Brynjar and Zalman stood in one of the hangars of the Deathwatch destroyer Spear of Hate, both clad in their full armour of black and silver, but with their helmets hanging off their belts. Brynjar had his ever-present servo harness, its multiple arms neatly folded behind him, and Zalman wore his Librarian’s tabard, with his armoured tome hanging at his hip.
The hangar crew bustled around them, preparing for the arrival of a transport from another ship. The incoming transport could be dimly seen through the translucent energy field across the hangar’s open doors, back-lit by the glow of its engines as it crossed the emptiness between the two ships.
“Got your dataslate, pup?” the old Space Wolf techmarine asked Zalman, his voice gruffly teasing.
+Of course I do, old wolf,+ Zalman replied with exaggerated dignity as he patted one of his belt pouches. +Though I hope I will not need it.+
“Hrnn, we’ll see.” Brynjar absently stroked his braided, silver-grey beard, then gave Zalman a sly sideways look. “Though at least our newcomer shouldn’t give you as much trouble as Alexandrius does.”
+That is not saying much,+ the librarian deadpanned, and Brynjar snickered. Neither of them said any more, though, as the transport finally reached their ship. The transport, silent out in the emptiness of space, was suddenly filling the hangar with the whine of its engines as it eased through the containment field. The landing struts extended and the transport slowly came to rest on the hangar floor, settling into place as the engines changed pitch and gradually began to wind down.
The transport’s main ramp came down and the two Deathwatch marines moved towards it, coming to a halt near its base to wait for their newest squad member, as both the transport’s and the hangar’s crew bustled around them.
Their laughter echoed across the empty rooms, seeming to come from behind every pillar or lacquered screen. It had been quite some time since Arvid Mauser seen any of his squad and he was beginning to think he wouldn’t. At least, not whole and breathing.
He brought up his sword, swiping at the Banshee that had been creeping up behind him. She tried to parry the blow and failed, much to Maus’ relief. As she skidded across the floor, he swiped again, knocking her over and leaving a messy wound to her forehead. He lacked the same level of comfort with the Crozius Arcanum he kept resting against his side. With training that would change. Assuming he lived to get any.
He froze the ground around the eldar and sighed quietly, resisting the urge to growl or make any sort of noise. Then he made the mistake of debating the direction to head off in.
As he glanced around, Maus realized he was far from alone and significantly outnumbered. Motley and bright-colored, the Harlequins moved closer. It was proving to be an unlucky day, but that was all right provided it wasn’t his last one.
Hathor considered Ranulfr uncertainly, frowning only briefly at the fangs. He managed to force a smile. He himself was wearing robes of black lined in silver and gold with a bright colored feather embroidered on the back. His long blonde hair was braided, his eyes were lined with kohl, and he’d gone with blue feathered earrings, doing his best to represent Cult Pavoni.
Reluctantly and after a gentle, subtle nudge from Magnus, the Thousand Son held up a hand in greeting. “Hathor Maat.”
Ranulfr raced through yet another ravaged hab block, his lightning claws already bloodied from the intense fighting that broke out onto the street. His lips were curled into a frown as he and his men had been thrown into the fire immediately. In truth he had been looking forward to meeting the enemy head on, and the quicker they got here the better. His thoughts turned from within to without as he burst through yet another doorway to be confronted with a group of his traitorous brothers. Clad in black and bronze, they leveled their weapons and unleashed a hurricane of bolt and autocannon fire.
Rolling to the side, he dove behind a burning Predator Annihilator. It's burning carcass providing a modest amount of cover while his brothers were to catch his increased pace. His thoughts shifted back towards the streets once more, remembering how the Imperial Guardsmen were struggling with holding these foes back. Their efforts were commendable, but they were just men. He felt the anticipation of yet another kill rising in his chest, the very thought to throw himself into glory once more. His nerves were lit and his mind raced.
He knew that this was yet another chance to add onto his own battle song. His growing list of deeds. Knowing that he was destined for greater things he would seek to chase his ambition further and further than before. As the hail of weaponfire stopped, he bolted from cover by diving into the burning wreckage and cutting through the metal. As he ran through the middle, he could feel his armor weather through the responding boltfire. The two chaos astartes armed with autocannons turned their attention away from the doorway, and opened fire. Their belching weapons cutting through their own squad as they sought to end Ranulfr's life.
Unfortunately for them, the wolf had already descended upon them. Driving his lightning claws into the first Astartes, he pierced through the chest plating with his right claw while the second cut into the helm of another. He ignored let loose a snarling howl of defiance as he pressed forward. Casting his first two victims aside, he cut into one of the autocanons as he felt the pressure impacts of the other. Ducking low, he lashed at the chaos astartes' leg, cutting it from his body while he shifted his attention to the other as he fell. The ensuing combat was chaotic and blood, already coating his beautifully crafted armor in thick sprays of blood.
