*An empty room with the door in the back fills your boring view until the sound of stomping is heard in the background. Suddenly, the right side of the room explodes in shower of splints and cement, revealing a large cannon poking through the former wall.*
*A young man casually walks down the cannon hand hops off. He turns back to face owner of the weapon and waves.*
Thanks for the ride buddy! I'll catch up later! *A series of electronic speeches answers back before the cannon pulls back with some ruble*
*Car sirens and the sounds of earth-shacking stomping fills the background as the man watches whatever-the-heck-you-can't-see leave while shacking his head*
Great. Insurance is going to be a killer...*He suddenly seems to remember something and rushes to the desk with the desktop*
HEELLOOOO PEOPLE
Sorry for the long delay. I had school taking up most of my free time and went through slight writer's block a few times that delayed me but now I have it done! So lets get to answering reviews.
Bartogromeo: The other factions in Warhammer will pretty much have the same current situation unless they take a big role. They are female spartans, its just that they're rare and only a few legions can actually have them compare to others.
SPARTAN-626: That's indeed funny! I will write more humor like that in the future.
mr I hate znt nobles kill em:
1) Equality/some gene-seeds can work with females (though not all)
2) Yes they do (especially the orks)
3) Yep, usually its either an extremely rare daemon world or freakish, random rifts or possessions
4) Yes they do (with the last two having the least of the worry)
5) It depends on what Craftworld we're talking about (majors ones like Ulthwe and Biel-tan because of their attitude and policy)
6) Again, depends on the craftworld and which sub-type we're talking about
7) Definitely, it would take centuries for the bad blood to go away to ever work together in an alliance (unlike most fictions where both sides suddenly becomes best friends in an incredibly short amount of time)
8) You'll see soon. Very soon
9) They'll be the same thing like when they were unchanged
Just like in chapter 9, there will be another trailer in the end for another enemy. (A/N: the trailers do not signify chronological order: they will soon come when the plot demands it)
The Codex for Ancient Humanity will soon be uploaded. Just need to make a few improvements.
Again, I do not own anything that belongs to the orders except for own creations. And I'm not responsible for any head explosions from sheer awesomeness or mysterious whispers in your mind or fungi growing in your food or suddenly having the urge to start smashing stuff.
Now...On to the story
Battle of Curwen
Orks are by far one of the stupidest living beings in the Cosmos yet can accomplish things that would leave every other race jealous.
Able to raise a battle-ready army in a matter of weeks and build powerful weapons from nothing but scrap in a junkyard.
Having a philosophy in their society that is barbaric to many but perfect for them.
Knowing that no matter how many times you crush them, they'll keep coming back till you wear out and collapse while they keep on going regardless for another round.
Orks can never be defeated no matter how hard we do it. They can only be slowed down or halted but not stopped.
-Lord Marshal Tetanus
Segmentum Ultima
Regional Castus
Sector Cronus
Sub-Sector Alidear
Nova Prime System
Agri-World Curwen
3.532.M36 (5 days)
Slowly over the horizon, the Nova Prime sun rose into the sky, bathing the entire land in a blanket of light. Flowers bloomed as the light touched them and wild life stirred as the morning rays raised them from their slumber. The beauty of the land would've been an inspiration for poetry; alas the peace would be interrupted.
Blundering through the land and spewing an ungodly amount of smock in the air, an entire convoy of Ork trukks raced by towards the distance. Each trukk looked as though it had been coupled together from scrap and barely appeared to be holding tightly even with the sheer will of the ork themselves. Adding with the sight was the fact each of those vehicles was covered in as much weapons the orks could possible arm on it along with multiple orks riding each one and armed to teeth with an equal amount of firepower.
"Oi! Boss wantz tu know 'ow much lungar til 'e git dere." A shoota boy yelled at the trukkboy driving the largest and leading wartrukk.
"I dunno wen! We git dere wen we git dere!" the trukkboy yelled back.
"Uh…'ow lung will dat take?"
"Dont 'now, sey aroun' tin minits."
"Oka!" The ork responded before scrambling out of the crammed space.
"Dank Mork hes gon'." The trukkboy muttered. "He wuz getin anoyin'."
… … …
The shoota boy pulled himself from the drivers room and into the hold crammed with multiple orks while joining next an overly large Nob garbed in mega armor and fiddling with his personal heavy slugga gun. He turned to see the smaller ork move next to him.
"What did 'e sey?"
"I dunno, forgot evrythin' he jus' sed. Somthin' dat we git ther' en tin min…uh…monat…we git dere soon!"
"Ah." The Nob said to himself. Silence occupied the truck with the exception of the loud sound of the vehicle and the rest of the convoy.
"Dis is borin'!" Another Nob declared from the back of the group. "Why wer' evin 'ere boss?"
"Thats cuz Warboss Bonestomper wants oz tu do reconi…err…watch dem humies. An tu make lotz of big noize and sploisonz wit dem." The Mega Nob answered back to him.
"But I want tu se' sum fihtin'." Complained another slugga boy.
As thought fate heard his plea, one of the trukks was immediately struck by something and exploded. Debris and burning bodies were thrown everywhere in the air.
"HAAHAR HAR HAR! Dit youz see dat? It wen' BOOM!" laughed a Madboy in delight.
Quickly, another trukk exploded followed by another one collapsing into a pile of scrap, causing all of its passengers to tumble into the ground.
"Dis is fun. I wanna see mor' of dis." Exclaimed an excited shoota boy.
In an oblivious moment, the trukks were destroyed one by one from the outermost ones to the nearest of the wartrukk. All while the ones in the bigger trukk laughed their heads off from the amusement they were seeing while not noticing how the destruction was progressing closer to them. By then, there were only three trukks left of the original 20-strong convoy.
"Noooo!" wailed a random ork. "Dont tell me it jus' finishd now."
His prayers were quickly answered as a shot is heard in the air and the driver spot of the right trukk exploded, causing it to rear towards the left and slam into the second one, destroying both vehicles. The entire wartrukk shook from the laughter emitting from the orks riding it as they watched the last trukks become wreck.
The laughter began to die down as the surviving orks soon realized a simple problem.
"Errr…wut happin' tu evryone else?" A slugga boy asked out loud.
"Didnt dey esploided-"
The ork in question is immediately cut off as the wartrukk explodes after being struck by something and kills the rest of the orks.
[[[[[[[[+]]]]]]]]
Somewhere in the land
In the distance, a human sniper slaps in a fresh clip of explosive rounds into his Exitus Rifle as he scanned the field with his Predator Mask for any more ork vehicles he may have missed. Seeing the scans bringing in nothing, he felt satisfied that he had gotten all of them, he linked himself to a secure vox-link.
"Report." Came a distorted voice.
"Ork convoy has been eliminated." He reported. "You're clear to move forward."
"Understood. Stand by for further orders."
Disconnecting from the link, he rose from his prone position, letting the sunlight glinting off his Carapace Armor and synskin covering his body. He headed for a cluster of boulders while mag-locking his sniper rifle to his back. Reaching the boulders, he took a small device from his belt and pressed a button. Beeping in activation, one of the rocks began fizzling and disappeared, revealing instead a hologram hiding a jet bike from any wandering eyes.
Dragging the machine from its place and hoisting himself to the seat, he patiently waited for his orders to come.
Listening to the winds blowing across for any new developments, his augmented ears picked up a rumbling noise in the distance steadily growing. Turning his head towards the direction it was coming from, he could decipher from the noise that more than one machine was doing this and were going to pass his location. He simply only needed to wait for them to appear in his field of vision.
His patience is soon rewarded with the sight of Imperial aircraft roaring above him as they went forth to begin Operation: Thunderlord. He could see Thunderhawks bearing the sigil of the Dark Angels accompanied with Pelicans, Sparrowhawks, and Valkyries of the Imperial Army forming the bulk of the force. Below in the fields, packs of Land Warthogs rumbled through with Russ Transports following behind and Viper tanks acting as support. He watched them all pass him as they continued with their destination while he continued waiting.
