A/N:
Thank you for the views and for the insightful comments. I honestly didn't expect to receive this much so soon.
As a special treat for the New Year, I give you Chapter 2
I enjoyed writing this chapter given my love for War, Culture, and Politics. So I went all out when it came to the different armies and tactics. I also took some liberties in changing some aspects of the creatures in the Special Regions. Namely the Existence of Orks and Gretchins in this world and some of the other demi-creatures.
A lot of you in the Reviews mentioned the use of the Vostroyans instead of the usual ones. Namely the Death Korps. The reason for that is because everyone else have been using them already! They're also kinda overused. I wanted my story to be unique. With my characters having personality to push the story forward. So I went for the more underrated Guardsmen.
My first choice was actually the Mordian Iron Guard and planned on making a plot line regarding losing their world and finding a new one here. But in my research I realized that they were nothing more than the Death Korp with faces. All I got out of it are bland characters in the drafts. So I went for the next best thing who possessed colorful attire and an interesting background, The Vostroyan Firstborn. You sill see my take on their battle tactics, russian-esque culture, and entertaining characters.
MrMither102 – they shall and more. Ave, Deus Imperator!
hydrangea wine – thanks for the review. And thanks moreso for the compliments. There was a lot of flaws in the show indeed and I mean to mend some of those wrongs. I also on making this story a long one so don't worry. You wont be closing this book soon.
wman243 – this review board is reserved for Loyal Servants of the True Emperor. Please stand by for I am in the middle of reporting you to the Inquisition. LOL
Dyliokhan – i'm considering the appearance of chaos but there are already knife-eared people, and Orks in this world.
Bruce USSR – maybe. And no. The Imperial Guard are filling in for the JDSF. There are no otakus in this army, haha.
edboy4926- thanks. You'll love the later chapters. And you'll love the fight I have planmed with the Flame Dragon.
TheExpL0DiNgaPpIE – oh they will. Count on that.
Muricalover99 – glad that you do. All I can say is that expect some characters dying. It's not Warhammer without it being Grimdark afterall.
3 weeks have passed since the Imperial Guard emerged victorious in the First Battle of Alnus Hill.
Not a trace of the Heretics remained on the Hill. Not a single tent was left standing. Every tower was uprooted and collapsed. Every palisade walls and rubble were dutifully cleared out. Enemy documents were compiled for study. Materials and resources were hoarded and recycled. This included their archaic armor and effects that the Adeptus Mechanicus took with keen interest.
The enemy's corpses were carted off to a massive pit near the foot of the hill to be burned. Thousands upon thousands of naked bodies lie there in heaping piles as equals. Orks and gretchins. Mutants and monsters alike. And humans most of all. A degrading and final insult to the latter. A deserving fate to traitors of their Imperium. For taking up arms against their own kind and for fighting side by side with the likes of Xenos.
No songs were sung for them. No epitaphs were written. No stone or stick marked their graves. Not one Ecclesiarch Priests wasted their breath blessing them for the afterlife. Not one Guardsman offered them peace. Traitors did not deserve to be offered the Emperor's paradise in the afterlife. Heretics did not deserve to be carrion for scavengers and allow their taint to live on through those beasts. What they did deserve is the cleansing stream of flames that doused them down to ash only.
Unmarked and unnamed. They were naught but dust to be carried off by the passing wind. Insignificant and forgotten. Almost as if they never existed save for a memory that will soon disappear.
3 weeks have passed since the Astropathic choir began their song.
One of the priority protocols of discovering a new Planet for the Emperor is ascertaining the location in the greater galaxy. To add one more planet to the Star Maps of the Imperium's territories.
Navigators are the main means of discerning this, sir but those mutants are usually reserved for the Imperial Navy. Another way was for the Astropaths – Sanctioned Psykers of the Adeptus Astropathica – to pool their powers as one and release a signal that only other Astropaths could hear in other Imperial worlds from lightyears away.
