The Imperial world of Angelus IV was burning. The last bastion on the planet was the small convent of the Order of the Hallowed Soul, a young convent of the sisters of battle. There had been no warning before the raiding fleet of the Iron Warriors had attacked, and the early fights had been grim. They had initially been able to repulse the landing craft onto the world, but their enemies were paramount warriors, and the casualties soon rose. Now, the last battle for the planet would take place before the very gates of the convent, the Sisters finally pushed back to a final stand.
Sister Castus could only watch her sister superior fall. The explosion had ripped apart the cupola above the gates, sending what defenders that had resided there to their deaths. The leader seemed to fall in slow motion, an expression of agony blemishing her face in death. She landed before the gates, her body quickly lost in the falling rubble. Looking around, Castus could only utter a prayer to the Emperor before making a decision. Through her helmet, she could only watch as the life signs of the warriors around her were slowly extinguished. She called the retreat to the inner sanctuary. What sisters remained on the walls turned to look at her, before facing the oncoming horde of slaves being pressed ahead of the Iron Warrior lines. They fired one last burst of defiant gunfire before fleeing the walls. What seraphim amongst them simply jumped off, a quick burst from their jump packs getting them to the ground safely.
As they darted across the courtyard of the convent to the open doors of the inner sanctuary, the gates started to shake from detonations. The ceramite began to crack and break in places, before a final thunderous explosion knocked the gates from their sacred housing. A few injured sisters, too slow to make good the retreat, were crushed under their immense weight. Behind them, the howling slaves pushed into the convent. Raising a lone remaining pistol, Castus took aim and fired into the crowd of heretics. Others did the same as they covered the few remaining sisters until they reached the safety of the inner sanctuary. Castus took one look at the remains of her fallen sisters littering the courtyard and the sea of unwashed bodies climbing over them, and ordered the doors sealed. With a ponderous clang, the great gold and adamantium wrought doors, etched in loving detail with images of the Emperor, were slammed shut.
Turning, Castus surveyed the center of her faith. The inner sanctuary was an immense structure, the ceiling vaulted high above them to accommodate the graceful murals on the walls dedicated to the saints of the Imperium. A long center aisle pushed down the middle of the building, each side decorated with pews to hold the faithful. The focal point for her worship lay obscured at the back, the raised platform and alter surrounded by the crowd of civilians they had managed to save. Some few sisters, those injured in the earliest battles, stood amongst them as they knelt; leading them in prayer for salvation. Then she looked at her fellow sisters arrayed for battle before her, and shed a single tear. While destined to protect against the foulness of heresy, they had not been placed here expecting to fight hardened traitors, and it surely showed. All that remained were several dozen young novices and some few full battle sisters like her.
Grimly, she set them to positions around the door, awaiting the eventual push into the sanctuary proper. A few of the youngest ones, barely trained to fire the holy bolters in their hands, she sent to the cupola on the roof to keep watch on their enemies. As they waited, the battle sisters went through the lines, quickly instructing the novices how to check their equipment for damage and several maintenance litanies. A small group of novices under the grim tutelage of a retributor broke open the armory and armed themselves with heavy bolters. Castus watched the retributor guide them through the sanctuary, guiding them to the best spots to defend the doorway from. Untrained to carry such an immense weapon, the novices breathed in relief as the retributor, sister Galia she finally remembered, helped them set up the weapons on the great stands to hold their weight. Galia then went to stance in the center of the aisle, defiantly waiting for the first heretic to try and enter the sanctuary.
Galia looked over at Castus and shook her head. “Sorry sister. I checked while I was down there, and no replacement jump packs remain, let alone pistols.”
Castus simply nodded, feeling the useless weight of the pack on her back and the lack thereof on her belt from a lost pistol. “They may have clipped my wings, but as the Emperor grants me strength, the cornered dove still has a talon.”
It was then that the sanctuary fell silent as the first explosion rocked the door. Then another, and another. Galia hefted the weight of the heavy bolter in her hands and spoke. “There is no way to save the faithful. The armory can only fit a few score.”
“The armory wouldn’t keep them out long anyway. We will die knowing we have given the ultimate measure to protect His children.” Castus said.
The bombardment suddenly stopped, but the sound of gunfire seemed to only get louder. The ground shook constantly beneath them even as a great screaming came from the wind. Could they have wasted all their siege weapons and now resort to common weapons to try and break in? Does the very planet now fight these foul heretics and traitors? Castus felt a flicker of hope. They might survive even yet. Then came the sound of rushing feet and cries of alarm. One of the young novices from the cupola had returned. Reinforcements had come from the sky, Astartes in shining armor had drop podded into the hordes outside and even now fought to break the siege. Castus barely had to look at Galia to know how she felt about the situation. She ordered the gates open. The scene outside was chaotic to say the least. Marines fought a tough battle against overwhelming odds, their great forms clad in silver and blue were surrounded by the unwashed slaves of the Iron Warriors.
Chainswords roared with life with the staccato sounds of bolt pistols and bolters. Just before them, another drop pod landed with a loud crash on one side. With a series of heavy kicks, one flap was forced open as several heavily injured astartes clamored out with litanies on their breath and weapons in their hands. One stood on the edge of the pod supporting a heavy bolter; He looked and nodded slightly to the surprised sisters with an audible grunt even as he turned back and opened up on the crowd. Castus ordered the charge, and the Sisters quickly entered the fray. Galia quickly ordered those sisters she had armed with heavy bolters forward, and together they slowly pushed forward, cleaning out those heretics before them. The single marine with the heavy bolter quickly descended from his perch and marched beside her.