Soon, his brothers came in the form of Throrin, the Wolfpriest and Skolldir one of the Wulfen as they emerged from the hab block to catch sight of Ranulfr. Shortly after they spotted him, they caught sight of another group that entered the fray. Tracer rounds of a heavy bolter rocketed down the alleyway while the telltale flashes of a hellgun bit into a newly emerging group of cultists. The scent of blood and burned flesh took to the air quickly as these newcomers bit into this group.
Throrin offered no commentary as he watched the carnage unfold. Silently, he approved of the efficiency brought on by what seemed to be a Blood Angels devastator squad and one of the Kriegers from the Death Korps. It wasn't often that he had laid eyes on either let alone on the same battlefield. His gaze shifted once more, having being caught by a cultist that rushed towards him. Throrin side stepped the cultist while Skolldir lunged into the foolish man and tore him apart. It wasn't long before the two of them were forced into engaging another wave of cultists followed which brought several daemons on their heels.
Throrin shifted his grip on his crozius and quickly joined the fray as Skolldir rushed forward into the mass of weak mortal flesh. His own fury and battle lust threatening to overtake him. It wasn't long before the Blood claws that Ranulfr had elected to join him arrived, diving into the violence with their leader.
The Krieger moved quickly into the open, taking the advantage of their momentum as she continued to fire her weapon into the enemy. Taking a knee, she felt the ground shift as the Blood Angel sergeant shifted to take up a position beside her as one of them brought a multimelta and unleashed their burning fury. With the combined efforts of both the Space Wolves and the Blood Angels along with their auxiliaries it seemed like this fight would be taken hold of.
Yet, there was more to this battle, as shots from one of the rooftops rained down. Weapon fire that could only be from the local garrison of the Skitarii rangers that had connected into Imperial vox. One of the rare times that the Mechanicus would work in perfect tandem with the Imperial forces. Led by a magos named S'Jet Akrios, who was not too much of a distance away, listening to what vox chatter there was while she stood at the edge of one of the many spire balconies.
Her eyes watched the battle unfold effortlessly, studying the movements of battle lines through vision that only she could experience. One of her servo arms had acquired something for her to look at, peeling her attention away, dropped her vision onto the data-slate that she had been given by one of the servitors. It contained a list of what forces she had available from the Cybernetica division stationed on this world. A few of them appeared to be pre-heresy units. Precious machines which should never be squandered in petty battles. However the worth of this planet went beyond such technology as she shifted her attention once more. There was a another woman who stood in the room, well... two of them.
One was a Cannoness from the newly arrived Order of Ardent Shroud while the other was a mostly mechanical example of a noble. A member of an obscure house that fielded what appeared to be rusted over Knights. Her thoughts shifted aimlessly for a moment before she deigned to speak and even before that, the Noble spoke first. “Honorable Magos, I am the noble of Dominus Ossium, I have come at the behest of Lord Zeruel of the Dark Angels who has yet to make his appearance. I am concerned as to where his whereabouts are, we owe him much.”
“Your concern should not simply rest on a single man, Baronness.” The Sororitas stated, her icy gaze settling on the smaller woman. Pale blue eyes studied her in full as though disapproving what she was looking at. “There is a world besieged by the forces of chaos and we stand on the edge of exterminatus and you would spout concern about a single Astartes? The Imperium must extend beyond that.”
The Baronness shifted her attention from S'Jet and fell upon the Cannoness. Her expression was complacent and yet there was a danger to be witnessed within her eyes. “You overstep your station, Cannoness. I do not answer to Inquisitorial dogs that seek to betray my fellow knights and put my people to the bloodied executioner's axe.”
“Better they die pure, than tainted.” The Cannoness snapped back.
“Honored guests.” S'Jet begun, stepping away from the balcony as the servo arm handed back one of the data-slates back to a Servitor. She allowed herself to cut into the conversation before any more was said as their attention was returned back to the Magos who had called them here. “I did not call either of you here to settle your differences or throw your weight around my forge. We are here to ensure that this world functions as it should. Since the Fall of Cadia, the traitor Astartes have sharpened their talons for ten thousand years of war while we have fallen stagnant. I am of the mind that we cannot lose this ground.” She turned her attention towards the Cannoness. “We cannot allow this world to fall. We will not allow Chaos yet another foothold.”
It went without saying that she spoke on the behalf of everything which the Mechanicus had here and her mandate was simple. Protect the planet as best she could, for it's position within the system and neighboring wormholes along with the underground forges was simply too vital. While Mephiston waged combat in the city along with the fierce Space Wolves, she needed to maintain the state of progress here as well. The gears which maintained their grip on the system needed to turn and this planet was integral to that line of logic. Without the forges and network that resided beneath this planet, the system and neighboring systems would fall prey to either chaos or other interlopers.
