The Death Marsh:
The cerberite atop the chimera finally found purchase with its claws. The top hatch of the vehicle ripping free with a metallic groan. The overcrowded space within left little room to move, let alone bring weapons to bear. The daemon engine lowered its weaponize maw to the opening.
It would never fire. A well aimed shot from a Sentinel lascannon capitalizing on its exposed position, and removing it's head.
The monstrosity shuddered, and collapsed. Cries of joy and relief came... But we're quickly silenced as the ectoplasm stored within flowed forth from the creatures ruined neck. It flowed, covering the top of the armored transport, and cascading down through the open hatch.
Their deaths came quick, flesh melting, blood boiling, and bones cracking under the intense heat as ectoplasm filled the chamber.
For the sentinels that did fall, it spelled certain doom. The forgefiends circling like wolves, tooth and claw to used to shred what their hades autocannons could not. They would dart in, taking turns to tear into the fallen walkers, while minimizing their own exposure. For one, the end came when one of the possessed machines simply shoved its autocannon through a ragged hole in the canopy, and fired; brutal overkill at its finest.
For Sergeant Jienne, she would find herself to be a preferred target. Her aggressive and effective firing making her a priority. The damaged armor of her war machine an easy target, nor both bursts of red hot autocannon fire, and the searing blasts of plasma from the remaining cerberites.
While the chimeras would inevitably save more then were lost, the move would also stretch the imperial line.
In the sky patrolled the vicious heldrakes. Their numbers and exact locations hidden by the black clouds of the storm. Occasionally one would drop below the storm, circling the edge of the marsh like an ominous metal vulture, before returning to the clouds. Others were periodically silhouetted by flashes of warp lightning. Yet, for now, none attacked... They were waiting...
The Western City, The Church of Fates
Inaros was reading from the book. Each word carefully spoke. The slightest mispronunciation the wrong inflection could spell disaster. The words were indecipherable to those without the requisite knowledge, an ancient language long forgotten. They glowed on the parchment, coming to life with the very energy they conjured, and focused. His sword burned and crackled with the same.
He walked the outer circle as he spoke, the empowered scimitar cutting dark icons into the air. With each one he completed, a matching symbol on the floor illuminated. Each symbol burned itself in the guardsman's mind They repulsed her at first, but she could feel something unlocking within herself, some immaterial shackle breaking open... And with each her resolve went with it, until at last, she relished it. Wanted it. Blood trickled from her nose and ears.
As he completed the circle, the accursed design on the floor was fully a glow. The powder began to lift, defying gravity... Each mote of dust a glow with chaotic power, it was as if the marine and woman were adrift in a sea of stars, surrounded by a galaxy. Tears of rich crimson rolled down the woman's face.
He extended the sword, it's tip aimed at the heart of the imperial guard. Her body ignited, strangely colored fire enveloped her... Spreading to the marine behind her. The intense flames burned without consuming either. Beyond the walls of the make shift church, the inferno of the city matched tempo, flames clawing impossibly high as if they were trying to burn the sky itself.
He spoke the final words of the incantation, while carving the last symbol into the air, the final sweep of his sword bringing the tip to aim once more at the woman's heart. Lightning arched from the blade, tore through her chest, and punched into the breastplate of The Rhubric marine holding her.
Several things happened simultaneously, the flames both inside and out died; the glowing dust darkened, and settled back down, impossibly into it original design. Finally, the marine slumped to his knees, his hands falling limply away from the woman.
Though free, she stood still... Her body an empty husk. The freedom she had felt... Had been the bonds tethering her soul to her body. Air slowly escaped her lungs, the last breath that body would ever take, and with it came a cloud of pale ash. The color began to drain from her body, and a strange wind picked up. Her skin, flesh, and bones flaked away; a fine, white ash swirling and blowing around, before sucking into the Rhubric marines body.
The puncture in its armor closed itself, and for the moment, nothing seemed happened. An eerie calm settlies on the room.
Slowly he opened and closed his hands, before looking up. Rising slowly, his hands lifted to the sides of his helmet. There was a hiss as the seal broke, and for the first time in nearly ten millennia, the helmet came off.
The person within breathed deep.
"Thank you..." The voice was different, similar to what was remembered, but with an oddly feminine edge; It's owner confused. "...brother? what... have... you done...?"
Inaros simply stared, stone faced behind his helmet. Hatshepsut had been reborn... And it seemed that... The Thousand Sons... Now had a sister.
Central City, Southern Gate
The battle for the Southern Gate was continuing as violently and brutally as ever. The tide of daemons and chaotic forces were continuing their relentless assault against the guns and fortifications of the Imperial Guardsmen. It was a battle of attrition.
Casualties were rapidly accumulating for both sides. The daemons and void predators were not returning to the abyss from which they came... A problem given the near immortal nature of such beings. Much like the engines hounding Grim and his forces, the bloodletters and plaguebearers here were prone to getting back up as their twisted forms healed And reformed. After all, how does one kill hate incarnate? Or disease and decay made flesh? Only those afflicted with the most grievous of wounds seemed incapable of rejoining the fight... But even then their ruined bodies still twitched and flailed where they had fallen on the ground.