The rest of the battle in the courtyard was mayhem. She had never seen an astartes before, and could not identify their chapter. She could however, easily see the ease that they earned their brutal reputation. Some were full armored, while others wore a lighter version of armor. All however, screamed litanies of faith as they slew those around them and were subsequently pulled down by the very heretics they swore to kill. As the sisters cut through the throng, one voice seemed to rise above the crowd, a mantra that spurred the marines onward.
“Through absolution-” It spoke.
“We maintain our purity.” The marines roared, rallying even as they pushed harder and the horde finally seemed to thin, their dreadful casualties finally catching up to them.
“Through our purity-” It called again.
“We strengthen our resolve.” The marines spoke in unison, even as the last of the slaves fell beneath their blades.
The marines quickly regrouped and pushed to the gate, giving way for a chaplain holding a bloody crozius arcanum aloft. The sisters followed closely behind and were shocked at the scene before them. Two almost identical armies fought each other as these new marines fought the Iron Warriors with such ferocity that it almost seemed to border on the heretical. Now that Castus could see them properly, while the Iron Warriors gleamed in their burnished metal with yellow and black markers, the marines before her had a light blue trim upon their armor. No identifying chapter mark was upon them however. Galia came up behind her, having noticed this distinction as well, and shouted it to the novices.
“Through our resolve-” The chaplain spoke.
“We gain absolution!” The marines roared as they charged to a man down the hill.
The sisters screamed of death to the traitors, and followed behind. What happened next in the battle, Castus could not truly remember. Novices and Battle Sisters charged alongside Neophytes and Initiates in what could only be described as a grand melee. She watched one Neophyte jump onto an Iron Warrior, his combat knife seeking the join between his helmet and body even as the marine was poised to strike down a novice on the ground. Elsewhere, another novice overcome with religious zeal pulled a krak grenade from her belt and charged headlong into a throng of the traitors, reducing them all to gore. Castus couldn’t remember when, but at one point, her pistol had finally run out in the middle of a duel with one of the traitors. The Iron Warrior raised a great chain axe to cleave her in twain when suddenly he was propelled back by the sudden rush of a marine with a combat knife and pistol. The marine tossed her his pistol even as his other hand searched for the weak points of the armor with his knife. His attention was drawn back to the Iron Warrior who had let go of his axe to draw his own knife and stab it into a weak point of the armor. The pair continued their grisly work even as they slipped into death as equals.
She couldn’t swear how long the battle lasted, but finally, the last Iron Warrior went down, a group of marines pelting the struggling warrior with bolter fire until at last he lay still. All energy had left but, but she willed herself to look across the battlefield. Everywhere, the sight of burnished metal armor greeted her, and in many areas, not a few glimpses of the white armor of her sisters. Of the estimated four hundred of the enemy and thousands of their slaves, none remained. Of what she guessed were roughly six hundred marines that had come to their aid, barely fifty remained. Across the field, she saw the battered form of Sister Galia being carried by who she guessed was the very same marine that had stood by her in the early defense of the convent. He laid her on a low rock, gently cradling her head even as he seemed to look up at the sky. Above them, the sound of engines whining as they descended from orbit grew louder. Castus had to merely look up to see the large fleet of ramshackle craft descend and land on the outskirts of the battlefield. More marines disgorged from them, rushing towards the battlefield carrying litters and other equipment.
Castus felt more than saw the shadow approaching behind her. “Who are you? I am grateful, but I will know the Emperor’s angels.”
“We are His servants. We are the instruments of His will.” The chaplain spoke. A small whine emanated from the marine who held Galia, and the chaplain turned to the marine and a mechanical chirp erupted from his helmet. “You have lost much this day. You have more yet to lose. What equipment you have will be salvaged, your relics moved. Any civilians you have will be taken with us, as well as your own forces. Angelus IV is a dead world. Now, go to your comrade, she would speak with you.” He said, pointing towards Galia.
Castus nodded and rushed towards her wounded friend. The marine gently let her head down before standing back to give them some room. Another peculiar whine came from his helmet and he started to wave over some of the approaching marines carrying a litter.
“We are safe now. The Emperor still has plans for us, I guess.” Galia struggled to say between sharp intakes of air.
Castus nodded. “We are being moved, though I am weary of these marines. They are taking everything.”
Galia gave her a sharp look. “What of the faithful? Will they take them as well?”
Castus nodded. “They are.” Looking out across the battlefield to see the small white armored figures still standing, she made some notes. “We are badly beaten sister, but we are the seeds of the Emperor. Where he plants us, we shall grow and prosper.”
A group of four marines finally made it over to them. They quickly brushed Castus aside and began to examine Galia. Castus couldn’t even get an objection out before they went to work. Several quick injections later, she was transferred to the litter and the four raised her carefully between them and ran off towards one of the nearby craft. Castus could only look back at the groups picking over the dead and wounded and the yet more streaming towards the convent before squaring her shoulders and heading after them. There were many relics that would need to be carefully preserved.
Hive Fleet Grootslang 