A series of communication alerts popped in his HUD to signify a new package as his machine spirit shuffled through the complex codes to display the info to him. Silently scrolling through the message detailing new commands for him, he smiled at his new mission.
Activating his jet bike, the engines hummed in power as the gravity generators began generating an electromagnetic field, lifting the bike into the air from the ground.
Placing his feet on the pedals and gripping the handles with his hands, he alienated his bike towards the large force and pressed his feet down, launching his bike at blistering speeds. He had a mission to comply and execute with utmost precision.
After all, you don't get any simple Vindicare Assassin to watch the back of a Primarch, much less the one of the First Legion.
… … …
"This is Legion Master Azrael to all units, target in six minutes," spoke Azrael through all vox-links in the attack force. He could see the approaching structures of their ancestors from the cockpit of the leading Thunderhawk. His HUD soon blinks a signal reporting a secure vox-link connecting to his.
"Legion Master, this is Master of the Scouts Nathaniel. Be warned, the orks have a large presence in the designated structure. I have a suspicion that the Warboss himself may be there."
"Excellent work, Nathaniel!" Exclaimed Azrael. "We may be able to overcome our two objectives in one strike. Continue monitoring the area and keep me updated."
"Understood Legion Master." Nathaniel responded before cutting off the link.
Azrael exited the cockpit and entered the compartment filled with Astartes. "Primarch, Master of the Scouts has reported that the Ork Warboss Bonestomper may very well be where we are heading for."
El' Jonson smiled at the news. "That is indeed good news." He stood up from his seat and set his vox to a wide broadcast channel. "Sworn brothers of the Dark Angels and men of Jericho. We will be fighting our sworn enemy of the accursed orks. We have vital intel that their Warboss responsible of this may be where we are heading." He paused to let the message sink into the minds of everyone present before continuing.
"This will mean we will striking at the orks where their strongest is located. But that does not mean we will shed away from this attack. No! We will meet this threat head-on and batter it away. We will not cower under the presence of a larger enemy. We will instead face their gaze with our own and bring our terrible wrath upon their heads. We will cleanse this world of their filth and remind them that it's us, not them who are greater. That we Humans can overcome any challenge no matter how demanding or dangerous it is. That we can challenge, adapt, and triumph in success or die trying to accomplish it!" Shouts of agreement could be heard through the vox.
"Men of the Imperium, bear with me as we strike at the heart of the ork invasion and destroy them for good. We fight and die for Humanity!"
The response to his speech quickly became overwhelming as Astartes in the compartment raised their fists in the air and bellowed war cries that were mimicked by the rest of the assault force.
"Thirty seconds to target!" Yelled the pilot from the cockpit.
"Signal the force to begin bombardment of the area!" Azrael ordered to him.
"At once milord!"
In unison, all the craft in the air fired a wave of missiles while the Viper tanks below raised their turrets and poured heavy fire at the area. A kilometer from their positions, mobs of orks were milling around the structure impatiently until they heard rumbling sound accompanied with the roaring noise of something burning. Looking up in the direction where it was coming from, the orks had a brief moment to see a wave of destruction heading for them until the distance turned zero.
Explosions ripped across the ork battlements as the Imperial bombardment struck them directly, sending dismembered bodies and machine pieces everywhere. The ordinance wave is quickly followed up with lasers, plasma, and bolters hitting any intact ork positions that had survived the first wave. In response to the damages it received and the probability of more, the First Ascension structure activated its fail-safes, instantly erected a powerful shield for protection and resulting in any stray fire to disintegrate upon contact with the energy.
The Imperials were however not deterred with this and continued firing until they reached the area. The Valkyries leading the charge slowed down once reaching the ork lines and released their cargo hanging next to their compartments. Mechsuits soon come flying out of their holdings and connect their feet to the ground. Using the momentum of the transporters and their own speed from exiting, the machines charge straight in the orks with the lead one raising a large power claw and with a single swipe easily slices through the barricades along with any orks too close. The rest of the Mechsuits carve through the lines and are quickly joined by the vehicles plowing their own destruction and transports swooping in from above and raining death.
In an orderly fashion worthy of the Ultraspartans and several Imperial forces, all the transports unloaded the assets of the assault as men of the Legion and Army rushed from their transports and battled the remaining orks outside the ancient compound.
Orks and Humans clashed together in a fury of flashing blades and storms of projectiles, as they showed no mercy to each other. At the same time, Dreadnoughts and Mechsuits rushed in the fight and ripped apart any Deff Dreads and Mega Dreads that were still standing. Vipers and Land Warthogs meanwhile raced across the battlefield trading fire against Big Trakks and Gunwagons, all blasting each other to kingdom come.
While the Imperials had greatly taken the orks by surprised and were currently overwhelming them, the orks themselves were no pushovers whatsoever. More than one Human fell dead to the ground once his/her shield and armor broke under the constant rate of fire and their body's systems overwhelmed with fatal injuries that could not be stopped. A Mechsuit or Dreadnought collapsing from severe damage, unable to continue fighting in their present state or their pilot dead. A ground vehicle crashing after being subjected through destruction beyond operational status or an aircraft careening into the ground once ork rokkits struck luckily once their shields was taken down.
Despite these losses, the Imperials continued pushing the orks back with Primarch Lion El' Jonson leading the assault at the front with his personal Darkwing Guards and member of the Deathwing and Ravenwing. Swinging blow after blow at the orks, he cut a path of death that quickly began causing the ork horde to spiral into chaos and start infighting across their ranks. Taking full advantage of the opportunity these orks were giving them, they redoubled their attacks in cleansing their presence of the temple's ground until the last ork standing found himself short of a brain, courtesy of an energy bolt.
"Spread out and secure the area! I want defenses set up ASAP and done by sundown." Shouted a Major to his Jericho Regiment as he bellowed orders. "Those orks aren't going to sit around and wait for you to finish to attack." Men complied as they began digging trenches and setting up portable barricades from the transports around the ancient structure.
Jonson meanwhile walked curiously at the unknown shield protecting the installation as he inspected it for any weaknesses.
"Be very careful milord." Cautioned Luther as he joined Jonson with several other Darkwing members with their Primarch. "You saw what it did to many of the stray shots and the few unlucky orks who touched it."
"I know what I am doing Luther." He replied without taking his eyes off the shield. "My brother Magnus hinted of something in his message with one of his annoying riddles about a certain shield." He carefully brought his left hand out and slowly approached the shield before his fingers brushed against the surface.
Suddenly, a pulse emitted throughout the shield from where Jonson touched and before he could properly react, it began dissolving apart until it ceased to exist.
In an unspoken sign, one of the Darkwing guards stepped forward and cautiously approached where the shield was originally standing. Slowly, he poked the empty air with his plasrifle for any sign that its presence was still here. After a few more prodding, he became certain it was truly gone. "Shield barrier is indeed gone, milord. We can pass."
Nodding in acknowledgment, Luther turned to the rest of the Darkwing Guard and several Deathwing squads. "Everyone, move in!" he ordered. "The rest of you, keep our backs protected."
The assembled team moved towards a set of large doors serving as the entrance to the installation. The doors stood over four meters high and if appearances could tell, looked as though its was thick enough to take a full melta-bomb blast without any serious damages. As they neared the entrance, the doors began slowly opening to the sides while sections of it broke apart into light and disappeared, leaving a gaping hole for the Astartes.
Entering through, the group was immediately greeted with a poorly lit hallway covered in layers of dust and absolute silence, which was constantly interrupted, with the whirring of their servos.
Jonson step forward, his sharp eyes cutting through their surroundings for any surprises hidden amongst the walls. Silently, he raised is hand and gave several hidden signals with it. Understanding his message, the Spartans set their weapon's mode to silence and carefully trudged behind him as they strode deeper into the facility. Keeping ever watch on their sensors and sight for ambushes.
[[[[[[[[+]]]]]]]]
Infinite-Battleship Pillar of Light
"FIRE FULL BROADSIDE MACROCANNONS!"
