadnought?" he was unclear on the current status of the strategy and hoped to get some insight.
Kain smiled behind his helm at the admiration of his weapon, but quickly switched back to the subject of the hive;
"No, I believe it to be the easiest to defend location once the Imperial landing force has broken through the atmosphere, though I hope the Sandman and the other ship commanders will be able to destroy some of the Imperial craft before they can land. It offers some help to the defending force. I also hope that we could possibly board a landing craft, and steal some of it's contents for our own uses if it is damaged before landing."
I do not intend to have a capital ship destroyed by one beam of energy, and I never have. All I intended that video for is to show that the attack would be unexpected, and from a position where return fire cannot be made without first moving the target.
Also, if it helps anyone, my vessel is the Echo of Damnation, which is to the best of my knowledge, a Strike Cruiser. So I think that it could take on a couple of unsuspecting imperium ships, especially considering it will be free of return fire, at least for a while.
Sandman was busy overseeing the preparations of his own forces in the bombed out ruin of an old Manufactorum unit. He had heard Rygar's transmission, choosing to ignore it for the moment as he could hear other voices across the Vox links, not only of Rygar, but also of the other two Havocs he had sent under Rygar's command. His own preparations where not going well, and the Echo's admiral had voxed concerns that the Weapon Batteries might not be able to kick out a full power strike immediately after dropping a Cloaking Field, meaning the ship would be open to any of the possible fire directed at it before it could destroy its priamry targets. On top of this, the Forgefiend had decided it wanted to kill something, meaning he was about 5 serfs and a Marine down. For now, he had tamed the Daemon within, and hjad its Autocannons removed while the escence was out.
The Vox chat from Rygar's group had stopped, so Sandman re-opened the Vox channel, keeping his voice at its usual monotone, despite the building annoyances.
"What are you after Havoc?"
While awaiting the response, Sandman set about trying to Organise some kind of Battle strategy. He sought out Presc, and asked for an update.
"Everything is in shape, just waiting for something to shoot at. I have people ready to reattach the dog's cannons once we see the enemy"
"Good man. Hopefully the wait will not be long"
He turned and walked back to the top floor of the Manufactorum, up to a large section of Collapsed wall, from where he could see a vast ammount of the cityscape. He could also see Cato's Rouge geosynced above the main spire. He turned his Vox to the Echo. "How's things coming admiral?"
"Ready for it. Figured out the solution to the Cloak or Cannons problem"
"Good. Be ready for action at a moment's notice, I have no idea when these imperial bastards will arrive"
"Aye sir"
Closing the link, Sandman clasped his hands behind his back, and awaited Rygar's response.
OOC: I honestly didnt think it would matter for anything, other than getting rid of those things that wont actually serve any purpose... Its not like im gonna be calling Orbital Stikes on everything...
Strike crusiers are fast, post-heresy, slightly smaller than average light cruisers. It wouldn't be able to hold up against much fire or dish out much, their usually used for flanking maneuvers, but one or two wouldn't last long against standard sized Imperial fleets (1 battleship, 2-3 grand cruisers, 2-5 light cruisers (I'm basing that off the majority of Imperial battlefleet gothic lists I've seen)
Bronsk and Captain Ilissus climbed an ornate marble staircase, followed closely by an elite cohort of heavily augmented warriors. Turning into an arched door off the main passage, Illisus lifted a cipher talisman to a sensor panel. A heavy blast pealed the door back, flooding the oily gloom of the corridor with the harsh, bright light of Aplora
The Storm Eagle "Municipal", all 500 tonnes of it, swung in over the skyshield landing platform and descended on its wailing thrusters, into the crater pocked square. The tremendous down wash pushed cloud of dust into the air. The vessel set down hard,
the reinforced steel whining under its steel padded landing struts. Its rear ramp whined open, Captain Ilissus climbed on board first, followed by Bronsk and his warriors.
"This will be bloody, the fleet will be crippled by the Imperials. It will be fast and brutal" said Bronsk, gripping an overhead metal strut for balance.
"If you say that does not appeal to you Bronsk, I will call you a liar." replied Ilissus, strapping herself into a chair made for a person far larger.
"We shall position ourselves as close to the sun as we can, the magnetic interference will render us invisible to the Imperials sensor arrays, we shall engage when an opportunity presents itself."
He listened to Kain and saw little flaw beyond the possibility of the uknown in his line of thinking "Yes it would be ideal for those with the fire power to use it effectively to lessen the landing strength of the enemy and the burden of the front line" a slightly look into his lack of faith in any of those in possession of ships willing to risk losing them in a effective offensive. "sound assessment"
The Thunderhawk rattles slightly as if moaning while getting into a landing position.
Over private channel Jorgan Voxs Rygar "we have arrived ...and sandman is attempting to patch In" Rygar motioned to Kain with a hand gesture "we have arrived, our supplies are limited but we have ammunition to 'spare'. Take what you need and glory be to you"
Rygar did not make a habit of wasting supplies but Kain seemed more capable than most he had the displeasure of coming across at the fortress. If he could take his meager offering and accomplish what he intended on it would of been a worth while investment.. If anything Rygar fought the urge to aid him.
the Thunderhawk landed, cultists could be seen in the distance. The nightlord's did not like being a taxi service but it was better than sitting still waiting for orders. They managed to get a better understanding of the surrounding area, terrain and tactical points that might come in handy later.. They arrived not long before the threat of battle.
Rygar responds to sandman over the Vox "I am after nothing but the destruction of our enemies sandman... My weapons are yours to command and ready for deployment at your word.. My current location is inside the perimeter of the primary Hive. Your men carried no interaction of where you need my unit"
He didn't feel like repeating his questions regarding the organization of the war bands, the dreadnought did well in playing a plan to defend against a siege.. As would be expected of a Iron Warrior. The tug of war seemed to be between the Sorcerer and the Luna wolf and Rygar was sure sandman was aware of the holes created by two decided forces giving orders.
((OOC : Damn Luna wolf! Lol. Yeah Ihatenids I'm under your orders as of now. Don't take any negativity in character as an excuse to turn me into s chaos spawn . Also the extra supplies i have are mostly ammo and grenades. In my backstory we escaped with Enough basic supplies just the marines didn't make it. Thought about having a busted Rhino in here where I'd get Gray to do something with but im not sure of the full capacity of a Thunderhawk ))
dont worry, if I turn you into anything, itll look like this:
this is also my last post, any qustions will be answered in the morning.
"Rygar, for now, simply find a position from where you can see but remain unseen. Prefferably in a position to block off a large route in for anything other than a fully Armoured assault, like a main street. Take your pic, there's plenty of them."
Sandman considered for a moment.
"Once this battle starts properly, if you need an extra gun or two, Ill send backup as you need it, so be bld with your Placement"
OOC: Then the Damnation is a strike cruiser? Never fought in the heresy and can't stand up to the majority of Imperial ships one to one.
IC:
Cato stood at the very top of the hive tower, the two standards of the tattered sons that had been erected by the serfs flapping gently in the breeze. The shuttle that had ferried him from the moon was landing down in the central square right at the entrance to the spire. It disgorged the Night lord Raptors that had entreated him for transport.
He smiled gently as he watched the defenses take shape, multi laser and bolter nests sticking out from various baclonies up the hive. They were not much, but they could cover all the entrances that needed to be covered.
Tapping his voxbead, at the side of his head, he contacted the plauge marine once more.
"Venerable Brother of the Deathguard, I have sent you the coordinates of the Pirmary hive. If you would bring yourself and followers here, I'd very much like your tactical knowledge by my side"
Kain dismounted from the Thunderhawk, nodding to Rygar as he came across the countless Chaos cultists and renegades that had set up camp around the still smoking Hive city. He quickly moved towards the main entrance, where a small group of heavily mismatched tanks stood guard.
His answer to his orders were silence as communications ceased. If he needed reinforcements they seemed to be somehow readily available.. Being a nightlord didn't buy Rygar's trust or loyalty but it afforded Sandman Rygar's patience. Patience being a rare commodity amongst the war bands.
Rygar turned to meet the sight of his men lumbering to their feet ready to take point at their Sergeants order. Rygar makes a quick sweep of the surrounding area then points to one of the buildings over looking The main road. "Jorgan take flight.." his 2nd in command did as he was told.
Small ruinous buildings harboring assorted renegades stood between the main street and the destination. It put enough distance from all directions.. A decent spot to start things anyway.
The thundehawk landed behind the building, it's door screeching open.
"Why here?" the former Havoc of Sandman spoke.
the others angered by his questioning of their sergeant, one of them giving comment "Too close for your comfort? Are you not-"
"enough" Rygar said firmly. The marine stopped his words following his superiors command.
Rygar walked to the rear of the Thunderhawk readying to disembark.
"this building has vantage point encompassing near total 360* view while still giving substantial cover.. If you use your eyes you will notice compared to most building surrounding us it has been previously reinforced giving us stronger foundation to stand upon and more ample time for falling back and relocating if this spot is lost." he hated explaining himself, how dare he question his order?
"move out"
The marines moved with surprising speed, their trigger fingers itching to pull and unleash gore into the streets. The last two to leave the Thunderhawk were Trofan the mute and Tolbac who had placed his helmet on for the first time. Rygar reached forward grabbing Tolbac by his collar smashing the Brass colored horns of his helmet into Tolbac's helm. "don't ever question me" a brief grunt as Tolbac gave a slight stumble. "yes sir" Trofan gave a salute to indicate his understanding.
"go then" Rygar let loose his grip and they joined the others.. He was beginning to like the mute more than the one with the functioning tongue.
"Jorgan, keep the Thunderhawk at the ready.. Depending on the situation we might need swift evac or additional fire power.. Either way be prepared" Jorgan let loose a chuckle, perhaps over what transpired between him and the new recruit "yes Sergeant"
Rygar jumped from the back of the Thunderhawk, his heavy bolter now at ease.. As always.. The calm before the storm. He had two men with missile launchers, 2 with auto-cannons and Then his last man and himself with heavy bolters. The first sight before him that of cultists and renegade guardsmen keeping their distance from the sudden appearance of a heavily armed squad of Cobalt blue clad Demi gods.
"our position will hold midway up the building.. Keep to the shadows and hold fire until ordered.." the heavily armored men march threw one of the holes blown threw the back of the building, once entering the sight of more cultist come across Rygars visor. With a mad grunt he steps forward addressing the humans
"leave." the hesitation of the humans before him met with the swing of his heavy bolter. The impact great as it utterly crushed two cultist and showered the rest with a spray of blood. The fear of further wraith caused whatever awe or curiosity to turn into utter horror as they grabbed at their belongings and ran with much haste.
Rygar knew that if the building Became a rallying point for cultist it would become a target all the sooner.. Better they flood the surrounding areas than here. Without any pause Rygar marched upward until reaching half way up the building.. Enough walls were missing to allow for more precise firing but much of the structure could still be used as cover, sheets of reinforced metals covered portions of the floor and support beams.. Whoever this spot belonged to before didn't matter, as of now it was Rygars. He walked to the back of the building, a wall was missing where the Thunderhawk was visible.
"take positions"
They took positions placing just enough distance between each other as they started to immerse with the dark shadows that surrounded them under cover.
Rygars heavy bolter reveled in the blood that covered it's underside.
(OOC: hope that made sense. I'm writing rather fast during my break. Now all I need are guard guys to shoot)
Deliphas stud next to the ancient warrior looking over the land it was cracked and scared all around this place would soon flow with blood. The ancient marine stud there silent just watching, The raptors behind Deliphas stud there resistless checking their weapons or muttering to each-other.
"So what is the plan? Shoot them out of the sky then finish the survivors? Oh also when can I meet your little friend?" The Raptor chuckled closely followed by his warriors laughing. The Old man turned his helm still on but Deliphas knew that he was not happy.
"Leave us!" Deliphas growled to his warriors. Each one walked away leaving the two warriors along.
"All jokes aside what shall we do?"
What Deliphas did not expect was for Cato to strike him. The fist the older warrior slammed into his helmed face sent sparks flying from the ceramite, scraping paint from the white fist of the fractured son. As the Raptor fell, Cato turned back to look up at the sky, a comms message playing through his helmet. Flak batteries were being set up by cultists all over the city, heavy laser positions and ambush positions. The imperials would bring their tanks into the city, and they would know great pain. Many of the cultists were carrying improvised high explosive or anti-tank charges, others with light RPG's and grenade pouches, packed with every sort of ordanance they could get their hands on.
Turning back to the Raptor, he spoke.
"You will not speak of The Lady in such a manner again. Now stand and look out over this world with me."
He turned as he heard the other warrior clatter up, his hand resting on the hilt of his knife.
"Out there, the imperials will land. We have too few men to strike them everywhere, your raptors will be invaluable for fast attack. They will bring air power at the city, I have enough anti-air to keep them pinned down and the outer walls are strong enough" He said all of this while tapping at a data slate he had been given earlier, eyes scanning reams of information. "A techpreist of the Dark Mechanicus is working as we speak to reboot the cities Void Shield projectors, but when the Thorns attacked, they smashed it up pretty badly. What I need you and your raptors to do is ready yourselves, ambush the imperial dogs as they enter the city, for this is where we will have to make a stand. Melta charges and flamers would be in order, don't you think?"