Already the Drukhari, the dark cousins of the Eldar had made themselves known in the system. They would not take kindly to their constant raids in the outskirts distant from the fortress that was now besieged. “If you call for an Exterminatus, I will ensure that the Blackships do not unleash their payload on this surface.” Her emotions though inhibited, still remained. There was passion that could be found in her voice as her eyes were fixed on the both of them. “We will hold the line and as for Zeruel and his brothers, they had been deployed to the west of the Fortress, in the mountains where the Blood Angels and Space Wolves have been trying to get to.”
“If I might ask, Magos Akrios, why?” The Baroness asked, curiosity and hope lingering in her voice. “The mountains were overrun. Such information was supplied to us by your own word of mouth. Why would the Lord and his brothers go there?”
“To destroy the ritual sites that prelude the Legion's arrival.” S'Jet answered simply. “I have confidence that he will accomplish his task.”
“Madness.” The Cannoness muttered silently. Despite her fervent faith in the Emperor, she knew quite well what such chances were without support. The Mountains were far from the fortress, miles from any Imperial battle line and deep within enemy held territory. “Madness or bravery, I know not which.”
The Baroness seemed almost elated to hear this news. A broad smile entering into her smile as she offered a gentle bow. “Brilliance. I shall ensure that the battle lines do not fall. We have brought our entire house. Forty Knights, I expect the High King to already be engaged at the front.”
As their conversation finished, a brilliant flash of light snapped into existence as their attention shifted towards the mountains. What they saw was nothing short of an explosion brought into existence by unstable warp energies that burst into existence, shooting into the sky as though signifying either some moment of salvation... or an impending doom. Regardless, each of them knew that the Dark Angels had accomplished their task of closing the portal, but would any of them survive such an event?
Unlikely.
Still, there was fire in the Baroness' heart as she keyed her vox and begun shouting her own orders to her knights. While the Imperium had been bloodied and beaten at Cadia. While the Forces of Chaos marched onward, imposing their wretched existence further and further, it was time to push back. The Magos connected herself to one of the Princeps under her command. “Al'gohl. It is time. I wish to see every available God-Machine on the battlefield.”
“Yes, Magos, we shall clear the way for you.”
The Cannoness watched as everything unfolded before her. She adopted an expression remotely similar to that of unbridled anger. She knew that the Magos was right, it was time that they pushed back and her thoughts had receded into a mind built for war. “You will find us on the front once more, I shall ensure this world is not lost.”
As the Magos was left to her thoughts, her eyes settled on the mountains in the distance. She had known Astartes to be capable of accomplishing great feats of vallor, having read the records of Zeruel's deeds available to her, she knew exactly what he was capable of. Even so, she could not help but marvel at the mere fact that he had once been human. Perhaps he was never meant to be as such, perhaps this was his fate. Secluding her own thoughts, she turned towards that of battle. What emotion there was seemed to flush from her existence as she looked at the growing casualty numbers. This war would cost them, but they would be better for it.
Stronger.
Like the mountains, they would stand taller than before.
“It is done, Zeruel.” A voice pierces dull ears, a breach in the whisper that pulls him from unconsciousness. “You have accomplished. Your goal. Lord Librarian.”
Pulled from the surface of unconscious thought, he is greeted with the glimmering lights brought into existence by the Empyrean where the veil of unreality had remained. The portal undone through the destruction of these foul effigies cast in honor of gods unworthy of existence. How he scorned their foul whispers of power and life eternal for he wanted none of that. Daemons thought to tempt him and he had resisted, destroying their foothold on this world in a single strike of his weapon brimming with energy. It was a costly move, one that had tired him, casting him into shadow and yet they had survived through some act of the Emperor? No. There were no gods here, no saving lords and only beasts that enthralled the foolish to their cause.
“I have accomplished nothing yet, Ramiel,” He responded, his voice laden with disgraceful grogginess of a man just waking from deep slumber. His own senses were slowly awakening to the world, but it was too slow for his liking. “We pledged ourselves to liberate this world, we have yet to do so.”
A large, iron colored gauntlet had pulled him back onto his feet. A hand of immense size belonging to a towering dreadnought with blood stained cloth fluttering loosely in the wind. “Much blood. To be spilled. Yet?”
“Yes, old friend.” He admits openly, trudging through the snow covered mountainside as he reaches for his long sword. “We still have much to do, I am more than certain our brothers in the city still wage a fierce battle.”
The Dreadnought, Ramiel shifted his immense gait and ignited his flamers once more as his plasma cannon still remained active. The exhaust from his back spilling into the air once more with greater ferocity. His frame was damaged, sustaining several blows from a chaos blighted Hellbrute that he had smote on the side of the mountain along with two other pieces of heavy armor. Zeruel's old friend had performed well on this day, something that was often to be expected from his long-time friend. The two Dark Angels were the last to have made it to the mountain top, many of their brothers having been lost during the battles that proceeded along the way. Though their work was bloody and costly, it may have very much won them the war. It was, however too early to tell. So, with their thoughts laden with grief for the fallen, they trudged towards the crashed transport that they had left behind.
