Schism on Scanava: Chapter 1
M35 883
The swell of his chain fist brought a rare smile to Aaarne's craggy features. The first captain of the Praetors chapter gutted a World Eater with remarkable ease. The ferocity gifted to him by is primarch, Leman Russ, had been on ample display throughout the campaign against his traitor brethren. All around him his troops not only openly engaged the World Eaters in open combat but matching them blow for blow.
His terminator armor sang with the sound of glancing bolter fire and it was marvelous to Aarne. He called for a land raider to transport himself and his terminator guard.
"Estimated, five minutes until arrival captain." issued from his vox link.
Firing his storm bolter into a crowd of cultists Aarne replied, "So be it."
"The Emperor's wrath is not brought down upon these people so easily in most cases," commented one of his guards.
"Indeed," another of his guards added, "this is most certainly unusual."
"That is because the bulk of their forces are not here any longer." Aarne said curtly, "I will explain in the land raider."
After many minutes of slaughtering heretics, the land raider came rumbling over the wreckage of a fallen building. Boarding the behemoth was simple enough with the meager smatterings of small arms fire directed at the Praetors.
"As you know our goal here was to draw the bulk of the World Eaters out into open combat where they could be easily surrounded. I believe it was you, Faste who commented on the weak resistance," Aarne said, gesturing to him, "As it would appear they have opted to stay in the center of the city where they can operate AA gunnery."
The men under his command nodded in and grunted in understanding.
"I have commanded the rest of the company to surround the city and fire into it, the assault squads will wait for the bombardment to end. We will fight to the center of the city alongside a devatator squad, a dreadnaught, and this land raider," the captain said patting the interior of the land raider. "Any questions?"
One of the men shifted in his seat and asked, "Yes, for a force going into the heart of the enemy should we not have at least a tactical squad aid us?"
"They are awaiting drop pod assault, we are plenty." replied Aarne without hesitation.
Once arrived the terminators climbed out to find the dreadnaught, Ottar, the devastator squad, and an unexpected figure.
"Ah, chapter master, Ulmer. I had not expected you to join us in this position." Aarne said, bowing deeply.
"I know but I could not help but engage in a good fight where I saw one brewing. Digging up the dead is not my forte." he replied.
After taking a hold in the north of the planet the chapter master had tasked the first company with hunting down the last of the traitors while he stayed to oversee the security of the hold.
"Do not worry the operation is still yours to command, I am merely here for a good kick." the grin was audible through the helm of his cataphractii armor, the only set still left to the chapter after five thousand years. His lightning claw and combi-bolter were as exquisite as they were during the heresy.
The force moved forward standing out against the ashen streets in their white armor lined with red. Their face plates and any decorative skulls were red as well. Red like the blood they reveled in, their eyes shone a gemstone blue, piercing through the red and white of their helms.
Resistance was met quickly after setting foot in the city held by the profane worshippers of Khorne. From around street corners Khornate Berserkers and a horde of cultists streamed towards the detachment.
"Heavy weapons, take aim," the captain commanded, "fire!"
The Devastators and the Land Raider laid down a blanket of fire. Very few cultists managed to weather the hail of death, far more Berserkers faired far better. Twenty or so charged out of the onslaught with blind bloodlust in their black hearts, and the Praetors welcomed it.
The buzzing of chain axes and the crunching of bones filled the street. The Dreadnaught laid waste with his heavy flamer and power fist. Aarne and Ulmer where at the center of it all slaughtering the heretics with incredible prejudice. It was a shock that Aarne's chainfist hadn't been choked in gore yet. Ulmer's lightning claw was a blur of energy and viscera. Not a man was lost in the skirmish on the side of the Praetors.
Deeper they fought into the enemies' sanctum sundering worshipers left right and center. The symbol of Khorne's worship was scrawled in blood and entrails on any surface that would take to it. Bodies were strewn about, marine and cultist alike, all slathered in a thick layer of blood.
Defaced Aquillas were on every street corner, some slaked in the bloody mark of Khorne or the star of eight while others were simply shattered. The deeper they party traversed the slower their pace became, to where a block was covered in the span of half an hour. More and more marines dropped in the near constant melee as they made way to the AA guns. Half the day had been spent making headway before they reached their quarry.
Storming the bunker was remarkably easy, only cultists were left within the fort. A small squad of the most unfit scouts could have taken the hold without losing a man, a squad of Terminators was beyond necessity. The Devastators saw to the annihilation of the weaponry.
"Your orders captain?" asked a member of Aarne's guard.
Aarne allowed a grin to split his craggy features, "We find the greatest concentration of World Eaters and slaughter them like the sub humans they are."
With a shattering shriek drop pods descended upon the city. The thundering impact of drop pods shook the very planet beneath the Praetors.
"This seems," Ulmer paused, choosing his words precisely, "ill gotten."
Aarne turned to his chapter master and asked, "How so?"
"There are not enough marines, limp wristed counter assaults, and most importantly the reserve. The World Eaters are not ones for the long game." a flash of uncertainty followed Ulmer's statement.
"Now is not the time for us to withdraw sir." Aarne replied without an edge to his voice.
"I know, but..." Ulmer held on a thought, "It's nothing."
Aarne turned his attention to the greater battle, organizing the precise pincer movement he had set in motion.
I want the Devastators on a building providing bombardment into the thick of it. Ottar," Aarne said to the Dreadaught, "purge the heretic amongst the front line. While my guard, Ulmer, and I will be transported by the Land Raider."