The raptor removed his helmet his lip bleeding from the hit, just another scar to add to the rest a cool breeze flowed through the air, it had been a long time since somebody had been in his precision.
"We can strike their forces when they land causing panic. Then if they breach the walls we can strike them from them spires and alleys but replace Melta charges with Krak grenades to spread shrapnel and panic then we strike slowly thin their ranks down." The Raptor said pointing to different areas of the city.
"What makes that Human Female so special to you if you don't ind me asking......brother." Deliphas asked as he placed his helmet back on.
Kain activated his vox-comm, tired of wandering about the hives main gates while the rabble of cultists and rouge guard set up poor defensive position. He tuned into the channel of Cato;
"Brother, I seek advice on where the most ample position may be found?"
"Krak grenades do not spread much shrapnel, however they can be used to disable tanks. Frag grenades are better for that. Even then, I plan to collapse parts of this city to block their path and kill their soldiers" Cracking his knuckles slowly, Cato squatted to look over the city at a lower level.
"This city will become a killing field for the loyalists. We'll kill as many as we can before we give them any ground whatsoever. I expect to see your raptors targeting their super heavy units"
He drew his bolter and placed it on the ground, then removed his helmet. "As to why I care for 'That human', its because I owe her my life"
It was then that his vox crackled with the message from Kain.
"Brother, I do require someone to defend the primary reactor, it is going to be the only thing that will be powering our defenses, including the blasted void shield if we can get it up" He spoke quickly, a cultist running up to him carrying more status reports from across the city.
"You'll find human soldiers there, take comand, fortify and hold that position at all costs, if the reactor fails, then we'll have a hard fight when the imperial soldiers get within the walls, rather than an impossible one"
Kain made his way through the Hive, observing the massive structures many power cores and energy banks as he made his way to the void shield generator. The structure was massive and pulsed with purple light as the Dark Mechanicus worked tirelessly on the structure. Around it's podium, several troopers had set up makeshift barricades and brought up Heavy Bolters and Auto-cannons. He doubted their ammunition would be in great supply, but realised that after going through the rest of the hives defences, nor would the Imperials. He quickly located the leading officer, who saluted Kain as he approached;
"Gunnery sergeant Riker sir, reporting for duty."
Kain looked down on the small man;
"Your duty is to defend this position. Conserve your ammunition, and keep behind cover and you might survive."
OOC: Sorry for my absence this weekend, I was out of town and my cell was dead for most of it, I will also be out of town from Tuesday about 11:30 pm EST to about Monday some time (not sure when I'm getting back).
IC:
Kal'urek left the Mechanicum's chambers, his chassis was ready for combat, and everything was running optimally. The large dreadnought directed several human slaves that were running around, helping him get his equipment ready and in place. He eyed the ammo that he saw the cultist tinkering with, the extra explosive capabilities didn't sit well with the Iron Warrior, and he would have to be careful with such munitions.
"Brother Achairos, good to hear from you. I need you to defend the primary armoury, underneath it is the cogitator bank that controls all of our modular defenses. There is a large supply of ammunition there too. I had cultists gather as much as they could. What Chimera and truck transport we have that isn't already assigned to forces throughout the city is there. If you would be so kind, your command of the supplies and defenses in that area would be appreciated. It is of vital importance that our forces continue to be supplied. I know that it will be a prime target for Imperial guard thrusts."
He paused, throwing aside a dataslate that was reaming off numbers concerning how much heavy ordonance was available. "We have a battery of three Earthshakers nearby, I need a trustworthy and battle hardened warrior to command where they strike. You are that Warrior, Achairos. Do not fail me, or your brothers, our rewards for victory will be great"
Cutting off the vox link, Cato began walking back into the central spire, a group of Serfs, cowled and robed, following him. They were all former adminidstratum personnel, carrying heavy mobile cogitators and stacks of data slates that continued to spew out various information that was vital to a commander.
"Master" One of them said, lifting off his hood to look up at the space marine. "A dreadnought of the Iron Warriors is in the city..." He held out a small scrap of paper, various bits and bobs of information scrawled across it in red ink.
"Brother Kal'urek..." Cato muttered, then reached up to tap his vox link once more, connecting to the dreadnought.
"Venerable brother dreadnought, are you willing to converse with me?"
The dreadnought paused in his duties, as he prepared his defensible situation. "I am, what is it you wish to speak with me about?"
The dreadnought internalized his vox and set it to converse with Cato on a private channel as he went about his preparations, he started to place girders that were strewn about from the damage of the building to reinforce his position, using the power weapon on his left fist to melt the girders to the concrete building. Content, but not happy with his work, Kal'urek waited for Cato to reply.
OOC: I haven't. It's probably better to ask who's still in, they're more likely to respond.
BIC: Gray and the other cultists scurried around the great lump of metal that was, for now, their leader. Soon the killing would commence, and it would be an honor to see such a great killer at work.
OOC: I'm still in, though I will be absent from tomorrow around 5AM your time, till Monday. my final post will probably contain some level of what Kal'urek will do in my absence. If the fighting starts, don't be afraid to RP his movements and actions, just don't get him killed
Also I'm gonna hold off on an IC post until I hear back from Cato
p_gray99 wrote: OOC: If you're going to be unable to post, shall we control your character for you? We won't make any drastic decisions if we can help it.
Certainly, you and your cultists are nearby, so I have no problem if you control Kal'urek for me. He most likely would attempt to protect the cultists as best as he could. While that sounds a little, "loyalist dog" for a Chaos Dreadnought, Kal'urek hasn't been much corrupted by Chaos, and is still very much in the "Emperor doesn't know what is best for Humanity, and neither do those four beings from beyond the material realm." He will certainly not mourn the loss if a cultist or two die and it certainly won't weigh heavy on his conscious, he realizes that this is a "losing effort" from the get go, and the best chance they have is to get as many people off the planet as possible.
Just to... ya know, give you all a peek into how I'm looking to play Kal'urek. I know we're chaos marines, but I can't just pull myself fulling into the psycopathic mind of a "true" chaos marine.
Rygar stood in wait with his men as the streets below seemed to burst with activity and human anxiety. sights of weapons being moved from point to point and odd contingents of men moving and shifting threw the city scape could be seen from their perch.
Even the iron Warrior Kain's movements deeper into the Hive briefly crossed Rygars field of vision. This spot was more fortified that it seemed and was an adequate spot to start their offensive.. Hide, hit hard, then when position looked to be compromised move and repeat. He preferred mid range but was more than willing to let the chainsword he liberated from a Imperial Fist sing woe across the flesh of loyalist.
Jorgan was ordered over Vox to relay their position and basic intention to the Luna Wolf who had taken charge of most of the land forces. Many times as hired guns had they fallen under friendly fire and bombardment.. History would take care not to repeat itself.
The lighter touched down near the artillery emplacement in the city. Achiaros stepped out and directed his pilot to land on a nearby tower, in the case that he needed to get out quickly, or the autocannon could prove useful when Imperial aircraft struck, as they were sure to do. There was a group of cultists, probably thirty or forty men, although they looked as though they had once been guard or PDF, as they stood in ranks, with at least a fair amount of discipline. These soldiers were obviously here because they needed someone decent to guard the guns. He addressed what looked to be a minor officer standing at the head of the group.
"Bring me your commanding officer and your artillery commander as well, and hurry."
The man looked confused, but a massive man in ceramite, reaching near eight feet tall was not something to be easily ignored. As he strode off, Achiaros addressed the men.
"You are all under my command now, this hive will soon be assaulted by the Imperial forces, and we are responsible to provide covering fire and support to our Batt-" He quickly cut off, "..Brothers in arms."
"Our responsibility is to defend these guns, set up and emplacement around it, and bring up supplies, fuel, ammunition, food and water, we may be here a while."
Many of the man scattered off in different directions, the few that stood remaining stared at the giant, probably never having seen an Astartes before. Archiaros began to prepare his position for the impending battle.
"Venerable dreadnought, I require you to lead a mobile force, moving to defend points of the city that require it. Perhaps take some cultists in a flatbed, or one of our few APC's. You will need to move moderatley quickly, being the most powerful anti-tank warrior we have"
He was inside the main hive now, his adminiadstrator Serfs sat on the ground around him as he looked over the ranks of serfs armed with any heavily modified autoguns. They snapped a salute, a quick fist to the chest, then a sharp turn to the door he was sending them out of. Their duty was to defend the central spire at all costs. They would do it, several cults had been brought together to supplement them.
The glass ninja wrote: "Venerable dreadnought, I require you to lead a mobile force, moving to defend points of the city that require it. Perhaps take some cultists in a flatbed, or one of our few APC's. You will need to move moderatley quickly, being the most powerful anti-tank warrior we have"
He was inside the main hive now, his adminiadstrator Serfs sat on the ground around him as he looked over the ranks of serfs armed with any heavily modified autoguns. They snapped a salute, a quick fist to the chest, then a sharp turn to the door he was sending them out of. Their duty was to defend the central spire at all costs. They would do it, several cults had been brought together to supplement them.
Kal'urek stopped for a moment, listening for a moment to Cato's words, his mind thinking of the possabilities of what could happen while moving about the battlefield, being as large as he was, Kal'urek was sure to draw fire. While he didn't mind drawing fire, he preferred to do it from this now entrenched position. I believe that could be a good plan, but from my position now, I have a clear field of view and an entrenched position. What vehicle will hold these humans that would stand up to las, plasma, or missile, munitions we're sure to face? I would not be opposed to such a plan, but I only have but a single fist with which to rip into armour. My assault cannon can really only penetrate the lightest of the loyalist's armor. The plan didn't sound too bad, but it really all depends on what was sent first. If the Imperial Guard were to be the first to cross that line with their tanks, being on the move wouldn't be too much of an issue, if it was fellow Astartes, then an entrenched position wouldn't hurt either.
Gray, who had been half-listening to the conversation between the two titans before him, gave his best attempt at a salute.
"Sirs, It's possible... I've fixed up a weapon, not much more than a slingshot really..."
"Speak." commanded the dreadnought.
"Well, it's based on a ballista, a large catapult, but it could fire a round a second if you fully overcharged it..."
"And how exactly is that meant to take out a tank?" "Well, sir, we've got it fixed up so that it will fire three melta-bombs at a time, though of course we could add more. Although the more melta-bombs per shot and the more shots we fire... well, we lost twenty to an extremely small miscalculation when we were testing it, not even using melta-bombs. And what with the lava below the surface..."
"I see. Well, it is at least a last resort, if nothing more. But I have a feeling the other marines may want us to use it."
Admiral Julius Gius Scipian sat on his command chair, his ship, the Furious Penitent rumbling around him. Naval adepts walked around the huge bridge, others sitting at consoles. They read the streams of data that were running across their cogitator screens. His second, Lieutenant Miranda Loss was reading a report to him, about the world they had been relegated in the mighty crusade against the chaos warband calling itself 'The brotherhood of Thorns'.
"The world of Aplora, my lord admiral. We and two grand cruisers are to escort troops from the Vostroyan 15th, the Cadian 223nd Mech, the Catachan 39th and the Morindian 3rd armoured. The mechanicus has also sent to us a force of Skitarii and armoured units." She paused, reading for a moment.
"This fight looks to be easy, last we checked, the planet was poorly defended. Chaos marines, a smattering and several thousand cultists. We assume they're massing within the main hive"
The admiral spoke, his vocie rasping from the vox grille that had replaced his mouth many years before. "Very good, yes. Tell me, how many troopships are we escorting?"
"The heavy transports Vispasian, Mercurial, Temperal Wroth and Indaosia are equipped with enough landers to take everything that has been sent with us onto the world. They also carry all of our troops" She stumbled slightly as she continued to look over the slate detailing the fleet composition "The mechanicus cruiser E-E-V-10291038729439028, 'Eve', is carrying the mechanicus contingent."
Standing, the Admiral smiled. On the inside obviously, he didn't have a mouth anymore.
"Prepare for real space translation" The tannoy system announced.
With a sharp jolt that could be felt in the very soul, the attack fleet dropped out of warp. Aplora, the red eye that it was, hung in space before them. The Mars Class Battleship, its two smaller grand cruiser escorts and the four troop ships following it formed into a flying wedge, the hard tip of Green and gold that was The Penitent. The Rust red dart of the Mechanicus cruiser darting along by the side of the three larger imperial ships moved quickly ahead.
"Three vessels detected on Augury, My Lord!" Came the yell from a rating on the bridge of the Penitent.
"So it begins" Muttered the three hundred year old warrior that was leading this war in space. "All ahead full! Lance batteries powered up, torpedos in the tube, Macro cannons at the ready! Lets give these heretic bastards hell! For the Emperor!"
The ten thousand and a bit years he had lived, Cato had been involved in many seiges. He'd usually been attacking, but the rare times he didn't, he knew what a bitch Orbital bombardment was. He was in the centre of his command nexus, the augury screen before him showing him the signatures of the eight imperial ships that had just entered the space near the planet. It was daunting to think that even half of the large Aquilia signatures contained only soldiers and tanks. Daunting, but also exhilerating. He'd not had such a fight in years.