As they walked back, Zeruel could see his brothers strewn about the mountainside. Their bodies in various states of ruin. Though their objective had been completed, he felt that it had cost them too much, he had wished for only he and Ramiel to traverse the mountainside, but they would not allow him to do so alone. Such was their allegiance and such had cost them their lives, but it was through their sacrifices that the two of them were able to make it.
His heavy steps found troubled footing as they continued to descend the mountainside where the smoking wreckage of a transport remained. It's fires reaching well into the mountain clouds while fuel still seemed to burn. Periodically, bursts of fuel explosions would jet from the wreckage, but that did not dissuade the Librarian from approaching the wreckage. “Ramiel, old friend, are you able to raise the vox?”
There was a moment of silence as the dreadnought watched his brother step into the wreckage. After a few moments, Zeruel had returned from the ruined transport with a grim expression, looking to the dreadnought for an answer. “Negative. I cannot. Reach Imperial. Command.”
“Fret not, Old friend.” He said calmly as he shifted his stance, casting a glance onto the ruined mountainside once more. “We might have to take the long way back.”
There was a thunderous laugh that burst from the Dreadnought. “I have. Always loved. Long walks, Brother.”
Zeruel, found himself smiling for a brief moment as he shifted his grip on the blade that he wielded so readily. Slipping the long-sword into it's sheath that rest by the hip, he turned his attention towards the descent. He knew that he and Ramiel were leaving brothers to rot for the moment, but there was little they could do until the Apothecaries could be called down from orbit to take hold of the siutation. Even then, it seemed like Zeruel still had his mission to complete regardless of losses.
For what it was worth, they had braved among one of the hardest fought battles and lived through it all almost unscathed. The Librarian and the Dreadnought, known to the chapter as brothers of equal skill in every respect, were known to be capable of fighting in perfect tandem. As it was not often that Zeruel and Ramiel were not upon the battlefield alongside one another.
They welcomed battle, as it was what reunited them while Zeruel spent days and months secluded within the librarius when not adorned his battle-plate. The days when brother could spar against brother for hours had long since passed when his psychic talents manifested, but it was a welcome change. Ramiel had bore his brother no ill will when he had been taken into the Librarius and Zeruel had not slighted his brother when he uncovered that Ramiel had ascended in rank long before he had.
As they had grown apart, the closer they had become with one another. Often relishing their adventures out onto the battlefield time and time again. Trudging where no others would step, throwing themselves into immense danger and coming out the victors. It was through their efforts that they had helped a house of Questoris Familia and aided the Magos that resided upon this world. They had even forged ties with one of the orders belonging to the Adeptus Sororitas. On each planet they went, they would leave with bonds.
Zeruel's thoughts continued to dwell on the past as they left the wreckage behind and ventured down the mountain. It wasn't long before they reached the edge of the forest though by that time, night had fallen and their journey would become all the more difficult.
Hours passed since they ventured into the forest and it had been an ordeal confronted by the various wildlife which sought to assail them at almost every turn. Creatures would attempt to assail the two Astartes as best they could and they were turned away at every moment. Ramiel had theorized that the animals hated him because he was nothing but metal now, but his theory had gone unanswered as Zeruel was engaged by several beasts nearly eight times his size. The resulting battle was fierce to be sure, and the both of them had been nearly consumed by a worm that emerged from the ground. Luckily, the beast had not responded well to being set on fire from within, bursting from the ground in a sea of orange gore.
As the last of the forest beasts are laid low, cast onto the ground and left for the flies, they reach the edge of the forest. Where the echoes of thundering guns could fill the air around them. He could see the flashes of plasma annihilators reaching far from the fortress walls, striking into heavy vehicles used by the Chaos blighted forces that set foot on this world. Ramiel soon cut into his concentration, speaking in a low and grim tone. “Brother. Magos S'Jet has. Left the fortress.”
“For what reason?” Zeruel asked, his confusion already having surfaced out of some concern. “She did not mention these plans before we ventured off. Perhaps they think us dead or is this some other veiled intent.”
The dreadnought was silent for a moment before he spoke once more. “Space Wolves and. Blood Angels. They come to collect. Us. Perhaps we can. Place inquiry.”
“No... she must have her reasons.” Zeruel answered, knowing that S'Jet had held secretive agendas before and would not put such passed her. She was a Magos of an obscure sect within the Mechanicus, but she was an ally to other Imperial forces, that was for certain. Having risen to prominence in Obscurus for a reason. “It is best that we do not alarm the others of her intention, but if I remember correctly... she was searching for a way to unlock the forge sealed since the time of the Heresy.”
Ramiel shifted his footing, trudging towards him. His own gaze fixated on his brother through what sufficed as his helm while he remained deep within the sarcophagus. The dreadnought made his intent clear that he wished to speak. Zeruel nodded his head calmly. “If she. Has such intent. It would. Either endanger the campaign. Or the world. Is this. For personal gain?”
