AN: Hey everyone! back from Europe and writing again. Sorry for the long wait :P (more notes at the bottom)
As the Witch Hunter tapped into the power of the Immaterium, time slowed to a crawl before his eyes as his brain was permitted to take the world into account at a tenth of its true pace.
Vownus took a second to adjust to this time dilation.
The rainfall slowed to a crawl, the world around him being revealed in every discernable detail his eye could catch.
Surrounding him, he saw the struggles of war; a macabre scene of life, death and the struggle to maintain well within the former.
Space Wolves engaged against the Greenskin invaders, Guardsmen left broken, bleeding or dead all across the wall… strewn about like the haphazardly broken toys of some spoiled child.
He saw faces twisted in rage and anger, the spittle of a battle roar or hasty command dancing in the particulate filled air as the forces of Man and Alien clashed.
Blood dusted weapons, blades and bodies, both living and dead.
Blossoms of bright fire dotted the skies as aircraft consumed one another in an evenly matched dogfight, their armaments flashing and sparking across the shadows of the night.
As the Witch Hunter idly dispatched an Ork which came in from the sky due to its jetpack, his gaze was able to make out the Imperial Artillery strike.
This was the very reason he had adjusted his senses, an attempt for him to best avoid the coming barrage. The shells moved faster than all of the other aspects of the battle, and if Vownus had not augmented himself in this temporary handful of moments he would not have seen them.
This wave of death inched closer and closer.
From the skies, he saw as some shells made contact with the numerous aircraft that dueled one another.
Both Imperial Fighters and Ork Scrapheaps were reduced to miniature inferno's indiscriminately. By sheer luck did a plane avoid a sudden death due to the Strike ordered by Vownus.
Those that were hit were transformed into cascading debris, their new trajectories determined by the previous force of their flight path.
These husks plummeted to the ground at odd angels.
Vownus' keen eye could tell that while many would crash into the attacking Greenskin numbers, some would strike the wall as well. Maybe even the battlements.
However his focus returned to the remaining Shells still hurtling toward their targets.
The Witch Hunter could see hundreds of them.
And as they drifted closer and closer to him, he could see that the strike certainly was considered 'danger close'. In fact, one Shell in particular looked like it would land right on top of him.
Readying his defenses, the Inquisitor braced for the shell to strike. Of all his notable abilities, Vownus' defense was perhaps his greatest skill.
A non tangible hide of energy that coated him completely, the potent Psyker enjoyed a near muscle reflex defense mechanism that prevented any harmful attack from reaching him.
While still subjected to the laws of Physics, his form was guaranteed complete and absolute protection from any and all harm.
As in this shell would most certainly strike the ground of the battlements close to him, but the resulting blast would only fling him away, not rend him into nothing.
Naal had always said it was as close to Immortal as Vownus would ever reach…
Knowing that he was about to be sent sailing through the air, and preferably not off of the wall and into the Greenskin tide, Vownus braced himself to make midair adjustments.
His eyes came level with the battle all around him, the slow motion scene of pure and utter catastrophe that was the skirmish for the Southern Gate.
And through the muck, bullets, Las Fire and the dead and dying….
A set of wild green eyes found his own.
Through all the chaos, Vownus locked gazes with the Guardsman. She was a tanned woman with a short scar just under her cheek, a head of short dark hair that was only visible due to her helmet being discarded.
Her manic look probably had to do with her predicament.
Cast to the floor as the battle raged on around her, Vownus saw how her arms held tightly to the upper torso of another Guardsman. A man, presumably bisected by an Ork that had stormed the wall, with his blank features head dearly to the woman's armored chest.
Vownus, in the slowed moments of time, took in her emotions. The ones that were splayed cleanly across her features.
Anger.
Pain.
Grief.
Sadness.
She bared it all for those that could see.
And as this unknown soldier suffered needlessly in an uncaring universe, Vownus' heart tightened in his chest.
For he knew that even while in between all the death and destruction, her eyes had sought the Witch Hunter with a desperate need. She was looking to him for hope… she was looking for safety, she was looking for help…
And he could do nothing. He could not come to her aid…. It was too late.
Far too late.
The first and closest shell impacted a few feet from him. Vownus didn't directly observe how the tip of the shell bit into the steel of the wall, how the form of the charge warped momentarily, before its payload detonated.