"Battle brothers" He voxed, his voice sounding through the ear peices and vox grilles of every cultist who carried a vox pack, and the marines who's helmets had beads implanted in the ears. "The Imperial dogs have arrived. Our defenses are as powerful as they can be, you have your duties. Good luck, my brothers. May you fight well. For glory!"
Hung in space with its engines powered down, hiding from the approaching flotilla in the electro-interference of the local star, rank upon rank of hiding weapon batteries aimed at the leading warship. The "Emperors Wrath" was perpetually unchanged for the past century, its battle scars earned in the name of rebellion remained unrepaired. On the bridge thirty souls stood at their stations, most of the humans and sub-humans felt a rush of sensation from the coming battle. One figure towered above the others. Bronsk stood, unmoving in front of the command throne, his eyes fixed on the enemy warships. He wiped the beginning of a nose bleed with the back of his gauntlet.
"Warning. Unexpected contact.
Imperial fleet designation - Unknown - entering real space.
Path detail: Combat speed to Aplora
Origin date: -Unknown-
Origin Location: Sub 98168
Received: Sub 98172 - 4582" droned a nearby gun servitors comm unit.
"Jacobson, fleet strength" said Captain Ilussis firmly, more of a statement than a question.
"Readouts identify the flagship "Furious Penitent" along with 2 grand cruisers and several heavy drop-ships, Ma'am." replied Jacobson
"We should engage now, while they are unaware." snarled Bronsk
Behind him Captain Ilussis cleared her throat.
"Ugh, you have something to say, girl?"
"My Lord, we should wait until they have began planet fall, that is when they will be most vulnerable." she replied firmly.
A tremor found its way across his left hand, a suppressed need to reach for her fragile neck.
"And why not?" he growled.
"-Ahem- If we engage now, at best we will be crippled before we reach boarding range. At best, we will, well..."
He flexed his fingers, resting his hand on his holstered bolt pistol.
He smiled as he spoke "We were born to bleed girl. My blood is burning for combat. You will bring me to battle, now!"
"-sigh- Very well, Lord. Engage the engines, make full speed for Aplora. They might not know of this ships capture, and may think us their saviours."
Kain activated his Vox-Com, tuning into the brother Chaos marines channels as he spoke;
"The Imperial Guard will have no fortifications or fall back zone once they have arrived upon the planet, and with the lander's being spread thinly across the planet, we can thin their forces. If we are able to cripple or even destroy one or two of the lander's we have a massive advantage against the Guard. We then launch hit and run attacks, rarely staying for long while we target commanders, supply lines and sabotaging their vehicles and craft. If we must be on the defensive, then we must force the guard through hell, create distractions and false targets. Once under-maned and without their commanders, the guard will fall upon each other or attempt some form of martyr-like action against us."
Gray considered this. He wasn't the best at tactics and didn't know all that was going on, but he knew it had been too long waiting for the fight. Next to him, the dreadnought voxed a message saying it sounded fine by him.
The imperial ships were moving closer, their auspex net picking out the strike cruiser that the Night Lord sorceror had brought to the world, lurking behind the solid mass of Aplora. The rouge trader hanging above the north pole fired its engines and began to flee, the orders of the space marine that it had brought to the world being followed to a T.
With a flare of its engines, one of the Imperial grand cruisers broke off from the rest of the fleet, making its way towards the strike cruiser, the rest moving into high orbit over the world. The mechanicus cruiser was the first to deploy its lighters, the specks of silver and rust red flashing through space, glowing cherry red as they entered the atmosphere. The huge forms of the bigger guard ships moved down, closer to the edge of the world's little pocked of air and gravity. The shapes of Imperial troop carriers, fighter craft and heavy lifter shuttles flowed down onto the surface, the bigger ships remaining in orbit, they would land once a defensible zone had been set up, to disgorge the superheavy tanks and the less mobile forces onto the volcanic rock of Aplora. The shapes of their two remaning protectors hung above them as they spread out.
The only force that landed near enough to the central hive to be an immediate threat. Skitarii, gun servitors and light tanks rolled from their landers, the city lighting them up with hundreds of shells in moments. A lander exploded here, a gun servitor thrashed and spasmed there.
The machine warriors began their march towards the city that had been claimed by chaos.
Kain marched to the city gates, having seen the Imperial landing craft, he knew he had have some idea of what was coming. He increased his vision length, which revealed the grainy forms of several Mechanicus robots and machines, striding towards the hive city. He quickly pulled back, hefting his Auto-cannon while he activated his vox-com;
"Brothers, the Mechanicus have arrived! We must be ready!"
The Emperors Wrath engines burned on full power, closing on the Imperial fleet at terrifying speed. One of the cruisers pulled away from the flotilla, pursuing the Echo of Damnation away from the planet. The remaining cruiser struggled to turn, peeling away from formation and presenting its broadside to the new, rapidly approaching threat.
"The Imperial fleet is attempting communication, Ma'am." said Helm Officer Jacobson.
"Block communications, divert all available power to the engines, we need to close on them before they have a chance to bring their guns to bare."
"Affirmative" droned a servitor
The captain was distracted, hammering commands into servitor controls on her thrones keypads. The Deck sirens wailed as they closed on the Imperial fleet.
"We're been targeted, 15 seconds until we're at maximum range."
"Charge the forward batteries, target the Cruiser, we have no chance of even scratching the Battleship."
"Shields at maximum" droned a nearby servitor.
Bronsk stood looking at the hololithic image of the Imperial fleet, struggling to hold back his anger, the anticipation of battle causing his muscles to twitch uncontrollably.
"5 seconds"
The complete blackness of the void image suddenly lit up with what looked like the birth of a new star. The cruisers broadside lances and cannons fired a full volley directly at The Emperors Wrath projected course.
"Hard to port, full power" she said, her eyes fixed on the Imperial fleet.
"Affirmative"
A moment later the oily interior of the Bridge station was lit up by the sharp light of the passing lance fire. Even with most of the blinding effects of such powerful munitions being filtered out, Captain Illusus still had to raise her hand to shield her eyes.
"Auspex has locked on the Crusier's hanger bays, waiting for command to fire."
"Fire"
A sharp beam of light fired from the Strike cruisers forward batteries, disappearing into the blackness. A moment later, the Cruisers void shields lit up, dissipating the beams power across its layered protection.
"30 Seconds till boarding torpedo range" said Jacobson
At that, Bronsk turned and left the bridge, followed closely by his guard.
"Burn their shields down, we will do the rest." he growled.
"Yes, Lord." replied Illusus as she stood, saluting crisply in time with the rest of the deck Officers present. They didn't return to their duties until the
heavy Iron door closed after him.
"All stations, status report." she said, turning back to the hololith
"Weapons primed, full power. 5 seconds until optimum range"
"Gunnery, fix primary target on the Cruiser, charge starboard Batteries. Deck Officer, ready the Torpedo's." she said, as she hammered commands into her throne console.
"Ma'am" replied the officers in unison.
"Void shields to full layer protection, brace for impact." she said, closing the bronzed holding for her keypad.
Suddenly, the darkness was lit up again by another full broadside volley from the Cruiser.
"Hard bank to starboard, full power to shields."
A split second later, the lance and cannon fire hit. Illusus rocked in her command throne, grunting as she smacked her head against its back. Warning runes lit up around the bridge, the sirens wailing increased in intensity.
"Shields at 40%, they missed with most of it" said Jacobson, as he pulled himself up to his station.
"Fire the broadside, turn, and fire with the front batteries, bring those shields down" she said.
Within a moment, the shields around the cruiser were set alight, a split second later, the second volley cut straight through it.
"Fire the boarding torpedo's, and bring us around, stay on the far side of the cruiser. The Battleship will have to move around if it wants to fire"
Hive Primaris - the original seat of high government before the planet fell to Chaos. It was similar to most Hives of course, however it differed in that its size was exponentially larger than that of the average Hive City. A fact that made it a valuable target and the key to controlling Aplora; its vast armouries, fields of manufactorums and huge population all valuable assets in the Great War. Situated upon one of only a few tectonically stable regions across the globe, the expansive forest of metal towers reaches up towards the murky sky. Belching out great plumes of chemical waste, these ugly talons hooking into the dark clouds can be seen for kilometres across the charred, volcanic landscape. On the day that the city was first taken by the Ruinous Powers of Chaos, the screams could be heard for miles - and they had continued for days. Now, those citizens who remain in the city fear for their lives, most used as slave labour or recruited as cannon fodder. Each night, some are taken and their screams of fear and terror echo those of the insane who claw at their eyes in a vain effort to remove the horrors they have witnessed.
Hastus Zuriel had once been a simple labourer, working for twenty-five years toiling to his physical limits to provide for his wife and children. When Chaos had come upon the world, falling unto the city mercilessly, he had thought himself blessed to survive the initial onslaught. However, he and his family scraped a meek life for a long time, suffering indignity, disease and starvation as well as occasional brutality. Yet still they prevailed against all the odds, hiding and scavenging. In fact, little did Hastus know, but portents long before his birth had predicted such a situation would arise and that a man much like himself would rise up from the ashes of ruination and overcome the terrible oppression. In one glorious uprising, he would have managed to retake the city through weeks, perhaps months of guerilla warfare - disrupting the Great Enemy from within whilst the Imperial Guard assaulted from without. In the last final battle of the City it was predicted he would fall in combat against a dark foe - he would die a martyr whom inspired the entire planet to liberation. The time when that would come to pass was very quickly approaching.
Unfortunately for Hastus Zuriel, his family and the entire blasted planet, the winds of time and fate conspired to lead him down another path. Hastus was a tall, broad man with defined cheek bones and rugged black hair. His clothes were dirtied rags, torn in some places and malnourishment was blatant. Despite this, muscle was still prevalent across his form. His face was contorted into a primordial snarl and he wrestled furiously against his binds - for he was chained quite securely to a chair, which in turn was bound to the floor. His form was soaked in blood - not his own, but that of his family, all of whom now lay butchered around him. Their faces were twisted visages of fright and agony. Yet there was a sickening tranquillity about them. Finally they could rest and would no longer suffer the waking nightmare they had faced living in the city. Unfortunately their souls would not be saved; a far darker purpose awaited them.
As opposed to Hastus' struggling and snarling, the other living figure in the room was quite still and calm. Inquisitor Solistilius stood over him, watching with mild amusement at the man's efforts to free himself and avenge his beloved family. Hot blood dripped from the top of the man's head and over his face. The sacrificial blade in Solistilius' left hand was a short, jagged tool made of a dull metal. Taking hold of Hastus by the throat and holding him still with strength unbecoming of the foot shorter man, the Inquisitor began carving symbols into the former Manufactorum worker's flesh whilst muttering incomprehensible words of dark power; words which made Hastus' head spin and caused his skin to crawl. As the fifth symbol was still being jaggedly sliced into his abdomen, Hastus shivered with a deep and primordial fear - the fear of what was unnatural and could not be understood by his mortal mind. Yet he did not look away from the Inquisitor's deep, unblinking black eyes - a feat not yet achieved by any other who had ever been in his position. Indeed, Hastus Zuriel was a strong soul. This is what made him an ideal candidate for the ritual.
The room was small and cramped, littered with the markings of a previous life. Clothes, books, pictures and all manner of homely devices were cast aside or piled up. In one corner, the rotting carcass of a long-dead person seemed to watch on with resignation as the ritual continued. In one skeletal hand it clutched an old service pistol and in the other a small book of the Ministorum's Decree. The skull was pierced by a single bullet hole. Long dried brain and tissue splatters coated the wall behind the corpse. The candles which provided the only illumination in the room flickered as ethereal winds flustered their yellow flames. Hastus gritted his teeth in an admirable effort to contain his moans of anguish as Solistilius cut again and again into his flesh with practised skill. What clothes the man had been wearing had been reduced to scraps barely clinging to his frame. Blood pooled around his grubby, bare feet and the Inquisitor's dark military boots. It was hot and sticky, both from Hastus and his family, all mixing together, joining the scent of the rotting body to create a powerful reek of death. Hastus choked and coughed up vomit, spittle and blood into his own lap which slopped onto the floor in a slimy, regurgitated soup. Solistilius finally cut into the middle of his victims' chest which had remained, until that point, unblemished. With the utmost care he carved the Rune of Voiding - it was a large, complex symbol which was cut deep. The sacrificial blade scraped against Hastus' ribcage on more than one occasion, eliciting an agonising wail as the man's willpower slowly began to be overwhelmed by sheer pain and emotional devastation. After he finished creating the Rune of Voiding, Solistilius stood back for a moment, seeming to admire his work as would an intrepid artist having finished his latest masterpiece. Hastus glared up at him, eyes full desire for murder and vengeance. Pure hate. Perfect.