For the Guardsmen it was a more serious problem. They were flesh and bone, armor and weapons. Wounds needed triage and treatment; it was a game of probability and numbers - the goal being to keep as many hands on as many weapons as possible. For those deemed to badly injured, this meant a slow death abandoned.
Of the few makeshift field hospitals behind the walls, one seemed to be operating better then the others. A little less death. A little more hope. Rumors had it, that one of the medics there was gifted... Able to save even the most badly damaged.
It was to that end, that two of the most forgettable men in the galaxy were heading. They moved unnoticed, two phantoms amidst the chaos of war.
----
Central City, Psyker Holding Cells
For Cyrus, as it was with all gifted in the way of precognition, the visions he saw were not just those of what would be. They were instead untold threads woven into a myriad tapestry of the could be. It was the true gift to discern which fate held the most likely, but the real art came in discerning how but one small choice could undo or form the next cross stitch of destiny.
And for him, one vision stood out. That glowed the most brightly... As if something were trying to warn him. In the heart of darkness, the lord Inquisitior would try to kill him... And he could not see the tapestry beyond that.
The cerberite atop the chimera finally found purchase with its claws. The top hatch of the vehicle ripping free with a metallic groan. The overcrowded space within left little room to move, let alone bring weapons to bear. The daemon engine lowered its weaponize maw to the opening.
It would never fire. A well aimed shot from a Sentinel lascannon capitalizing on its exposed position, and removing it's head.
The monstrosity shuddered, and collapsed. Cries of joy and relief came... But we're quickly silenced as the ectoplasm stored within flowed forth from the creatures ruined neck. It flowed, covering the top of the armored transport, and cascading down through the open hatch.
Their deaths came quick, flesh melting, blood boiling, and bones cracking under the intense heat as ectoplasm filled the chamber.
For the sentinels that did fall, it spelled certain doom. The forgefiends circling like wolves, tooth and claw to used to shred what their hades autocannons could not. They would dart in, taking turns to tear into the fallen walkers, while minimizing their own exposure. For one, the end came when one of the possessed machines simply shoved its autocannon through a ragged hole in the canopy, and fired; brutal overkill at its finest.
For Sergeant Jienne, she would find herself to be a preferred target. Her aggressive and effective firing making her a priority. The damaged armor of her war machine an easy target, nor both bursts of red hot autocannon fire, and the searing blasts of plasma from the remaining cerberites.
While the chimeras would inevitably save more then were lost, the move would also stretch the imperial line.
In the sky patrolled the vicious heldrakes. Their numbers and exact locations hidden by the black clouds of the storm. Occasionally one would drop below the storm, circling the edge of the marsh like an ominous metal vulture, before returning to the clouds. Others were periodically silhouetted by flashes of warp lightning. Yet, for now, none attacked... They were waiting...
The Western City, The Church of Fates
Inaros was reading from the book. Each word carefully spoke. The slightest mispronunciation the wrong inflection could spell disaster. The words were indecipherable to those without the requisite knowledge, an ancient language long forgotten. They glowed on the parchment, coming to life with the very energy they conjured, and focused. His sword burned and crackled with the same.
He walked the outer circle as he spoke, the empowered scimitar cutting dark icons into the air. With each one he completed, a matching symbol on the floor illuminated. Each symbol burned itself in the guardsman's mind They repulsed her at first, but she could feel something unlocking within herself, some immaterial shackle breaking open... And with each her resolve went with it, until at last, she relished it. Wanted it. Blood trickled from her nose and ears.
As he completed the circle, the accursed design on the floor was fully a glow. The powder began to lift, defying gravity... Each mote of dust a glow with chaotic power, it was as if the marine and woman were adrift in a sea of stars, surrounded by a galaxy. Tears of rich crimson rolled down the woman's face.
He extended the sword, it's tip aimed at the heart of the imperial guard. Her body ignited, strangely colored fire enveloped her... Spreading to the marine behind her. The intense flames burned without consuming either. Beyond the walls of the make shift church, the inferno of the city matched tempo, flames clawing impossibly high as if they were trying to burn the sky itself.
He spoke the final words of the incantation, while carving the last symbol into the air, the final sweep of his sword bringing the tip to aim once more at the woman's heart. Lightning arched from the blade, tore through her chest, and punched into the breastplate of The Rhubric marine holding her.
Several things happened simultaneously, the flames both inside and out died; the glowing dust darkened, and settled back down, impossibly into it original design. Finally, the marine slumped to his knees, his hands falling limply away from the woman.
Though free, she stood still... Her body an empty husk. The freedom she had felt... Had been the bonds tethering her soul to her body. Air slowly escaped her lungs, the last breath that body would ever take, and with it came a cloud of pale ash. The color began to drain from her body, and a strange wind picked up. Her skin, flesh, and bones flaked away; a fine, white ash swirling and blowing around, before sucking into the Rhubric marines body.
