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Alexandros glanced at Irvin as the latter trudged up next to him. "During the last few campaigns, I led the Delian army to victory time and time again against the Miasma's land forces. But our fleet never matched theirs. Every time I saved another village or city from his rapacious scum, Xenevo would take to the vox and taunt the world from above orbit, beyond my reach." The Primarch released a happy sigh. "To end him before he could give another speech? Very satisfying."

Irvin nodded before he pointed one of his claws at the burnt eldar before them. "What of this...thing, my lord?"

The rakakata released a mangle chuckle as it pushed itself into a seated position, half of it covered in plasma burns, one arm melted off. Yet, it gave no sign it was in pain. Around it, auxilia and marines gathered. Alexandros glanced around and saw that the battle was over, only this corrupted creature was all that remained of the Miasma. The scene brightened as the Emperor and his golden guard marched through the ring, mortals and transhumans clearing a path for him with heads bowed.

It was only when the Emperor approached did the rakakata become unnerved. The Emperor regarded it for a brief moment before addressing his son. "It appears you have a prisoner of war, Alexandros. What do you wish of it?"

Muttering loudly, Irvin said, "It is a xeno, death is the only answer."

The rakakata was amused by this. "I've died a thousand deaths," it cackled as it looked up at the Primarch. "Each more interesting than the last. No death you could give me would cause me to fear."

"You're right," Alexandros admitted as he stepped towards it. "You are a particularly debaunched member of your kind. You live off of pain and death." Then Alexandros grinned as he reached out with one hand. His massive hand cupped the eldar's head, leaving a slit between his fingers so he could stare into its eyes. He lifted it up to his full height, letting the rakakata's legs dangle a few feet off the ground. "But could you answer this question? How can you enjoy your sick perversions if you have no memories to draw upon?"

It gave him a quizzical look.

Darshan's grin widened before he reached within its tainted mind. Panic shook through the monster as Darshan grabbed ahold of its memories. With righteous anger, Darshan proceeded to shred its mind, memory by memory. A mind eons old was emptied in a few minutes.

It screamed the entire time.

Nice to see the Dark Eldar put back in their place. Though I'm curious what exactly a rakakata is, as Google didn't bring up any relevant information. Are they a bit like a Haemonculus? It reminded me of because they (among other powerful dark eldar) would remove a finger, and store it somewhere safe. Then, they could regenerate from that finger, if they happened to be killed. Of course, I could be way off on my guess, but it just reminded me of that.

Rakakata is the Delian word for a Haemonculus, you're correct sir.

Well, you learn something new everyday, I guess. As a side note, I think how you took care of the rakakata is pretty creative, and I liked how you showed that death isn't always one's greatest fear.

[There are fates worse than death.]

When the last memory was gone, Alexandros released his grip. The eldar toppled to the ground like a rag doll, its eyes vacant. Irvin walked up next to his gene-sire. "Shall I finish it, my lord?"

Alex shook his head. "No need. Let it waste away out here."

"Behold, such is the price to be an enemy of the Imperium," the Emperor declared, his voice magnified. "The day is yours, my son. The Miasma lay annihilated, their remains to be burned into oblivion."

A proud smile erupted on Alex's face. "Thank you, my Emperor."

The Emperor stepped forward before reaching out to grasp Alexandros' wrist. He lifted high into the air as he proclaimed, "Hail, Alexandros, the Xeno Bane!

Marines and auxilia alike released a cacophony of cheer as they recognized the Imperium's latest victory.

Chapter 5: The Worst Kind of Mold
Many of his soldiers had been intimidated by the black armor, the spikes, and the skulls that were hallmarks of the corrupted Eldar. Alexandros had been nonplussed by the gaudy attempts at fear. What he did remember was the smell. Although he knew Eldar senses were more sensitive than humans, a subtle stench coated every tool of war. It comprised one part of old blood, one part decayed flesh, mixed in with rotted bodily fluids from an uncountable number of bodies and species. Worse, the stench extended into the Warp around them, so it offended both Alexandros' physical senses and Darshan's psychic senses.