The 221st Vostroyan Firstborns' situation was considered unorthodox. The circumstances of their campaign was either unheard off or lost in the annals of Imperial Histories. With the aid of the Tech-Priests, a Communications Array was hastily built in the peak of Alnus Hill. Dozens of Astropaths from the Adeptus Astropathica were supplied from beyond the Gate. Together they channeled their Warp-blessed powers and sang a voiceless song that travelled the breadth of lightyears.
Days passed and the Communications Array was improved to strengthen their choir's powers and increasing its range only to be responded to by utter silence. Days passed by without a word from beyond. Days passed yet the choir remained resolute in their task. Unwavering to their goal.
A psyker already died from exhaustion. More were to be expected but this did not discourage them or the General Staff in any way. Psykers, though treated as valuable assets, were completely expendable and were almost never in short supply in the vast Imperium.
Like all things in their World, there are no tasks too costly and no sacrifices deemed too great if it brings glory and leads to victory for the Imperium of Man.
3 weeks have passed since Colonel Suvorov began entrenching his forces in the peak of Alnus Hill.
As vast and rich the lands around them were, the Vostroyans did not dare venture out from the safety of their hill. No scouting missions were made to asertain information from this world out of caution for any unseen dangers lurking in the forest and hills.
Though the planet was a far cry from being a Death World, many dangers lurked in the land. Stubborn pockets of enemy resistance stubbornly resisted any advance the Guard made. Large mobs of bandits scoured the open plains and attacked any outposts the Guard erected. Fearsome Creatures haunt the forest's border and easily tore vehicles apart like they were nothing more than prey. Mad psykers, human and mutant alike, roam the shadows and blasted Guardsmen apart with their mind. Foes that would prove too costly for the Colonel's forces if he engaged them unprepared.
Old as the Colonel was, older even than what would be expected for a soldier in the Imperium, he was by no means a coward. He was just as stubborn, God-fearing, and proud as any Vostroyan with grit. His ample age simply gave him a lifetime of experience learning about the Art of War. Namely the Art of the Long War. Or in lay man's term, choosing the right battles and winning the war without wasting too many men and resources so as to have enough of both for the next - and most definitely worse – ones. The latter being the most common prediction.
With only the mysterious Gate acting as their only means of contact with the Administratum, supplies and support are greatly limited for the Colonel and his forces. Although it was large enough for a Baneblade or ample enough to accommodate thousands of tonnage in supplies daily, the amount was still preciously too small and considered painfully too slow compared to the supply drops provided by the Imperial Navy.
To move out now without a proper fallback or support would leave his troops vulnerable to enemy counterattacks. Leaving themselves outstretched and open for the enemy to exploit despite how primitive their enemies may appear. A hard lesson that Colonel Suvorov learned painfully during his many campaigns against the barbaric Orks and the cannibal Kroot. Campaigns that he barely won by a thread.
The fact that they were in uncharted territory helped increase further odds of their victory. Thus, before any such expedition or advance could be attempted, the construction of a functioning base on the new planet was paramount along with exploring the lay of the land.
That task for now fell in the hands of the Skull Probes. These floating servitors of the long deceased Adepts were vital in mapping out the vast world. Save for the terror amd curiosity these Skulls induced to the local populous, the Skull Probes were mostly unmolested in their tasks. That is before they ran out of power. The most furthest they could go was only by about a few hundred miles before being forced to return or shut from exhaustion.
One auspicious day however, one particular probe caught a glimpse of something that the Colonel was exactly waiting for. Something that would also help alleviate the restlessness his Guardsmen had succumbed to.
That time arrived at the dawn of the 3rd week.
Long throngs of men peaked from the horizon. An army emerged alongside the rising sun. To the Imperial Guard, they were seen as nothing more than hostiles. To the denizens of the world, they know them as the Allied Vassal States. Great nations of men that swore fealty to the mighty Saderan Empire marched their great hosts to the Central Valey. Surrounding Alnus Hill and continued to pool its armies until the sun set and rose once more on the same horizon the next day and the day after that.