The puncture in its armor closed itself, and for the moment, nothing seemed happened. An eerie calm settlies on the room.
Slowly he opened and closed his hands, before looking up. Rising slowly, his hands lifted to the sides of his helmet. There was a hiss as the seal broke, and for the first time in nearly ten millennia, the helmet came off.
The person within breathed deep.
"Thank you..." The voice was different, similar to what was remembered, but with an oddly feminine edge; It's owner confused. "...brother? what... have... you done...?"
Inaros simply stared, stone faced behind his helmet. Hatshepsut had been reborn... And it seemed that... The Thousand Sons... Now had a sister.
Central City, Southern Gate
The battle for the Southern Gate was continuing as violently and brutally as ever. The tide of daemons and chaotic forces were continuing their relentless assault against the guns and fortifications of the Imperial Guardsmen. It was a battle of attrition.
Casualties were rapidly accumulating for both sides. The daemons and void predators were not returning to the abyss from which they came... A problem given the near immortal nature of such beings. Much like the engines hounding Grim and his forces, the bloodletters and plaguebearers here were prone to getting back up as their twisted forms healed And reformed. After all, how does one kill hate incarnate? Or disease and decay made flesh? Only those afflicted with the most grievous of wounds seemed incapable of rejoining the fight... But even then their ruined bodies still twitched and flailed where they had fallen on the ground.
For the Guardsmen it was a more serious problem. They were flesh and bone, armor and weapons. Wounds needed triage and treatment; it was a game of probability and numbers - the goal being to keep as many hands on as many weapons as possible. For those deemed to badly injured, this meant a slow death abandoned.
Of the few makeshift field hospitals behind the walls, one seemed to be operating better then the others. A little less death. A little more hope. Rumors had it, that one of the medics there was gifted... Able to save even the most badly damaged.
It was to that end, that two of the most forgettable men in the galaxy were heading. They moved unnoticed, two phantoms amidst the chaos of war.
----
Central City, Psyker Holding Cells
For Cyrus, as it was with all gifted in the way of precognition, the visions he saw were not just those of what would be. They were instead untold threads woven into a myriad tapestry of the could be. It was the true gift to discern which fate held the most likely, but the real art came in discerning how but one small choice could undo or form the next cross stitch of destiny.
And for him, one vision stood out. That glowed the most brightly... As if something were trying to warn him. In the heart of darkness, the lord Inquisitior would try to kill him... And he could not see the tapestry beyond that.
In the skies, Markov was not keen on waiting, the lighting cracks in the warp storm highlighted the cobras prey. suddenly the loud echoing bang of the vanquisher echoed through the storm. The first of the hell drakes had its wing torn off from the vanquisher where skimmed along its body, leaving a searing hole as it fell from the sky. the other russes started to fire as well, them using rounds set to airburst at roughly 100 meters, right where the heldrakes were.
Jienne was more metal than flesh at this point, her arm and leg missing form previous battles. The rounds hit her flesh and plasma singed the steel but all in all did not much more than piss her off as she kept firing.
Grim shut his eyes and let out a curse at the screams. "Get in the chimera, seal it up, we need those weapons!" he barked as he grabbed a melta and fired it at one of the beasts.
_______________________________________________________________
Hana watched as she saw round after round stream towards the main imperial HQ. She got off her basilisk and let her cultists handle it. She had a medical tent to slaughter. she grabbed her power swords and crackled them to life as she moved. The guardsmen guarding it started to fire at the slaneeshi, but she moved just too fast for them to harm. They called for back up over the radio.
Jienne was more metal than flesh at this point, her arm and leg missing form previous battles. The rounds hit her flesh and plasma singed the steel but all in all did not much more than piss her off as she kept firing.
Grim shut his eyes and let out a curse at the screams. "Get in the chimera, seal it up, we need those weapons!" he barked as he grabbed a melta and fired it at one of the beasts.
_______________________________________________________________
Hana watched as she saw round after round stream towards the main imperial HQ. She got off her basilisk and let her cultists handle it. She had a medical tent to slaughter. she grabbed her power swords and crackled them to life as she moved. The guardsmen guarding it started to fire at the slaneeshi, but she moved just too fast for them to harm. They called for back up over the radio.
The full fury of war at the Southern Gate was raging with all the fires of Khorne himself. Though despite the sea of daemon and cultists swarming the Guard did not give in. A steady barrage of artillery blasted daemons to pieces. It mattered little that they could regenerate slightly if they're in so many pieces they cannot reconnect. Small blobs of flesh twitched and some larger chunks of half daemons crawled along the ground with their same desire for destruction.