Hastus Zuriel's head quivered and fell limp as the last vestige of the would-be hero was drained from his mind and body. However the hate remained. The bloodlust prevailed. The insatiable desire to kill and destroy lingered like an afterthought. Blood dripped ominously from his nose onto the pool in the floor, like a trail of lost comrades rejoining their brothers. Drip. Drip. Drip. Solistilius calmly affixed various chains to the empty shell, entirely focused on the task at hand. The suicide victim in the corner stared onwards without so much as stirring, the empty pits where its eyes once resided unable to turn away - for even in death, some never find respite from the horrors of the living world. Some of the chains were simply strapped to Hastus' body, whereas others pierced his flesh and connected some of the symbols. The Inquisitor opened a small pouch on his belt and removed something. It was a holy parchment. A purity seal. This one was deeply corrupted however; its once venerated words of honour and faith long since twisted away by runes of darkness and death. Solistilius heated the wax seal under a candle until it burnt his fingertips and then seared it into a circular wound on the body's right arm. The skin bubbled and steamed for a second and then the seal stuck, held by something a little more than mere wax and heat. It clung to the flesh like a parasite. Solistilius raised his and arms continued to apply various dark iconography and similar warding devices such as one padlock which he pierced through the throat. As he did so he intoned the incantations of binding, washing the empty shell and himself in further blood. Then the Litany of Servitus was spoken as the Inquisitor paced around the chair, almost singing the words like a poem. Finally, he recited the Wards of Entrapment. For indeed, an echo of Hastus Zuriel awoke once more in the body which began to twitch and spasm. However, Hastus was but a shadow whilst something else took control. Wails shrieked from the warp - the dead Zuriel family's souls being ripped from their salvation and poured into the growing power within the Demon Host, sacrificed a second time to appease the entity being bound into the body. Solistilius approached the end of the Wards, his chanting seeming to take on second, third and a million other voices all speaking at the same time yet remaining individual. The skeletal onlooker in the corner slumped over, bone face downwards, as if not daring to witniss the result of this dark deed. "In servitutem abduco, I bind thee fast forever into this host," Inquisitor Solistilius decreed, "Awaken, Xadosesonon - Reaper of a million souls. I rebirth you into this realm bathed in hate and blood. You are called upon to return from your millennia long slumber and reap a tally for the Dark Gods once more. "
The geometric patterns daubed across the iron walls of the Daemons Cage, glowed dully, the only light chamber baring the pins of light from the incense burners. It was their make shift protection from the warp-ghosts, enabling boarding actions even within the eye of terror.
His personnel guard surrounded him, each a renegade of their chapters, and each with their own inherent customs, that they seemed unwilling to abandon. Temúr of the white scars, stood taller than the others, spent bolter casings, ears, teeth and baubles were made into a necklace, trophies from past glories. The witch-blooded Pyriel of the Salamanders stood behind him, pentagrammic wards criss-crossed his armour, interlacing like bars of a cage. He was muttering under his breath. The smell of sorcery hung heavily in the musky air. Rauth of the Iron hands stood at the fore, his storm shield raise in anticipation of the coming battle.
With a thunderous crash and scream of twisting metal, the marines on board lurched forwards, before quickly erecting themselves. A moment later the reinforced door crashed open. There was an exhalation of pressurized air, as Bronsk instinctively knelt and fired, his first shot punching a guardsman chest open, his second shot dismembered another leg at the knee. Rauth advanced slowly, absorbing a huge amount of fire on his shield. The rest advanced after, lasgun fire hammering against their armour.
Their auspex sweepers struggled to pierce the thick smoke covering their advance, shadows flickered with static could barely be made out a few yards ahead. Bronsk charged, heedless of the danger. His chain axe reving in his grip. He cut through the first two, cleaving one's torso in half, and slicing into the temple of another with one sweep. Pyriel followed, flames flicking from his opened palms, charing the connecting corridor with a swirling maelstrom of flame. Temúr cut his way into another dimly lit corridor, his glaive sweeping in front of him, cutting limbs and bodies with ease. They made short work of the intercepting party sent at them.
As he strangled the remaining warrior, he did so with a smile on the slit of his lips. He kicked out, struggling against the one hand wrapped around his neck. With a tightening of his grip, he snapped his neck with a wet crack of bone. He looked up as the limp body slumped to the floor.
"Where are my men." he said, as he snorted another nose bleed back.
"Vaas's men are below us, on the lower levels of the hanger bays. Vollmer is a few levels above us, and Thoic is a few levels above him, Jung and his coven have been lost" replied Temúr, glancing at his auspex as he cut a finger from the squads sergeant with a serrated combat blade.
"Vaas will clear the hangers. We shall make for the bridge, along with Vollmer and Thoic" he replied, in a rare moment of tactical clarity.
Kain marched to the city gates, his rag tag group of renegade guard following in his wake, armed with a mix of ranged weaponry. Taking up position, the rouge guard set up behind several improvised barricades and sandbags as they took up aim on the advancing Mechanicus. Kain brought up his Auto-cannon, his helms multiple scopes targeting key members of the advancing enemy forces. He flipped the safety off and shouted to the leading sergeant, who raised his missile launcher. His helms motion tracker began to "beep" as the Mechanicus moved closer and closer towards the hive, the sound of their plasma and artillery blasts causing the hive to shudder. He fired, his fragmentation shell slamming into the chest of a Thallex Cohort leader, who exploded in a mess of limbs and wires, while the other hulking robots returned fire. Several of his guard allies where blown to bloody chunks, while Kain himself struggled to hold his ground as their shots created craters in his armoured form. He gritted his teach and fired off more shots, blasting apart Skitiri and several other machine servants, but the tide of metal did not seem to end. He saw some of the guard moving back, but a shot from the sergeants bolt pistol quickly quelled any sense of fear.
As the massive batteries thundered, Achiaros hissed in anger.
"They left an Astartes where he would be useless, Why couldn't they have stuck one of the damned Iron Warriors here."
Achiaros was not fulfilled by this sort of battle. He voxed in to the marine that had given him the order.
"Am I going to see combat during this battle, or are you going to leave me sitting here?"
Achiaros walked to the command tent, covering the ground quickly with swift, heavy strides. Taking a pair of binoculars, he began walking towards the tallest visible building, he would do whatever work he could. As he ascended the stairway of the tower, he thought back to the meeting, the crust of the moon was thinner that of this planet, but could not the same thing be accomplished here? Reaching the top, he zoomed the distance to the front of the city, probably just over a mile or two away, and down a two levels in the hive. This higher elevation was a good advantage, giving the Earthshakers greater range. Even with the range, however, the battery could not hit the lander position, which was a solid two or three miles farther out. Spotting an area which had already taken heavy damage, Achiaros voxed this position to the crews of the guns, he intended to strike at those coordinates and burst the skin or the massive beast that was this planet.
"Let's see how they deal with the blood" he chuckled to himself.
The ground shook with the next salvo of the artillery.
Lord Atlas opened his eyes as the red haze dissipated, he and his blood-brothers, stood in a summoning circle looking at a small civilian who quickly bowed down shaking madly with fear and repeating;
'Lord Khorne accept my offering.'
'Shut the feth up mortal' said Lorrik before putting a bolter round into the cultists head, spraying it's brains across the wall in a pretty design.
The berzerkers of Gladiator group 666 spread out through the abandoned manufactorum kicking over carts, their heavy tread crushing rocks into finite dust. Each step shook the building which was partially collapsed in one part and and dim lit. The thick atmosphere seemed to gnaw at the berzerkers as if from beyond the immaterium, daemons battled for possesion of their bodies. Lord Atlas still knelt where he had been summoned breathing heavily, like a predatory beast before the hunt. He reached out to place a hand on something to stand, missing his grip Atlas stumbled and cracked the thick plating of the floor beneath him. The berzerkers knew better than to look at their Lord in his eyes, they went about scavenging.
Lorrik looked at his Brother though, and slowly tread over to help him stand, the two gigantic terminators locked arms and their ancient armour groaned as Lorrik pulled up Lord Atlas. Locking eyes dead straight with Lorrik, Atlas spoke through his Vox-grille.
'If you ever show me as weak again, I will claim your skull as a trophy, dear brother.' -spat the Monstrous Terminator to his brother.
'I mean no offense brother' - replied a loud resonant voice that seemed to speak with clarity and pride.
'Where are we..' - commanded Atlas to his blood-brothers.
'This manufactorum sjgn says Aplora working district. Imperial designation.' - answered a berzerker who was in the far corner near an exit of the manufactorum.
pausing for a moment the berzerkers of Gladiator group 666 thought before a unanimous shout rang through several blocks of the working district.
'DEATH TO THE FALSE EMPEROR'
Grabbing Skullcleaver and hoisting the double headed chain axe over his shoulder pad, they charged out of the manufactorum, baying like hounds let loose.
Kain knelt down on his knee, breathing heavily after being stuck by the barrage of bolt shells. He looked down at his chest, watching through his helms HUD as his twin heart beat became a wild flurry as he struggled to rise, blood gushing from the hole in his stomach. He brought up his auto-cannon, his targeting system creating out-lines around the advancing Thallex and Skitari, and the remaining guard who fought at his side. He pressed down on the trigger, blowing apart several of the Skitari, but a counter flurry of bolt and auto cannon shells forced him back. He looked over his position, realising the futile nature of his position, he barked a quick order to the remanning guard before activating his Vox-com;
“This is Kain, the Mechanicus are almost at the cities main gates. I'm pulling back to the shield generator. Close the gates and send in what heavy units we have after a bombardment, we must hold the gates, at all costs."
"Confirmed, this is Gladiator group 666, I demand to know the location of the main gate, we are in the manufactorums on the far west of the city."
Atlas looked at his HUD display, all systems were functional which was good. For a suit of armour 10,000 years old he expected it to not work as well, he'd need a new suit soon. He voiced his vox channel a few more times trying to reach any friendly's in the city with varying degrees of success. Gladiator group 666 walked through the ruined district searching for things of value, nothing really peaked interest when suddenly, a firefight broke out a half mile away, making all the berzerkers peer off, focusing on something that looked fleshy, something human. Brother Xathros, the point, requested a private link with Atlas. Upon recieving the request, Xathros, face appeared in Atlas' HUD.
'My Lord..' he began but was cut short when Atlas, bored of listening, interrupted him.
'What do you see up ahead blood-brother?' spoke Atlas in a queried tone.
'Imperial forward scouts? Civilians maybe?' replied the drawling berzerker in a whiny voice, the red haze was claiming him as he spoke.
'DO NOT ENGAGE BLOOD-BROTHER!' shouted Lord Atlas, trying to shake his bererker from the haze. Ultimately it was unsuccessful, when Xathros bellowed 'DEATH TO THE FALSE EMPEROR'S LAPDOGS' and charged, which in turn caused the rest to charge after Xathros, chain axe's whirring and firing off bolt pistols.
Lorrik and Atlas pounded after them, the hunt was underway.
The arrival of the enemy stirred the blood lust in his men, the slight shifting could be felt across the groubd and hardly went without Rygars notice. They had clear sight of the main gate and the Resistance Kain was giving the mechanized fodder. Burst of activity seemed to be awakening across the urban landscape that surrounded them.
"Jorgan do you see what's taking place toward the Main gate?"
"sir, orders?" Jorgan replied, his near boiling impatience held in reserve but laid bare before Rygar "suppressive fire"
All that needed to be said was said and the Thunderhawk's interior buzzed with life as servitor and human alike took to their individual responsibilities making sure that the craft performed as best it could. It's battle scars marked it as a warrior tested and machine spirit Akin that of a bird of prey who's only true purpose was that of mayhem and precision. It took off swinging around the nearby buildings that housed the cultist that laid in wait for the coming battle until soaring into the air, it's shadow casted over the ground underneath like that of the shadow of death.. Forewarning what it touched of it's inevitable death.
Jorgan licked his lips and narrowed his eyes at his intended targets "Repugnant" Jorgan fell into silence until the Enemies were within range and barked at his crew, his otherwise honorable disposition melted away as his hands motioned threw the controls of the Thunderhawk with familiarity and purpose. The Thunderhawk took a sharp dive then pulled up as it roared Bolter fire. All four twin link heavy bolters tore over Kains position right into the enemy as the Thunderhawk banks to the left dodging retaliatory fire.
The enemy shredded by the hail of bolter shells bringing pause to their push as the Thunderhawk moved behind building cover reading for another swing around.
The Demon Host slowly rose to full height - the simple bindings that had held Hastus Zuriel to the chair no obstacle for this creature. It towered over the Inquisitor and looked down at him impassively, its very presence radiating malevolence.
"Xadosesonon," Solistilius addressed it. It looked around for the first time, taking in its surroundings, before returning its gaze to the one who had summoned it.
"I know you, human. You are Solistilius," it stated, "One-thousand fifty-three Terran years prior to this our paths crossed on the field of battle. My own Demonic minions banished by the Grey Warriors of the corpse God as you and your own master Hycleus unleashed magicks which saw his name cursed and physical form incinerated. Yet you endured the persecutions of your quivering peers."
"That is correct," the Inquisitor concurred, "Now I serve the same powers which you do. And now you shall serve me, in all things."
"It has been long since I crossed into this realm. An intriguing development." Its voice was far changed from that of Hastus. It was now greatly deepened and each word seemed to contain a thousand whispers just beyond mortal comprehension. "I am bound to this vessel and your command. At our first encounter you had little understanding of the greater scheme which was unfolding. Now I see you as a much altered mind. Curious how it is not the path that lays behind which has shaped you; rather what is yet to come will determine your present. I shall do your bidding," Xadosesonon decided. Despite its power, it had no choice in the matter, but that it seemed to desire this for the moment was fascinating in itself. Of course, its opinion mattered not for the ways of Daemons are not for men to be so arrogant as to assume they understand. Not even one as vaunted as an Inquisitor. Perhaps it enjoyed the irony of one who assisted in its banishment was now undoing that action.