Yet, it did not compare to the hideous odor that assaulted his senses.

Curse this ork-infested space hulk.

Ooh, moving on to orks now. This should be good.

At least Darshan didn't mentally wince every time he touched one of their minds. No, their minds were a stranger beast compared to the Eldar. Like the Eldar, every mind was connected to the Warp with varying degrees of strength. Unlike the Eldar, who were always aware of their connection, most Orks were oblivious to their innate Warp power. It was why they never ran out of ammo, unless they thought they were out of ammo. It was amusing and frightening at the same time.

Of course, they had their own Warpcraft experts, Darshan reminded himself as he exerted his power.

The Ork psyker in front of the wall of shields was a bright, purple star to Darshan's eyes. The undisciplined xeno had allowed himself to be filled by the chaotic energy, until it threatened to rupture its body. In its mind's eye, Darshan had seen its plan to unleash its power in a single shot that would try to explode Alexandros' mind. Seeing as he didn't particularly wanted to experience the novel sensation of head explosions, Darshan had countered.

Against an Eldar, Darshan would usually use his power to interrupt the psyker's connection to the Warp and deny them the power for their spell. Against this weirdboy, as he was known to his kind, Darshan chose a different route. He created a bubble of Warp energy and wrapped it around the weirdboy's head. The beast yelled in fear when it realized he couldn't cast the 'eadbanger. The energy continued to build up in its head as it was denied a chance for release. Until, it was too late.

The nearby Orks grunted in surprise when they were showered by blood and brain matter.

Did any confetti come out, like the grunts in Halo with headshots?

[Nope, just cupcakes.]

Alexandros smiled as he brought up his shield to ward off vengeful gunfire. The wall-to-wall rank of breachers protected only the lower half of Alexandros, thanks to his large size. "Advance!" He ordered.

As 3rd squad lifted the shield wall a few centimeters before marching forward through the large corridor, Alexandros studied the information filtering through his helmet. His right eye monitored his legion's progress as they steadily fought their way deeper into this mangled hunk of rock and machine. The Scourge of Treachery had warped into the Saxonia system a day ago, the Orks ready to raid the nearby systems for loot and a good fight. Instead, they found Alexandros' 35th Expeditionary Fleet waiting for them, weapons ready. The first ten hours of operational combat had been a struggle as the Orks attempted to first breakthrough the Imperium lines with ships of all kinds. Taking direct command of the fleet, Alexandros had blunted their offensive before countering.

Alexandros fired his pistol at one nob who was about to lead a charge. With the Ork ancillary ships burning in the void, Alexandros had organized his legion before he launched the legion's most massive boarding campaign to date. The mission was simple: eliminate all Orks, search for any relics, and destroy the space hulk.

Of the three objectives, it was the Orks providing the most resistance. A mob of Ork boyz rained countless rounds upon the solid wall of Warden breachers, vainly hoping to find a weak spot in the mobile wall. Any round that might have threatened one of his sons was predicted by Darshan's future-sight, and a warning sent to the endangered marine.

The same did not hold true in reverse.

While the boyz attempted to press themselves against the hallway's walls for some cover, Darshan directed the fire of his sons. One boyz near the hallway's exit believed himself to be safe so far behind his kin. Darshan would prove him wrong. The primarch shifted through future moments, until he found an image of the exact moment when the boy would be most vulnerable. Darshan reached into the mind of one of his marines and showed them what would occur in the next 2.47 seconds.

As you will, my lord, the Warden answered, taking careful aim with his bolter. In less than two seconds, the Ork jumped from his place. Half a second later, a bolt pierced through his left eye.

As the corpse fell to the ground, Darshan 'said', Excellent shot, my son.

And so it went, the living wall of Warden shields deflecting danger as the breachers advanced down the hallway, whittling away at the mob with precise shots. They were less than thirty metres from the hallway's exit when the last Ork succumbed to its wounds. Not a moment passed before a new danger arrived. Ten Orks filled the mouth of the hallway in a well-rehearsed drill. Every one of them had rocket pack strapped to their back. The nob commanding them bellowed, "Take aim!"