Star Admiral Julius de Donavich heard Captain Kiosk bellow orders out from his command chair of the Infinite-Battleship Pillar of Light. The ship quickly rumbled in action as macrocannons fired their massive shells at ork ships, causing multiple Kill Kroozers to disappear from the hololith table he was using to command the battle through the neural-link.
"Rear Admiral Christopher, have your squadron flank from below on those ork ships! They're over pressuring Winston and his battlefleet!" He redirected the hololith and zoomed in on certain parts of the battlefield. "Battlefleet Zeus, reinforce the defenses close to the moon Vela. They need more ships.
"Carriers of Group B and C, redirect your fighters to our north polar lines! The ork fighters there are too much. Wolf Packs Bravo, Gamma, and Centaur, intercept those kroozers and their escorts before they cross the 1,200-kilometer limit, they're getting too close!" He quickly zoomed out from the battlefield to give himself a wide view of the planet and its orbit. He could see everything happening on the 3-D map projecting on the table.
Around the flagship of the XXIX Cluster Fleet, the rest of the Imperial forces spread out across roughly one-third of the planets surface with 67% of the planet still under their control.
The entire space was a battleground with both sides firing shells and missiles at each other at a rate that even fighters would be hard-pressed to cross through.
"The Disintre-Beam is fully charged!" Announced a weapons ensign. " The Space Hulk as still keeping its distance of 31,000 kilometers away.
"FIRE!" Roared Kiosk.
At the front bow of the ship, blue energy began building up at tremendous levels in a large twin-barreled cannon as it aimed and fired.
A massive beam of energy instantly cut through the void as it slammed into an ork battleship, completely disintegrating it from existence and proceeded to erase multiple other ork ships before spearing the Space Hulk identified as Grave of the Stars once more. The massive 260-kilometer hulk nearly buckled under the strain before the beam finished, leaving another 6-kilometer hole through its mangled hull.
"Now is our chance. Launch the Caestus Rams!" Order Julius. Seconds after his command is uttered. Hundreds of boarding crafts are launched from both Imperial Naval and Spartan Astartes ships nearest to the behemoth.
Just as the rams reach the Grave of the Stars, Magna-Meltas on their prows are activated and sear through the hull, allowing the Caestus Rams to easily break through and unleash the boarders into the vessel.
"Star Admiral! We have new contacts coming in 91,400 kilometers to our left, next to the Iridous moon. IFFs are showing…Sir, the lead ship is hailing as the Gloriana-class flagship Photep of the XV Legion! The XCVIII Battlefleet is also accompanying them along with the forces of two chapters of the First Legion!"
Julius turned to face the ensign who spoke, "give me a secure link to the Photep."
The man saluted and went back to his controls before pausing at a new contact. "Sir…another ship is hailing us. Our scanners are designating it with the Sigil of the Agente." A brief moment of silence fills the bridge.
"Well? What are you waiting for? Get me a link to both ships if they're hailing us!" demanded Julius.
He impatiently waited for them to commence the link until two holoscreens materialized above the hololith table, one showing a figure he was well aware of and the other not so much.
"Primarch Magnus the Red." Julius spoke as he bowed his head in recognition, "It is an honor to fight alongside with you. And whom might you be?" He asked to the other screen.
"I am Agente Ravenor of Sectium Xenos. I'm here to retrieve of something of great importance located in these coordinates I'm transmitting to you."
A small screen pops up next to Julius as he opens the file and inspects the contents contained in it. Seconds pass before he sets it aside and looks back at the screens. "The coordinates you have sent me is fortunately under our control and is currently being investigated by Primarch Lion El' Jonson with several of his handpicked Spartans."
"Then I will join him." Ravenor informed to Julius. "In the meantime, I will have the ships in my retinue assist your fleet in routing the orks from this world while my own ground forces assist with the protection of the installation."
"I can have my own ships provide full support with this conflict." Offered Magnus. "In the meantime, the rest of the rest accompanying us are now under your command."
"Thank you very much. If you can excuse me, I have a battle to win. Ave Imperator," finished Julius before swiping both screens away and returned his focus to the hololith portraying the field.
… … …
"Have all Legion ships make full speed for the coordinates marked in the navi-cogitators." Said Magnus as several Praestes relaying his orders to the designated ships in the group while the Agente's retinue made a full speed for the selected region on the world.
"My Primarch, we won't be able to safely pass through." Warned a Praestes ensign from his station. "There's simply too many orks between us and the target. They'll tear us apart!" The ensign was too caught up with his worry to notice the glares shot at him from the crew because of his words even though he was quite new in the ship.
"They won't be a problem for us much longer," responded Magnus as he strode forward to the windows of the bridge and lifted his right arm forward with his hand spread out. Closing his eye, he let his mind wander through the warp briefly.
Without warning, his crunched up his face and gripped his hand into a fist. Suddenly, countless ork ships blocking their pathway are crushed beyond recognition into scraps no larger than a tank.
"Pathway is now clear. Proceed with maximum power to the engines and power up weapons."
… … …
"Have all ships positioned above the coordinates and prep the men for deployment," ordered Jonathan to his crew while interacting with the rest of retinue's captains. He was intensely focused on the task he almost didn't notice Ravenor walk up next to him.
Clamping a hand on his shoulder, Ravenor spoke up in a loud voice, "Captain."
He could feel Jonathan's body tense in surprise before quickly disappearing and turning to face the Agente. "Anything you need Ravenor?" He inquired.
"Yes, I'll be heading down to the surface and because of that, I need you to take command of the retinue while I'm absent."
Jonathan though for a moment before nodding his head, "consider it done. I'll watch it in your stead."
"Thank you, I know that I can count on you to take care of things." Ravenor replied with a smile. "I'll take my leave to the shuttles now." Letting go of his old friend's shoulder, he passed through the bridge and exited through the double doors as they hissed and opened automatically to his presence.
Entering the main body of the End of Time, he took several corridors and an elevator before presented with the sight of the small hanger of the prowler. The hanger stretched in the ship for only around 200 meters and 80 wide. Unlike most hangers, prowlers didn't have much of a floor seeing as it was instead replaced with a large gate. This distinct feature meant that all the craft had to be mag-locked to the ceiling and accessible through catwalks instead of the traditional hanger style. He didn't know whose bright idea was to have this design in the blueprints, but that person ought to be fired for this.
Walking through the web of catwalks to reach the Pelican being prepared for his mission, he found it in the end of the hallway ready and its doors opened for boarding. Sitting or milling around at its footsteps was Ravenor's Deathwatch Kill-Team Noble armed and ready for battle. Standing at everlasting attention for his arrival was Brother-Captain Carter of the Crescent Warriors Chapter, Legion XVI. The Spartan had taken his Godwyn-pattern boltrifle and mag-locked it to his right leg mirrored with a boltpistol on his left. Magazines and a power knife could be seen handing from his belt along with a power sword attached to his back. His power was decorated with symbols detailing his accomplishments in his career and designed for all modes in combat.
Next to him was Techmarine Catherine or Cat as she is often called of the Sisters of Battle Chapter, Legion III. She had only armed herself with two laspistols and wore a form-fitting armor that showed off her curves but the rest of here teammates knew she wasn't defenseless. Connected to her back was a mechanical backpack hosting six servo-arms each equipped with a plasma cutter, power drill, mono-saw, modified laspistol, servo-claw, repair-kit, and countless other tools in the metal pack. A Forge Hammer marking her membership to the Mechanicus hung next to her servo pack. As far as everyone knew, she was never 'helpless'.
Milling around next to the craft was Vanguard-Veteran Emile of Ravager Chapter, Legion XII as he impatiently waited for the battle and the Agente's arrival. A sawed-off shatter shotgun could be seen mag-locked to his leg along with numerous shells and grenades hanging from his belt and chest. From his back, a Gorgon launcher could be seen along with his Legion's signature weapon, a fearsome chainaxe. A rather nasty looking kukri knife hung from his right shoulder guard ready to be drawn out in an instant.