“I do not know yet brother, I cannot yet offer judgement.” He answered truthfully. “I do know that if the Death Lord is here, he will offer some light on the subject. I do not look forward to discussing the fact that S'Jet has taken up issue with this age old matter. But... she has not spoken of our secrets for being here either.”
“We are. To lie to. Our brothers in arms?” The Dreadnough asked, his voice a grumbling threat. “I do not. Approve of. This action, Brother. ”
“Despite your approval, lives have been lost due to our own arrogance, Ramiel.” He admits openly despite the sight of several Astartes adorned in Blood Angels battle-plate. “We have to trust that she is not going to attempt to forgo everything we've sought to achieve here. Even so, we must remain silent on this matter. She has done us honor in the past and we will not sully that trust she places in us.”
The Dreadnought shifted slightly, turning his attention towards the Blood Angels. “Even if. This leads us. To our Deaths?”
“Even if it does.” He answered him just before he called out to the Blood Angels that approached, beckoning for them to approach. Though immediately he had noticed that the Lord of Death was not present. A concerning fact. “Sons of Sanguinius, I see that the foe has been pushed back.”
“Indeed, Librarian.” Came a response. Distant, almost mistrusting. A typical response towards the Dark Angels, as secretive as they were. He was ranked as Sergeant with the markings of a tactical marine. Their armor was blooded. Fresh. Meaning that the battle had only just ended. “What news do you bring?”
Zeruel ignored the caution that was brought towards him as he addressed the Astartes directly. “Our goal in the mountains has been achieved. The portals were destroyed and closed.” He paused for a moment. “What of the Magos, S'Jet Akrios?”
“She left the city in a Valkyrie when the sun had set.” He informed him calmly, his squad parting to give way to the lumbering Dreadnought as the tactical squad begun to walk with the remaining Dark Angels back towards the main gates that had been opened to allow the towering forms of both Knight and Titan to trudge out into the field. It seemed as though the Imperial presence was thinking to mount yet another offensive. “She did not say why, however. The Mechanicus are beasts of their own.”
While that statement was true, it was not like S'Jet to simply leave something to her underlings and to speak with any of the Princeps on this matter would threaten their position. If anything, this would have to be done quietly if at all. “Very well. I need to get to Imperial Command so we can establish an appropriate link with the Shadow's Blade.” He paused for a moment. “We are all that is left.”
“May they go beneath the Emperor's gaze.” The Blood Angel said almost instinctively.
Though well intentioned, to Zeruel it sounded hollow. Every time he had heard that phrase he felt that it was some unfeeling well wishing to direct an alternate view of death. He held a particular disdain for such thoughts. The reality was that the Imperium was less for every loss they suffered. He and S'Jet had shared similar thoughts in the past when they had first met... back when there was an intense fire in her eyes that even some Space Wolves lacked. She was a fierce woman and an even fiercer combatant despite her own profession and allegiance to the Cult. Though, to put it bluntly...
She was an Outcast and for good reason.
As they approached the gates, their conversation continued, flowing towards the direction of the state of battle. After the Imperial Knights took to the field the battle lines had been pushed back by miles, giving them breathing room while the Titan legion emerged from the fortress and marched out onto the plains. They had been new arrivals, having been pulled from a battlefield from another world and redeployed onto her planet. How she had secured such alliances in the past was beyond him. The very thought that she could convince two additional chapters to send help along with the Imperial guard was a statement in and of itself. Zeruel was starting to see the sphere of influence that radiated from S'Jet herself. It almost appeared as if she was directing her attention to gather forces for a crusade or perhaps an offensive that was aimed towards defending the system by seizing more territory.
24 was in the last place she honestly wanted to be at currently. Without her horse, standing inside of a Valkyr roughly ten feet away from a Techpriestess that had showed the ability to dismantle a Chaos Terminator far quicker than any of them could have hoped to kill. Upon meeting the woman, already the Techpriestess had proved to be far more unsettling than some of the daemons she had faced down before. Everything about this smelled to the foot of the Emperor's throne and she hadn't even said anything outside of 'I need your help'.
That I need your help then showed up in the form of a Valkyrie that seemed like it had been gutted out and retrofitted with some kind of technology that none of them, not even the Astartes had seen before. It was, however, provided a smooth ride as the aircraft seemed to hug the hills as it raced across the landscape. It wasn't long before the Krieger's eyes settled on the clockwork arm that the sketchy techpriestess had sticking out of her tattered, red robes. There were bronze and brilliant silver metals that seemed to possess some sort of engraving on the surface. It was pretty, but such a thing would be wasted on her, turning her thoughts towards the situation, she continued to appear as if she was eyeballing the Techpriestess.
Subconsciously, she had inched closer towards Ranulfr when she had ventured too far away from the Mechanicus Magos. There was a subtle sense of security despite her own senses screaming at her to just jump out of the vehicle and end whatever nightmare she was being dragged towards.