"Your words are veiled, Xadosesonon. You speak in riddles and I am not so foolishly tricked into enacting the designs of your kind. When I desire your unique insight I will demand it," Solistilius snapped. "Come now. There is much to be done."
--------------------
The Inquisitor trekked through the narrow, winding streets that connected the lower Hive. The sounds of battle were omnipresent and explosions coloured the murky sky as artillery shells impacted again and again upon the void shield protecting the city. Powerful technology from times long since forgotten by all but a scarce few, unmatched by much else surrounding them. However, it would fail in time. Solistilius knew this to be a certainty. Whether the renegades, cultists and magicians who had banded together in a loose force would successfully defend this place was uncertain and overall inconsequential. All that mattered is that they did so long enough for greater plans to be fulfilled. After all, Inquisitor Solistilius had not arrived by coincidence. The whispers of ethereal creatures and the hastily scribbled words of a madman in an ancient book had seen that his purpose here may lead to consequences far grander than he could yet appreciate. Behind him strode the Demon Host Xadosesonon. It walked like a man, looked like a man and yet there was undoubtedly something terribly inhuman about him. Even a mewling half-wit child could sense that should they encounter the pair.
However those they had encountered were few and far between. The scarce living they'd seen had made best not to draw the attention of these two beings. However, not all inhabitants of the city were entirely spineless. Solistilius stopped in his tracks, hand resting on hilt of power sword. Xadosesonon halted in sync with its master, standing a step behind the Inquisitor. From several buildings around them, hooded figures crouched tentatively measuring up the two men they had surrounded. Slowly they revealed themselves from all directions, until the group encompassed them in a rugged circle. Crude rifles and blunt weapons were raised in anticipation, none sure of how to proceed. Their crimson robes and mix of metal plate and flak armour spoke of men and women from several walks of life. Workers, soldiers, doctors and secretaries, errand boys and paupers alike all stood here. Yet now they were more than that. They were united in a cause and belonged to something that they did not merely blindly worship; rather, they now belonged to a cause that they could see and become a part of. Yet they were not formidable. Most were unworthy of serving the darker powers.
One of their number stepped forward, approaching the undaunted pair. "I am Karavok, leader of the Cult of the Harbinger. In the name of the Dark Gods, surrender yourselves or suffer execution." The Inquisitor regarded this man. He was slightly taller than himself and had most of his face obscured under a dull metal mask. He carried a Lasgun.
"You would presume to command me, Karavok? You are leader of nothing and unfit to speak of the Dark Gods. You know nothing of the universe beyond this city and I, Inquisitor Solistilius look upon you and find you lacking."
Karavok was momentarily taken aback, glancing at a few of his followers in a silent plea for help yet none was forthcoming. No sooner had he returned his gaze to the imposing man he had planned to make his prisoner or perhaps even sacrifice, Solistilius had drawn his blade and in one fell movement sliced open Karavok's belly. His mouth fell agape and he dropped to his knees as his guts spilled onto the floor in front of him. He raised his Lasgun, hands shaking. Solistilius removed it from him with ease and discarded the simple weapon.
Another member of the cult hurried forward and knelt before the Inquisitor. "My lord, forgive us for our sins. The legends of your kind are true... we must repent in the face of our saviour that our eternal souls may live on and join the beloved Emperor," he pleaded. "In death we shall be absolved."
Solistilius decapitated the man without a second thought and the body slumped to the side. "The Emperor is a rotting corpse with no power over the living. Is there not a single one of you so-called cultists; worshippers of the Dark Gods, worthy of a place amongst the renegades and heretics that at this very moment are fighting on the ramparts so that this city may remain liberated from the mewling tyrany of the corpse-God's servants?"
There was silence for a moment as the cultists wondered in bewilderment what the wisest course of action was. Then one of them stepped forth. "If I am to die then I will do so on my feet," he sneered as he hefted a large, two-handed blade. "I was raised as a soldier and in life the Imperium gave me nothing. In death I expect no more," he admitted as he approached the Inquisitor.
Solistilius smiled even as Xadosesonon stared on disinterestedly. The cultists with their autoguns and their simple hatchets and blades watched with contained panic, and perhaps a degree of hope, as the tallest and the strongest of their company squared off against the Inquisitor - a man whose stature was the stuff of stories. The man swung his large sword without breaking a sweat although Solistilius deflected it with ease. His opponent circled and came at him with another series of blows and Solistilius deflected them all still. There was a pause and then the large cultist adjusted his stance and the way he held his weapon. Then he attacked again. This time it was planned rather than simply gauging the skill of his opponent. He even forced the Inquisitor back a step with a surprisingly skilful move before the experienced swordsman disarmed him and swept his feet from under him. The tip of the Inquisitor's cutlass pressed against the fallen man's throat ever so gently.
"I will not beg for my life," the man spat. "Do what you must."
Solistilius looked upon him for a moment and then sheathed his sword. "You have proven yourself over the rest of this rabble. For that you will have the privilege of serving me. Xadosesonon - kill the rest," he instructed the Demon Host without taking his pure black eyes off of the one who had dared to fight him as he clambered to his feet. Xadosesonon did not wait to exact his command and he raised his arms. Several of the cultists brought their weapons to bare as the Host rose into the air. Fire burned from his eyes and he roared in tongues not of the material plane of existence even as dozens of bullets dissolved against his own ethereal protection. One by one the cultists screamed as warp flame engulfed them. One ran in terror, yet there was no escape from the reaper of a million souls. Within seconds twenty three men were reduced to heaps of blackened bones and even those then crumbled into ash and then the ash into nothingness. Their souls; their very life energy poured into the Demon and it took their life force as its own. One stray bullet that had managed to cause damage to the meat prison Xadosesonon inhabited disappeared as the stolen life force rejuvenated the physical form.
The surviving cultist warrior stood in awe of the display of power, now believing he understood why he had survived the initial invasion and why he had been driven to turn traitor from the uniform he swore to serve. All so that he may bare witness to real, tangible power at work and that he may be a part of something far greater than he could have ever hoped for in his previous life.
"What is your name, warrior?" Solistilius asked.
"Titus," he answered, hastily adding, "My Lord." Although he stood well above average height, he was not taller than the threatening Demon Host and nor did he feel greater in presence than the Inquisitor who stood head and shoulders below him.
"Then come, Titus. Serve me well and perhaps you will live to see tomorrow."
Kain watched as the Thunderhawk dive bombed the Mechanicus assault troops, smiling as the machines where shredded by bolter fire allowing him to safely fall back with his remaining men. He hurried to the gate controls, climbing the ladder to the tower, he quickly entered the codes and watched as the great bulk head sealed shut with a pair of ancient and battered Leman Russ tanks rolling forward and arming their guns. He quickly slid down the ladder and motioned for his men to move back to the shield generators, preparing for a further defense .
Trooper six-two-nine-zero marched forwards, his sargent off to his left. The thundering boom of a Thunderfire cannon back behind him on the rise that they had landed on sent screaching shells into the void shield of the city, the dark envelope glowing as the explosions smashed into it. A bunch of chaos marines were firing autocannons into the midst of the approaching Skitarii and Thallax soldiers. A rhino thundered by, when a shell landed. The ground crakced and fell away, the APC falling into the bubbling magma that gushed up from beneath the now split crust. A skitarii clambered from the top hatch, screaming in pain as he flapped madly at the flames springing up on his armour and clothing.
The intense pain ovverode even the extensive sleep indoctrination Skitarii underwent. Six-two-nine-zero didn't care. His orders were to assault the main gates with his comrades and to take them at all costs. His sargent was punched back by an autocannon shell, the squad still jogging forwards. He saw one of the chaos marines take a shot, firing his own lasgun. The heavy gun bucked in his hands as a scarlet beam lanced through the air towards the heretic soldiers. The Skitarii in his squad began to sprint. They were torn apart in a strom of bolter fire, blood splattering the ground around them and slowly boiling away.
Through this carnage, strode a man who looked more machine than that. He watched as the heavy gates clanged shut, the gun servitors in their alcoves above them opening fire with twin linked heavy bolters, cutting down more Mechanicum infantry. Arcs of electricty crackled up and down his metal arms, up over his smooth metal face. A swarm of mechandrites writhed behind him, sprouting from his back. With a click of his fingers, he sent a bolt of energy at the servitors that were stitching the ground around him with bolts. Turning to the huge plasteel gates once more, he seemed to gesture to the battery of thunderfire cannons behind him. With a mighty concussive stacatto, they fired, the concentrated explosive power turning the heavy thing to slag in moments. Through this, the tech-magos strode, his mechandrites sprouting blades and Las-cutters, electrical discharge frying the ground beneath him.
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Beneath the ground, assault drills rumbled. The mechnaicum had used their augury systems to find strains of stable rock within the planets crust. These were wide enough for a drill or two to dig through, then into the huge slab of bedrock that Hive Primaris sat upon. In one of these drills, Magos Lucidia Othellon danced her mechanical fingers over the controls, ancient mechanical keyboards being tapped upon at such a rate that it rivalled a guard drum tatoo. Her Acolytes mulled around her, even as the ranks of Skitarii behind them began to cry out in machine tounge, their words a prayer to the Ohmnissiah to make the coming battle a great and glorious feat of His design.
The tech adepts joined in, their own renditions much smoother than that of the Tech-guard, their mouths altered to speak in Binary. They chattered along, the grinding of the drill and the huge geothermal heat assaulting ears and skin. A Skitarii fell to his knees.
"Defective"
It said quietly, raising its gun to its head and putting a bolt through its own head. Another stopped and stripped the corpse of useful equipment even as the drill broke the surface, the light of the surface pouring in as the huge assault drill broke from the firey cocoon under the ground.
Warlord Atlas was slightly surprised by the outrush of red clad forms, firing lasguns at him and his soldiers.
A simmilar sight was being seen all across the city, six drills in total allowing Skitarii troops access to city. Some attacked shield generators, others armouries, even more attacked the artillery positions. Achairos and the other defenders inside the city had a hard fight ahead of them.
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In space, the battle was going badly. The Furious Penitent Had brought itself avbove hte boarded Grand Cruiser, training its weapons on the Emperors Wroth . Sheets of lance and macro cannon fire filled the space around the strike cruiser, its void shields flaring as impacts smashed across it.
The bridge shook as the much smaller cruiser tried to get away from the huge battleship, the imperial vessel launching a swarm of torpedos. They sped towards the space marine vessel, the point defense cannons studded across its surface blowing some apart. But it was not enough. The torpedos impacted with the ships engines and primary generator, effectivley disabling it. The Penitent moved in to finish it, lances training on the bridge when a voice yelled across the vox on all frequencies.
"Dragon requests fox! A planets tears!"
Aboard the bridge of the imperial flagship, adpets scrambled to and fro.
"Incoming anti-ship torpedos, from the surface! Evasive manouvers, evasive manouvers!"
It gave the Wroth's crew time to get to their escape pods.
Bronsk rounded another corner, the air had changed, the threat was palable, like a storm waiting to break. He advanced another 20 strides down the corridor, his stride breaking moments before the corridor ahead exploded in a blinding light. He was thrown backwards, crashing into Temúr, knocking them both to the ground.
Bronsk pulled himself up slowly, las bolts blurred past his head, he smiled as combat stimms flooded his system. Everything suddenly sharpened. He could feel the individual movement of each muscle, he felt totally alive. The rage crashed over him like an avalanche, he charged forward. He ripped guardsmen apart in his wake. Grabbing another wrist and pulling him close, he twisted it around as the man squealed in pain, he swung his chain axe, decapitating him. Killing and maiming, tearing throats out with blood slick hands, he tore threw them, heedless of the warning sigils flashing across his visor. Bronsk swung back around, burying his other hand into another mans throat. He lashed his arm back, ripping his spine out, letting the rest of his body slump to the ground.
Hearing the clatter of grenades against metal, he glanced down at the gore slick floor, lurching forwards as he saw the fragmentation explosives roll past his feet. He crashed into another knot of defenders, crushing ones arm under his tremendous weight. He stood quickly, smashing his fists into the men under him, splintering bone and rupturing organs. Rauth shouldered past him, protecting Bronsk from an incoming salvo of shotgun blasts and plasma shots with his storm shield. Bronsk and his warriors were outnumbered twenty times over, bottled into a dead end, engulfed by a wall of white gloss carapace that seeped forwards. There was no hope of victory, not in these corridors at any rate.
"Prepare for void combat" he grunted into the vox.
Flicking a switch beside his trigger, he leveled his combi weapon at the wall beside him, firing a searing blast of super heated air at the reinforced iron wall. The decompression of air swept the world from beneath him like a tidal wave, gore and bone smeared his visor as he scrambled for some support. Pyriel crashed past him, grabbing onto the rapidly cooling wall, barely managing to keep himself being lost to the abyss. Bodies, both broken and healthy where sucked out, floating out away from the cruiser.