Sitting on top of several crates was Scout-Sergeant June of Raven Guard Chapter, Legion XIX inspecting and cleaning his Cyber S-R. Unlike the rest of his Spartan peers, he wore a lighter version of the Mjolnir armor designed specifically for scouting and lighter-duty missions. A bolt pistol could be seen lying next to him with multiple magazines spread out of both weapons. Hanging from his belt were two power knifes designed to slide through the thinnest slits of armor with ease.
Leaning on the panel door was Sternguard-Veteran Jorge of Aurora Chapter, Legion XIII. The large Spartan had his custom Heavy Bolter lying next to him while the ammo backpack with the ammo-feeder hanging off unconnected. Similar to June, he was the only one in the team who wore his Centurion armor and was by far the strongest of them all. A Thunder Hammer could be seen hanging from his belt along with a Stern-pattern boltrifle.
Lastly, meditating next to a crate was Librarian-Warrior Six of Persecutors of Darkness Chapter, Legion I. His armor was decorated with symbols and runes of both protection against the Warp and strength for his psychic powers while he wore a tabard of his chapter and Librarian order over it with the psychic hood. Lying on his crossed legs was his staff, covered in more runes with a small golden eagle perched on the tip. His only visible weapon was a Neutrino-pattern plasrifle mag-locked to his back.
His vibrated footsteps on the catwalk was heard by the Astartes and quickly stopped what they were doing beforehand and stood at attention. "Noble Kill-Team reporting armed and ready for action sir." Announced Carter to Ravenor.
"At ease men." He replied. "You all know the objective of this mission?" A round of affirmatives were given. "Good then, we'll be heading out toward the installation with Primarch Magnus and his selected men." He spoke while entering the Pelican with the Spartans.
"What is our intelligence saying?" Inquired Carter.
"It is suspected that the Warboss himself may be in the structure along with any of his own personal elites. I also have my suspicions that we may come in conflict with any defenses still online after ages of inactivity. Furtherm-" His conversation is interrupted by a fuming enginseer leaving the cockpit and confronting him.
"Agente Ravenor, whatever your pilot does when he is flying, he needs to stop." Steam could be seen coming out of his bionic eye. "The machine spirit of the Pelican refuses to cooperate so long as he's at the controls!"
A harsh series of electronic noises emits from the speakers in response. "Don't you start with me DT-C14493! You will do it whether you like it or not." He snapped back. The machine replied in the harsh binary language.
"If you want to blame someone, take it to the pilot, not me!"
"I oppose that enginseer!" A voiced yelled back from the cockpit. "Its not my fault the shuttle can't handle my style."
"Style?! STYLE?!" The enginseer exclaimed in disbelief and turned to face the voice. "The last time you flew a craft in a mission and came back damaged, the machine spirit practically begged me to put it out of its misery! It refused to tell me what you had put the poor thing through! It was difficult enough to secure a craft for the Agente when all the others refused to be anywhere near you."
"Is it really that bad enginseer?" questioned Ravenor. He winced a bit when the enginseer turned back at him, looking ready to explode.
"Besides the ships wanting to stay away from him, the End of Time had made repeated demands to your captain about having this pilot thrown into the nearest airlock before he can further traumatize its 'children'."
Ravenor sighed, "I'll see what I can do with him. Anyway, is the Pelican ready?"
"Yes, I've made last adjustments and checks to its system. It's ready. I'll take my leave now." With a final glare to the cockpit, he walked out of the Pelican.
Shaking his head, Ravenor led the Deathwatch team inside the ship and took their seats. Clasping his hands together, he closed his eyes while melding into the neural-link system. "Captain Jonathan, are we clear to leave?"
Seconds passed by before a response came. "We're now in orbit, launching drop pods and transports. Hanger doors are now opening."
Ringing began emitting across the hanger bay, signaling all personal the opening of the large void door. The groaning of metal echoed across the area as the massive door below steadily parted open to the empty void of space separated only by a Void Shield.
"Fasten in everyone!" The pilot shouted from the controls. "We're disengaging from the locks in five…four…three…two…one…launching!"
The mag-locks holding the Pelican deactivate, releasing the craft from its hold as it weightlessly dropped into space. Once it cleared from the mother ship, its propulsion engines immediately kick in, rocketing the craft along with multiple others from nearby ships through space and into the atmosphere of the Agri-world Curwen. Other ships meanwhile positioned themselves directly above the planet's skies and opened up panels in their hulls, revealing tubes. Suddenly, dozens of drop pods are launched from the tubes and head for the designated drop site within their cogitators as their thrusters guided them through the atmosphere.
Meanwhile, in the hanger half-a-dozen men garbed in black armor and tabards silently watched the empty void from a catwalk. Looking at each other, messages were shared quickly and a consensus made. Suddenly without warning, they began running cross the hanger: jumping over crates, whipping past startled personal, and using any foothold for movement.
Just when it appeared they'd reach the end of the bay, they jumped off the catwalks and into the void, much to the shock of any present crewmen. Rushing over to see of their fate, the personal witnessed the men free-falling towards the void and just as their bodies exited the protection of the shield, their bodies morphed into wisps of shadows and disappeared without trace. In the distance, the massive form of the Space Hulk Grave of the Stars drifting in space under the constant barrage of the Imperial Navy.
[[[[[[[[+]]]]]]]]
Deep in the First Ascension installation
The Primarch and his selected Spartans silently crept through the desolate corridor lowly lit with barely functioning lights. Their heavy steps muffled by several pyskers in their group to prevent any enemies already inside from overhearing them.
The group turned around a corner of their path before Jonson silently raised a closed fist with his left hand. Immediately, the group paused in their movement and waited for more directions. Ahead of them, a section of the hallway was pocketed with scorch marks and several ork corpses covering the floor. Without a word, Jonson brought two fingers up from his fist and lowered them towards the bodies.
The closest two Darkwing Guards understood the meaning of the hand signal and slowly approached the area while the rest spread out in the large corridor and kept careful watch on the bodies while their brothers neared.
The two Spartans halted before one of the corpses and stared intently at the body with their visual scanners, making sure that the ork was indeed dead and not faking it. Agonizing seconds passed before one of the two lowered next to the body and laid a hand on it to inspect its age while his companion took in the details of what caused the ork and its companion's death. He paid extra attention some of the injuries displayed showing signs of internal explosions of small magnitude and what appeared to ones showing signs of being sliced with something incredible sharp.
Looking at his partner and giving a silent signal, the second one rose up from his kneeling position and turned back to his Primarch. Carefully, he raised his hand to his face brought up three fingers lined up to his forehead and slowly interlocked them. The sign was very clear: communicate with telepathy only.
~Report Brother Michael, what have you discovered so far~ asked Jonson through everyone's mind.
The identified Spartan Michael gathered his thoughts for a good explanation. ~My Primarch, I am unsure what we have found but these orks show sign of injuries sustained from Imperium-grade weaponry~
~What? How is this possible ~Legion Master Azrael spoke out. ~There were no reports of Imperial units near this area or any indication of a Special Forces unit targeting this relic structure~
~That's not all Legion Master~ Interrupted Michael. ~The injuries were made by Astarte-grade weaponry. We're not the only Spartans in here~
Silence dominated everyone's head as they processed this piece of information and reacted accordingly…
~How can this be-Impossible-What Legion could be responsible for this-Probably the Night Hunters, this looks like their dirty work-There are none of them close by to this system-Now that's a stupid question-Shut up, Sephelium-Knock it off you two-It must be those damn Alpha Knights-Really? What gave it away-Quite bickering, this is seriousNow that's farfetchedTry and checkMy PrimarchWe need toWill you twoThestoplistenEnoughthat'swhyyouShutup~
~SIIIILLLEEENNCE~
All Spartans stopped their mental argument battle as the psychic shout scrambled everyone's mind and turned to face the Jonson who carried an unimpressed look behind his helmet. ~Really? Of all times you could have chosen to have one of your arguments in a battlefield, this one had to be chosen~
Many of the Spartans suddenly found parts of the scenery vastly interesting while the rest lowered their heads in embarrassment.