“Magos.” Ranulfr said sharply. “You still have yet to tell us where it is we're going.”
Suddenly, as if called towards animation, she moved. Her head turned towards them as a youthful eye of brilliant blue peers through the shadow of her hood. The respirator mask that seemed grafted onto her face had a faint shine that seemed to outline the decorative markings on it. You could have sworn there was the symbol of the Dark angels on the left side of it. She spoke, her voice was too soft to be heard so it bled into their vox. “We are going to reactivate an ancient defense system that has remained dormant beneath the surface. I thought I told you this before, Astartes Ranulfr.”
“You can do that yourself. Where are we going.” He asked again, this time his tone was threatening as a low growl entered his voice while S'Jet stood her ground. Her feline like legs providing a stable stance while her own mechandrites seemed to toil away with several data-slates while her second arm held onto a galvanic rifle. “I see where we're going, this is past the proposed exclusion zone for flight paths. I'm not an idiot that you can readily manipulate.”
“Have I in some form insinuated that you are a fool, Astartes Ranulfr?” She asked genuinely, her voice cutting through the vox static once more. “Regardless, I require Astartes and Guardswoman expertise on this venture. We are heading down into the depths of a mechanical structure that I require protection within.” She took pause. “It controls the automated defense systems within the local asteroid belt as well as the large towers that are inactive on the orbital platforms.”
“Why didn't you sa-” Ranulfr begun before he was cut off once more by S'Jet.
“I was not done speaking, Astartes Ranulfr.” Her voice was firm while she shifted her footing as she handed off her rifle to a servo arm that took it from her grip while her left hand begun to split apart to show a hololithic image. “When I had ventured there the last time, there was an infestation of Neverborne...” She trailed off as she spotted 24's head tilt slightly. “Daemons. They have taken refuge as the region is highly unsafe for unprotected travel. They have been using this relic for shelter without knowing it's purpose.”
Kurk, who had come alone, offered a snort in response as though finding the situation quite humorous. His own attention was fixated on the quickly passing land. He knew that S'Jet would have come to collect a group of capable people, there was talk about it before. He just hadn't expected her to do it in the middle of a fight. “So you need us to clean out the rad rats.”
“That is correct.” S'Jet answered calmly as she shifted her attention towards the cockpit of the Valkyrie. Quietly she begun to issue instructions in how to get through the exclusion zone, leaving the group to their thoughts.
“I don't like this being so sudden.” Ranulfr said first, as though mirroring 24's own silent protest. Neither of them were fond of sudden missions during the middle of a fight as it meant a multitude of things. Chief among those being that they would be thrown into combat either far worse than before, or to be involved in a spectacularly dangerous mission. Of which, 24 was immensely familiar with. Looking to the Astartes for some form of consolation, she did not speak. “I intend to make it out unscathed, but I'll have words with the Magos afterwards.”
24 seemed to nod in agreement as her gaze fell on Kurk who hadn't moved from where he stood. His attention still fixed on the terrain that they passed over. “Having words with her will damage your pride even further, Wolf.” He looked back over his paudron as he shifted his grip on the heavy bolter he carried. “I've seen it happen too many times already. She's more iron willed than our brothers in the Iron Hands.”
“Personal experience?” Ranulfr asked as he offered a sharp grin. He sought a slight against the Angel.
Kurk looked away, his thoughts drifting towards several weeks prior to the Space Wolves arrival. Unlike the two of them, he had known S'Jet since before they arrived on world. Having fought alongside the Magos before, he knew exactly what she was capable of. He had seen first hand as he fought alongside the magos. He had seen her pull one of his battle-brothers from the ground alone and dragged him back towards where he could be tended to. She was brave, iron willed and quick witted. She shared some kind of mantra with several others that fought on world, chief among those being the Imperial Knights that seemed rusted over.
To a degree, he wondered if that's where she was from. Even so, his thoughts turned away from these brief memories before answering the Wolf. “I just no better not to snap at everyone I see.”
“We'll se-” Ranulfr begun when S'Jet returned as the Valkyrie came to a slow halt and swooped down onto a landing pad.
S'Jet was the first to leap from the Valkyrie, falling onto the landing pad roughly twenty feet before turning her attention towards the open bay of the Valkyrie. “We've arrived and we have much to do. I know I am only mortal, so I shall try to keep pace.”
Kurk snorted again at the prospect of her struggling to keep pace. Taking his weapon into his hands, he followed suit followed by 24 and Ranulfr. Almost immediately, Ranulfr, 24 and Kurk's base training had kicked in while they moved towards the already advancing Magos. Keeping their eyes peeled on any approach vectors, it wasn't long before the group came to one of the main entrances. S'Jet had seemed to ignore the mere fact that she was getting soaked while having simply strolled towards one of the entry doors. She attached one of her mechandrites into the console and begun to manage the opening sequence. At the same time she was pulling up additional information that was embedded into the system itself. Thankfully the scrap code that was deep within the system had been cleansed again and the facility recognized Imperial personnel. However, deep within the structure was the only place they could activate the automated defenses.