Orks were blown into pieces, Guardsmen were ripped apart, and the Space Wolves were scattered.
As the blast flung Vownus off of his feet, he held the Guardsman gaze for as long as he could.
He watched as the firestorm reached her.
He saw clearly, the tongues of flame that encompassed her body.
Her features did not twist in agony, nor did she cry out or scream.
She merely closed her eyes… and with as much peace upon her features as she could muster, let the fire consume her with naught a movement or noise.
Flung through the air by the blast, Vownus was treated to the full image of his ordered attack. While the majority of the shelling had indeed landed beyond the wall, striking large clusters of Orks and their siege equipment… more than a few had hit the defenders on the wall, and the Imperial protectors of the sky.
Destroyed Fighters had gouged large tracts of burning flame through the grounds beyond the wall.
Battlements were blown away with their marshaled defenders.
So much death had been dealt… just to stall the enemy.
Of what luck Vownus still had left, he found himself having judged the blast correctly. He was not doomed to the long fall into the outer City of Hive Primaris, one that would see a long climb back up to the battlements. Instead, he merely was flung further down the embattled fortifications of the outer wall.
The wide stretch of steel rose up to meet him as gravity took over.
Time returned to normal, the Inquisitor no longer requiring any stretch of his senses.
But it was not the ground which caught him.
"Vownus!"
The shout preempted the two large limbs that plucked him from the air, the full force of his flight easily absorbed by the physical and prosthetic arms of Aethod.
In a swift turn of motion, the Inquisitor found himself bodily placed on his feet, his head slightly spinning from the very sudden change of events.
"Kaede?" the Librarian looked at him with some concern, "are you injured?"
His glassy eyes were blinked away, a stern spine and strong will returning to the forefront.
"I'm alright" turning his head to look both ways of the wall, it was good to see that the defenders had a moment to reassert dominion over the outer wall.
Of the Orks that still stood, many were being culled quickly and their numbers were not being replenished.
He brushed himself down for a moment, before his brain caught up with what had just happened.
"Did you just catch me out of the air?"
Aethod merely nodded, before his face turned perplexed, "I did. Unless you prefer to have hit the ground instead?"
Marshaling a hollow smile, Vownus gave his friend a brief nod of thanks before turning his attention to the vox caster on his lapel.
"This is Inquisitor Kaede to all Guardsmen near the Southern Gate. Restore your firing lines and deploy whatever heavy arsenal is still in our possession. We only have minutes before they are upon us again. The Emperor protects"
Whatever affirmation he would have received over the Vox was ignored, the sudden hustling of soldiers around him proving that his order had been received.
The Inquisitor turned to Aethod, gesturing to the battlements and the roaring approach of the Orks.
"You take left, I'll take right?"
The Librarian nodded.
A spark in the Immaterium made them both look in unison to the east.
Having finally prepared himself, Ivur returned to the conscious world with the charged feeling of Warp lightning nestled against his senses. He could detect Librarian Aethod's attacks long before the energy materialized into a far distant reality.
While being kilometers away, in a place that was further down the eastern band of the outer wall, the Rune priest could make little out of the attack by sight. Among all the other things that had occurred at the southern gate already, Aethod's constant and large pulls of the Warp were understood.
In fact, Ivur considered it to be a principled decision to deal with such spaced out foes, one that the Rune Priest decided to emulate.
Under guard, the Rune Priest followed his own technique, preparing himself for the use of such power.
And when he was finally ready;
A wave of force exploded out from him. But the torrent of the Immaterium did not touch a single human. Every Greenskin within twenty meters of Ivur was flung high and far into the air, cursed with a long and brutal plummeting fall the likes of which they would not rise from.
Flanked by a personal guard from the Fire Wolf Company and a squad of local Guardsmen, Ivur took stock of his location as he began his spell.
The Runepriest found himself in the near shadow of one of the many large gun batteries of the outer wall, the barrels of which had kept up a constant barrage of fire since the start of the battle.
Even though Ivur was not stationed at the Southern Gate House, a position of vital importance, he still understood the significance of what he was guarding.
Someone had given the order to have the guns split their concentration of fire. The siege devices such as the ladders were stalled by one half of the bullet storm, while the other guns prioritized strafing the mingling crude Ork Aircraft.