Jonson groaned irritably in the mental link, causing many of the Spartans to wince from the feeling.
~So it appears we may have unknown Astartes of one of the twenty Legions ahead of us without our knowledge, am I correct~
~Yes Primarch, that would be correct~ responded Michael.
Jonson grunted in annoyance at the possibility of Spartans here without his knowledge. ~It won't matter now; we still have a mission to complete. We can't let ourselves be distracted~ Before he could say more, he felt a familiar psychic presence in the distance and broke out a small smile. ~It appears my brother Magnus has arrived along with reinforcements~
~Do we still continue with our objective~ questioned Luther.
~Yes we do~ Ending the link with the group, Jonson raised an arm to his side and slowly directed it forward. Acknowledging the command, everyone carefully navigated over the corpses and moved back into the previous formation. Silence still filled the halls as the group continued with their path and soon began noticing the corridors start widening and branching off into multiple directions. Reaching the end of the corridor splitting off into three directions, the group halted at the signal of Jonson.
Slowly, he brought two fingers together and tapped his left ear twice with them. The Spartans paused in their breaths and strained their augmented ears to listen what their Primarch heard. At first, they didn't hear anything but by continuing to stay patient, they began picking the sounds of faint explosions and discharging of weapons from the right hallway. The same thought registered in everyone's minds: there's a fight close by.
Raising a flat hand in the air, Jonson twisted it and curled into a fist. Muffled clicks echoed the hallway as Spartans switched their weapon safeties off. They began moving at a faster pace as they neared the sounds of fighting while the corridor grew larger the deeper they went.
Reaching the end of the hallway, they stopped upon seeing a melted slab of metal where a thick-armored door once stood previously. Everyone recognized the handiwork of a small metal-bomb charge. From the other side of destroyed door, the sounds of fighting coupled with high-pitch screeching could be clearly heard in the background.
Carefully moving through the former doorway, the entire group entered a large chamber. Looking down, they could see a bottomless chasm filled with pitch-black darkness below. Everywhere they looked, floating platforms could be seen constantly forming new mobile floors and tearing apart old ones while the pillars stood idle and operated as anchors to keep everything together. In the distance they could see orks running around shouting at the top of their lungs and firing their abnormally loud weapons. One distinction feature noted about these orks was the fact they were much larger than the ones outside the installation and appeared to be better armed and equipped, making it clear to any eyes that they weren't simple Nobz; these were the typical Ork Bodyguards of a WAAGH Warboss. Another startling sight was the fact that the orks were fighting Spartans that were recognized to belong to Legion III, Humanity's Children.
"Breaking silence!" Announced Jonson as he raised his plascannon and fired off a large plasma bolt, completely burning out the torso of a nearby ork. "Eliminate all orks in this room!"
"Your heard him. Open fire!" Shouted Azrael while activating his power sword, causing several blades to slide out from the hilt and meld together into a sword soon wrapped in wavering energy. "Spread yourselves out and assist our sisters."
The rest acknowledged their orders and began firing at the orks. Cries of surprise and later excitement emitted from the orks once they released they were more enemies to fight with.
"Eh look boyz! We got mor' ov dem astertes comin 'ere! Letz git krumpin, WAAAAGGHH!" An ork boss shouted once he spotted them.
"WAAAAAAAAGGGHH!"
"Providing support!" A Deathwing Centurion announced as he lifted his arms, each holding a Protonic-pattern plasrifle with modified storm-pattern bolters attached to his wrists and linked to belt-feeders in his backpack. Aiming his weapons, he poured devastating fire at the orks, felling many of them under while a shoulder-mounted Kraken launcher eliminated any heavy armored Nobz in sight.
The orks were thrown in disarray from the Centurion's fire, giving his brother Spartans cover to swarm them completely and the Humanity's Children a chance for breathing space.
Jonson himself lead the charge, swinging his sword left and right in blinding speed that left orks as sliced fruit. A Darkwing next to him sprayed a group of orks in promethium with his inferno gun, dousing them all in flames.
"AAAIIIEEE! IM ON FIIIYYAA!" Cried an ork running around in fire and unfortunately spreading it to others. "QUIK, GIT SUM' WUTER!"
"We don't hav' wuter! Ehhh…quik, stup, drup an' rol' aroun'! Dat shoud work!" Suggested another ork.
Taking his advice, the ork stopped, dropped to the floor and rolled around…over the edge and into the pit. "AAAGGGGHHhhhh…!" He yelled as everyone stopped what they were doing and stare dumfounded at the scene.
"Oops. Sorta fergut about dat 'ole ther'. Hur hur hur…" The ork awkwardly chuckled before being cut off immediately from a bolt round exploding his head. Fighting quickly resumed once everyone got over their shock and started shooting once more.
Jonson thrusted his hand forward, sending a psychic wave into a cluster of orks and sending most of them flying in the air or into the chasm below. In the corner of his sight, he saw Chief Librarian Ezekiel smashing his fist into the floor, releasing a shockwave incinerating any nearby orks and destabilizing the platform he was standing on, causing it to collapsed into the chasm. Gathering psychic energy within him, he augmented his jump to clear the disintegrating machinery of its solid matter form and reach the safety of another. Planting his feet to the floor, he launched a psychic Hellfire warp at multiple orks, burning them beyond recognition before finishing off any that survived with his infamous sword, Traitor's Bane.
Shield readings in his HUD piped up when multiple slugs broke across him. Spinning around in the direction they came from, Jonson took note of the massive size of the ork and how well it was armed compare to the others. Expanding his mind to encompass everything in this room. He could feel the aura of the ork glowing much higher and seemed to be washing over the others and suspiciously felt another one that he couldn't quite put his finger on despite the fact he could almost recognize the aura and its feeling. Concluding in his mind to find the last one later and deciding the first was indeed Warboss Bonestomper in flesh. He slammed his sword into the ground and bellowed a challenge, "Come face me now Bonestomper!"
Upon hearing his name called, Bonestomper turned to face the Human Primarch and noticed his challenging stance. "You wunna fite' me? I'll cruzh ya' 'umie badly like a grot!" He yelled back. Bonestomper himself stood over three meters tall and decked out an incomplete mega armor that should've been to heavy for the ork to carry, let alone fight in it. Most of his face had been replaced with crude bioniks along with his entire lower jaw. On his left arm, a power klaw could be seen melded with the flesh and was armed with four, jagged blades glowing in power. His right arm was somewhat bare, rippling in pure muscle and wielding a massive choppa that looked like a hybrid between a chainaxe and a hammer wider than a human's chest. Hanging from his chest, as trophies were pieces of human armor the Warboss himself defeated and boasted about, a sight that snapped Jonson.
Quickly summoning up warp fire, he flung it as a fireball at the overly sized ork in anger. Crying in surprise as the fireball struck him in the chest, the ork roared in fury once he noticed all his priceless trophies melt to slab and glared at the large human. In blind fury, he grabbed the nearest object to him with his power klaw, revealing to be one of his Nobz and hurled the screaming ork at the Primarch without care.
He dodged to the side to avoid the living projectile; the ork sailing past him and slamming into a Darkwing Guard, toppling both on the floor in a tangle of thrashing bodies.
Lifting himself to a prone position, he lifted his plascannon and fired concentrated bursts of plasma bolts at the Warboss, scorching the surface of the armor but ultimately unfazing the ork. Continuingly to roar in anger, Bonestomper pointed his klaw at the Primarch, revealing a large twin-linked shoota attached to the wrist. Seeing the danger he was in, Jonson quickly jumped aside as heavy caliber rounds tore through the space he was before and yanked his sword from the floor.
Feeling the adrenalin coursing through his veins, his body kicked into 'Spartan Time' as time slowed around him. Moving faster than the naked eye could see, he danced his blade in front of him, cutting down any slugs heading for him with extreme accuracy only a being with the blood of a god could do. At the same time, he focused a bit of the warp in a small sphere no bigger than half a meters in diameter and held it a eye level.