"Don't give them a moment! Fire all weapons. Send these chaos monstrosities back to their vile gods!" A sargent give his battle cry as hundreds of Guardsman unleash plasma, grenades and lass rounds. Within several meters of the wall daemons leap and get shredded. But an increasing number were breaking up and slaughtering the Guard. Drawing his power sword the sargent who gave his war cry drove it into the throat of a Bloodletter. Slashing to the side it's head rolled down the outer wall as the corpse slumped. Several smaller Nurgling daemons leapt up. They almost resembled two foot mushrooms with teeth. "Arg!" He grunts slashing one in half as it releases a foul odor. Three more tackle him down and begin leaking mucus onto him. The sargents skin begins to blistered with purple and green boils as he spasms while Nurgles horrific diseases take effect. Two marines armed with plasma guns run down blasting the Nurglings off their commander. They look down and one find himself throw up at seeing the deformed and diseased corpse of their fellow soldier. But then one notices some twitching. It was worse then they thought. He was alive. One Guardsman raised his gun and blasted his head. The molten puss and blood filled mess marked his death. A mercy at this point. The rest of the wall was fairing no better. In fact the brutality had broken some walls and daemons began pouting in to the outer layers. The wall was almost a block thick and held three layers. The outer layer, center and interior which was mostly open and exposed the the inner city. Tenebres Legion were in the inner wall ready for the final holdout.
Erthos had the distress message from the Guardsman out front being slaughtered by Hana that he thought about the Inquisitors words. He would need to fight. He clenched his fist.
"If we are going to fight. Then that heretics blood will be on my hands." He says in a rage as he activates the power claws. They hum to life and emit an electric glow as they extend. "Commissar get back to command and control this mess. I'll kill her myself." He says running forth. By the time he reaches the wall several Guardsman have been butchered and another squad armed with plasma weapons meet with him. Erthos marches out to greet Hana. He would surely not leave without either her head or his own separated from their body.
In the vehicle bay Tenebres saw the gaping hole and was informed about the Basilisk incident. He grunted as he was put into the back of a Chimera Truck with an nervous looking Cyrus with him.
"Help me track him down. We may be able to prevent this world being consumed if we kill the source of the corruption." Tenebres say as if trying to convince Cyrus that he was working for a noble cause. The truck hums to life as the main door opens to the servo tunnels and the truck takes off. With the city in turmoil but little to no daemons over this side the trip to the Sorcerers location should take less then twenty minutes. Once Tenebres can narrow it down of course. Cyrus holds his head and his eyes glow a chaotic purple. As they drive through the underground tunnel they start to glow brighter indicating they're getting near. The servo tunnel reaches the end were automatic bulkhead doors open allowing them out into the city.
"Don't give them a moment! Fire all weapons. Send these chaos monstrosities back to their vile gods!" A sargent give his battle cry as hundreds of Guardsman unleash plasma, grenades and lass rounds. Within several meters of the wall daemons leap and get shredded. But an increasing number were breaking up and slaughtering the Guard. Drawing his power sword the sargent who gave his war cry drove it into the throat of a Bloodletter. Slashing to the side it's head rolled down the outer wall as the corpse slumped. Several smaller Nurgling daemons leapt up. They almost resembled two foot mushrooms with teeth. "Arg!" He grunts slashing one in half as it releases a foul odor. Three more tackle him down and begin leaking mucus onto him. The sargents skin begins to blistered with purple and green boils as he spasms while Nurgles horrific diseases take effect. Two marines armed with plasma guns run down blasting the Nurglings off their commander. They look down and one find himself throw up at seeing the deformed and diseased corpse of their fellow soldier. But then one notices some twitching. It was worse then they thought. He was alive. One Guardsman raised his gun and blasted his head. The molten puss and blood filled mess marked his death. A mercy at this point. The rest of the wall was fairing no better. In fact the brutality had broken some walls and daemons began pouting in to the outer layers. The wall was almost a block thick and held three layers. The outer layer, center and interior which was mostly open and exposed the the inner city. Tenebres Legion were in the inner wall ready for the final holdout.
Erthos had the distress message from the Guardsman out front being slaughtered by Hana that he thought about the Inquisitors words. He would need to fight. He clenched his fist.
"If we are going to fight. Then that heretics blood will be on my hands." He says in a rage as he activates the power claws. They hum to life and emit an electric glow as they extend. "Commissar get back to command and control this mess. I'll kill her myself." He says running forth. By the time he reaches the wall several Guardsman have been butchered and another squad armed with plasma weapons meet with him. Erthos marches out to greet Hana. He would surely not leave without either her head or his own separated from their body.
In the vehicle bay Tenebres saw the gaping hole and was informed about the Basilisk incident. He grunted as he was put into the back of a Chimera Truck with an nervous looking Cyrus with him.
"Help me track him down. We may be able to prevent this world being consumed if we kill the source of the corruption." Tenebres say as if trying to convince Cyrus that he was working for a noble cause. The truck hums to life as the main door opens to the servo tunnels and the truck takes off. With the city in turmoil but little to no daemons over this side the trip to the Sorcerers location should take less then twenty minutes. Once Tenebres can narrow it down of course. Cyrus holds his head and his eyes glow a chaotic purple. As they drive through the underground tunnel they start to glow brighter indicating they're getting near. The servo tunnel reaches the end were automatic bulkhead doors open allowing them out into the city.
The Death Marsh:
In the skies above the marsh, first blood went to the Imperials... Their weapons dropping another two of the heldrakes before they could take evasive maneuvers. Their broken bodies raining flaming debris and twisted metal over the fields of battle below.