All of them bowed forward, the rocket packs aimed at Alexandros' line.

Next to Alexandros, scarred Jorg muttered. "Are they serious?"

Alex answered, "Without a doubt."

"FIRE!"

Well, I'll give the orks credit, rockets in a hallway are bound to hit something, if not themselves.

As one, the Stormboyz ignited their rockit packs. With only seconds before impact, Darshan identified two Stormboyz who'd end up crashing into the walls and killing themselves removing any threat they might have posed. To the three breachers in front of him, Darshan sent a single telepathic command. Cease fire.

Alexandros leaped over their heads.

With four seconds to impact and mid-air, he squeezed the trigger on his plasma blaster twice. The two plasma missiles melted two Stormboyz as one of them crashed into a wall. Alexandros landed in front of his sons before bracing himself behind his shield. Bolter fire shot down another Stormboyz.

Then impact.

Blood exploded and bone shattered as several of the brutes crashed into hapless breachers, killing marines and Orks both. Alexandros' arm shook as one then a second Stormboy dashed themselves against his shield, forcing him back a couple of centimetres. To the surprise of many, the Nob slammed into the primarch and remained there. It's rockit pack still firing, it pushed against Alexandros' strength. It peered over the shield's edge and screamed "WAAAAAGH!" into Alexandros' face.

Alex grimaced.

"If I ever fail to exterminate your species, I will introduce the concept of dental hygiene to you lot," he promised before shoving the muzzle of his plasma blaster against the Nob's forehead.

The hallway clear, Alexandros surveyed the breacher squad. Two marines were dead, another suffering from broken bones, and a few more light injuries passed around. The remaining Orks were dead, either by the force of their own impacts or put down by his sons. Jorg approached him. "Apothecary will need a few minutes to stabilize Urald. We could leave him here with a guard detail. What are your orders?"

"Set up a perimeter," Alexandros said without hesitation. "A bulk of the horde is in that chamber ahead of us. If we attack now, a few of them will slip by us and kill Urald, Hus, and their guards. Besides, I want to use the opportunity to contact the other detachments."

With thinly-veiled impatience, Jorg nodded. "As you will, my lord." His eagerness for battle colored his aura in blazing scarlet. Alexandros brushed that aside as he read through the unending flow of information coming through his helmet. The roughly 40,000 Storm Riders had been divided into five detachments, boarding the space hulk from the bow, port, starboard, top and the keel sides, battling their way from the exterior to the interior. Digital readouts reminded Alexandros that his bow detachment had made the most progress and was nearing the center of the hulk where this Waaagh's Warboss resided along with his final reserves.

He switched to his vox's private channels, starting with the Port detachment. "Captain Lothar, report."

"My lord! We've secured 47% of our target area and discovered nine archaeotech relics. Artifacts are being transported to the hangars and should be safe aboard our vessels within the hour. Our advance should rendezvous with your forward units in two hours, fifteen minutes ahead of our initial predictions."

With a smile in his voice, Alexandros answered, "Excellent work, Captain. Carry on."

"By the Emperor!" Lothar replied before the channel was ended.

Moving to the starboard detachment, Alexandros called, "Chapter Master Ruel, progress report." Over the vox, Alex heard a grunt tied to the sound of powered metal slicing through hard flesh with a hurricane of sound in the background

Although Captain Lothar was an exemplary commander, there were other factors for why the port detachment, dubbed Strike Force Tsunami for this battle, had reached as far as it had. Irvin's detachment, Strike Force Inferno, had seized an early lead, a given with Irvin leading the charge. The Orks had responded by throwing some of their most battle-hardened mobs at the Legion Master. According to the data readouts flashing by Alex's eyes, they had slowed but not stopped Irvin's relentless push. It did offer Strike Force Tsunami a valuable opportunity to puncture drained defenses, which Lothar had masterfully accomplished.

"My lord, the greenskins are offering moderate resistance to our advance. Unit casualties have not exceeded 15% and are being managed by the Apothecarion, and rotating forward companies with reserve companies. 7th, 10th," Irvin began, all the while combat providing background noise, one instance involving an Ork screaming as though it were being eviscerated. Which Alex knew Irvin was wont to do.