Sensing a break in Bonestomper's accuracy, he whipped out his plascannon and carefully aimed. Less than a fraction of a second later, a plasma bolt left the barrel of the gun and connected with the warp sphere, merging together into a collection of frenzy energies barely understood. The hybrid bolt crossed the distance between the Primarch and the Warboss slowly in Jonson's eyes but at light-speed for everyone else's eyes. Before Bonestomper could register its existence, the bolt slammed into his left arm and melted through the thick armor, disabling the shoota gun.
Further enraged at the loss of his favorite gun, the ork roared in fury and charged at him, trampling several ork in his pathway and slamming aside two Dark Angels with his klaw that tried to stop him. Waiting for the ork berserker to reach him until the last moment, he used his enhance powers to jump over him and continue firing his plascannon at any weak points while Bonestomper slammed into a pillar. Feeling the pillar move slightly away from him and leaving an uncomfortable space between the platform and the chasm below, he dug his boots the floor and both his choppa and klaw into the pillar for support.
Still sailing in the air, Jonson twisted around and landed on his feet several meters away from Bonestomper and fired a stream of plasma hits in the weak points of the ork's armored legs. Roaring in pain and anger, the Warboss pulled tightly on the pillar down, forcing its mechanics to compensate the change of altitude by raising itself up. Using its momentum, Bonestomper pushed himself away and spun around with his big choppa revving in action at the offending human.
Caught off guard by this action, the ork's big choppa easily sliced Jonson's plascannon in half and forced him to psychically launch himself backwards to avoid the power klaw slamming where he originally was. Sliding across the floor, he stabbed his sword into the surface and slowed to a halt several meters away.
Behind him, a Nob saw an opportunity and came charging up with a tankhammer to splatter his brains everywhere. Without giving the ork much attention or thought, Jonson delivered a solid punch in his face without looking and cracked the Nob's spine in half and sent teef flying everywhere.
Pulling his blade free from the floor, he calmly held his sword at mid-eye level as the Warboss charged at him once more with his big choppa revving at full speed. Waiting for a few more seconds until the ork reached an acceptable distance, Jonson immediately rushed towards his opponent and swung his Lion Sword. Bonestomper growled in response and mimicked the action.
Both weapons collided with each other: one forged in fires of steel and iron will, another made in scrap and held together by sheer will alone. The moment both connected, a shockwave erupted from the overwhelming power and pushed away any dust and debris lingering around the duel.
With the dust properly cleared, both combatants were interlocked in their weapons as each one tried to outmatch the other one in brute strength alone. Feeling the ork slowly have the upper hand in the fight, Jonson concentrated on the warp before lashing his right foot out, now enhanced, and struck the right knee of Bonestomper. Howling in surprised pain, the ork lessened his pressure on the Primarch, allowing Jonson to push aside the choppa and slice the ork in his chest.
He quickly ducked to the aside to avoid the klaw swinging past him in retaliation and parried another attack from the choppa before bringing his sword in an underhand stab. The blade succeeded in penetrating several centimeters before a klaw gripped it to a halt.
Keeping a hold on the hilt, Jonson rapidly twisted his body around in avoidance of the choppa tearing through the empty air with millimeters to spare. He gritted his teeth as he tried in vain to pull his sword free from the ork's grip, but he had sourly underestimated the Warboss's strength against his.
A loud war cry broke their concentration as Jonson saw Luther charge with his sword crackling in power and his plasrifle firing at the ork with several other Darkwing Guards. "Luther! Don't-" He attempted to stop his old friend but was immediately silenced with a backhand from Bonestomper, knocking him to the ground. The Warboss turned to face the charging Dark Angels while the Lion Sword still remained buried in his chest. Gripping his big choppa with both 'hands', he slammed it down towards the lead human.
Seeing the incoming weapon, Luther twisted around the impacting club and jumped on the handle. Taking several large leaps on the pole, he fired off bolts in the ork's exposed face. Bonestomper roared in pain as the plasma connected with his flesh and gripped his searing face. Unable to see properly, he didn't see Luther jump on his shoulders and plunge the sword in his right shoulder. The rest of the Spartans plunged their won weapons into different sections of the armor.
Pain exploded from the wounds of the Warboss despite his tough physiology that he kind was famed for. Raging in burning fury, he grabbed Luther with his power klaw, the sharp blades cutting through the shield and Mjolnir Artificer armor with ease. Screams of agony left the throat of the injured Spartan before Bonestomper hurled him across the other side of the room and into a pillar. Smashing into the surface and shattering the workings of the support and badly damaging the power armor. With a groan, he slides from the crater and crashed onto the floor, unmoving. Swiftly, the ork took his big choppa and cut down two Dark Angels in half, spilling their guts everywhere. He grabbed another one and with a single pull, tore the screaming Spartan apart and threw aside the remains without care. Another Deathwing member tried to crush his back but stabbed his klaw into the chest of the veteran and casually tossed the barely alive human down in the chasm below.
Jonson stood shocked as he witnessed his close friend lay unresponsive on the floor and the death of his own 'sons'. Curling his left hand in a fist in anger, he thrusted his right hand, calling up the warp.
The Lion Sword, still remaining in its spot, began steadily shacking much to the confusion of Bonestomper. Without warning, the sword jerked to the side and sliced through the armor and flesh of the ork. The sword spun through the air wildly before caught hilt-first in a hand. Taking his weapon in both hands and staring intently at the groaning ork, he partially stabbed the blade into the floor, causing warp fire to suddenly coat the surface of the sword and his gauntlets.
Bonestomper, who'd been staring at his bleeding chest, looked surprised at the human Primarch. He could see the warp fire casting an eerie shadow in the visor of the helmet.
Seconds ticked by before Jonson spun his sword to battle stance and yelled, "For the Order!" and charged at lightening speed at the ork Warboss.
Bonestomper barely had time to deflect the warp-fired sword from cleaving his head in half with his big choppa. Faster than the eye could see, the blade twisted around dug deeply into the armor and flesh of the ork. Before he his body could register this, the blade brutally ripped free, taking small chunks of his flesh and armor plating with it. Roaring in pain and hatred, he swung his choppa at the human. Faster than the ork could see, Jonson dodged the weapon effortlessly and delivered a deep cut in the right knee joint. Bonestomper felt his right leg slowly tremble over the loss of a specific joint but chose to ignore this.
He tried another swing with his choppa at his opponent. Again, Jonson easily dodged the weapon and sliced into his right elbow, nearly causing him to lose his grip on the big choppa. This time Bonestomper was too consumed in rage to even notice the wound. Roaring in blind fury, he wildly swung his choppa at Jonson who effortlessly avoided every swing, slowly goading the ork to take bigger risks until he made a mistake. At last, the Warboss tried to make a broad sweep in an attempted to remove the Primarch's head from his shoulders.
Jonson quickly parried the big choppa aside and swung his blade swiftly in a downward angle. In a flash, the warp-fired sword cut through the pole forming the support of the choppa as easily as a hot knife cutting through butter. Silence dominated both combatants as Bonestomper stared dumbly at the remains of his big choppa and Jonson patiently waiting for the reaction.
Minutes passed for both of them before something snapped in the Warboss's fungi brain. "YOU BASTURD! YE BROK' ME FAVORIT CHOPPA!" Bonestomper roared in blind rage as froth started building up around his mouth. "IMMA GONNA KRUMPT YAR PUNI BODI AN' HANG DAT SKULL UV YOURZ EN ME TROPHIE CAZE! ILL SHOW YOU LOT WHY I'D DA BIG BOSS AROUN' 'ERE!"
Jonson simply spun his flaming sword gently around until gripping it in a backhand from and held his left hand in a challenging pose. "Bring it…"
Bonestomper bellowed a feral roar and swung his power klaw blindly. Jonson parried it away and retaliated with a slash at the right arm, severing it from the body below the shoulder. Because of his increasing rage, the ork failed to properly notice the lack of limb he didn't have on the right side. He continued swinging madly at the Primarch, not caring if he missed most of time or tore an ork apart instead.