This! This is life! thought Bronsk, as he was slowly dragged out, his armour screeching against the paneled metal floor.
So when will you fire this weapon of yours? demanded the dreadnaught.
"Well sir, if we miss then it's very bad news," Gray shouted over the roar of the dread's weaponry that was busy hammering the tanks.
Well hurry up. If you don't hit the one approaching our position soon, we're not going to have time to see what it can do.
Gray gave a nod to the cultist at the rear of the thing, who nervously pulled a large lever. The thing gave a large twang! as three melta-bombs flew rather ungracefully through the air towards the drill. One landed to the side and exploded, lava erupting where it had been but having little effect. Another glanced from the top armour of the drill but apparently hadn't been set correctly, only exploding when too far behind the drill. However, the last one exploded a short distance in front of the drill.
The drill tried to stop as the lava spurted upwards in front of it, but it had been going at a reasonable speed and was simply too large to stop at all easily. It skidded, the front end of it slowly leaning down the crater while the crew tried to clamber out of the back, hoping to get it toed out before it touched the red-hot molten rock.
Well, that should do the trick. The dreadnaught looked round at the bow, which had been shattered by the force of the shot.
"At least it didn't malfunction in a worse way," Gray commented. "It did its job, although it's a shame it couldn't bring down any more."
Kain reloaded his auto-cannon and marched forward, spreading his fire of acidic shells that dissolved the forms of those Skittari who where caught in the blasts. He smiled as he fired of more and more rounds into the crowd of advancing augmented humans, watching as metal limbs and bundles of flesh went flying in all directions as he poured more fire into the crowd. He looked down at his ammo counter and watched as it reached a flashing crimson zero, causing him to fling the Auto-cannon over his should and retreat while making precise shots with his Bolt pistol, which would have to do until he could find more ammunition. The Skittari's fire increased, breaking through his armour and searing his flesh, but Kain refused to give in.
Lord Atlas was last to commit into the fight, nearly two squads of drop-troopers had appeared from the ruins and opened a hellacious amount of fire, three melta guns opened fire and a hidden heavy stubber shot across the crossway of the street, the berzerkers fought like mad dogs hacking apart men left and right, Lord Atlas who saw a open lane bolted across the street as all weapons available attempted to target the Gargantuan beast, with one massive arcing sweep a drop-troooper's head was sliced through like wet paper, his head skittering down the rubble and blood spattering on his former comrades. In one effective thought Lord Atlas activated Hellscream, his plasma weapon built into his helm. A massive burst of plasma burnt through the remaining two drop-troopers in the rubble.
A loud percussive Krak went off near Atlas, as shrapnel tore into his chest plate and blood started pouring out in copious amounts blasting him off his feet and back onto the rubble pile right outside the hidden stubber nest. His vision was fading, seeing Xathros run over too pick his Lord up, but stopping short and falling next to Atlas as a gigantic hole in his chest melted away from a melta gun.
Without warning or knowledge a swathe of hard rounds and las fire streaked across the street, as nearly 130 cultists charged the imperial forces with Lorrik and the remaining berzerkers. Making short work the blood ran strong through the street, as imperial and chaos forces tore into each other like wild animals. in the after math Atlas had managed to finally stand, his blood clotted and most of his balance regained.
These humans, were fierce though Lord Atlas. 'Cultists' and a huge cell at that, nearly a hundred with scrapped weapons, auto-guns, lasguns, pistols and the works stood looking at him as a God. One a tall, thick set man with a huge workmans axe looked at him and began speaking.
'My Lord please accept us into your service and we will give our lives and deaths to Khorne.'
'It....is done..' the words seems to be choked as they fought to get out of the Berzerkers blood drenched chest, looking down at the sanguine ally where a squad of 30 drop-troopers and nearly 20 dead cultists. The greatest loss however was dear blood-brother Xathros and Lochtos, murdered by a melta blast and felled by a lucky stubber shot.
'K...hain....' Panting heavily, as his blood boiled and temper flared.
'This is Kain, report your status.' -replied a scrapped voice through the vox.
'Xathros......Dead.. Imperials Dead....' - the Berzerker Lords voice was choppy as Kain could hear the mind behind it trying to piece together what he was trying to say. Pondering for a moment Kain thought of his best way to use Berzerker and his forces.
'Skulls for the skull throne blood brother. We require you at the generator as soon as possible there are skulls to be taken.'
Silence took the Vox-channel for a moment, Kain prayed to the dark Gods he had chosen correctly his words.
'DEATH TO THE FALSE EMPEROR!' shouted the war god. Kain sighed a relief after cutting the channel, perhaps he could use this ploy if he did it carefully.
Lord Atlas and Gladiator group 666 stormed off too the shield generator where there would be skulls to be claimed and blood to be spilt.
The scene unfolding at the gate in the distance was overshadowed by the howls of cultists and barking of Autopistols and heavy stubber fire.
The sight of robbed Skitarii Soldiers and their servitor fodder had suddenly filled the sights of the nightlord's helm. He could hear their flawlessly maintained mechanics lowly hum and grind into the nearby cultists who gasped and clutched their weapons in a torrent of blood and rounds, few even lashing out with their mechadendrites viciously ripping and tearing into branded cultist flesh. curses and shouts of both fear and hatred sounded off in rapid succession along with their weapons, The unorganized rabble falling back from the sudden emergence of the enemy.
"auto-cannons" Rygar called lowly over Vox.
Tolbac and Rygars seasoned battle-brother took position at opposite sides of the building overlooking the incoming force and began their offensive, rounds began raining down atop the Skitarii, servitor and cultist unlucky enough to still be alive within their immediate area.
Rygar took to the stairwell as he barked commands to his men threw private Vox-channel. The nightlord's carrying missile launchers and heavy bolters took chase, those with missile launchers stopping one floor below their previous position as the heavy bolters followed Rygar.
Rygar got more than mid way down before he leapt from the stairwell, the loud pounding of his charging feet shook the floor as shells and discarded edged weapons rattled and bounced with each step. He leapt from the 'window' a giant hole in the wall, his massive form slamming into the street knocking back the cultist as if they were caught within the radius of a blast.
His voice bellowed "Stand your ground filth or I'll kill you myself!" Rygar pointed the gaping maw of his heavy bolter toward the tech-guard enemy and bellowed out heavy bolter rounds tearing into the Skitarii who had reduced a small number of cultist to melted slag with the use of a plasma cannon. His bolts tore into the mechanical form with heated fury watching limbs blow off his foes.
"regroup and attack their left and right flank now!"
The humans scurried away, their moral arguably higher if not moved by the beaten in fear of the Horned marine before them. They parted practically falling over one another trampling newly blown off limbs as they took for cover. Heavy stubbers and las pistols causing a static of weapon fire assaulting what stood left of the indomitable Skitarii. Suddenly Mortars fired taking the ground out from under the machine warriors of the empire of man.
Rygar was mildly surprised.. He did not think the unorganized lot that lingered around his position seemingly lost as to their cause and place in the defense or offense of the hive would be this well armed. Mortars? He laugh to himself as the sound of Autocannon fire stopped. Obviously ammo was to be conserved at any chance possible even with their reserves on the Thunderhawk. Rygars helmet assaulted him with warning runes before the cries of humans and continuing weapon fire could be heard.
A lumbering Skitarii charged into the sea of cultist ripping, tearing and gauging at them with bladed appendages. Rygar swung around his heavy bolter and fired but to no effect. The Skitarii stared in his direction as the realization sunk into Rygar as Tolbac voxed the obvious to him "the thing has a personal Void shield"
A cultist takes up a shotgun letting loose a close range blast that ripped into it's side taking it's attention for the moment It took to kill the vindictive former guardsmen. Rygar takes the moment to drop his treasured heavy bolter and swing free both his chainsword and bolt pistol and charge. The humans continued to fight what servitors were left to fight as Rygar swung his chainsword clashing with the Hulking Skitarii's melee weapons, clamps with teeth and Lethal blades. Tools Rygar though more suites to other uses until they sung across his armor with the sound of metals clashing.
A yell of anger later and Rygar had avoided a power thrust of the enemies weaponry and succeeded in a strike of his own severing it's ranged arm. The Skitarii swung around griping Rygars wrist that held his chainblade with the clamp arm it used to squeeze and dismember the cultist. In response the nightlord pressed his bolt pistol into the spine of his mostly mechanical foe letting loose three shots punching holes into it's upper chest. It's grip loosened and Rygar tore the mechanical arm off and away as his chainsword revved and swung into it's neck, the sickening sound of the chain blade ripping threw it's fused flesh and machinery brought a burning pleasure from deep with Rygar to the surface.
The Skitarii fell to the ground lifeless before taking another bolt to the head, for good measure. "take this.. Inside" he spoke to the cultist nearby.
The Thunderhawk swung back around firing it's twin link heavy bolters in another volley tearing into the enemies that threatened to push atop of Kains current location before darting off. Superficial damage had struck the sides of the Thunderhawk but the real threat, the plasma bolts fired upon them were avoided if only narrowly. "on return" Jorgan Voxed to his commander.
Kal'urek looked back at the catapault, a weapon that hadn't been in modern military use for centuries, but the technology was simple and an improvisation should they need it.
He voxed to the Cultist, As I think about it, we can set up a nice barrier. Before the fighting becomes too much of an issue, set up this catapault and fire 2 bombs at those two roads, fire a few rounds, but you should break through with a single volley. I want to funnel any Imperial advances right down that road.
Kal'urek knew that in a pinch they would have the tunnels to use and escape should they need to.
Kain reloaded his bolt pistol, peering over the rubble as he searched the street leading towards the gate for more targets, watching as all around him, Cultists and Skittari battled for dominance. He received the message from Atlas, quickly relaying back his location to the Khornate War-lord as he activated his com;
"I need support here Atlas, this is where we make the stand. If we can keep them from advancing further, then we can win this."
The Iron Warrior quickly rose from the rubble again, and spotted, among the crowd of advancing Mechanicus their leader. The thing was hulking, and bore little resemblance to anything remotely human. It marched forward, towering over it's minions as it moved towards Kain. The Iron Warrior fired off several shots, and watched as they slammed into the massive thing and tore into his form, but the Magos simply continued it's advance. Kain quickly reached for his remaining frag grenades and lobbed the belt towards the machine man. They exploded around the Magos, but it continued to advance, it's form battered, but not destroyed. He realised he need more support, and fast;
"This is Kain, I require support at the cities gate, the enemy forces have breached it and are gaining ground quickly. We must push them back!"
Receiving the message of Kain, Gladiator group 666 charged off, the explosion of several frag grenades rang like a bell atop a tower resounding on a vast plain. Through the city built of brimstone and fire, Gladiator group 666 moved about in such a rapacious manner, butchering every unit of enemies they came across without themselves shedding a drop of blood. foot by foot they carved their way through the hive to Kain. Lord Atlas would get there and he would claim this magos' mechanical skull as a trophy. He would slay everything even the Gods if it meant he'd claim this skull, for there were no more 'worthy' opponents then such as this.
Bounding over downturned statues and blasted ruins Lord Atlas led his war band forward. Over fire and death they advanced, eviscerating every dog who swore allegiance to the rotted imperium of man. Pounding his massive tread onto and overturned column. looking at the sight below him, in a vast courtyard with ramshhackled defenses with gun emplacements and barbed wire, Kain stood surrounded by Imperium forces as the Magos stalked forward, it's poweraxe gleaming like silver in the sun. Surrounded by uncounted foes, Gladiator group 666 spilled forth from a side street with their Berzerker Masters leading the charge.
'BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!!!' roared the titanic warlord, as he charged down the column, skullcleaver whirring as he brought it down in barbaric arcs. A lone guardsman turned to face this war-lord firing off his lasgun on rapid bursts only to see his attempt to stop the Space Marine had been futile, his last thought must of been fear as skullcleaver did it's name justice and carved hollow the thick humans skull, the razored teeth dug deeper and deeper until it finally lodged itself in the low abdomen. With one firm kick, the mangled corpse was tossed like a paperweight off the way of Atlas.
'Brother..... we..... have arrived...' voxed Atlas to Kain.
"Hail brother Atlas! I see that you have come to assist me in the defense of the gates, but we must hold fast! These Skittari are not brave, but are simply incapable of feeling fear."
The Iron Warrior swung the barrel of his now empty auto-cannon towards one of the advancing Skittari, throwing the augmented human to the floor before stamping on it's head, leaving a bloody mess of bone and steel in it's place. He raised his head to find more of the Skittari advancing on him, and watched as his HUD flashed red as his armour systems registered the damage suffered. He raised his auto-cannons bayonet and charged forward, thrusting the blade into the gut of the first Skittari and swinging it to the side, slamming into the second.
"Grey, stay here, if you block those routes like I asked, you should be able to hold off anything that comes down that road. The vox is alive with one of my brothers calling for aid. Stay here, if you need assistance, vox me."
Kal'urek moves through the back of the building. He began to increase his stride and broke to a run, well as close as a run he could get in his armoured chassis. As he rounded the corner, he found what appeared to be a massive throng of Skitarii. Hold fast brother, I'm just outside the building, I will attempt to clear out the entrance.