"Chapter Master," Alex patiently interrupted, "Just the basics. How much ground have you covered, how many relics, and are you on schedule?"

There was a pause as Irvin evaluated his incoming answer. In the background, Alex could hear an Ork roar, "Imma gonna roast you gits reals good, see!" It was immediately followed by the sound of roaring flame. No doubt that Ork was about to learn how futile of a weapon flamethrowers were to Space Marines. "41% of target territory is secured. Four relics have been discovered and secured. Estimated time to rendezvous is two hours and fifteen minutes."

"Thank you, Chapter Master."

Glad to see more progress. And it includes some ork cockiness too, all the better.

Strike Force Earthquake advanced from the 'bottom', or the keel side, of the space hulk and was making the least amount of progress, according to combat data. Alexandros opened a private vox channel to Captain Qapibain. "Captain, progress report, I'd like to know the source of this delay."

"I have no excuses, my lord!" Qapibain declared over the sound of thunder of explosions. Alexandros recognized a wave of missile launchers firing before accompanied by the thuds of detonations. "The Orks have blockaded several passageways, including the main cavern, with several battalions of tanks. We have units trying to clear them, but the tanks are swarming with infantry and several tanks are being protected by forcefields. Many of the smaller hallways are packed with greenskins as well. We are engaging them on all fronts, while Companies 9 & 17 are cutting through alternate routes. They will be able to outflank the Orks, but it'll take another hour, my lord."

Darshan looked down through the floor for a moment before he sent a shard of his consciousness toward the battlezone. The spirit shard flew down through countless floors as the metallic hallways of the former ship gave way to the rock of gathered planetoid debris, now held in place against the old vessel by forces both natural and unnatural. He soon came upon the first of the many skirmishes between the strike force and the Ork horde. Over the centuries, the stone had gradually formed several large corridors and caves with hundreds of smaller capillaries. The Orks had transformed the areas into a series vehicle bays, hence the numerous heavy tanks holding back the Storm Riders.

This would not do.

Darshan cycled through several hundred thousand futures as he prepared to select his first target. Every future agreed that striking down any Ork tanks in the main chamber, where the heaviest fighting was occurring, would only lengthened the battle. In those futures, the Storm Riders did begin to push back the Ork lines, but then were thrown back as Ork reserves and the nearby forces in the other chambers reinforced the main force. This would allow eventual victory as the Storm Riders pushed through in the smaller caverns and side passages, but it ended with the Orks being wiped out in the main chamber. No doubt some of his sons would prefer such a glorious fight, but it would also galvanize the Orks to fight harder, thus the higher casualties.

Alex preferred his sons alive, glorified or not.

With that decision made, he eliminated 200,000 potential futures as he directed his focus on the smaller skirmishes. After a second, Darshan established a general trend. A breakthrough on the flanks did lead to a quicker and less costly victory, but there were limits. If Alexandros intervened on the far flanks, it made little difference as Storm Riders would have to spread out to continue securing all areas of the Space Hulk before either working their way back into the flanks or reaching other Ork elements, causing more combat as legion lines were extended. Too close to the main chamber, and it simply ended the same way before with the Orks bloody last stand. No, it was somewhere in the center of the flanks were the best path lay. When the Storm Riders successfully penetrated in those zones, Orks would leave the main chamber to block the advances, bleeding out the horde in the chamber, while allowing the Storm Riders to disrupt their flanks.

With only a few hundred futures to peer through, Darshan promptly found the key to cause an Ork collapse.

Roughly a kilometre east of the main chamber was a much smaller cave. Long and narrow, it had two entrances, much like a standard hallway but was wide enough to fit three land raiders side by side. That is were it not for the lack of a floor for half the chamber. The center of the chamber had formed into a thin walkway over a chasm due to some recent seismic activity. The pit was ninety-six metres deep, well past the point of lethality without some kind of grav device or jump pack, and Darshan could already see corpses littering the bottom, most of them in Storm Rider grey. Only two spots in the room had cover in the form of stalagmites, one group near the marines' entrance, while a second bunch sat next to the walkway on the Ork side. Behind that cover, the Orks had deployed three tanks, all converted Leman Russes, Darshan noted. From their position of cover, they rained fire on any Storm Rider assault and, with a couple of plasma cannons, rendered even breacher marines a risky prospect. The tanks were supported by several heavy weapon, or loota, squads and more storm boyz itching for a fight.