Twenty-five thousand men from the Kingdom of Elbe arrived first on the dawn. Their massive banners bearing the purple Raven fluttered proudly aloft with the morning breeze. Fifteen thousand Legionaries in their shining purple armor and their blades glittered across the horizon in staggering numbers. Thousands of Armored knights and horsemen thundered down the field while massive siege engines were pulled into position by engineers and bulls. Hundreds of battlemages floated inches from the ground while chanting wards and spells in an ancient tongue.
Thirty thousand more men from the League Principality arrived coming from oppositen horizon on the same day. Their men were dressed in green with a yellow trim. Ten thousand of their men were armed with pikes that casted a great shadow before their ranks. Like a great forest coming to life with Five thousand crossbow wielding huntsmen stalking in between clearings. Emerging from their shadowy glades to wage war from the tips of their impenetrable iron hedges. Another ten thousand men armed with a mix of halberds, greatswords, and polearms marched between the pike squares while Five thousand of their decorated Golden knights marched on their flanks.
Eighteen thousand Northmen marched under banners bearing skulls of human, animal, and creature alike. Each clan was rightfully named after each one. Their cold and desolate home made for hardy people. What they lacked in numbers, were made up by their fierceness in combat and their massive size that can dwarf a noble knight.
Ten thousand kettle helmed Northmen marched on foot wearing either suits of boiled leather, ringmail, or heavy furs. Fierce warriors armed with axes, long spears, and shields made out of toughened hides or strong wood. Six thousand shaggy haired horses raced down the fields carrying men with lances and longswords who were as wild and hairy as their steeds!
The last Two thousand made up of their clan's champions, the Berserkers. These battlescarred veterans arm themselves with a pair of long axes and wore the skin of the infamous Northern Bears that they have killed themselves. Skull bearing shamans in their moss covered cloaks amd bronze claws howled prayers to their heathen gods at the head of each warband.
All 3 armies encamped behind the river just a couple of miles short from the base of Alnus Hill with colorful tents. That same river has thinned to quench the host's massive thirst. A symphony of dying screams echoed the whole morning as hundreds of cattle were being butchered for the evening meals atop of a sea of cookfires that belched delectable clouds of scent for the passing breeze. Miles upon miles of slithering latrines were dug for the belly filled men to relieve themselves easily.
The Mudwan kingdom arrived the next day from another horizon. They brought with them an army of shining ironclad Knights riding with bright colored cloaks, dutiful and eager young squires, and gruff yeomen with bows and spears. All of them marched twenty-thousand strong. All of which rode atop of mighty war horses.
Each Mudwan rider bore unique colors and designs in their uniforms. But none so more than the knights with their ornate armors, unique colorful sigils, and blessed lances tied with bright laces. All together made the once bright green field into a sea of dazzling myriad of colors. A living rainbow with a bloodthirsty penchant for honor and glory. Massive clouds of dust were churned from their hooves. Leaving behind nothing but a desolate flatland in their wake. A grim fate to those who dared stand to oppose their pointed lances and thundering hooves.
The Aulac Confederacy of the South-lands shook the valley and filled the air of symphony of trumpets as they entered the valley with three hundred war elephants at the helm of their host. Their gigantic, hill-sized beasts of thick iron scales and hardwood towers on their backs. Archers and javelinmen in glistening chainmail stood proudly atop those towers. Proudly waving their banners as they laughed at the men they lorded over.
Their fellow allies, the Noble lords and proud celebrated heroes made way for them to pass. Namely to avoid the elephant's barbed tusks and club-like trunks. Lesser Lords and their armies of peasant levies quaked in fear under the beasts' massive shadows and shuddered at their every step. The Aulac's own men however, their levies with their crescent blade spears, curved bows, and bronze round shields, looked at them with pride. Vainly seeing themselves as untouchable in the field.
Another Horde arrived on the next day. One that, unlike the many already present, is made of monsters and demi creatures found in the darkest pits of the Empire. Many are made up of forty-thousand barbaric orcs and goblins armed with massive axes, spiked maces, and crooked spears with rickety shields. Dozens of Orcish chieftains rode on chariots pulled by wolves or boars. Screeching goblins held the reins and rode alongside them with spears and glaves.
