This is one part of the Saga of Skallagrim, my Wolf Lord in a Contemptor Dreadnaught. Have fun reading. Expect more parts when I get to them.
Chptr 1 Sec 1: On the ground
Commander Raaken chomped on his cigar. The noise of lasfire and death outside his command bunker had been getting closer and closer. His guardsmen were falling in waves to the rebels. Their knowledge of the city has been paramount to their success. The bastards could jump from rooftop to rooftop, unseen and undetected, picking off targets as they went. Mines placed in manholes, suicide bombers, and even sabotaged vehicles were being found more and more. They needed a miracle to survive this campaign.
“Raaken, a message.” Garza was hurried, worried almost. It was odd for her to be so rushed. She was a very lax Vox operative, even in the midst of combat.
“Play it.” Raaked barked. Any news is good news these days. He needed to get his men off this rock, or face his own death.
The voice was grave, harsh and without pity. “This is Oberon, lord of the Flagship Magnus' Vengance. The Thousand Sons have come to claim this land in the name of Tzeench. Prepare to die, mortal fools.”
Raaken's cigar dropped from his mouth as his jaws hung wide open. The entire room seemed to stop as the message played. Death was now a guarantee for those who were still on the planet.
“Tell the troops to fall back. Get to the complex, and make damn well sure it's secured. The rebels will be crushed by the Sons, and then we will be. We need to protect ourselves. This planet is already lost.” Raaken grabbed a signal flare and his bolter. Garza grabbed his coat, and Raaken swung around, fire in his eyes. “What now, Garza?! Anymore bad news!?”
Garza was taken aback by the hostility of her XO. She stumbled with her words a bit as she spoke. “Well, uh, you see Raaken- Err- Commander, that's not the whole message.”
Garza pressed the play button on her Pic screen, and the voice continued. “We have come for the planet's artifacts of the Great Changer. If you leave, we will hunt your ships out of the sky. If you stay, we will crush you beneath our mighty-” A new voice was heard. This one was more snakelike, hissing as it spoke.
“Sssssir. We have a new ssship incoming.” “Ah good,” Oberon said, a new strength in his voice. He was growing more confident. “Put it on the recording. We shall show these mortal fools how damned they are. Hail, fellow Son! We welcome your aid to claim this planet for Tzeench!”
The voice that came across the radio was like nothing that Raaken had heard. It was booming, loud, and most importantly, wrathful.
“This is the The Allfather's Mercy. Open Fire.” A large hissing noise was heard and then silence. The message was finished.
“This is where the recording stopped. We have no idea when this was sent or received, as our comms relay was taken out a few hours ago.” Garza stopped for a bit as Raaken swore under his breath. “However, from our remaining Thunderbolts, we have reports of what appears to be a massive battle over our heads.”
“So, Garza, when did you learn about this?” Raaken had picked his cigar from the ground and put it back into his jaws.
“... An hour ago.” Garza looked at the ground as she spoke. “I wanted to check out all the information before I gave the recording to you.”
Raaken sighed as he turned to the last remaining Engineer crew. “Can you repair the comms tower?”
The crew gave the sign of the aquilla and left. Raaken followed them out, flare in hand. He was almost out of the bunker complex when a frag grenade blew off the door. Damn rebels were closer than he though.
“By the throne...” He picked himself up, sweeping the plasteel dust off of his coat. Looking outside, the Rebels were no more than a few hundred meters away. Firing the flare, he barked orders from the ruined doorway. “All units, fall back! We hold this bunker to the last! Inform all crews! Protect the bunker! The city is lost!” The guardsmen around him looked at his face, their own profiles covered in blood and ash.
“We're not leaving without a damned good reason.” A voice over the Vox replied.
“Does a Chaos Space Marine invasion count as a good reason?” Garza replied quickly, her voice angry and her face flustered.
“... This is Armored Platoon 6, returning to base. Prepare the medics, we have wounded. We'll pick up as many as we can on out way back.”
“This is Armored Platoon 8, same goes for us. We're not combat effective, but we'll try, Commander.”
“This is Lightning formation Delta. Drop a IR flare and we'll cover your sorry asses.”
“This is Brother Ulnor and Vilkas Team.” A unknown voice came over the vox. Garza asked who it was. The voice merely replied, “We are the armored fist of Russ. Prepare for support.”