Those not immediately destroyed broke their rough formations, using their agility and speed to avoid the fire... They were not the traditional targets for heavy tanks... Nor was this the ideal place to engage. Some dove, shrieking as the skimmed the battle below, raking the armored ground units with claws or peppering them with autocannon Fire, before swooping back up. Toward the approaching transports.
Others pulled up, vanishing into the warp fueled storm clouds... Moving to close the distance, that they might tear the wings from the imperials in close quarters.
Hades cannon fire ripping through the air, ahead of the airships. It came not from straight above. The approaching engines above and below firing, their off center approach allowing them to a wide x-shaped patter of cross fire in the flight path of the transports, without endangering each other.
The first drake slammed into the top of the one of the trailing air ships. It's rear talons digging into the metal, and holding on for purchase. Its forward claws ripped into the hull like butter. The tanks, with their heavy armor would prove difficult to attack... Even more so if they found their way to the battle below. There tactics quickly became clear... The daemon engines simply hoped to stop them from reaching their allies.
On the ground, the daemon spawned engines were having just a rough go of things... The numbers advantage and armor superiority going to Grim and his forces.
The creature, if you could call it such a thing, bellowed with defiant rage as Grim's melta-blast tore open its left side... Disintegrated the hades cannon there. A burst of return fire came from its still functional weapon aimed at Grim and his chimera.
The beast, which had so brutally executed the pilot of the downed walker, found itself on the receiving end of one of Jienne's shots. The blast from the lascannon punched into its chest, and ignited the phosphorus ammunition within, and it's death came amongst a thousand tiny explosions.
Across the field of battle, the malicious swamp seemed to come alive once more, the blood saturated earth giving way to bottomless sinkholes that swallowing the disabled imperial war machines and daemons engines alike.
The Western City, Church of Fates
Inaros ceased his study of the newly reborn warrior. The forces of the great ocean were truly fickle lot.
His gaze instead shifted, staring at the wall... Or rather at something beyond. He could see the approaching imperials, the psyker guide like a torch a blaze in the night.
"Lord... Lady Hatshepsut, it would seem that change, as always is inevitable. What I have done is free you from that accursed prison our dear brother shackled you in. Take it for what it is... Life a new.
"Now it would seem we have some guests arriving. Far earlier then intended. If you would be so kind as to entertain them while I continue working.
"In their blind devotion to their emperor, they seem to have forgotten with whom they deal. Show them we are no mere magicians or practitioners of prestidigitation. Remind them why the court of Nikea feared us. Remind them of who we are: The children of the Crimson King.
Inaros turned his gaze slowly to her, his voice cold and emotionless.
"Let them witness the full might of The Thousand Sons."
Hatshepsut nodded, a smile slowly spreading across her face. The full meaning of the words sinking in. Her gaze lowered to her own hands as she brought them up. Warp flame coming to life, dancing as it harmlessly engulfed her gauntlets hands.
"...would you have me..." Her voice trailed off as she realized. The presence of the other abilities... The ancient cults of Prospero had vanished when the Sons had fled to the warp. Psychic borders had been broken... She could see with the much the same clarity as Inaros. She looked up slowly, eyes locking on the lenses of Inaros' helm. The flames of her hands flickered and died.
She heard his voice without him speaking, the words whispered through the Great Ocean direct from him to her.
<Much has changed while you slumbered... You will learn more of this later... For now... Tend to the task at hand. Delay them... The psyker and the inquisitior must live, for now.>
She nodded, "It shall be done, Brother."
Hatshepsut bent down, retrieving her helm from the floor, and replacing it over her head. The seals hissed as they closed, and she turned striding back out of the door of the church alone ash she entered the scorched and smoldering city.
She stood out side, hands at her side. She took a breath, the filter of her helmet scrubbing the toxins of the air. Slowly she lifted her hands, palms up, fingers out stretched. Her arms shook as she focused, as if exerting effort to lift some great weight.
The ground trembled lightly, as wind began to pick up. Fire erupted again across the ruined city sector, flames of nauseating and unnatural colors. It was fueled not by a mixture of volatile chemicals, but rather the raw energy of the warp channeled and controlled.
The fires raged higher, mixing into a twisted firestorm of light and heat... The wind continued to pick up, reaching gale force. The two combined forming a burning maelstrom of hellfire, reaching toward the sky as if to set the heavens themselves on fire.
It was an impassable wall of destruction... Surrounding and protecting the tainted church. The heat cracking concrete and vaporizing steel as to consumed what the chemical laced fires could not.
Central City, Southern Gate
The fall of the outer gate was chaos. The makeshift field hospitals were abandoned. Those capable of moving on their own joining the retreat... Those that could not were left behind. Some begged for weapons, that they might die fighting for the emperor... Others for simple mercy killings. All, save a few isolated incidents of compassion or friendship, were denied; a waste of vital resources. The multitude of ways a man or woman could take their own life is... staggering. The truly blessed were the unconscious, oblivious to their looming doom.
