"What kind of speech was that?!" Mizinoh muttered. The disgust and dismay in his voice only tempered down from the fear of insubordination.
Kirinya, squinted as the sun beat down behind their new brothers in arms. He saw these individuals somberly walk down the raised platform. "The paintings seem to do them too much justice, brother" Kirinya appraised. What once came across as blazingly potent sapphire helmets and shoulder pads only matching the brilliance of the gold power armor, were dulled, burned, chipped, and….
The Spiritwalker tensed briefly. Did his eyes betray him? Surely, the sun played tricks on him. No….. to his muted horror, he saw an energy hovering over the Firstborn. Countless souls are swarming them, washing over Kirinya as these forces from beyond were tethering their bonds to the marines approaching them. Fear, hurt, and despair swirled around them. However, there was one emotion the Spiritwalker couldn't define.
Nabuntye strode forward. The red dirt swirled as he strode with the gentle and thunderous roar of his 94 survivors in tow. Before he could approach his new family however, a Servo Skull rapidly approached.
"No doubt, even in our home, we are as clueless as outsiders." Derynne sighed, his exhaustion momentarily outweighing the Lieutenant's mischievous demeanor. "Since when did we allow the Mechanicus to have forges on our homeworld, Brother?" Derynne turned to Pridemaster Nabuntye. The man in terminator armor stood rigid in front of his approaching Company.
"We didn't"
The procession halted as the servoskull's message was uploaded to the PrideMaster's Terminator Armor. An ancient relic made to be equal parts deadly, and a piece of art in memoriam to mourn the death of the Crimson Fists' First Company. Its ancient technology processed the uplink in the blink of an eye. The other newly ordained captains were still getting their copies of the map processed by the time Nabuntye had built up his battle plan.
"Newly ordained Lifebinder! Spiritwalker! Come to me! Pride's Heart and Stalking Maw! Armor up and return in ten minutes!"
Nabuntye looked over to reassess the remaining new recruits. A dozen scenarios played. None of them end well for these men whose names he did not know. The first seven plans ended in their utter destruction, two left them wracked in ruinous pain, and potentially becoming candidates for dreadnoughts.
'At least that loss would give them redemption' he briefly thought. The last three options had the best chance of survival, but he would need to choose their ultimate fate after his impromptu patrol was assembled.
To everyone else, a second had passed as the sergeant to the Leaping Jaws stood still no longer a subordinate, but prey to the man's calculating glare. Nabuntye's snarl grew into a growl as he uttered to this man "You will personally accompany me." His voice was low and demanded attention that threatened to break anyone whose concentration was detached from the task at hand. The five men snapped to attention and approached alongside their Lifebinder and Spiritwalker. All of their armor now fully uploaded and displaying the message the PrideMaster processed moments ago was on display as the patrol saw what they were preparing their armaments for.
This planet and all its surrounding resources are under direct ownership and jurisdiction of Techpriest Dominus-Rex. Any and all equipment, data, geneseed, and personnel shall submit themselves for inspection for any sign of 'unusual technology.' Any and all resistance will be destroyed on the molecular level.
The recruits stood with contempt. Amongst the masses of confusion and anger rose a voice from the Apothecary. Jaw clenched, muscles trembling with rage, he looked onward to the PrideMaster. "What are YOU going to do about this?"
The golden Terminator Armor shown brilliantly and its illumination created a shadow where Nabuntye once stood, leaving a dark void that drew Kirinya's eye. He saw the spirits that lingered over his new brothers. Those souls seemed to sense the electricity in the air filling the area once again with that indescribable sensation which washed over the spiritwalker. The confusing sensation quickly ebbed into a new one. The spirits were excited. Vengeful.
"Let me show you why I am the PrideMaster of the Celestial Lions," Nabuntye said, a wicked smile cursed his face. His gray vandyke only making his pocked and wrinkled skin turn into a crazed, almost lecherous smile.
The patrol waited with a mix of anticipation, thrill, and fear as the doors to the Transport depot were closed. It was a ritual only those blessed by the Omnissiah could bear witness, though with the noise inside, not many Lions were keen on knowing.
The Rhinos and Impulsors whined softly to life before their main engines were activated in unison. Enginseers dangled from oil soaked wires as they surrounded the small depot of transports in harmonious chanting. With the various technical upgrades their bodies have undergone, most did not have working jaws or lungs, but instead speakers that quickly panned between different pitches until in the discordant chaos, a harmony could be made. While this crescendo was reached, the chanting from the Enginseers with functioning jaws began to shout. A handful of men and women shouting in rhythm. With each shout, the circle of somewhat organic figures would step out from the center of the depot. Each step would signal their dowsing sticks to be whipped in the air, splattering the Omnissiah's blessing over the machinery. Every impact increased the passion in which they shouted. Some with anger, some with joy, most in delirium. They too had quickly joined the crescendo's peak now yelling as they each stood in front of a vehicle. The lights and lanterns grow brighter than thought possible. The engines begin to roar to their full capacity, perfectly in tune with the noise, synthetic and organic. This opera of becoming was finished with joyous laughter and celebration as the enginseers quickly left the work to the crewmen for departure, further blessing the pathways and catwalks they traversed with the leftover sanctified oils they poured over themselves to ensure the ritual would succeed the next time.