5 Titanic giants strolled in the field with them. Filthy hunchbacked giants with heavy chains nailed onto their cheeks. Chains that were pulled on as reins by finely dressed Goblin chieftains who sat on makeshift thrones latched on the giants' neck where they clumsily steered the beast from foolishly stepping on or eating their allies. Makeshift towers were raised on the giants's shoulders and catwalks were strapped on their chests where dozens of goblin archers and slingers stood.
Many glory hungry Dukes and Lords of lesser houses only brought a handful of their house guards and a few hundred levies. What they lacked in numbers they provided with their wealth. Emptying their treasuries to hire Demi-human Mercenaries to bolster their nation's meagre numbers.
Around two-thousand Werewolves from a dozen different clans served the various Houses. Most of whom were sent to their patron's vanguard. Rallying under the shadow of their own fearsome Alpha wolf chieftains. They were bestial warriors who scoured across the field in great packs that scared even their own patron's horses and the men they stood with.
Three-hundred Warrior Bunnies hopped along the field and scattered themselves in the front of their patron's long lines. Acting as their patron's scouts. The Infamously barbaric and bloody pagan demi-human wore red war paint and light armor. Devilishly fast warrior-women that armed themselves with short swords and knives.
Two-hundred ogres lumbered ahead. These rock skinned beasts are known for their monstrous strength and enormous size that were as tall as a house. They are also known for their extreme stupidity that they could only follow the simplest of orders and only arm themselves with tree-trunk clubs, stone carved hammers, or boulders that they carried on each shoulder. Every handful were led by a much larger Ogres. Clan Leaders who either rode on top of shaggy rhinos, dressed in bloody trophies, or stood nearly as tall as giants stood at the head of their cohorts. Surprisingly enough, despite being one of the most fearsome of all demis were considered as one of the cheapest mercenaries by the treasurers. They fought not for gold but for food like cattle or sheep and the promise of a feast out of the enemies they slaughter.
Around Three-thousand Cat-people from their own clans mustered. The tribal hunter gathering warriors wore long spotted tunics, bone stitched armor, and fine-crafted headresses that were made out of their preys. Proudly displaying their long braided manes and bore finely crafted weapons like the curved glave, triple-pronged katars, round clubs, and whistling spears that were launched by stick throwing atatls. Unlike their canine counterparts, the Lion and Tiger like warriors did not deploy in orderly lines or packs. Instead they divided themselves in scattered mobs where every warrior fought alone. Earning trophies and scars from their strength and skill alone. Their mob's mighty kings however receive the honor of being at the forefront and thus draw first blood.
Seven-hundred short and finely bearded Dwarves arrived wearing the finest crafted armor and hardest tested steel they could forge. The massive axes and heavy hammers they carried were comedically taller than them. The same could be said for their bows and arrows. But the reputation these Dwarves skills with these weapons were close to legendary.
Even the sky was not spared from the rumbling masses on the ground below. Flying creatures with their riders of all shapes and sizes in the hundreds blotted out the sun with their massive wings. Every hundred serving a different army all flew in glorious formations to show their might to both their enemies and to their allies.
Dragons and wyrms roared with bared white fangs that spewed gouts of fire while their riders raised their enchanted lances high. Gryphons and hypogriffs screeched with their bared sharpened talons while their riders strung their bows and readied their javelins. Pegasus proudly spread their wings of bright colors and loudly neighed while their knights rattled their glowing blades.
Sirens and other intelligent winged creatures flew alongside them. All of them sang songs of war and shrieks of terror to those who willed or dared to listen.
3 weeks after the Vostroyan's first step foot in this fantastical world, did the enemy finish their muster.
By that time, the defenses of Alnus Hill were more than complete. Colonel Suvorov was confident that they are ready. He was confident that it will be the Imperium of Man who will emerge victorious. He was confident that his Guardsmen will hold the line. As they always had for 10,000 years.
Let the entire world come at them with all their might, the Vostroyans will slaughter them all. Or die trying.
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"Officers." The Colonel announced to the men and women present in the command center. "At long last, the God-Emperor has rewarded us with our patience. Our Tactical Cogitators summarizes this Great Host to be approximately over 200,000 soldiers. A far cry compared to what our regiment presently possesses. And all the more formidable."