Objects began to drop from the sky. Fiery and fast, they came on a crash course with the area surrounding the bunker. The objects slammed into the earth at speeds that a Hydra could not track. The hatches opened, and the Emperor's Finest stepped out. Each one, an armored behemoth, carrying blade and bolter to battle. The bark of their weapons was a deafening cacophony, a terrible and a powerful sight to behold.
Raaken was smiling when a Drop Pod slammed not even 100 meters from him. It was different. Larger in size, and a jet black color, the Marines seemed to have made a perimeter around it, containing the guardsmen and the object in the black pod. The three hatches opened, and out stepped a machine of neither metal nor flesh. It was humanoid in appearance, but instead of a left arm, it had a massive Plasma weapon. It spoke loudly, and with force. It was the voice he heard on the recording. It was the voice of salvation.
“I am Wolf Lord Skallagrim Ironfang, leader of the Burn Wolves.” He discharged the weapon at a stolen Chimera as he spoke. It went right through the tank, the massive bolt of plasma searing the hull in twain.
“We heard you needed some help.” Skallagrim laughed as he walked towards the enemy lines. “Only death awaits, traitors!” He stomped over the piles of the dead rebels, destroying all in his wake. Behind him, his wolves crushed all he missed. Raaken was awestruck. Garza grabbed her rifle and slung her vox across her back.
“Come on, Commander. There's entire platoons that are lost. They need us.” Raaken nodded, checking the remaining rounds in his Bolter's magazine.
“While the wolves dance the dance of death, we will find life.” Firing off a round into a straggler, he lit a new cigar on the burning hot rim of his bolter. He chomped on it as he and Garza walked into the city of smoke and fire.
Chptr 1 Sec 2: In the air
“We are are a few minutes from target destination.” The servitor barked from it's hardwired command post. The vessel was preparing to exit warp space. Grabbing the ship's internal Vox, he relayed the message to the rest of the ship. “Prepare to jump to realspace in T- 4 minutes.” The doors to the bridge opened, revealing a Space Marine clad in his armor, sans weapons.
“Lukos, what's the position of the Lord of Fenris?” Brother Ulnor rested his hand on the back of the captain's chair.
“Fenris left for Realspace 3 weeks ago. 5th Company received a distress call from a Forge World closer than Farthest. They apologized and left to go aid the Dark Angels. You know how much Algor can't resist a challenge.” Lukos chuckled. Ulnor kept a calm face.
“So we only have this vessel and a few patrollers?” He walked to the bridge, looking at the ocean of stars and emotion the astropaths were navigating.
“That is correct, M'lord. We don't expect there to be much around the planet besides for wrecked Navy ships. The PDF guns were taken by the rebels and shot down the 7th Intrepid's fleet.” Lukos pointed to a star map layed out on a table. “Farthest is one of the closest planets to the edge of the galaxy. It also has access to the Inter-galaxy probing devices on it's moon. We can't risk loosing that information to possible rebels. They may use it against us.”
“I see. Make sure the guns are ready to bring down those PDF guns.” Ulnor walked out of the room.
“Skallagrim, are you prepared?” The Iron Priest had finished attaching his Plasma cannon to his arm, and was now bringing the charge into the weapon. The superhot plasma core nearly melted a hole in the hull of the ship when the leg of a servitor gave out and he fell. Now, the Iron Priest took no chances. 8 servitors carried the metal core to the arm of the Contemptor. The Dreadnaught grabbed the core and rammed it into his main gun. He laughed as his weapon began to power up.
“Iron Priest, do you know how I got into this body?” Skallagrim asked, revving his arm up and down to test mobility.
“Of course I do, Skallagrim. Every Burn Wolf knows of how you were put into that body.” Placing holy oil into the machine that kept the Wolf Lord alive, the Priest talked only when a break in his prayers came upon him. “The 11th crusade. The bastard of of the Sorcerer. Why do you ask?”
“Because the Rune Priest has informed my that a similar psychic signal had been picked up in orbit around the planet.” He stood still as the priest did his duties. It was up to him to repair the machine that let the Wolf fight on.
“That means that he is there?” The priest asked, writing the sign of the Machine God on the knee of the Venerable ancient.