9th Company was represented by four breacher squads, a recon squad, two missile launcher support squads, and three assault squads. None of them were at full strength, and most of them were holding behind their cover or waiting in the hallway connected to the entrance. Through the west wall, Darshan sensed two more squads who were cutting through the rock, while their brothers held the Orks' attention. They would succeed, but only after a lengthy period of time. Darshan reached out to his sons and quickly located the current commanding officer: Delegatus Skarzeni.

The shard of Darshan hovered next to Skarzeni, who was briefing his sergeants. "Mag!" Skarzeni barked. "Why is that yellow Nob still alive? I've had Xer's and Echeyer's squads give you cover twice now."

Magnold shook his head as he reloaded his sniper rifle. "Just pure chance, Skar. One of my men had a bead on it when it punched one of the smaller ones directly into the line of fire. A half-second before, that greenskin would be breathing through a new hole in its skull."

"Well, it isn't, and it's still directing that loota squad," Skar groused. "You know those beasts are brutes in close combat, I want it dead long before Narcariel's squad breaks through."

Skarzeni.

With a tight discipline borne of hours of fruitful training, every Storm Rider aimed every weapon at the empty space that the shard occupied. "Identify!" Skarzeni shouted out. Although it required extra effort, Darshan could see their unsettled auras. With a moment's concentration, the shard manifested itself a ghostly copy of his physical body.

Stand down, lieutenant.

The Storm Riders bowed. Auras shifted from distrust to a mixture of bewilderment and awe, while Skarzeni's changed to a bright, embarrassed orange. "My apologies, my lord."

You have nothing to apologize for, Skarzeni. Your discipline is commendable. I come bearing a message: take your unit and prepare to assault in three minutes and nineteen seconds.

There was an uncomfortable pause as Skarzeni pictured his men dying in a futile assault as he hoped his gene-sire had a plan. Although he wanted to protest, he instead said, "As you command, my lord."

Be prepared, you will have a signal at the appropriate time.

Darshan's 'ghost' shimmered out of sight before the shard flew back over to the Ork lines. He hovered above the center tank for a moment before the shard split into three. The three spirits took their positions above each Ork tank. Each of them quickly saw the sham, patchwork repairs to get the vehicles operational. One Leman Russ' fuel line was severed in three places. Another's motor ran dangerously hot as flames haphazardly shot out the rear exhaust pipes. In each case, the sole reason that any of the tanks were running was because the Orks believed they were, their collective faith protecting the tanks from the consequences of their own internal damage.

That principle worked in reverse.

Each of the shards stealthily invaded the thoughts of the Ork crews. As the seconds passed by, Darshan introduced new thoughts. Wariness at the lack of a fight. Suspicion at the absence of the Space Marines. Concern at the unnatural rumbling of the vehicles. Little by little, Darshan chipped at their confidence and their faith. A thirty seconds before Skarzeni was to attack, Darshan judged their minds ripe for his last step. It was simple.

He showed each Ork an image of their tank exploding.

It lasted a second. It was all the time he needed. The ruptured fuel line caught fire which quickly spread throughout the new steel coffin. An engine exploded before secondary explosions obliterated the center tank. The last tank's turret ruptured when the loaded shell jammed on a piece of metal in the barrel. Burning Orks hopped out of the burning Russ as they screamed in agony.

Darshan grinned.

With the anchors of the Ork lines annihilated, panic spread through the ranks. Nobz roared out questions as their underlings swiveled in every direction, searching for what destroyed their heavy support. The three shards merged back into one before it floated over to the nearest loota squad. It had been too close to one of the tanks and had lost a few Orks to shrapnel. Out of the all remaining Orks, this mob burned the brightest hue of panicky orange. To them, Darshan whispered a single word into their fearful minds. Ghost.