Colonel Suvorov paced down the line of his most able and blooded Officers. Men and women whom he had fought with on may fronts since the day he had come to command the 221st Vostroyan Regiment many solar cycles ago. Men and women whom he had come to trust after overcoming so many challenges alongside him. Men and women whom he was happy to see did not posses a single hint of hesitation or showed despair in the face of such overwhelming odds stacked against them.
"There are over 200,000 soldiers gathered outside, comrades. Over 200,000 men took great lengths to assure our destruction. Over 200,000 brave souls dare to challenge us in combat and for the ownership of this World."
The Colonel paused to chuckle and fidgeted his great white mustache.
"Excuse me, comrades. But I do not see an army of 200,000. All I see out there are 200,000 corpses."
The Officers in the room laughed aloud.
"Now," Colonel Suvorov placed his hands on the rims of cogitator's screen. "How fares our attempts to make that so? Major Ordenski?"
"Yes, sir." A tall and imposing man with a dark grey beard took the stand.
With a press of a few runes, Major Ordenski had the cogitator display a digital map of the entire hill from a bird's eye view.
"Our main strategy for this battle is a defense in depth." Major Ordenski said. "A five layer defense. Each layer will maximize enemy delay and casualties, allow clear line of fire for our troops, while and allow fluid movement for our troops in terms of reinforcement, advancement, and - if possible - retreat."
"Our first line of defense will be charged to the Artillery division under Captain Basarov." Major Ordenski presented a copper skinned man with a heavy brow.
"Our artillery outranges all what their forces could hope to possess and are deployed to cover 360 degrees in all directions. Supporting each corner the enemy would dare make their assaults." Captain Barasov confidently said. "The tech-priests have supplied our Manticores with fragmentation rockets for maximum casualites and all our batteries are outfitted with High Explosive rounds. None of them would even see what hits them once our cannons are brought to bare against them."
"I would also like to point out that the hostile's camps are already within range of our artillery. We could wipe them out here and now if we willed it." Colonel Suvorov snapped his finger. "But no. Our mission today is not to only destroy our enemies. But to bleed them dry. Kill as many of them to the point that they will not be able to raise another army like this for the next hundred years. As well as fear us for the next thousand."
The Officers in the room mumbled or nodded to each other in approval. The destruction of the enemy here would also help make their invasion move much more smoothly given their weakened state.
"Continue, Major."
"Yes, sir. Our second line of defense will be the distance between the base of the hill all the way to the first trench." Major Ordenski pointed to the no man's land that took up two-thirds of the massive hill. "Engineer companies and servitors erected barbed wires, iron spikes, and Anti-tank obstacles every hundred yards all the way up the hill. HE mines, incindiary mines, and remote explosives are planted in between every sector. The clear view will provide our troops with unimpeded sights in multiple directions, multiple kill boxes, and increased pressure of fire the further they ascend."
"The third, fourth, and last line of our defense will be made up of these trenches." Major Ordenski pointed at one of the three zig-zagging trenches that circumnavigated the hill's entire peak. "Every trench possess three parrallel lines a few meters apart from each other and a foot or two higher further in to allow our troops to fire overhead of each other for maximum carnage of volleys and allow a more fluid and unmolested means of support and reinforcement. If the enemy manages to make it to our lines—"
The Officers couldn't help but laugh among themselves at the absurd possibility of that happening. The many death traps they have made would kill anything before anyone could lay a hand on the first trench.
"IF the enemy manages to make it to our lines." Colonel Suvorov spoke for his Major who also fell victim to the comedic absurdity by simply smirking. "Our first trench will be tasked with engage them in melee while the second and third line will support them. Firing overhead, maintaining pressure on further enemy advances, or covering retreats on the following lines."
"The weapons on these trenches will increase further in." Major Ordenski continued. "The trenches of the third defense line will have autocannon and heavy bolter nests, deployable-mortars, and siege guns. Chimeras and Hellhounds are added for support.