Kal'urek stopped just as several Skitarii turned and opened fire on him. He brought his left arm up to block some of the incoming shots as a reflex. The sound of ammunition bouncing off of his thick armour, the sound bringing back centuries of memories. A feeling of elation rose through his brain as he brought his assault cannon to bear, spinning it up and shooting into the pile. A few took rounds to the chest, exploding and shattering metal, but causing little damage to the Skitarii warriors.
It should not be long, I'm creating a diversion.. He managed to take out three as he kept his cannon spinning, rounds exploded against Skitarii, and walls, smoke and dust rising from the impacts.
He wasn't quite sure how he had got here, he wasn't quite sure where he was, but he bloody well knew some very large-scale events were taking place. His mind it's usually fickle and unreliable self, he could currently remember an incredibly small amount since he had taken his seat in the hall with the others, years ago that would have worried him but not anymore. There just never seemed to be any apothecaries around anymore.
As long as his mind was towards the goals of the Emperor and the Imperium, he was content.
Several minutes ago, a veritable horde of Blood Angels marines had rushed past him, the holy aquila set proudly over their resplendent armour. With their fervour and fanaticism, they may of well have been berserkers. The one at the front with the chainaxe put him especially on edge, but that was the Black Rage for you, something capable of turning man to beast. At the end of their charge stood a great mass of half-living monstrosities, traitors and foul tech-heresies. Bedecked almost mockingly in crimson, the creatures shambled forwards, corroded guns spat red flame and bolt, as rusted limbs brought the things ever closer.
For now, he would leave them to their charge, their place was at the maelstrom of melee and the heart of battle. He though, was completely comfortable where he was, leaning against a solid wall with his plasma gun glowing dimly in one hand.
Kain swung a battered and bloody combat knife at another of the Skittari, watching as a mix of oil and blood spurted from the neck wound Kain had inflicted earlier, before slamming the weapon down upon the Skittari's head, twisting it free as he threw down another as more and more massed against the defenders. He threw himself forward, his bolt pistol running dry as he blew apart one of the machine men who fire at Kain, burning and chipping away at his armour. Kain threw his pistol down and quickly grabbed up a bolt gun dropped by one of the Skittari sergeants. He crouched down, firing of several shots as he and the other traitor astartes fought back the Mechanicus.
'KILL! MAIM! BURN! KILL! MAIMM! BURN! KILL! MAIM! BURN!! KILL! MAIM! BURN!' cried the mad man as he spun on a downward fashion cleaving the Skitarii in half diagonally. Grabbing the head of the Skitarii in his palm he tore it free. Part of it's mechanical backbone tore out with it, as Atlas hoisted it aloft for all to see.
Crying out 'WHERE IS YOUR FALSE EMPPEROR NOW?!' he charged through a torrent of bolter fire rained into his archaic terrminatior armour, in his HUD his kill coounter ticked up and up higher as his maniacal slaughter took the stage. Enemy after enemy he cut down. He was a god of war, and so he'd live to his name.
The screams of Gladiator group 666 were bestial as they tore through their enemies. The cultists aroused by their Berzerker masters left their defenses, rushing into the hellstorm in which battle was joined. The berzerkers chainaxes met the flesh of their enemies, as muscle was shredded like wheat from the stalk.
One cry rang out in continuance from Gladiator group 666.
Gray fired another shot at the approaching hordes of guardsmen that were trying to punch through his position. It would have been far easier with the help of the dreadnought, but he would have to make do.
A shot seared the armour on his shoulder as he ducked behind cover again, reloading the las battery. "Cultists, hold strong! They fight through fear, but we fight for our own reasons! There is no way they can win!"
A las bolt cracked from the side of Atla's helm, knocking the huge marine onto his side even as he roared his devotion to his god. The ceramite fizzled and ran down the side of his pauldron. The las didn't go all the way through, the magos that had fired it wanted to end the huge Berserker with the whizzing blades that hovered above his shoulders. As his feet crunched the gravel by the dazed chaos warriors head, the same mechandrites rose in a hissing swarm, ready to scythe down onto the marine. Two of the berserkers, seeing their lord in danger, charged at the magos.
With a clash of blades, the magos met them. The red fury of the two chaos astartes could not match the careful slices of las saclpels that tore their chainaxes apart, then bit into them with voracious hunger, tearing right through their ceramite armour and shedding their blood in great sweeping, steaming arcs. They screamed out their last benidictions to the blood god as the Magos who had slit them into bits turned back to their lord. A laugh seemed to rise from the metal man, dark and deadly, even as his blades scythed down to the chaos warrior who was clambering back onto his red booted feet. Luckily for him, a bolt round crashed into the plating of the techpreist's face, sending him falling backwards and giving the warlord enough space to be dragged back by one of his terminators.
Kain had saved his life, the smoking boltpistol in his hand chattering another four rounds into the magos' writhing body. A chattering scream of Binary brought a squad of bayonet weilding Skitarii charging towards him. He had to turn his bolt pistol in his hands to whack at the charging soldiers, sending one flying here and breaking a nose there. A pointblank shot turned a cultist's chest to jelly and a booted foot into a face sent a fourth soldier floppingly through the air. He was soon swamped by soldiers, buried under their weight and thrashing powerfully, breaking lims and killing left and right. He was not the one to finish the Magos.
No, that was Kal'Urek. Though the first thought of the dreadnought was to find cover, he fired his assault cannon several times, the burst of high powered bullets tearing ranks of Skitarii into ribbons of flesh that decorated the crimson ground, several hours of combat leaving the buildings around the central gate, and thea courtyard that was before it a ruin of craters and rubble. One lucky burst took the Magos high in the chest, sending him flying back, metal flying away. A high pitched scream filled the air, the binary code sending Skiatrii warriors to their knees in pain as the dreadnought smashed its way through a wall, roaring through his Voxponders as a melta armed Skitarii played his weapon across the close combat arm of the titanic war machine, sending it staggering and out of range.
Kain swung his pistol hard as he batted one of the Skittari away, rising from the ground, he opened fire with his bolt gun and quickly moved back in order to combat the advance of the Skittari. He snarled as he thrust the Bolt gun forward into the chest of a downed Skittari, pressing down on the trigger, he watched as it exploded.
He was content. Everything so far that had happened, had gone so to plan. His allies, more capable in the art of war, had gone on ahead to the front, to fight and defeat the hulking leader of the vile corpse-machines. He had seen the dreadnought only moments ago sent it back to the warp in a hail of fire, he had always known that if devotion to the Emperor could guide a simple guardsman to defeat that so much his greater. If that could happen, then a mighty dreadnought would have no problem with a horde of plague-engines and their bloated superior.
It was intelligent of him to avoid the enemy leader, but it would be cowardly to let others defeat mere infantry, rusted limbs and oozing flesh were no match for fervour, blade, and a face-full of plasma. So now, after all this time, he would fight. His hands gripped tightly the glowing form of his plasma gun, he could feel the familiar warmth of its touch even under his ceramite gauntlets, such was the weapon's power. Almost before he realized he was doing it, his legs began to carry him towards the enemies and his allies who now fought them, finger pulled trigger as a multitude of bio-mechanical horrors came within range.
The nearest only saw a brief flash of blue before its single crimson eye, along with the rest of its skull-like head, was reduced to little more than seared chunks. He trained his eye on another foe as the first fell, a lanky, red-robed thing with chainblades for hands. He opened fire. One of the monstrosity's arms was blown from it's shoulder as blue flame engulfed it's upper torso, a burst of frantic buzzes followed as it began to twitch and stumble clumsily. Another shot silenced it's cries, a direct hit to the chest which tore effortlessly through metal and flesh, and reduced cloak to ashes. His attention now to a whirring to his left, he span around quickly, only to come face-to-face with yet another enemy, an insectile thing with a spider-like face. What worried him most though, was the chainsword it had for one hand, and the welding torch it had for the other, both of which were moving very quickly forwards.
Being an astartes though, one of the Imperium's finest, came with a few benefits over a regular human, which would now have a bloody and eviscerated pulp for a body at this point. He stepped backwards quickly, just in time for the chainsword to skitter across his chestplate, which left a faint scratch and severed a poorly-placed purity seal in half. He'd been awarded the damn thing from Chapter-master Calgar for a great honour he didn't quite remember.
The Skitarii took a step forward as the chaos marine, one of it's booted feet crushed the shrunken head which had moments ago been cut from it's place pinned to the marine's armour under it's crushing weight. A though passed quickly through it's mind, traitors had little idea of armour practicality and organisation. It attacked again, this time though its weapons failed to meet their target and met only air to the marine's side. In immediate response, the end of the foe's rifle butt met the Skitarii in the dead center of a cluster of optic units, sparks flew as they all simultaneously shattered.
Skitarii unit/1121 let it's welding torch and chainsword swing out frenziedly as It reeled back, utterly blind to the battlefield around it. It heard a crash as the weapon came down again, disabling more important systems, this time minor cognitive functions and signal receiving. There was short pause, and then another blow was felt, this time removing movement functions. A clatter rang out as it's metallic form fell to the dusty ground. A click was heard, typical of plasma gun cartridge replacement. Then silence. Then a shot, then silence.
Sandman stood watching the battle from afar, in his perch in the control room of one of the larger Manufactorum buildings. Explosions could be seen and the other sounds of fighting could be heard from across to the main gate, roughly 1 & a half miles away. The Imperials were winning, that much was undoubtable. They had lost too much ground, too fast. Their adversaries were Skitarii at the moment, which did not make matters particularly easy. Dumb as Guardsmen, tough as Astartes. they would make a big dent before finally falling. Carnak was still on whatever ship he had been brought here on, most likely under attack by the moron in orbit, who was most likely trying to boss the Echo around as well. Ah well, he was designed to be expendable, the nature of the Guard.
All around him the troops under his command were readying weapons, preparing grenades, loading up on ammo, or talking about the coming combat while viscously revving Chainswords. The Forgefiend had calmed down a lot, and was stomping about the place like an oversized puppy, reaccuainting itself with the world around it. Presc & his two wingmen were going over the barely-coherent battle plan, along with discussing how best to deploy the Forgefiend, or 'Stompy' as was its nickname now. It seemed to find it funny.
Sandman was waiting for someone to crop up in this area, as he knew there wasnt a chance that a full Invasion force would be split between a gate, and a few drill pods. The void shields were still up, which meant there was no chance of an ariel attack.
A deep sound, almost like an oversized gunshot sounded, closer than the others, and from the east. This was followed by the shreik of ruptured metal, which jerked Sandman's mind back to the present. Presc ran up to him, as all the other Marines rose almost as one into their battle mindsets and Stompy roared into the sky.
"East gate, quarter mile away. Sounds like a..."
"Leman Russ" cut in Sandman. "Armoured Column no doubt. get a couple of serfs to re-fit Stompy's guns, and then we'll go welcome whatever has come through"
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OOC: Imagine some suitably epic music
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Trooper 3396 was among the 5 'sergeants' assigned to a group of 100 Skitarii supposed to be being lead into the Hive by a trio of Leman Russ Battle Tanks, but the Traitors apparently had other ideas. About twenty minutes after breaching the East Gate, three Earthshaker shells had been called on their location, with an eerie level of accuracy. One of them had hit home on the leading Russ, turning it to a blackened, buring husk in roughly 3 seconds, with the second and third almost completley destroying a small area of the road, causing that section to give way to the magma below, meaning the Russes could not get through. The second shell had also claimed about 15 of their number. The infantry had been sent ahead of the tanks, to meet up with them at a later point. However, it seemed something was watching, if not hunting them. What remained of his human brain told 3396 he should be afraid, but nothing could be seen anywhere. Whispers were being heard by more than just 3396 however, and he was sure they were saying We're coming for you. The logic circuits in his brain told him that if this was the case, they were dealing with Night Lords.
A shrill, mechanical shreik filled the air momentarily, before being scilenced and immediately followed by a metallic clang. 3396 looked to the origin of the noise, the see another Skitarii unit lifeless on the floor, with its head removed from its shoulders in a deep, ragged cut. A small pool of blood was slowly spilling out of the ragged neck stump. 3396 examined the wound, before standing and telling his fellow soldiers what caused it.
0011100101010010101010110101001010101010110111010100101010101101010110101001010 We are dealing with Astartes Chainblades. There was a single gunshot from the other side of the street, and another Skitarii fell, with its head splattered across several other Skitarii in the area. 0100101101001011, Bolter. fed off one of the other Skitarii next to the corpse, as it began to pan its gun, looking for the perp.
This could only mean one thing, Night Lords. Only they could be actively engaging and still remain undetected. A Mechanical growl was heard, and a dim light began to emanate from the street to the north of the Skitarii group. Every gun at the Skitarii's disposal was instantly on the aproaching light, with theories being transmitted across all of the group concerning what it could be. All the while the Light was getting brighter and the growling louder, fairly fast.