The gun batteries that existed on either side of him, the two that were separated by thousands of meters served this dual purpose. Both being facets of equal importance to the Imperial control over the land and later the sky, Ivur was given orders to protect both.
Lord Grimblood knew that such an open arena was an ideal battlefield for the Rune Priest. Ivur's talents were found in dispatching large masses of enemies, something that the bottleneck created by the first point of the Ork forces contact, the southern gate, spilled his way.
The Greenskin tide had indeed been just that, a tide. Moving like a large green tsunami, the giant horde was slowly finding itself wrapped around the entire length of the Imperial Wall. Pressed on by their rabid nature, the Orks moved akin to water, taking up every available space they could as their great number surged them roiling tide.
Even as the fighting had begun at the Southern Gate House, Ivur had been quick to realize how many would soon be coming his way.
The Guardsmen and Wolves among the wall dealt with those that were slipping through, such as these pesky jetpack Orks. On this stretch of the wall however, the side was just beginning to reach them in its full strength.
Then the artillery strike had hit, giving the Southern Gate House a moment to breathe. Ivur had been nearly stunned by the dangerous tightly aimed attack. The strike had resonated its way down the wall.
Many had been distracted by it. But only for a moment before combat was forced onto them by the invaders.
But Ivur was quick to snap out of it once he realized this was likely Vownus' doing. Balor did not know it was necessary to take such risks when dealing with the Greenskins.
Enough was enough.
It was time to lend a hand.
His chant began as he strode to the battlements nearest to him, staff tapping silently against the wall with every step he took.
His protectors followed, keeping every Ork away from him.
When Ivur used the Immaterium, it required a tremendous amount of focus in order to effectively channel his devastating abilities.
As such, while a warrior and soldier in his own right, required a small force to prevent something from distracting him before he could cast out his power.
The trance he fell into gave him a pause from the battle around him.
Details left Ivur in that moment, his connection with the Immaterium thrumming with barely constrained force.
To those that watched, they would see the mad muttering form of blank eyed Space Marine striding to the edge of the wall.
But if one had looked closely upon the Rune Priest, they might have noticed how as his foreign tongue wove an intricate incantation, the eyes of his Wolf's Hood glowed with icy blue power.
But they did not see this.
Instead however, those that were watching Ivur, immediately took note of how the forces of the universe conspired to draw an expansive cloud of pure midnight above their heads.
The swirling darkness dominated the skies above the wall's defenders and began to spew out to the south. Shadow dominated the night sky, taking the very last of the light from the heavens in its advance.
As Ivur reached the edge of the battlements, he shut his eyes tightly and raised his staff to the air.
The last word of his chant was spit from his mouth loudly, wroth coating each of the three words.
"Και εγένετο φως"
A spark of lighting flew from his staff and into the darkened cloud.
Hundreds of thousands of orks lay beneath the shadow of Ivur's will.
The small spark vanished into the midnight mass, a brief skittering of barely discernible light dancing like roots along the black clouds.
Another moment passed.
A sparkling miazma of light exploded from the heavens, the jagged spines of thousands of lightning bolts cascading from the heavens.
The charred and destroyed lands, turned slick with blood, rain water and littered with thousands of Ork corpses, were revealed by white bolts of energy as they crashed into the earth.
The torrent of energy burned the Orks. A countless number of Greenskins were fried by the explosive and spreading energy, the bolts tightly packed together from beneath the black sky to provide maximum lethality.
As the sudden act of sorcery concluded just as suddenly as it had sprang forth, the once rolling fields of the south east were rendered a cluttered graveyard.
Ivur lowered his staff and hand, being given only a minute to observe the masses he had slaughtered.
All that death which had been perpetrated by his hand.
But then the mass of Greenskins, seeing empty ground between them and the wall, surged forward.
Their crude and violent number stormed over their countless fallen, their boots crushing the bodies underfoot as they sought a fight with humanity.
Ivur gave call to those around him, the people which had given a brief yet blessed break from the fighting.
"Warriors of Russ! Soldiers of Balor!"
The surviving Guardsmen and Space Wolves pulled themselves to the wall, weapons reloaded and wills marshaled against the coming tide.
Ivur could feel the eyes upon him as the enemy grew every closer.
"Cast these monsters into the Abyss!"
The roar of affirmation from the defenders of Hive Primaris matched the war cry of the Greenskins.