"The trenches on the fourth defense line will include the same. But with the addition of heavy mortars, static bolter and missile turrets, heavy quad-launchers, Manticore platforms, Hydra Flak tanks, and Leman Russ tanks."
"Emperor weeps if that all else fails. The last line of defense will be here. And our graves. Ceramite walls were erected on schedule with Bunkers, Hydra flak and Sabre gun platforms, and turrets. Emperor forgive us if THAT falls. Chance that it does, every building in this base will be our fortress. Every street corner will be a meatgrinder. Every trench will be our graves. Here's where every thing we have left will make its last stand and take as many men as you would. And the Gate will be destroyed with us along with it."
"Captain Taras," Colonel Suvorov pointed at the tall man with a wild mess of hair. "Your Hussars are key in any counterattacks and re-enforcements we may require for this engagement. You will also be supported by our Sentinel squads."
"It will be done, my lord." Captain Taras bowed.
"The same task falls to your divisions as well." Colonel Suvorov pointed to the other three officers of their Armored companies: Captain Zharkov of the Light Armored Division and for Tank Commander Varrennikov of the Heavy Tank Division.
"Yes, sir." The two officers saluted.
"Our defenses are complete. Our fortress, impenetrable. But a castle's true strength comesnot from its walls but from its men." Colonel Suvorov turned to a man who sat idly in the background. Someone that everyone, save for the Colonel, had forgotten stood in the same room as them. "What say you about them, Commissar Mors?"
All eyes turned to the black attired Commissar who wore an unsettling gasmask. The mood in that room suddenly became unsettlingly cold. Even for the Vostroyans themselves. A surprising reaction given their fondness for the winter.
The Commissar may not be the largest man in the room, but he had this surreal ability to make everyone else around him feel small. Every officer there held their breaths as they intently watched the black specter come to life. His clap of his heavy footsteps made their hearts skip a beat at every step. Meeting the man's eye made even the hardest veteran in the room blink and turn away. Hearing the man's raspy breath from under his gasmask made everyone's skin crawl.
Only Colonel Suvorov and Major Ordenski did not seem to be affected by this man's spell in any way. The sly glances they gave each other pointed out that they were enjoying their comrades' discomfort of the man.
"Tolerable. For now, sir." The Commissar said monotonously. The threat imbedded on those last words made some people in the room uneasy.
"Very good." Colonel Suvorov said. "I trust that you continue to do so. More so on the coming days, Commissar."
The Commissar simply gave a curt nod in respose to this. His mechanical breathing still struck the room.
"Comrades." Colonel Suvorov spoke to his everybody. "The enemy has saved us the trouble by gathering here before us. Let us not waste this opportunity. The enemy have come to us expecting a massacre. I would hate to disappoint them."
The Officers laughed amongst themselves.
Colonel Suvorov smiled as he strapped his Golden Vostroyan Fur Hat on his balding crown.
"My comrades of the 221st." The Colonel said. "Let us show these backwater neveruyushchiy, the true face of War!"
"For the Emperor!" His officers saluted as one.
Two by two, they exited the control room to join their men. Major Ordenski left as well for a more active participation in the battle. All that was left in the room was the Colonel, a handful of Adepts, aides and advisers, and the Commissar.
That is, when the Commissar also made marched the door. His footsteps echoed loudly on the cold ceramite floor.
"Commissar Mors." Colonel Suvorov called from over his shoulder. The old man's eyes still gazed intently on the Tactical Cogitator's battle map.
The Commissar stopped on his tracks and crisply turned to the Colonel. The man's slow rhaspy breaths meant that he was intently listening. For a man who spent almost his entire life wearing a mask, Commissar Mors was quite an easy man to read for Colonel Suvorov. Especially when it came to his intentions.
"Do you think he's ready?"the Colonel asked.
"We shall see." Commissar Mors replied curtly.
"Let me know how he takes it." The Colonel turned to him with a warm smile.
"Will that be all, Colonel?" The Commissar asked after a short pause of silence.
"It is, Commissar. Carry on."
That said, the Commissar saluted with a clap of his boots and left the room.
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A/N: on the next chapter, prepare for an epic War.