In the other side of the room, Luther groaned in pain as the suit's systems rebooted and injected morphine in his blood streams. Lifting his head from the ground, causing shards of metal to slide of and clatter on the ground. He could see his Primarch fighting the Warboss with a flaming sword and seemed to have the upper hand in the battle. Looking to the side he could see the corpse of a female Spartan of Humanity's Children lying close to him wearing more stylized markings and materials. Turing his head away from the sight, he was about to lift himself to his feet before his eyes widened in recognition at what he just saw on the body.
Quickly returning his focus on the body once more and hoping to be wrong, he scrutinized the body carefully before realization slowly appeared in his masked face at the implications of what he saw.
"The Phoenix Guard…" Breathed out Luther in utter shock. "That's impossible, they can't be here…that would mean that…" He turned around to see Jonson cut off two blades from the power klaw and shove the broken shards through telekinesis into vulnerable parts of the ork's armor. "Ohhh…this won't end well at all. This is definitely going to end again like last time, only this time worse."
Jonson quickly swung his sword in a right arc and hacked off the left arm of the Warboss. Now armless, Bonestomper shook in fury and tried to smash the Primarch skull with a head butt. Jonson ducked faster from the attack and swept his blade outwards, slicing off one of the legs of the ork and causing him to lose balance and crash onto the floor.
Glaring straight at the Primarch without any sign of fear, he watched the human slowly place an armored boot on his damaged chest and raise his sword high. With a single breath, Jonson plunged his blade downward as Bonestomper roared a final defiance before the sword carved into his cranium and reduced his brain to ribbons.
And with that single action, the Ork Bonestomper of this WAAGGH met his end.
… … …
A Pelican roared through the air as shells exploded around it while veering around the sky from the multitude of dogfights erupting across the battlefield. The craft quickly performed a barrel roll as a missile flew swiftly passed and exploded in the air, sending heated shards slicing through the air and metal bodies.
The Pelican still kept its rapid descent followed by other transports of the Agente's task force and other reinforcements. Nearly reaching the ground, the craft quickly banked to the right past many burning husks and came to a halt from a certain distance from the ancient structure surrounded by a no-holds-down battle. Hovering above, the ramp opened up to reveal a squad of Astartes armed and ready. "GO! GO! GO!" Shouted the pilot from the speakers.
Complying the request, the squad deployed from the craft along with an armored human as the ramp closed up behind them and the Pelican speeding of in the distance which was mimicked by the rest if the force.
"Everyone in FORMATION!" Hollered Brother-Captain to all the Spartans of the Deathwatch and Black Dragons including the loaned forces of Giardia. As he spoke, dozens of drop pods struck the earth around them, releasing HDSTs and members of the Legion XV, Primarch Magnus the Red and his Scarab Occult guard. "Head for the First Ascension structure! Agente Ravenor will lead us."
Nodding his head to Ravenor, the Agente lifted his power sword in the air and pointed it at the structure, "follow me men!" Cries of approval rand out and together, jogged towards their destination while firing at any orks trying to fight them.
From their point of view, the entire landscape had been turned into a apocalypse-style battlefield with both human and ork kind viscously fighting over the remains. Fighters screamed over their heads as they traded blows with each other or against vehicles on the ground with numerous crashing into the surface and destroying swaths of land along with any unlucky souls too close.
"LOOK OUT!" Screamed out a shocked Giardia Marine from behind his shoulder. Looking over their shoulders, everyone scrambled out of the way as a Gargant smashed into the ground close to them and a Titan Warhound stomping by and finished it off with a blast from its volcano cannon. Just after destroying its target, the Warhound is immediately struck in the shoulder guard from a large shell. Turning to face its new opponent, it comes face-to-face with a Great Gargant and activates its war horn to initiate a challenge between the two machines.
Knowing what was going to happen next, Magnus gathered his psionic powers together and teleported everyone from the field just as the two titans clashed together.
At the entrance of the structure, the men of Jericho and Caliban were gruelingly holding back the ork forces until a flash of light behind distracted many of them. Hundreds of guns were cocked in the direction of the tangle of groaning metal bodies before realizing they weren't enemies.
"Ughhhh…warn us when you decide teleport everyone like that Magnus." Moaned Captain Ahzek Ahriman as the feeling of nausea invaded his head. In the background, the sounds of helmets depressurizing followed by vomiting could be heard from many others who felt the same sentience.
"Apologies, but that was the only action I could take before we got stuck between a titan fight." Retorted Magnus while fighting off a wave of dizziness from teleporting the entire task force. "At least the landing wasn't to rough."
Slowly, most got to their feet as they inspected their surroundings to see where they had landed in. It only took a few looks around before it dawned to them that Magnus had succeeded in teleporting everyone right at the mission's target. A voice however interrupted their musings.
"Are you lot's mind wandering again? Get back to your positions before I whoop you all a new hole!" Yelled a Major to his men to which was received with many grumblings from the soldiers but was otherwise carried. "Spartans, less staring at teleporting people and more spilling ork blood!" Several of the Astartes huffed in annoyance but otherwise listened.
Happy that everyone was back in their posts, he returned his attention to the group. "Where is the Agente? I was informed he would come here."
Heads turned around in search of him until muffled shouts were heard. Pinpointing its origin, all set of eyes were fixed on Primarch Magnus who tilted his helmet in confusion before realization dawned on his face and quickly stood up. Below him, Agente Ravenor laid deep on the ground, making a clear outline in the soil. Veteran Jorge came over and pulled the dazed Agente with one hand from his earthen prison, leaving behind an accurate imprint of him in the ground.
Dusting Ravenor of all the dirt and grim he had all over his armor, Jorge gently set down the Agente who took a moment to compose himself after nearly being crushed. "I am Agente Ravenor of Sectium Xenos. And you are…"
The man saluted at attention, "Major Carski of the II Regiment, IV Division, I Corps under Lord General Alexander. We also have one full company of the Dark Angels and elements of their first two elite companies. We have bee-" An explosion above interrupts him, "-been holding out since the last three hours against the orks nonstop. But now that we have reinforcements, I'm confidant that we'l-"
"Major Carski!" A voice rang out from his vox, cutting off.
"What is it this time? Did it happen again?!" He demanded back.
"Umm…no…but that's not what I'm calling you for!"
"Then what? Spill it out!"
"Sir, it's the orks…they're fighting amongst each other!"
"What?!" Exclaimed Carski. "I need to see this." Without any indication, he rushed back to the lines while quickly followed by Ravenor and Magnus. Sure enough, once they reached the trenches they could see the thousands of orks turning their weapons unto each other with large Nobz taking control of their own mobs.
"Their Warboss must be dead." Concluded Ravenor from past experience and knowledge. "Right now the top Nobz of the now-broken WAAGGH will try to make themselves the leader by eliminating any competition regardless of the situation and restart the invasion. Send vox messages to everyone to take full advantage of this before we lose this opportunity to destroy their filth effectively."
Carski nodded his head in acknowledgment and yelled at several soldiers to relay the Agente's orders.
"In the meantime, we still have a mission to complete regardless of what is happening now. Major Carski, I will leave it in your hands to continue securing our hold on this region and defend this installation. Understood?"
Carski saluted, "Crystal clear milord."
Ravenor smiled, "good then." Taking one last look at the battlefield he turned around back to the waiting task force. "Except those who were selected to accompany us, the rest of you stay back and protect our backs."
Concluding his commands, most of the task force marched past him and settled themselves in defensible positions while only a squad of Black Dragons and two squads of HDSTs stayed back. In the meantime, Magnus ordered his accompanying legion to disperse across the defenses while keeping his personal guard with him.
Looking at each other, both gave silent nods before slowly approaching the opened doors of the structure and entered it.