A task which would be far more difficult than anything they had done thus far. Within the structure, they would be confined to narrow halls that would make fighting exceedingly difficult. The amount of enemy contacts within were staggering and they were vastly outnumbered. It wasn't long after she continued shifting through the cameras that she spoke up about their chances. Her gaze falling on the group as they took defensive positions around her.
“The door will be opening. Astartes Kurk and Twenty Four please take up firing positions.” She instructed them quietly while Ranulfr looked to her questioningly before she pulled up a hololithic image of what waited on the other side of the door they were at. “There are a total of forty seven contacts and three anomalies in this subhall that leads towards one of the secondary laboratories.”
“Forty Seven?” Ranulfr asked. “How long is this hallway?”
S'Jet paused for a moment before responding in a curt manner. “Fifteen feet. However, it appears that they are standing on one another, though a positive notion about this is many of the self automated servo skulls are intact. There will be little to replace.”
Ranulfr was about to snap at her about spewing out irrelevant information while 24 had already opened fire when the door opened. Daemons literally fell out onto the roof of the platform in an almost comical fashion. Was wasn't comical about it, is they were all screeching in some warp-born language and waving around their weapons angrily before they charged towards the group. As Ranulfr dove into the wave of Daemons, S'Jet took up arms and trained her rifle onto the group of Daemons and started to fire without pause.
There is much work to be done and such little time. These were the thoughts of S'Jet as she committed to her bloody work.
As S'Jet, Ranulfr, 24 and Kurk took to battling daemons within the facility another Imperial Force had come into contact with heavy resistance. A rusted over machine that took the shape of a battle weary, rusted over Knight Gallant stood vigil before a small contingent of Blood Angels and Imperial Guardsmen, they were preparing yet another assault to pierce deep into the territory of the Forces of Chaos. Ever since S'Jet had secured the Fortress, their push forward had been supplimented by Titans almost every step of the way. It was certainly a sight to be seen as this ancient God-Machine stood watch over the Transhumans and mortals alike. It's rusted grace a reminder of the wretched world in which these Nobles came from.
There were whispers about the Noble within, the High King of House Tyrnvald, a minor house which had allied itself with the Magos when she was but a child. What was spoken among the Imperial Guard was that she had slain a greater daemon with nothing but a simple blade, but often it was legends that turned men into lions, allowing them to forge forward without pause. Even so, Lady Karai was at the head of her House. High King, Lord of the Silent Keep.
It wasn't long before the Knight itself shifted, it's joints screeching and grinding to life as it took one heavy step after the other. How this eternal God-Machine moved was beyond the knowledge of any present here, regardless of what one thought, it moved on it's own. What approached from the forest however was something of a sickening majesty as the forces of Chaos had finally mobilized their own force of Titans. A fact that many within house Tyrnvald had expected and thus, they had prepared by their own means, fielding Questorus suits of time immemorial.
Of ages passed.
Two other Imperial Knights stepped onto the battlefield. One a Prophyrion while the other seemed to be a Cerastus Castigator pattern. Both machines striding onto the field to meet this mechanical doom that stood before them. Without warning, the Chaos Titan released it's first volley of ordinance onto the field, targeting the Gallant pattern which stood before him. As if sensing this dire approach, the machine lurched forward with a loud screech as it raced to the side while the Castigator opened fire onto the approaching volley, seeking to protect their High King.
With a brilliant flash, the Porphyrion unleashed it's fury while scoring two direct hits which were absorbed by the void shield utilized by the Reaver pattern. The towering Daemon afflicted machine shifted it's attention, loosing it's own response as it rained down fire laid down by it's deafening rotary weapon. As the weapon shrieked to life, the Gallant and the castigator had shifted their own attention as they rushed towards the taller machine. While the largest of the three Knights weathered through this brutal onslaught, it opened fire once more. This time scoring four hits against the Reaver Titan, which unleashed a bellowing warcry as it's war-horns sounded out.
The High King, Lady Karai had closed range, her knight ducking beneath the streaming fire while her reaper chainsword shrieked to life, it's shrill tone of metal grinding against metal was but the prelude to the shower of blood that sprayed from it's blades. The Void shields protecting the Reaver had flared and faded while the Gallant had circled around the Reaver which attempted to swipe at the Gallant. Sparks flew when the claw of the Reaver scraped the top armor of the god-machine and yet lady Karai was not deterred. She drove the tip of her reaper Chain sword deep into one of the leg joints as metal clashed against metal. She then brought her Thunderstrike gauntlet into the knee of the machine, knocking it off balance as the Castigator unleashed a long sustained burst from it's bolt-cannon.