The bay doors opened and vehicles one by one were drawn out as company names were shouted and assigned as they rapidly mobilized. Years of practice, and chemically induced dreams full of training drills made this all second nature even to the greenest of Primaris. The Celestial Lions were mobilized. However, as the vehicles took off, they began succumbing to something very few Sons of Rogal truly experienced. When the Primarch of the Imperial Fists watched his father die to his closest friend and former Warmaster, it triggered what would be known as "The Longest Second" in which Dorn's belief, hopes, dreams, and future were killed. This pain was so strongly instilled, it was known as "Dorn's Darkness" which puts the victim into a coma. During this event the individual would feel the soul crushing sorrow and pain Rogal Dorn had processed in that longest second. Most fortunately die during their first exposure to Dorn's Darkness. Some never wake back up. However, for the Celestial Lions, a chapter who has already seen and escaped this foul abyss, all that's left is the righteous fury left in this darkness, their unknowing victims the target.
Nabuntye stood and shouted through his terminator armor ringing through the comms link to his brothers. This Darkness which had slipped between the shadows of the men's hearts was now called to action as their Pridemaster stirred them into a zealotus frenzy "For Rogal. For Elysium! For its people! WE WILL DIE STANDING. NOT LIVE KNEELING!"
Kirinya was ready to serve the will of the Emperor. The Spiribinder did not know if the smell of blood was a good or bad omen. He just knew he enjoyed the scent.
Lambheart was many things. He was a Space Marine, blessed to wield a modified bolt pistol and Astartes Chainsword. He was a Lamenter, trained in chivalrous glory via the means of brutal close quarters combat. A servant to the God-Emperor, he who allowed his vigil in this universe to be at the very least attempted if not be truly in vain. Lambheart unfortunately was not similar to most of his brothers. His cognitive and rational thinking skills were otherwise pragmatic without being cold, his zeal bright, but not blinding. His thirst…. Spirit of Sanguinias protect him, was still weighing down on him at times, but never enough to go into the black veil beyond the confines of sanity.
"I don't give two flyin' farts if your legs are numb! If the Commissar hears your bellyachi-"
The former special weapons sergeant was cut off by the bolt pistol. The act transformed his upper torso into an impromptu aortic windchime before the corpse hit the hot red dirt.
Sighing with minor resignation, Lambheart had to admit his limits as a Space Marine. Above all else, he was NOT A BABYSITTER
"Commissar!" The smooth gothic timber, given a slight robotic hiss due to his helmet, had echoed out louder than necessary. Lambheart strode towards and looked down at the Commissar. "There are two options today! With no true aid or support from the Imperium, coming anytime soon, I will make this clear. Only if they flee without our direct command, or if they are actively compromising the safety of the Company, you will NOT kill your own."
Commissar Finch for a brief glimpse seemed to weigh his options in front of the Marine. The discomfort hidden behind the rigid stature of the Officer gave Lambheart notable delight.
"My apologies… The impromptu jettison and crash landing onto the planet seemed to make my judgment cruel for a moment. Your post-mortem intervention was well timed to prevent any further miscarriage of my role."
The bugbear of a Commissar was pale and wiry. His long and oily hair tucked under the Commissar's cap. What made Finch unnerving was there was the lack of emotion in his voice or demeanor when he carried out his tasks.
"Very good." Lambheart nodded and walked back to his position during the march.
The Fourth Company was rattled but had a bearing to reach with their brothers who checked in alive. Only the Ninth Company suffered the worst at 88 who died on impact. The Nurgle's Blight absorbing the Xeno corpses had spread too fast in their section of the ship….. The horrid shapes he briefly saw still make him feel like pure Fenrisian snow was thawed inside his body despite the heatwave surrounding them. He hoped all the stored heavy munitions and several dreadnoughts provided enough kindling to clear out the blight…
"Lambheart, we have contact! The new Plague Biomass is assaulting the First Company! They are hiding behind several wrecks and storage containers. ETA for contact in 4! Comms response has been faulty!"
"Such is tradition…" Lambheart responded with a minor sigh "Defensive perimeter! Chosen! Ready for forward advance!" Lambheart turned around and looked at the dreadnought in black armor. Minor contempt almost surfaced but he instead issued the order stoic as possible. "Sanguinias… Horus is attacking our men. Make sure when you charge in, you do not do Horus's bidding for him."