Las fire burst from the Guardsmen's guns as the roar of Bolter fire swept out into the air.
Ivur reached into himself once more, preparing another spell.
As the dazzling display of power fizzled out of existence, Vownus couldn't help the short comment that he sent Aethod's way.
"And I thought you were good with lightning!"
The two of them fought with their attention focused away from the other, catching Orks out of the air and assisting the fight against the Greenskins that had already made it to the wall.
While only separated by a few feet, they were able to direct their powers and abilities up and down the stretch of wall that each surveyed.
Occasionally Vownus would blip out of existence, his form being pulled through a Gate of Infinity, gone to deal with a particularly threatening Ork.
Most of the rank and file Greenskins that besieged the wall were of similar sizes, but spatterings of them were larger, more armored, and incredibly dangerous.
The two of them saw as these larger Orks went toe to toe with the Space Wolves, even managing to slay some of the Sons of Russ.
Aethod's dry comment of "the Rune Priest does indeed possess formidable talent" was followed by a bright bark of Warp Lightning into the sky.
An Ork vessel was struck from the heavens by the attack.
"Indeed he does-" Vownus cut himself off, his attention drawn to the sudden bout of flame spat from an Ork Flamer. The red painted Greenskin was a large one, his bastardized weapon happily dispensing a deluge of hellfire among the battlements.
"One moment"
Vownus ripped himself through time and space, appearing just slightly above the pyromaniac Xenos with a Psionic blade prepared.
Gravity helped drop his stretched out limb into the exposed neck of the lightly armored Ork.
Like a puppet with its strings cut, the beast suddenly dropped like a stone as its spine was severed by the Psyker's blade.
Taking a second to fire a few shots at the surrounding Greenskins with his Hell Pistol, Vownus warped back to Aethod's side.
The Librarian was extracting his artificial arm from the chest of an Ork brawler, but he still directed his words to Vownus.
Over the cacophony of noise, Vownus was still able to make out Aethod's words.
"Something is wrong Vownus"
Vownus fired a few shots toward an assembled back of Greenskins, but not before they savaged three Guardsmen.
"Oh?" his Pistol discharged with a violent hiss, "do share"
The Inquisitor's snarky tone was not addressed by the Librarian's serious response, his words focused yet troubled.
"As expected, these Orks are a blood crazed rabble…" Aethod blasted another ship from the sky, the lightning emerging from the tip of his flaming sword, before he brought the weapon down into the skull of a Xeno that stepped too close.
"But beneath the call to violence, their attack is not without structure"
Vownus scowled at that thought. Mainly because he was in agreement.
This was a mad attack, one perpetrated by the Orks which were driven wild in between this fight and their last… but there were indeed hints of organization.
A plan.
The first of the Greenskins on foot that had reached the outer wall had tested the Imperial defenses.
Each Ork that successfully Jet packed onto the walls disrupted the Guard's firing lines. This allowed the ladders to move into place, thus drawing the focus of the gun batteries.
And then, when the larger guns were given a distraction, an aerial presence had been mustered by the Xenos…
Beneath the psychotic nature of the bloodthirsty Orks, there was indeed the scent of planning and order.
Killing another Ork with a slash of his hand, Vownus brought out Slight Jest in the same movement.
The cell in the Power Weapon ignited, the thrum of energy suffusing the length of the blade. Now was the time to conserve his offensive capability, lest he strain himself too far to muster an attack when needed.
"It is concerning" Vownus frowned, glancing over the wall to observe the attacking force, "but you are right. I feel the a hand at play in whatever this attack truly is"
Aethod's grim reply gave Vownus a brief pause of thought.
"It feels as if we are being tested… prodded, for weakness-" the Librarian stepped back to avoid a rampaging beast before bringing his flaming blade up the length of the Ork's now exposed back.
The strike felled the creature, who crumpled forward without another noise.
Then the Librarian stood tall, surveying all before him for threats he needed to concern himself with. As he scanned the battlements, he picked up where he left off.
"There is a sense of subtly to this test… and that worries me, Vownus"
Kaede nodded to himself, the movement lost on the Librarian as the Inquisitor replied, "it concerns me too, Aethod. I will address these concerns with the Governor's War Council, once we have dealt with the enemy here"
Aethod offered no further reply.
He need not.
Vownus understood exactly the worry that the Librarian felt.