"THIS PLACE IZ HAUNTED!" One of the Orks bellowed before lumbering away in fear.

The nearby Nob shouted, "Gitz backs here! There's no such t'ing as ghosts!"

"We can't fightz no ghosts with just dakka," another Ork whispered fearfully.

"OI!" The Nob roared as he whirled onto the offending Ork. "Wha' did I just say? Dere's. No. Such. T'ing. As. GHOSTS!"

Darshan couldn't resist indulging himself. His spirit took a spot behind the Nob. Slowly, he appeared as a shining orb of energy, hovering above the ground. As he manifested, one by one, the Lootas noticed him and cowered, their ammo rattling as they shuddered with terror.

Ignorant of the glowing light behind him, the Nob swung his eyes over them. "What'cha all lookin' at?"

The nearest Ork pointed a shaking finger.

The Nob turned around.

He froze.

Mentally guffawing, Darshan enjoyed a dramatic pause before he said...

"Boo."

The Nob stampeded over his own boyz as he screamed, the lootas right behind him as they fled the cave.

Darshan laughed as the roar of jump packs declared Skarzeni's assault. He discarded the illusion as he watched his sons successfully charge over the narrow walk way. Deprived of their tanks, only two loota squads poured fire against the incoming space marines. Their rounds ricocheted off breacher shields as Skarzeni's detachment secured a beachhead on the Ork's side of the cave. Storm boyz leapt into action, determined to throw the legionnaires back.

But it was not to be.

The lead Storm boy's head exploded as a sniper round tore through it before a wave of frag missiles tore through the first mob's ranks. Orks often relied on their thick hide over superior armour to protect them from death. The frag missiles made a mockery of their inferior wargear. One loota squad was overwhelmed as all three assault squads charged into it. The skirmish was over. The Storm Riders would prevail.

Having accomplished his task, Darshan returned to his physical form and contacted the next Strike Force.

The rest of the legion was on task as they scoured the space hulk. Between Qapibain's three and a half hours and Lothar's hour and forty, the other strike forces fell between. Alexandros estimated the Scourge of Treachery would be cleansed before the sixth hour of this engagement. Now, for my next move. "Jorg, is the rest of my strike force on line?" He asked with a knowing smile.

"I'm afraid not, my lord," Jorg began. "We're still waitin-." He paused as he listened to a vox channel. He looked back at Alexandros, who could see the wry resignation written through his body language. "We are ready, my lord."

"Good," Alexandros said as he turned toward the hallway's exit. "It is time we cut off the head of this horde."

Safe from ambush, Alexandros led his ten sons out of the hallway into the heart of the vessel. Before them lay a great open space, easily two kilometres in diameter that was criss-crossed by walkways, platforms, chains, and the like, some safe and some hazardous to travel across. Hundreds of decks and walls had been dismantled and cleared away to feed the ego of one Ork who wanted to the center of it all, an artificial dome that would allow every member of the horde to stand while their boss shouted to them through the ship's speakers.

Utilizing his helmet's advanced optics, Alex quickly spotted the brute's hulking hide: Warboss Burklak Natsha. Burklak stood on the largest and most stable platform as he directed his horde to fight off the Storm Riders. Between Alex and Burklak was four thousand Orks infesting the way, all hollering for Waaagh! The Primarch quickly identified several hundred defensive emplacements among the web of steel and sent a single order to his strike force. "Advance."

A thousand explosions resonated through the artificial cavern as meltabomb, demo charge, and rocket ripped open barriers all along the wall. From these new entrances, hundreds of marines in grey poured through onto the giant spiderweb of catwalks. At the center of the web, Burklak raised a monstrous power klaw of twisted metal and bellowed, "WAAAAAAAAGGGHHH!" The war cry echoed through the chamber as it was amplified by the horde raising their voices in support.