The retreat offered the perfect cover for three figures as they moved through the retreating tide of Imperial Guardsmen. One was a combat medic, of some reputation... But none would ever recall the names or faces of the other two. Only that they all seemed to be in a hurry as they disappeared into a maintenance access just within the inner walls.
Cyrus' Mind
The vision came again. The lord Inquisitior trying to kill him... Slowing down. Freezing. Then the whispers came. Different voices. Each on a loop. Slowly the words differentiate.
<...try to kill...>
<...source you touched...>
The vision ran backwards... Then a new vision. A glowing hand touches black ink. The light dims. Ink runs up the hand turning it black. A sword cuts it off... It withers to ash.
<...source of corruption...>
<Transferral.>
The vision of the inquisitor, again... Cyrus...
<...source you touched...>
<...source of corruption...>
<Transferral.>
<He will try to kill you.>
In the skies above the marsh, first blood went to the Imperials... Their weapons dropping another two of the heldrakes before they could take evasive maneuvers. Their broken bodies raining flaming debris and twisted metal over the fields of battle below.
Those not immediately destroyed broke their rough formations, using their agility and speed to avoid the fire... They were not the traditional targets for heavy tanks... Nor was this the ideal place to engage. Some dove, shrieking as the skimmed the battle below, raking the armored ground units with claws or peppering them with autocannon Fire, before swooping back up. Toward the approaching transports.
Others pulled up, vanishing into the warp fueled storm clouds... Moving to close the distance, that they might tear the wings from the imperials in close quarters.
Hades cannon fire ripping through the air, ahead of the airships. It came not from straight above. The approaching engines above and below firing, their off center approach allowing them to a wide x-shaped patter of cross fire in the flight path of the transports, without endangering each other.
The first drake slammed into the top of the one of the trailing air ships. It's rear talons digging into the metal, and holding on for purchase. Its forward claws ripped into the hull like butter. The tanks, with their heavy armor would prove difficult to attack... Even more so if they found their way to the battle below. There tactics quickly became clear... The daemon engines simply hoped to stop them from reaching their allies.
On the ground, the daemon spawned engines were having just a rough go of things... The numbers advantage and armor superiority going to Grim and his forces.
The creature, if you could call it such a thing, bellowed with defiant rage as Grim's melta-blast tore open its left side... Disintegrated the hades cannon there. A burst of return fire came from its still functional weapon aimed at Grim and his chimera.
The beast, which had so brutally executed the pilot of the downed walker, found itself on the receiving end of one of Jienne's shots. The blast from the lascannon punched into its chest, and ignited the phosphorus ammunition within, and it's death came amongst a thousand tiny explosions.
Across the field of battle, the malicious swamp seemed to come alive once more, the blood saturated earth giving way to bottomless sinkholes that swallowing the disabled imperial war machines and daemons engines alike.
The Western City, Church of Fates
Inaros ceased his study of the newly reborn warrior. The forces of the great ocean were truly fickle lot.
His gaze instead shifted, staring at the wall... Or rather at something beyond. He could see the approaching imperials, the psyker guide like a torch a blaze in the night.
"Lord... Lady Hatshepsut, it would seem that change, as always is inevitable. What I have done is free you from that accursed prison our dear brother shackled you in. Take it for what it is... Life a new.
"Now it would seem we have some guests arriving. Far earlier then intended. If you would be so kind as to entertain them while I continue working.
"In their blind devotion to their emperor, they seem to have forgotten with whom they deal. Show them we are no mere magicians or practitioners of prestidigitation. Remind them why the court of Nikea feared us. Remind them of who we are: The children of the Crimson King.
Inaros turned his gaze slowly to her, his voice cold and emotionless.
"Let them witness the full might of The Thousand Sons."
Hatshepsut nodded, a smile slowly spreading across her face. The full meaning of the words sinking in. Her gaze lowered to her own hands as she brought them up. Warp flame coming to life, dancing as it harmlessly engulfed her gauntlets hands.
"...would you have me..." Her voice trailed off as she realized. The presence of the other abilities... The ancient cults of Prospero had vanished when the Sons had fled to the warp. Psychic borders had been broken... She could see with the much the same clarity as Inaros. She looked up slowly, eyes locking on the lenses of Inaros' helm. The flames of her hands flickered and died.
She heard his voice without him speaking, the words whispered through the Great Ocean direct from him to her.
<Much has changed while you slumbered... You will learn more of this later... For now... Tend to the task at hand. Delay them... The psyker and the inquisitior must live, for now.>
She nodded, "It shall be done, Brother."
Hatshepsut bent down, retrieving her helm from the floor, and replacing it over her head. The seals hissed as they closed, and she turned striding back out of the door of the church alone ash she entered the scorched and smoldering city.
She stood out side, hands at her side. She took a breath, the filter of her helmet scrubbing the toxins of the air. Slowly she lifted her hands, palms up, fingers out stretched. Her arms shook as she focused, as if exerting effort to lift some great weight.