[[[[[[[[+]]]]]]]]
Space Hulk Grave of the Stars
"Eat nuclear energy you green fungi!" Shouted Marine Lance Corporal Gunther while firing his melta-gun at clump of orks, effectively melting them to green goo. He quickly moved behind cover as the rest of the unit advanced for his devastator squad to move up safely.
The entire boarding force had been fighting for what felt like hours since they exited their rams. Since then, they have been doing the arduous task of traveling through the random labyrinth of the hulk and eliminate any orks they came across. Which was easier said then done. Didn't help much when teams would end up running afoul of warp entities that had 'acquired potential' hosts from wayward orks and causing them endless trouble.
He shivered a bit at the memory of an encounter. He definitely wasn't going to forget that voice for quite some time. His group soon entered a small room filled with scattered junk and scrap.
"Sey 'ello tu my littul Deffgun, DAKKA!" A voice rang out.
"Jump for cover!" Ordered the Master-Sergeant. Not a second later, heavy caliber bullets cut through the hallway and three unfortunate Marines who reacted too slowly. Everyone else had managed to move fast and thank their shields for taking the brunt of the attack.
"We have three men down, sir!" Cried a Marine from his cover while trying to trade fire.
"By my father's beard, they're too exposed for us to help them." Grumbled the old veteran; "the orks trapped us really good. Which is not good for us."
Before any more comments could be made, a strange noise is heard behind them followed by something whisking faster than their eyes could see and cleave the ork manning the deffgun vertical in half.
Whipping their heads around fast enough towards the origin to give themselves a whiplash, what they saw chilled their bones.
Standing with his right hand outstretched, a black halberd materialized in his hand while the other wielded a weapon that looked similarly to a lascarbine but with a much 'darker' appearance. The rest of the man was covered in pitch-black armor that didn't reflect light and wore a black cloak with a hood covering the head of the man along with a dark visor forming the entire face. Several of the men gulped slightly upon noticing what looked like shadowy wisps slowly seeping from the body.
Gunther's breathing along with many of the other's was caught in their throat when three others materialized from the dark corners of the room and in one case, from a man's own shadow.
The four mysterious men gathered together and seemingly seemed to be communicating with each other. In a sense of curiosity, Gunther tried to touch the mind of one of the strangers but upon coming in contact, felt something terrifying lingering in the mind. He immediately broke the mental contact and rushed to the safety of his own, his face having lost color and breathing heavily. In the corner of his own vision, he could see similar actions made by his unit as they to failed to distinguish what they felt. A cry rang in the room as heads turned to see their official Epistolary yank off his helmet and grab his head while thrashing in the floor in pain.
Many of the unit rushed over to their comrade in worry while the strangers simply stood silently without moving. One of them looked back to the others as those asking for something. Without any visual answer, the man calmly walked up the thrashing pysker while the Marines kept their weapons ready should he try to harm their friend.
Kneeling down next to the man, the stranger extended his left arm forward outwards, causing several of the Marines to grip their weapons tighter.
Extending a finger, the stranger touched the forehead of the pysker, suddenly causing the screaming man to slowly tone down and go into a semi-slumber mode instead.
If the Marines had looked slightly closer, they would've noticed a wisp of smoke leaving the head of the man and into the stranger instead.
With his work done, the stranger backed away slowly and rejoined his companions. Just as some of the men were about to inquire them for information, only wisps of shadows remained of their spot before fading away into the dark corners.
The sound of their Sergeant speaking broke them from their confusion. "Slow your breathing down Nellus! Look in my eyes and calm down." He spoke calmly to the pysker Nellus as the man slowed his breathing. "Now, what happened?"
Nellus looked at his Master-Sergeant in the eyes. "I-I felt something. Deep and unreachable yet close to the feel. Fire. Pain. Hatred. Terror…"
He looked around at everyone and spoke the last word that chilled the spines of all listeners, "…and Darkness."
Imperial Codex:
Mechsuit: a revolutionary technology in Imperial Warfare. The Mechsuit is designed off from the schematics of the Dreadnought suit with one distinct feature that anyone rather than someone close to death can pilot it. Standing slightly taller than its counterpart, it is a force to be reckoned with. Armed with weapons ranging from power claws or Avetus-pattern melta-guns for close combat to heavy bolters or Scourge-pattern plascannons for ranged attacks. The Mechsuit is protected with layers of titanium and ceramic plates with thin adamantium pieces covering vital sections. It is equipped with both ion and plasma shields for maximum protection and runs on the latest Fusion Mini-core Mark VII in the lines.
Disintre-Beam: a large space-weapon that can summed up as a 'giant laser/plasma beam'. Its immense size and requirement of energy means it can only be placed in large capitol ships and defensive stations since they carry the necessary power source of Plasma Reactors Mk. IV. The Disintre has a long charging timer but once unleashed, few things can survive a hit from one. Turrets that fire this weapon can range in a length of 30-meters to 15-meters wide and height. Firing range can depend on the source; warships have a known range of 40,000 kilometers maximum while stations can go longer at nearly 100,000 kilometers and sometimes longer if the power output is higher.
And that's for Chapter 11 guys!
This chapter took me like forever to complete and lots of major changes in the details.
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The Ork Warboss is now dead. What will happen next with the WAAGGH? What revelation did Luther come to about the Humanity's Children? Just what the heck did the pysker see in the Silent Guard's mind?
Adtendite a tenebris.
Now to the trailer!
(A/N: Using the soundtrack of the Dark Below Trailer in Destiny or something similar to make it awesome)
[Camera pans on a dead world covered in massive cracks on the surface and crater-holes]
~Deep in an unknown world, somewhere in the Halo Stars regions, an ancient foe could be felt rising~
[Camera quickly switches to a massive hole surrounded by twisted, hollowed archaic architecture forming a ring band with towers and opened caves]
~Three armies; one of Light and the other two of the Mantle traveled down to face it~
[Camera moves over the ridge of the crater, presenting a view of a deep chasm riddled with more archaic architecture with floating bridges glowing in a dark-green texture inter-connected the pit while mists floated everywhere]
~Less then four hundred walked alive from the planet~
[Camera switches view to the side of the chasm while slowly lowering, wisps of shadows can be seen leaking out of the archaic structures, giving off dark whispers and low-pitch shrieks]
~All of them barely alive and nearly broken~
[Camera then switches to upside down and slowly moves down while the view of the outside world slowly disappears. The frequency of bridges increases while the shadows continue to whisper and shriek]
~We are the Damned. Last of the ill-fated attack on that wrenched world~
[Camera switches to a deeper position while the outside world is barely visible to view. The shadows increase their frequency and tone]
~We have seen what truly lies in the darkest pits of the Cosmos. Something Dark… and Hungry~
[View of the camera turns dark before vision returns with the camera slowly rising out of a murky, slick liquid surrounding a platform. The chamber is barely lit with dark-green torches barely showing a large figure standing with what appears to be a sword]
~Krotaz~
[Camera zooms in on the sword while dark-green flames with dark wisps erupt from the hilt of the blade and travel down the blade]
~Son of Oryxic and God-Prince the Skograic~
[Camera follows flames as they touch the surface of the platform and begin traveling across carved lines]
~Wielder of the Ngalnic Sword and Bearer of the Torch of Izindr~
[Camera pans above the figure as the flames begin forming a jagged seven-petal flower with a three-banded ring crossing it in the middle]
~Darkness will rise no matter what and he will be those who lead its forces~
[Camera zooms in the face to reveal five glowing eyes with chitin-like skin/armor, crooked nose and a mouth filled with jagged, sharp teeth]
~And once it does rise from the pits~
[Camera begins zooming away from the figure while in the background, at the edges of the water, eyes begin glowing in the dark from hidden forms and figures begin materializing from the shadows]
~The entire Orion-Cygnus Arm and Perseus Arm will tremble in fear~
[The figure Krotaz lifts his sword into the air and screeches a hoarse cry, mimicked by the rest of his kind in the room. The view switches to dark a screen]
~Now, we must face what comes from the Darkness and its Pantheon, the Dark Powers~