Raising his shield, Alexandros striked with his sword. As the rare metals crafted within his tools, a piercing tone cut through the bestial howls. "My sons," Alexandros said over the vox, "I have rung the bell of death. Not one Ork is to survive." As a mob of Ork boyz rushed towards his position, Alex lifted his sword high, gathering his psychic power. "For the Imperium!" He roared, the psychic shriek slamming breaking the bodies of the charging greenskins. The Storm Riders picked up the call and shouted it as one.

The two war cries crashed into each other as they reverberated off the chamber walls. As the cacophony dwindled, it was renewed and then strengthened as bolter and shoota opened fire on one another. The Storm Riders' helmets quickly reduced the volume to safer levels for their transhuman wearers, while the Orks simply ignored the deafening tumult as grey and green charged at their opponents.

"Jorg," Alexandros said as he pointed Xiphos at the platform directly ahead of them. "If we can neutralize that emplacement within the next four minutes and seventeen seconds, we will save the lives of thirty-two Storm Riders and open a hole in the Orks' outer defences. Can you keep up with me?"

The Champion of Kurn replied by lifting his power maul and charging down the walkway, roaring his intent.

Sergeant Schmidt, shields high and advance carefully was the telepathic message Darshan left behind before he began his own charge, his giant strides quickly closing the gap between himself and Jorg.

Between them and their target was three hundred meters filled with greenskins, who had not failed to notice the charging purple giant coming right at them. Although the dozens of Ork boyz had slim chances against the Primarch, their superiors, the Nobz, urged them on as they opened fire with their weapons. A torrent of slug rounds poured onto gene-enhanced warriors. Alexandros simply raised his shields to ward off any threat to his person, all the while sending telepathic warnings to Jorg. Right.

Jorg hopped to his right, the slug round that would've pierced his between his armour plates now bounding harmlessly off his left shoulder pad.

Roll.

Throwing himself forward, Jorg rolled forward, his visor safe from a lucky shot, coming back onto his feet in one smooth motion. Then he was upon the Orks. The closest one swung wildly at the Storm Rider. Jorg ducked beneath the swing, allowing his momentum to carry himself forward as he swung back. The power maul smashed into the Ork's chest, the sound of a rib cage cracking apart filled the air as the force of the blow threw the Ork into its companions behind him.

A second later, Alexandros barreled into the Ork lines, sending several of them screaming over the edge of the walkway.

"Smash the gitz!" A Nob roared as he pointed a power klaw at the pair.

Alexandros lunged forward, gutting another Ork before lifting the xeno into the air as it squealed, impaled on Xiphos' blade. "Come forth, then! The day is young and this hulk has enough room to be a tomb for your entire race! For I am the Bane of Xenos!" Eyes fierce with inner fire, Alexandros flung the dying Ork with enough force to send its bleeding body onto the closest walkway, bowling over greenskins into the abyss.

The nearest Orks cowered.

They made easy prey for Jorg's maul as he smashed his way through the mob. Blood and brain matter spilled into the air as Jorg slew four Orks in rapid succession, breaking bodies and skulls. The Nob was the first to recover due in part to being safely a few ranks away from the Emperor's son. He opened his maw, prepared to bellow orders.

Shnk.

The big Ork gargled as blood filled his throat around the adamantium blade. Alexandros pulled his outstretched hand into a fist before he joined Jorg in bashing the beasts, his gene-forged strength more than able to crush their tough hides. The Nob clawed at the thrown weapon, its bestial mind giving away to fear and agony as it staggered.

Jorg scored his sixth kill when the mob broke.

"Run fer it!" One Ork howled as they fled before the two Imperials. Alexandros hurried, eager to reclaim his sword from the dying greenskin. Then one Ork pushed the Nob out of its way, sending the Nob off the walkway right as Alexandros was a mere three steps away.

"My lord, your sword!" Jorg cried out in alarm.

Darshan moved to the spot and reached out with his power towards the falling corpse. In a second, an invisible hand grasped at Xiphos' hilt and pulled it free from the dead Nob. With a gesture, Darshan held out his hand as Xiphos soared back up to the walkway, until the Primarch snatched it from the middle of the air. "Well, that would have been frustrating." He turned back to Jorg. "Onward!"