After all, of those that had fought against Ork's and knew of how their kind operated… what kind of Ork could be considered subtle?
The Ork horde had spread itself out over the entire length of the outer wall. Hive Primaris' exterior was completely surrounded. Besides the impassible stretch of land that was the Northern Mountains, the Orks encompassed the outer shell of the wall.
Concentrated at each of the outer wall's gates was where the worst of the fighting occurred. Second to that was the largest gun batteries, the stretches of wall leading up to the fearsome emplacements seeing the highest concentration of conflict.
All across the many kilometers of raised and reinforced steel, ladders rose and fell, men and women fought and died, Orks roared, and Aircraft dug into one another.
The Space Wolves formed the backbone of the wall's defense. Each gate saw a concentrated effort by the Wolves of the Firecompany, but even then the Grey Hunters and Blood Claw packs that could be spared across the length of the wall saw vicious combat.
Both sides threw everything they had at the other.
Hundreds upon thousands died in droves.
Certain sections saw so much combat that the piles of bodies spilled over both sides of the wall, the corpses raining down from the fortifications as those that still fought battled for supremacy of the section.
Blood stained every inch of the wall.
Danger close artillery was intermittent, but not frequent, the heavy shelling doing what they could to alleviate overwhelmed areas.
This push and pull persisted for hours, undaunted by the time of day or the elements that lightly assailed the battle.
In only a handful of hours, the first rays of light would be upon Hive Primaris, and there was still no end to this small Ork Tide.
The Eastern Gate found itself swiftly entrenched as the rabble of Orks arrived to dash themselves against Hive Primaris's walls.
However even though it was assailed by the same forces as the Southern Gate was, the intensity and density of the Ork attack was far less pronounced.
Ladders and Jet pack strapped Ork's became the immediate concern for the battlements and those that led through the chaos with clear distinction.
However, unlike the typical make up of defenders such as the Imperial Guardsmen still firing out into the sea of Greeksins below, or the large forms of Space Wolves who held the melee line… dark shapes weaved in and out of the humans.
Beasts of shaded grey and midnight fur bared razor sharp teeth, setting themselves upon the Ork invaders with an equal fervor and bloodlust which matched the Orks that assailed the wall.
These beasts tore through whatever Ork managed its way to the wall, alleviating pressure from the mortal Guardsmen as fast as they could.
These Fenrisian Wolves, a loyal pack that had trained alongside their Wolf Guard hunting master, ripped through flesh and steel with ease.
The mauled and the near, if not already, dead remains of each Ork they savaged were swiftly discarded as a guttural howl emanated from their pack leader.
Tyrur Thunderback approached his hunting pack from behind, his many coats, furs and pelts that adorned his body were coated in different shades of blood.
With a jagged longsword in one hand and a bolt pistol in the other, the master of the Wolves surveyed their recent kills.
A snapping order came from his sharp maw. The pack heeded the command, dashing off further down the wall to deal with every Xenos they came across.
The Hunter took a moment to survey the Imperial firing lines against the battlements.
His thoughts were expressed by the words of his steadily following companion.
"Seems we've gotten the short end of the battle"
Eiran the Grim came alongside the focused hunter, a Heavy Bolter held before him and at the ready. The elder Wolf Guard followed his battle brother's gaze, his eyes taking to the vicious dog fighting in the skies above them.
"So it would seem" Tyrur growled, eyes casting back down to the battlements and the grounds beyond.
His gaze flickered between sky and earth once more, a whistle coming from his lips a moment later.
"The Xenos came prepared"
He departed from Eiran's side after delivering the comment, a short jog allowing the hunter to catch up with his mobile pack.
The elder Warrior watched the Thunderback depart, his wisend gaze turning toward the battlegrounds beyond the wall.
Eiran's eye caught on something in particular, the old warrior striding closer to the Imperial firing line.
The roaring voice of the nearest Imperial Commissar was barely audible over the din of combat.
"Volly! Prioritize the larger ones! Focus on the- Siege device, concentrate fire!"
Eiran came as close to the squad of Guardsmen as he could, and failing to see a place for him to clearly stand against the battlements was forced to order;
"Stand aside Guardsmen"
The nearest group of seven were startled by the deep and authoritative order.