"MY BROTHER TRICKED ME ONCE. I WILL NOT ALLOW HIM TO MANIPULATE ME FURTHER"
The squad began moving through the dusty dunes and using the weapons of war to mask their presence. It was unnerving. The mechanicum pressing forward were moving in a march. Nobody spoke, swore vengeance, or took glory in their pinning maneuvers. It was step, shoot, step, duck, shoot, step, reload, step, die, step, repeat.
It wasn't human. The Giant robots with oddly smooth and curved armor panelling moved more like humans. Heavy thudded footfalls as their guns shot into the landing pad for imperial navy ships.
Lambheart's vox system crackled into a clear connection. It was encrypted for Astartes only. But the Callsign did not match any other Lamenter.
"Brothers! I see you on the ridge! My men and I are enroute! We do not have the means to hold the Castellans. If you can pin them, I will sunder the others!"
Before Lambheart could respond to this new voice, a sea of dust and azure ceramite sprinted out, unleashing enough bolter munitions in their initial volley to cause the Sergeant's visor to darken. The dull roar of the projectiles exploding made his teeth rattle and bruise his gums.
"Sergeant Lambheart of the Lamenters calling in! We will push towards the Castellan!" Lambheart whipped around and shouted to his men "VANGUARD tHE ROBOTS! LIGHTNING CLAWS TO REND THE CIRCUITRY"
Jump Packs roared to life, the sand and dust underfoot was left with a red glow as the freshly created layer of glass was the only sign the Jumpacked marines were there.
"I AM READY TO MAKE THIS CRATER HORUS' TOMBS!" The dreadnought bellowed
"Right…. Yes, of course! Rush behind the Vanguard! Whatever they don't execute, demolish with prejudice."
"PREJUDICE IS A MERCY. SANGUINIUS WILL ENSURE HIS SONS WILL MAINTAIN FLIGHT" to which without ceremony the Dreadnought used its magnagrapple on various structures, flying down the sands at high speeds with tremendous force.
The Pridemaster saw ten Jumppacks smash headfirst into one castellan. Their claws and inertia toppled one robot. The shrieking sound of metal and industrial mechanics breaking under the crackling of their claws caused the skitarii to turn and pause. Whomever was given them their commands had paused.
"FORWARD PUSH!" The Pridemaster yelled, his voice booming out to echo over the din of combat or anyone nearby in a half mile radius. The red cloaks whipped around as their weapons began to crackle to life again. A charging volley began to rip through the Heart of the Pride. Stalking Maw's unit who specialized in hit and run CQC were in cover giving return fire as two intercessors were superheated to atoms, reducing the Heart of the Pride to eight remaining. Their retreat into cover gave space to the approaching Lifebinder and Spiritwalker working in tandem. One Heart was killed outright, but the other was tended to. Both working in tandem as Narthecium and chanting of Fortification intertwine to revive the soldier to full fighting prowess.
'Three outcomes avoided. One good and one bad remaining' the Pridemaster assessed. Before he could give his next order, twenty Skitarii moved around a corner as the Lifebinder and Spiritwalker were their targets. Without a moment of hesitation, five Hearts of the Pride jumped in the way. "Look out, sir!" one shouted before his helmet superheated mangling his voice into a cry of delusional agony.
Nabuntye's visor dimmed and his armor locked down into a hunkered position in an override. It was in the next heartbeat that a series of explosions which flung the Terminator armor that encased the ChapterMaster.
Sanguinias was many things. Today he was very upset. His sons flew and charged five gigantic Horuses. This was good and he was speeding along with the Speed of the Primarch he was blessed with. Before he could reach his target, Sanguinias swore he saw Horus wink at him as he detonated himself. This caused a chain reaction as the other four erupted into additional explosions. After switching from Thermal to Heartbeat sensor, Sanguinias felt his blood freeze.
There was no pulse
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
By the time Sanguinias came to. Horus with a hunchback was being made into weird oily paste.
Nabuntye regained consciousness as his body felt like it was more akin to soup in a can than a space marine. Voices faded in and out barely discernible.
"Kirinya….. This is bad. Check the…... I have Narthecium but it does nothing!"
"I feel his spirit. I feel. Many spirits….."
"Mrrrrghp" Nabuntye had said so eloquently.
"Well his body is still warm…" Minzinho said. "Can't be said about the Lieutenant's"
Nabuntye shot upwards. "Chkt Chukt!" as he looked over to his friend. His torso was torn to shreds. His face was burned with patches of skin missing, exposing bone. But somehow, even in death, his friend Derynne still had his mischievous smile.