"Ave dominus nox"
the call came from somewhere above the Skitarii, from a voice that seemed to contain power. The alleys joining the street and buildings all around the Skitarii lit up as Bolters began to spit their deadly cargo toward the Mechanicum soldiers, felling several in the first few seconds due to sheer numbers and the element of suprise. Skitarii swung the weapons as they had been created to do, returning fire at the surrounding Chaos Marines, and moving into what little cover they could find. Not many of the shots hit home, due to the fact most of the Night Lords were in cover, even fewer actually got through any armour. In the first few minutes of the Skitarii returning fire, about 5 Night Lords had been killed. All the while the relentless torrent of Bolts continued to rain down on the Mechanicum troopers. The source of the light was close enought to see now, and it did not bring anything other than a sense of doom to 3396. A warp-spawned Forgefiend was careering down the road, straight towards the Mechanicum troops, but was out of range of the Anti Tank weapons the infantry had. It stopped running when it entered effective range, and began firing. The obscene number of high-power shots from that heretical construct claimed a dozen Skitarii within seconds of the thing begining to fire.
3396 was more concerned about a group of 4 Night lords that seemed to be the Commanding forces of the Night Lords. One of them was clearly a Sorceror, throwing energy balls through Skitarii with one hand, with a Power Sword in the other which he used to cut down any other who were foolish enough to get close. the other three were Raptors, who were teaming up on the less combat-oriented Skitarii, killing easily. 3396 overcharged his lasgun, and took careful aim at the Sorceror's head, hoping to eliminte him in a single shot. He pulled the trigger, and one of the Raptors threw himself in front of the Sorceror to protect his commander, the Lasbolt punching straight through the Marine's chestplate, undoubtabley killing him outright. The sorceror looked directly at 3396 and raised his hand, 3396 raising inot the air alongside it. A backward jerk of the hand sent the Skitarii officer flying through the air toward the Night Lord sorceror, who raised his sword at the last moment, impaling 3396 on it's blade. 3396, felt his circuits begin to shut down almost instantly, the weapon in his arms falling from his grasp and the arms hanging uselessly by his sides. However, he was aware that the Sorceror had pushed the shutting down body off the end of the sword. As the body sprawled all over, 3396 vaguely made out the Sorceror's boot coming down towards it's head, before...
Gray called the retreat. They were doing well, considering they were only cultists, but the approaching skittari outnumbered them and outgunned them, and the defensive positions simply weren't good enough to stop the advance.
"We need backup!" he called through the vox.
In a marine's eyes, they probably weren't that much of a threat. After all, there were only about 20 of them attacking a fairly wide defense system, but they had been enough to take out 3 of his best guys so far, and together the cultists had only felled 2 of the attackers.
"Ok, get back to the city, ambush tactics now. Don't let them get too deep though," he called as he dived to the right, a bolt exploding where he had been a second ago.
Kal'urek heard Grey vox for assistance, twisting his upper torso, and shaking of some of the dust that had fallen from when he crashed through the wall, The large metallic astartes ran back towards the cultists.
Grey, I am en route, get your men into the vehicle behind the building. Kal'urek moved through an open courtyard, when a loud cland rang off of his armour. His sensors alerted him to the glancing hit. Quickly spinning his torso toward the location the shot came from, his "eyes" picked up a pair of Skitarii snipers hidden in a building. As his gun fired up, he heard another shot ring out, this time the energy field that protected him stopped the round mid flight. The Dreadnought spun up his assault cannon, and proceeded to unload a hailstorm of bullets towards the snipers. Grey, before you and your men take off away from this area I need a quick rundown on enemy combatants. I have two snipers across the courtyar- His vox transmission was cut short as several Skitarii warriors poured forth from the nearest building, hoping to take down the ancient relic
As they charged him, their pistols rang harmlessly off his armour. His gun still firing, was brought down aiming at the Skitarii charging him, a handful of shots hitting warriors left to right as he swept the gun in a massive arc. The gun arm hitting a few warriors that were smart enough to come at him from the sides. Kal'urek kept moving, in case the sniper team was still alive in their nest across the courtyard.
Kal'urek waded through the Skitarii, slowly getting to the building he was originally set to defend. As he reached the building, few warriors remained, many had started to flee form the dreadnought, but were quickly gunned down. He stepped through the opening of the building. It seems that tactical information was not needed human." Kal'urek looked at the cultists around him. Make haste, the battle has subsided for now, but we must leave this position and regroup with many of the others."
Kain marched through the city streets, totting his auto-cannon around as he gunned down lone groups of Skittari with dark glee. He's found more ammunition, and took some pleasure from the augmented humans deaths as he hunted the remains of the first wave down, stalking the ruined streets like some form of apex predator. After mopping up these forces, he'd loot their weaponry and armour, so he could out-fit some of his troops better.
Atlas woke in the courtyard, where crows danced over the bodies. His head hurt unimaginably a red dull feeling covered his right eye he could not see. He looked around and only two of his blood-brothers lived. Only seven cultists survived with all manners of injuries. All around him he saw the massacre, knowing only a small bit of them were claimed by him for Khorne, he shook with rage.
Moments before being lost to the void, the magnetic clamps within their ancient power armour activated, fixing their boots into place. Bronsk pushed himself up, his unnaturally light form alien to him for the briefest moment. He looked around him as he reloaded his bolter with a fresh clip. Temúr was pulling himself into the darkened corridor, pushing his legs in front of him and allowing the magnets to seal him to the floor. Rauth was dead, his head a mass of frozen blood and bone, his body swaying in the corridor like the tendrils of some great sea monster, his boots sealing him in place. Pyriel pushed past a floating torso of a guardsman, his strides slowed by the magnetic release of his boots.
"They sealed the corridor, the bulkheads are beyond our ability to break. There is no way through" he said, as he traced his finger along the brow of some nameless corporal.
"What now?" asked Temúr "With no word from Vaas or Volmer, we may well be alone on this vessel."
Streams of blood, frozen into small stones of glittering red shined in the light of Bronsks eyes.
"We make for the bridge" he said, climbing out of the break in the wall, and onto the surface of the vessels hull.
His powerful strides allowing him to make short work of the distance between them and the bridge. He stole a glance at the battle raging above them. Needle fine streaks of fire and tracer rounds flared kilometers into the dark, the distance too great to discern anything more than their weapon discharges and their massive silhouettes, blotting out the stars behind. The bridge loomed ahead like an ancient fortress, its armoured shields covering the viewing ports and its anti air cannons tracking the gunships overhead. Bronsk pulled his melta charges out, placing them where he thought the bridge's shields would be its weakest, Temúr and Pyriel did the same wordlessly.
"7 second charge, ready your weapons" ordered Bronsk into the crackling vox.
Bronsk, Temúr and Pyriel stood back behind cover, this will be quick. The charges blew in a silent blinding flash, moments later, bodies, refuse and electrical stations rushed out into the cold. Bronsk charged, cutting his way through the debry with his whirling chain axe, he barged into the bridge, surveying the sight for a split second. Officers and soldiers clung desperatly to their stations in a futile attempt to delay the inevitable, servitors sat bolted to their stations, taking no notice of the chaos around them as if nothing was happening.
Bronsk strode to the command throne, wrenching the captain out of his station with his gauntleted hand. He punched commands into the console with ease, before ripping the decade old metal out like it were paper. He grabbed a mechandrite cable and pulled it out carefully, pointing at the captains eye.
He turned to Temúr and Pyriel, "Brace for impact" he said into the vox with a feral grin.
"Shields failing Ma'am" reported Jacobson, shouting to be heard over the wailing of klaxons and alarms. "We cannot hold"
The bridge was in chaos, the air was thick with smoke and servitors sparked where they lay, slumped over their consoles. Their electrical conduits overloaded by the exertion of the vessel. Officers lay dead at their stations, their skulls dashed against the consoles they worked at so feverishly.
"Full power to engines! Evasive maneuvers! Gunnery, target the frigates, ignore that battleship, its shields will hold no matter what we throw at it!" shouted Illusus, her voice strained with exhaustion. To have held out this long was a miracle in itself, and she wasn't fool enough to think their luck could continue for long.
"Ma'am, the cruiser is changing its trajected path"
"Now is not the time for such frivolities Jacobson!" she roared, steadying herself against another jarring shake
"But Ma'am, she's going to hit into the Furious Penitent!"
There were now four skittari headed for Gray and his last three followers as they rushed through the city.
"In here!" They dived into an alley, only to find it was blocked at the other end, no exits from the narrow passageway. One of his men dived back out of the alleyway but was dead before he made it a foot, a bolt through his head.
"No way out!" cried one of his men as they searched the walls for any opening, any crack that they could force open. "Perhaps if we all run out at once..."
"No chance. Backup won't be here any time soon, and until then those things can easily kill us if they see us. What weaponry do we have?"
He glanced over the few weapons. One flamer, as likely to instantly destroy any enemy as it was to blow up in your face. A modified autogun, designed to fire incendiaries. And, of course, his own equipment. A plan slowly formed, but it didn't seem like a perfect one by any stretch of the imagination.
It was, however, a simple one. As the skittari arrived, they were combusted by a combination of incendiary bullets and massively overcharged flame, directed towards them by the forcefield. As the fireball blossomed in Gray's hands, he considered how luck he had been that it was at the final enemy that the inevitable explosion had arrived. He also considered how it was such a shame it had to be him holding the flamer, and that due to the plan he couldn't use the forcefield to save himself. Such a shame.
The Mechanicu had failed. Their attack had blunted against the powerful defense of the chaos forces, their bolters and autoguns tearing through the enroaching Skitarii. Skill and determination had stopped the loyalist forces from taking the entire hive in a few hours. Thousands of rounds of ammunition had been expended into bodies, buildings and armoured vehicles. The magma laced scars of artillery strikes still presenting a terrible danger to those walking through the battlefield. Chaos cultists marched, gibbered and scampered through the droves of dead warriors, scavenging equipment and weapons, tipping bodies into the magma pools that were still open to the air. The roast pork stink of burning flesh and the acrid smell of burning bionics and metal, the flowing iron and ceramite forming a slag atop the lava even as it reformed, forming an armoured crust on the top of the world.
Cato watched all of this from atop his hive spire perch, his eyes taking in the devistation. The main hive wall was breached in half a dozen placed, the void shields blown out. It was impossible to hold this hive any longer, the last time he saw a hive like this it'd fallen within a week of the next attack. An Adept ran to his side, holding out a large vox set. "You requested this, my lord?"
Cato nodded and took the receiver, twiddling a nob on the heavy backpack the Serf was carrying. "All commanders, those that met with me upon the moon of this world, I ask that you meet with me in the central plaza before the main hive...effective immediatley"
He paused and looked to the sky, changing the frequency on the vox set once more.
"Rose, returned unto the eye of flame. Titan request's transferral"
"Rose confirming, descent from the stars on firey wings"
The old marine sighed, then turned to look down onto the world. He needed to speak with the rest of the commanders on this planet.
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The Furious Penitent tried to veer away from the cruiser even as it crashed up into the Mars Class Battleship, the armoured prow of the stolen vessel driving like an eagle's beak. Screaming ceramite scraped and sparked as the newly aquired traitor ship drove deeply into the flank of the Penitent, secondary explosions following up the keel of the pride of the imeprial fleet. Aboard, Bronsk was thrown halfway across the command bridge, fire enveloping the room as fuel and power lines threaded throughout the walls decided now was a good time to erupt explosivley. Crimson flame and yellow sparks flowed over the three renegades even as they yelled out warcries and benidictions to their various gods, the bucking bridge filled with both mad laughter and angry screams.
The bodies of the imperial officers who had piloted the vessel moments before careened around as the artificial gravity deactivated. An ensign smashed at huge speed against Pyriels Pauldron, exploding in gore and bone and sending the marine spiralling up to the ceiling where he locked on with his mag boots, digging ceramite encased fingers into the plating to keep himself stable. The rocking, thunderous impact eventually ended, both ships dead in space, three very badly battered marines clambering up inside the main bridge of the grand cruiser they had commandeered. Bronsk heard a voice at his feet, the captain, crushed under his own dislodged command chair. He spoke of how more were coming. Many more. The imeprium was an ocean and would wash away the forces of chaos.
Bronsk took the time to crush his head with his boot, even as his vox crackled with Cato's voice. How he was going to get back down to the world, he didn't know. All he did know was that the chaos forces had some minor respite from imperial space dominance.
Kal'urek started to load what he could into the vehicle that the cultists couldn't get to. He would require them to drive this back to what remained of their operations here on the surface of this damned planet.
As Kal'urek voxed to Grey, trying to get in contact with the cultist, his vox request was met by silence, the ancient warrior expected as much as he knew the fighting was getting rough and he left them unprotected to aid against the Magos.
The dreadnought moved through the rubble, and managed to find the charred corpses of Skitarri warriors, and the remnants of the cultists picking through the area. "Where is Grey" he said through his speaker grille, one of the cultists pointed to a body pulled away from the others. Picked clean of any weapons or equipment, the cultist was laying down, his features barely recognizable from the burns that covered his body. A twinge of regret moved through Kal'urek, but the withered husk that rested within the Contemptor moved quickly on from those feelings. He inquired as to what happened, and the a few of the cultists explained the final moments of Grey's life. "The three of you go, bury your leader, he saved your life, at least give him the honor of a warrior's burial. Gather any equipment that you can salvage, and take it back to the speeder. We have to get back to the main plaza immediately."
Kal'urek looked back at the corpse of Grey, Rest well he thought before moving on to keep the cultists working.