The ground trembled lightly, as wind began to pick up. Fire erupted again across the ruined city sector, flames of nauseating and unnatural colors. It was fueled not by a mixture of volatile chemicals, but rather the raw energy of the warp channeled and controlled.
The fires raged higher, mixing into a twisted firestorm of light and heat... The wind continued to pick up, reaching gale force. The two combined forming a burning maelstrom of hellfire, reaching toward the sky as if to set the heavens themselves on fire.
It was an impassable wall of destruction... Surrounding and protecting the tainted church. The heat cracking concrete and vaporizing steel as to consumed what the chemical laced fires could not.
Central City, Southern Gate
The fall of the outer gate was chaos. The makeshift field hospitals were abandoned. Those capable of moving on their own joining the retreat... Those that could not were left behind. Some begged for weapons, that they might die fighting for the emperor... Others for simple mercy killings. All, save a few isolated incidents of compassion or friendship, were denied; a waste of vital resources. The multitude of ways a man or woman could take their own life is... staggering. The truly blessed were the unconscious, oblivious to their looming doom.
The retreat offered the perfect cover for three figures as they moved through the retreating tide of Imperial Guardsmen. One was a combat medic, of some reputation... But none would ever recall the names or faces of the other two. Only that they all seemed to be in a hurry as they disappeared into a maintenance access just within the inner walls.
Cyrus' Mind
The vision came again. The lord Inquisitior trying to kill him... Slowing down. Freezing. Then the whispers came. Different voices. Each on a loop. Slowly the words differentiate.
<...try to kill...>
<...source you touched...>
The vision ran backwards... Then a new vision. A glowing hand touches black ink. The light dims. Ink runs up the hand turning it black. A sword cuts it off... It withers to ash.
<...source of corruption...>
<Transferral.>
The vision of the inquisitor, again... Cyrus...
<...source you touched...>
<...source of corruption...>
<Transferral.>
<He will try to kill you.>
MArkov let out a simple curse as he pulled back the bolt on his heavy stubber and began to aim it at any of the Heldrakes that got too close. His gun let out loud staccatos of high caliber fire power, filling the air with rounds as empty casings bounced off the side of his tank. A stubber would not do much, but it didn't matter at the moment. The broke the warpstorm and headed down towards the marsh, even as a few of the sky talons were damaged.
Markov gave a simple command as he looked at his Craft. "Drop us now, we can make this landing," he said, over his vox as he pulled himself down into his tnak and closed it up. The next thing he would feel is his vanquisher falling to the marsh below, its impact softened by the marsh as they hit in front of the Chimera's by some happenstance luck, the 5 Tanks quickly moving into a shield pattern with Markov's Cobra at the front.
Grim bit his tongue as he felt rounds from the beast pepper his armor and the cannon of the chimera, but Grim shot his melta gun yet again, this time aiming for its head "Die you bastard!" he roared out as he lifted his cybernetic arm to protect his body from the rounds being fired at him.
Vienna found herself a small tower near a ruined part of the city and pulled herself into it and aimed at the wall of the fortress. She took a bretahe as she watched a bloodletter charge at a group of gaurdsmen and she let out one shot that severed its leg from its body, sending it rolling on the ground before she shifted again and shot a second, removing its head from it.
Iman continued to listen to his vox, his eyes closing as he did, the subtle vibrations and whispers it had letting him know of some of the battle ahead.
Jienne let out a triumphant laugh as she saw the Leman Russes. "Hot damn!" she said, falling back to the side of the column.
Hana finished off the last of the men with a simple pirouetting slash, severing his arm from the rest of him. She paused and turned off her power saber to lick blood off the blade, which she closed her eyes and enjoyed for a moment before she let it snap back to life.. She picked up one of the lasguns and grenades and then tossed the grenade into the medical tent, her grinning as she watched it bounce in. she hurriedly moved before it went off, the screams sending shivers of delight down her body before the wounded were slain in a flsh of ligh.
Hana had no clue she was being hunted by Erthos, her starting to loot the dead for material things, such as charms and talismans she could add to a collection she had on her ship.
Markov gave a simple command as he looked at his Craft. "Drop us now, we can make this landing," he said, over his vox as he pulled himself down into his tnak and closed it up. The next thing he would feel is his vanquisher falling to the marsh below, its impact softened by the marsh as they hit in front of the Chimera's by some happenstance luck, the 5 Tanks quickly moving into a shield pattern with Markov's Cobra at the front.
Grim bit his tongue as he felt rounds from the beast pepper his armor and the cannon of the chimera, but Grim shot his melta gun yet again, this time aiming for its head "Die you bastard!" he roared out as he lifted his cybernetic arm to protect his body from the rounds being fired at him.
Vienna found herself a small tower near a ruined part of the city and pulled herself into it and aimed at the wall of the fortress. She took a bretahe as she watched a bloodletter charge at a group of gaurdsmen and she let out one shot that severed its leg from its body, sending it rolling on the ground before she shifted again and shot a second, removing its head from it.