“It means that I will finally avenge my brothers. All of them.” The machine stepped onto the platform. It lifted him into the air, the drive of the machine barley able to lift the weight of the Wolf Lord. “Arduro Terraum, Priest.”
“Arduro Terraum, Ironfang.” He gave the sign of the aquilla before returning to the pods.
“Lord Skallagrim, we are exiting to realspace in less than 30 seconds.” Lukos was strapped into his chair, along with the rest of the crew on the flight bridge.
“Good. When we come out, switch the Ship to Ship vox to me. And prepare the volcano cannon.” Lukos wondered why, but he did not question the wisdom of a warrior of such age and rank.
“T-5” Lukos strapped the harness tighter.
“T-4”
“T-3” Skallagrim chuckled to himself. The element of suprise was on his side. Oberon would pay for the 11th. He would pay dearly.
“T-2”
“T-1”
“T-0” The entire ship shook and jammed as it left the warp to go to Realspace. The jump left Lukos out of breath, but he switched the command of the Vox to the Contemptor Lord. That's when the the hailing began.
“Answer it, Lukos. And be ready on the cannon.” Skallagrim barked. His voice filled the room as he walked to the bridge. The red and blue ship was only a few miles away. Not enough for the sorcerer’s inside to notice who they are in time for them to react. Their shields were down. It was obvious they expected this to go easy. They were wrong.
“We welcome your aid to claim this planet for Tzeench!” The voice over the radio was harsh, metallic, and drone. It was a voice tainted by chaos, a voice of a Thousand Son.
Without hesitation, Skallagrim shouted into the Ship to Ship vox. “This is The Allfather's Mercy. Open fire.” He walked to the front of the ship, and looked out the window. He was laughing as the mighty Volcano Cannon on the ship tore into the Flagship of the Thousand Sons fleet. The hole was massive, the damage it caused crippling. That ship would never sail in the ocean of the stars again. It's shields attempted to flicker on, but another shot from the Volcano cannon battery crushed that dream. The vehicle was nearly severed in half. It's drives were overloading and blasting apart. Any of the Son's ships caught in the blast of the cores were silenced. The volley had worked. The fleet of the enemy had been crippled, less than half of the ships that once threatened a planet still had power, let alone an atmosphere. Laser batteries crippled the gunships that were sent out. The guns of The Allfather's Mercy would silence the rest of the fleet in a matter of hours. No lives were lost on the side of the wolves. The same could not be said for the Thousand Sons.
“Hail the ship Magnus' Vegance. I want to talk to them.” Skallagrim told Lukos, after ages of silence.
Lukos snapped the ships hailing frequency as he talked. “Hailing the ship. I don't think they will answer, M'lo-”
“Skallagrim. You bastard of the False God.” The voice of Oberon came over the vox, his voice full of rage and anger.
“Hello to you, too. How was your evening?” Skallagrim asked, the sarcasm in his voice so strong it could have ripped the flesh off of a Fenrisian Wolf at 50 paces.
“I will hunt you down and kill you. In fact, I may kill you now. Your body of iron is in full view. My magic will crush your body while your tin can stays still, unable to help you. Does that sound fun?” Oberon stated, without any hint of fear in his voice.
Skallagrim switched from Ship to Ship back to external. “On my mark, fire the Volcano Battery at the prow of the ship. Take down the command center.” Lukos nodded, getting on the ship's internal vox to inform the weapons crew.
“I bet you I can fire faster.” Skallagrim pointed his Plasma Cannon at the enemy flagship. “Ready to draw?”
“Oh, you foolish Wolf. I wish you could see my face. You? Fire that weapon faster than me? I call upon the mighty energy of the warp! I can kill you from all the way across the- What did you just do?” Skallagrim's hand dropped from above his head to his side.
“I shot faster, Oberon.” Skallagrim walked away from the bridge as the mighty battery ruined the ship's cabin. Magnus' Vengance was once and for all dead. All lights in the ship went out.
“Try again, silly pup. See you in Hell.” A small speck dropped from the middle of the ship.
“Skallagrim, a Dreadclaw has just left the ship.” Lukos had the object magnified, it's hull glowing red as it entered Farthest's atmosphere.
“I was planning on it.” Skallagrim stepped on the lift. It began to lower. He switched to the helmet to helmet mics. “Prepare for War, Marines. We drop in an hour.”
are da best!!! 