And so they did, the lines were nothing but chaotic slaughter. Marines and traitors dropped, and while some Praetors denied it they enjoyed the destruction to an equal extent the World Eaters did. Hellish screams and barbaric hollering mixed with the cacophony of chain weaponry and bolter fire. The blood of traitor an loyalist mixed like oil and water. The thick, mucus like blood of chaos marines collected in small mounds as the bright astrtes blood trickled over it and rivers of dark cultist blood flowed.
There was a swath being cut through the enemy by the terminators, their captain, and their chapter master. Tactics and sense had been dropped as they cut a red carpet for themselves. Slowly, the squad whittled down further and further until only Aarne and Ulmer remained. Aarne's chainfist had been turned into a blunt force tool as it had been choked in bones and gore, but it was still more than enough. With the ease of two men cutting a field they traveled, never loosing sight of each other until they found themselves at the eye of the storm. Aarne felt as if he had been suddenly been pulled out of water moments before drowning.
There was the urge to continue to the heart of the anomaly he found himself in despite combat occurring a few yards behind him. In a haze he and Ulmer traveled further. Wordlessly they walked past atrocities with as casual an air one may walk past a fellow battle-brother. There was a ground car with a window bashed in and the roof ripped up the bloody pulp of its driver meters away from the door. The astartes gave it not a glance in their stupor. At long last they came to the center of it all.
There they found bodies laid in the shape of the mark of Khorne, each one had their intestines laid out next to them, carefully laid out as to suggest the eight-pointed star of chaos. At the core of the unholy site was a ring of slaves, covered in welts and scars that held meaning to those of the warp. Over them stood a champion of Khorne completely ignoring the intruding astartes. The slaves had been stitched together and tied at the legs to prevent their leaving. Their mouths opened in unison, an unmistakable scream written on their faces. At first no sound accompanied the gesture but all at once, with the volume of a Thunderhawk, a guttural wail ushered from around them all. A blue glow emanated from the psyker slaves, collecting in the champion of Khorne.
This champion warped and shifted, bones cracked and popped as though they had been run over by a Rhino. Muscle grew as did patches of fur as well as patches of boney plates. Even the color of his armor changed from dark red to a deep blue, leaving the belt red. The golden trim deepened to a copper tone. At last the goat headed beast had finished its transformation.
Its voice carried two separate tones; one high and tense with unrestrained blood thirst the other was deep and dripped with malice, "Blood for the blood god! Skulls for the skull throne!"
At the cry of the daemon the Praetors shed their languor and sprung to action. The pair wordlessly opened bolter fire upon the prince of Khorne. It shrugged off the fire as it materialized an axe into its hand and swung. Aarne was in better position to dodge than Ulmer so Aarne came up unscathed. Ulmer meanwhile was sent skidding unceremoniously across the fero-crete and into a ground car. Aarne shoulder charged the great beast and struck the knee, threatening to throw it off its footing.
"Ah, you believe yourself strong?" It moved with uncanny grace and lifted the Aaarne by the arm his choked chainfist was attached to. It banished the axe and struck repeatedly at the terminator held so pathetically. Aarne balled up to whether the flurry. Between salvos he would fire his storm bolter into its arm.
"I know myself strong daemon! I am a proud son of the Great Wolf, Russ himself! None can claim stronger lineage than we!"
It spat in his face and threw him towards the now standing Ulmer. In its dual tone it said, "You humans forget easily. You are no son of the runt from Fenris but the eater of worlds Angron! You fight kindred on this day fool." A howling screech emitted from the beast and it charged headlong with the axe rematerializing.
Ulmer stepped in front of Aarne, as the daemon bore down on them he caught the haft of the weapon. The warp spawn kicked out at Ulmer in attempt to shake him. Aarne took the opportunity to disable a leg.
Two distinctive screams emanated from it as the daemon fell to a kneeling position. The wail could not burrow its way through the rage and hatred Aarne had accrued for the thing. A flurry of blows was delivered by the first captain as his mind turned and turned. The more he ruminated on the matter the more it made sense and the more it made sense the higher the flames in his breast burned. What could have been minutes or moments later Aarne's deafening rage was broken by a familiar voice.
Ulmer shouted and snarled as he buckled under the force of the weight brought down on him by the weapon of Khorne. The daemon gave its undivided attention to the chapter master as it hefted the blade and cleaved him through. The axe had run through the lower left portion of his pelvis and the upper portion of his arm.
Something inside Aarne's hearts broke like a retired dam, allowing the full fury to come forward.
"I serve the Emperor with no regard for my forefather! If that makes me a bastard marine so be it!" Aarne dug his fingers into the tainted flesh of the daemon and made way for the head. The beast struck at him attempting to uproot him.
"You serve a false god under a false father! Nothing about you is true!" it screamed as he finally gained purchase on the marine and threw him. "Death to the false Emperor, death to false worshippers, and death to the false sons!"
It charged at the drained captain and swung its massive axe at the captain and stopped close to the marine. It smelled the air tilted its head, grinned at the broken marine and dissolved from the material realm.
Aarne requested immediate evac for himself and Ulmer. The ride on that quite Thunderhawk as he lay next to Ulmer contemplating on what had occurred was harder for him than the fight that lead to this state in the first place.
Bastard sons he thought to himself the whole way.