Iman continued to listen to his vox, his eyes closing as he did, the subtle vibrations and whispers it had letting him know of some of the battle ahead.
Jienne let out a triumphant laugh as she saw the Leman Russes. "Hot damn!" she said, falling back to the side of the column.
Hana finished off the last of the men with a simple pirouetting slash, severing his arm from the rest of him. She paused and turned off her power saber to lick blood off the blade, which she closed her eyes and enjoyed for a moment before she let it snap back to life.. She picked up one of the lasguns and grenades and then tossed the grenade into the medical tent, her grinning as she watched it bounce in. she hurriedly moved before it went off, the screams sending shivers of delight down her body before the wounded were slain in a flsh of ligh.
Hana had no clue she was being hunted by Erthos, her starting to loot the dead for material things, such as charms and talismans she could add to a collection she had on her ship.
The Southern gate had all but fallen. As Daemons and other heinous beasts poured in the approaching tides of Chaos broke through the men within the walls in all but a few positions. Several hunkered down areas held off the hordes. Their numbers only seemed to grow as the Imperials numbers thinned. Each man was almost on his own as at any moment he or the man to his side of back could fall to Chaos. The corruption in the air was thick like a moist fog which sunk on them. They held off these urges of the dark gods as long as they could but some gave in. At a cut off hallway located in the inner wall four men brought out several shelves as a barricade as they fired lass rounds into the oncoming daemons. Nurglings popped as they were shot and Khornate daemons were shredded as they collapsed. Tight spaces were their advantage here. Until one of the men started to cough blood. No one noticed as they were firing on pure adrenaline. But one then took note and looked back to the man who had a grin. Turning his rifle he positioned the bayonet to his comrades neck an delved it in. He gasped and gagged and blood filled his throat before the now corrupt guard shot the rifle and turned his head into smoldering ash. The other two men knocked him down and out but the moment of weakness let the daemons to over run them. A Khornate Bloodletter stabbed its sword through the shelves and impaled one man as several Nurglings leaped over the barrier and began to feast upon the other man while the corrupted man infected by vile Nurgling horrors bouncing around. Daemons continued to push in as lass fire, artillery rounds, grenades and the flames of the Tenebres Legion engulfed these beasts of the warp. This battle was approaching its end. And it was certainly not looking good for the Emperors beloved children.
Erthos approached the tent were Hanna looted and defiled corpses. He could hear her digging about and cutting flesh like an animal. He gritted his teeth. Directing his men to surround the tent he thought he would give her a good warning and chance to die at gun fire. The Guardsman moved all over the right side of the tent were Erthos had entered. A total of six plasma rifles and four lass guns aimed.
"Fire!" He calls and in a barrage of hot rounds the men blast into the tent shredding it and anyone unlucky enough to get out of the way. But Erthos wasn't ignorant. He didn't expect this to kill her. But getting her scared of panicked would make his attack all the more effective.
As Tenebres and his men made their way through the city the massive pillars of fire struck up in the distance.
"My Lord would that be the location?" The driver asks noticing the hellish inferno spiraling into the sky. Tenebres grinned.
"Oh it would seem so. Change course to it. Full speed and above all else don't crash." He says looking to Cyrus who was rocking.
"Yes sir." The driver replies.
"You feel it don't you?" Tenebres says to Cyrus. "Those flames are made with the warp are they not." He rocks some more before nodding slowly. "Can you get us through? Weaken them enough to let us pass?" He asks petting his shoulder. Cyrus pulls back nervous. "Well?" Tenebres asks feeling a bit annoyed. He nods. "Good. Don't worry my friend. The Emperors light will save you." He says to comfort him as he seemed more agitated. Tenebres however assumed this was due to the warp energy.
Erthos approached the tent were Hanna looted and defiled corpses. He could hear her digging about and cutting flesh like an animal. He gritted his teeth. Directing his men to surround the tent he thought he would give her a good warning and chance to die at gun fire. The Guardsman moved all over the right side of the tent were Erthos had entered. A total of six plasma rifles and four lass guns aimed.
"Fire!" He calls and in a barrage of hot rounds the men blast into the tent shredding it and anyone unlucky enough to get out of the way. But Erthos wasn't ignorant. He didn't expect this to kill her. But getting her scared of panicked would make his attack all the more effective.
As Tenebres and his men made their way through the city the massive pillars of fire struck up in the distance.
"My Lord would that be the location?" The driver asks noticing the hellish inferno spiraling into the sky. Tenebres grinned.
"Oh it would seem so. Change course to it. Full speed and above all else don't crash." He says looking to Cyrus who was rocking.
"Yes sir." The driver replies.
"You feel it don't you?" Tenebres says to Cyrus. "Those flames are made with the warp are they not." He rocks some more before nodding slowly. "Can you get us through? Weaken them enough to let us pass?" He asks petting his shoulder. Cyrus pulls back nervous. "Well?" Tenebres asks feeling a bit annoyed. He nods. "Good. Don't worry my friend. The Emperors light will save you." He says to comfort him as he seemed more agitated. Tenebres however assumed this was due to the warp energy.
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