It took them a second to shuffle out of the way as the far larger Wolf Guard closed the distance to the wall, mounting his Heavy Bolter against the defensive barricade with one lumbering swing.
Another moment was spent acquiring his target; a ragged looking Ork vehicle that was preparing to deploy the cables needed for the large siege ladder that lay behind it.
As his finger squeezed the trigger, the Heavy Bolter seemed almost eager to spit its deadly payload out into Eiran's target. The hurtling wave of larger than average Bolter rounds glittered in the violent lights of combat and war, their volatile nature not revealed until they struck true against their mark.
Helfrost Bolts are used exclusively by the Space Wolves. Each round was tipped with a Helfrost warhead, a charge that upon impact would disperse a chemical substance that dropped temperatures to far below zero.
This sudden snap freeze was incredibly deadly against flesh and surprisingly effective against tough metals and armor.
Needless to say, Eiran's volley had rendered the Ork Siege device useless. The vehicle and its occupants had been turned into a bright crystalline sculpture, a flash frozen image of what they once more.
An oddly beautiful death…. Especially for an Ork.
Still, the Warrior decided to err on the side of caution.
Stepping away from the wall, the warrior spoke now to the surrounding Guardsmen that had witnessed his fearsome weapon's performance.
"Steady on Guardsmen. Kill every Xenos around my target"
Eiran found himself moving once more, his more sedate pace keeping him more than a handful of meters behind the practically rampaging Tyrur.
From the sky, a Greenskin came thundering to the battlements, Eiran's augmented eye catching the beast's approach far before it landed.
The Ork found itself in the middle of hostile territory, surrounded on all sides by armed opponents, and still the beast had only eyes for the Wolf Guard.
Eiran raised his Heavy Bolter as the suddenly arrived Greenskin raised its Axe with a roar.
It did not get to take a single step before a pointed shaft of steel buried itself in its jagged maw.
The spear lodged itself in the Ork's skull, the creature dropping forward as it died instantly. As it fell forward, the weapon that had only passed halfway through its head managed to prop the dead ork up.
The weight of its corpse aided gravity in pushing the body down the length of the weapon, coating the shaft of the spear with blood and brain matter.
Eiran turned to appraise the Spear's owner, as the warrior approached with a swift step.
"I had him" the Grim Guard testily supplied to the arrivee.
Valtaf Everfeld snorted as he passed beside the Heavy Bolter wielder, "you're getting slow old man"
The Astartes ripped the shaft of his spear from the dead Ork, a swift flick given to the instrument of war in order to rid it of some of the filth that covered it.
Eiran snorted at the friendly yet frigid comment, instead turning his focus to Tyrur's earlier comment.
"Our Hunter smells something foul"
Valtaf turned his head to glance at Eiran, a quizzical brow raised at the comment.
The elder braced his weapon for a brief moment, sending a short burst into another flying Greenskin on approach.
"For Orks, it is clear to see that they came prepared"
Valtaf grunted, spear twirling idly in his free hand as he drew a bolt pistol in the other.
"Perhaps. But these are Orks after all… in a sea of stupidity, even a simple idea will be a beacon…"
"You do not believe their attack has purpose?"
Valtaf shook his head, "purpose? If a beast is starved, it will attack the first thing it sees. And if there is some goal beyond killing us all, I have yet to see it. "
"Just because you cannot see it, does not mean it is not there"
Valtaf scoffed once more, "what would you have us do Eiran? March into their hoard and demand answers?" Valtaf nodded to the horde beyond the walls, "we have been placed on the backfoot Brother, thus all we can do is whether their assault"
Eiran nodded but said nothing further, his grim gaze following Valtafs out into the Greenskin tide beyond.
There was no end in sight to their number.
The Spear spun once more in Valtaf's hand before the younger warrior gestured down the bloody path that Tyrur was cutting across the battlements.
"Rathvind could do with your fire support. I shall remain with the Hunter for now, Brother"
The elder tore his gaze from the sieging Ork masses, nodding briefly at Valtaf as he moved to depart to where the Spearman had come from.
He stopped as he came alongside the spearman, his grim gaze fixed directly into the other Guard's eye.
"Be careful Brother"
For a moment, Valtaf did not respond, his head cocked in silence as he considered what Eiran was attempting to communicate to him.
Eventually he nodded.
"I will Brother"
A second later, both warriors continued their separate ways.