The combined efforts of the three Knights was proving to be effective, as the Porphyrion opened firce once more. It's massive armaments piercing through the armor of the rotary arm, boiling the metal off of the frame as the weapon was loosed. The Gallant evaded another blow while the Castigator continued it's work on the larger Titan before finally the High King severed the leg from the joint. The Reaver collapsed onto the ground with a thunderous impact, struggling to move so that it might swipe at the Gallant once more, the Gallant had already moved and brought it's foot down onto the head of the God-Machine.
Slamming the foot down onto the machine again and again, the High King beat into the God-Machine until the head was torn from the body and the foot pierced into the metal. Shortly after the combat, Lady Karai turned her Knight towards the Imperial forces and her voice could be heard across the battlefield.
“Today, they laid siege on us! Thinking that we would be beaten like defenseless children! They look at us as slaves, but we are not! They are slaves to their fell gods and we shall free them of their lives!” Her voice echoed through the valley, filled with rampant hatred and barely restrained hostility. “Today they laid siege on us! Thinking to break us! Tonight, we shall lay siege on them! It is we who will break them! Let us retake this world!”
A cheer rippled through the Imperial Guard as their numbers had already increased while Heavy armor and Chimeras begun to gather. It wasn't long before they sped towards the High King of Tyrnvald. Lady Karai, Lord of the Silent Keep.
So begun the Campaign to reclaim the world from Chaos. So begun a tale of fates so intertwined that it could only be the work of a fell god. Yet, who shall emerge victorious.
Imperium? Chaos? Or perhaps there is another participant in this great battle.
Perhaps another force at work...
(( Using characters made by @thespacewolves Ranulfr, Skolldir, Throrin
@spooksnhaunts Kurk
@24hourstilldeath 24
Side note, this is for your guys who have made me feel wanted when I don’t really feel like I belong anywhere else. So thank you and nothing but love to you guys C: You three have been a bit of a big help to me in the past month!
Also to Anam, VULKAN, Zinks and Magsnaga, stay fuckin’ awesome idk if you guys will read this! ))
Packing up his supplies, Hathor shivered and headed back to his transport. He had remained near the mountain’s base, concerned about the jagged, ice-covered rocks leading up to the peak. There had been plenty of rune circles to work with anyway, and he imagined at some point he’d be able to come back with Ranulfr.
Trudging through the snow, Hathor was about halfway there when he noticed someone heading towards him. He hesitated, but was quick to realize who it was.
He sighed with relief, his breath hanging in the air like a small cloud. Then he felt somewhat guilty. He’d been gone for some time, and yet it hadn’t really occurred to him that Ranulfr would worry.
Bolstering his strength and increasing his speed, Hathor raced to his husband. Once at his side, Hathor embraced the Space Wolf and sighed again. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
The bar was seedy and noisy, a welcome change from the more sedate drinking crowd he was used to. He stood out a bit over the crowd, but no one seemed to pay him an undue amount of attention. It helped that he wasn’t wearing his armor, but then if he’d been wearing his armor, he might have blinded someone. Darius didn’t see it that way, however.
He sipped his ale, saluting the women who had sent it his way but not making a move to join her. She wasn’t really his type, and he was only drinking it because she’d never so much as touched the glass. She wasn’t working so he figured he was safe enough.
Eventually his attention was drawn towards the door as another Astartes entered. That could be trouble, he thought, mentally double-checking the whereabouts of his chain daggers. Then again, it could just be they’ve got excellent drinks for all I know. Their ale, however, was average at best.
A heavy silence fell between them. Ranulfr knew the psyker was pointedly not speaking to him, likely to prevent from indicting himself any further. Russ had put out the order to capture any psykers on sight, and he was simply following it. What Russ wanted them for… he didn’t particularly care.
The back of his neck prickled and he felt discomfited, knowing without a doubt that the other man was staring daggers at him. Maybe he was literally going to do so the moment he turned around, he didn’t know how psykers worked really.
But when Ranulfr turned around, his head was turned, almost trying to avoid the Space Wolf’s gaze. “What are you up to?” He gave a yank on the chains.
Refusing to look at him, Hathor stared at the floor and shrugged. “Nothing,” he said quietly.
He hadn’t been thinking, that was the problem. He’d saw a wound and fixed it without remembering that a Space Wolf would never allow it. Other Legions might have excused it, really, or at least left the matter alone with some sort of lecture. There was no telling what this one would or would not do. And if he couldn’t be trusted, Hathor could think of no reason to say anything else at all.
He couldn’t regret the decision to heal the Space Wolf’s wound. He really had thought he’d been subtle about it, however. Manacled and being glared at is not the thanks he’d hoped to get, but he wasn’t supposed to use his powers. None of them were.
Sighing, Hathor glanced up again. At this point it was his word against the Space Wolf, but that was part of the problem. Even without proof, he could be accused and enough people would believe it. And he couldn’t free himself without giving the other Astartes the proof he needed.