The Eastern Gate was under tight security.
Even as the gun batteries blared their baleful response to the aerial invaders, Lucian's senses were entirely subsumed by the conflict on the outer wall.
He stood kilometers away, the flashes of gunfire, explosions and general warfare mere specks on the horizon. However the sheer multitude was enough to visually clue him into the reality of what was happening before him.
"Fuckin' hell" Ezekiel grunted beside the Psyker.
And while the Guardsman could see just as well as Lucian did, the Inquisitor's apprentice also felt with a sense only a Psyker possessed.
The fluctuations of the large swathes of warp energy was the first thing he noticed. Lucian knew this was Ivur. The dazzling light show in fact felt like the Rune Priest, the note of Ivur's power resonating with the discordant power of the Immaterium as the lightning storm blurted into existence.
But then Lucian focused further.
He could detect Aethod's presence as well, and the skill which was mustered by the Librarian.
And then he felt the pinpoint and perfectly precise draws of power that could only be Vownus.
Lucian's sense of the warp was deepening further and further, his eyes glued to the distant conflict as his heart and mind made sense of what his Psyker abilities told him.
For he also started to feel sharp swells and then pockets appearing all across the wall.
Small punctures in the fabric of reality that the boy could not make heads or tails of at first.
As the Guard around him remained stoney faced and focused on the distant conflict, Lucian honed in on this subtler feeling, trying to divine some sense as to what it was that he had peripherally detected.
Near the Southern Gate, a gun battery was suddenly consumed by fire and flame, the weapon emplacement exploding violently for all to see.
As many around the Psyker remarked grimly upon the sight, Lucian once more felt the almost invisible stabs of the Immaterium that erupted all over the location of the explosion.
His mind eventually made a connection as to what it was.
….he could feel people dying.
He could feel their souls being taken from their forms and cast into the Immaterium.
The sudden realization, coupled with the frequency of these 'death bubbles' bursting all along the outer wall, left the boy slightly weak in the knees.
Hundreds were dying every second.
Every second.
And he could feel them as they departed the mortal realm.
Lucian could feel their souls be dragged into the currents of the Warp.
It was…. Horrible.
A hand reached his shoulder.
"Easy kid" Vartic grumbled to him, the veteran having taken some note of the boy's suddenly pale complexion.
The man was attempting to comfort him in some simple way, but while he was well-meaning in his action there was no way Vartic could truly grasp what Lucian's senses were aware of.
The ripping tears of a darkened void signaling that the universe was seemingly devouring the souls of the fallen men and women of the outer wall.
Soldiers that fought and bled and died, succumbing to an endless tide of Xenos that came from beyond the horizon.
Sorrow, disgust and the palatable fear was quickly replaced with frothing anger. A white hot rage that brought some color back into his formerly fearful features.
"Hey. Lucian. Kid you don't look-"
Vartic's words dropped away.
The feeling of rain drops on his skin, or the comforting hand on his shoulder, disappeared into the back of his mind.
Twisted by dark spirals of color that intermingled with bright patches of golden light, the view of the world to Lucian shifted violently.
All the colors were wrong, distorted in an uncomfortable and unnatural way.
Buildings and structures were of the blackest night, a smoky color that detailed their inanimate nature.
But through all these dark hues, bright patches of blue; a color that seemed to be composed of hundreds of thousands of uncountable dots, littered the outer city.
People.
Regular people of Hive Primaris.
His eyes could see the aura of their souls, even from this far away and through all the materials of the Hab blocks.
Some were deeper or brighter shades, but were blue nonetheless.
Upon the wall were the stranger colors. The brightest of the blue, with a few pillars of lightly dusted gold intermingled between them, dominated the outer wall.
Clashing with them….
It was like a cloud. A singular entity that was not separated into pieces or parts. Not a sea composed of individuals, but a total and all encompassing wave.
As Lucian observed the foregin thing, so too did he unknowingly make contact with whatever he was seeing.
The voices filtered in quietly, a thousand discordant tones mixed into one overlapping voice.
"Push!"
"Kill!"
"Weaken!"
The words were simple from a distance, but the closer he drew to the near incoherent chanting, the more precise and pointed the speech became.
A strain built itself against his skull, but Lucian focused further. His physical form began to shake. Blood dripped from his nose as the voice became clearer to his ear.
"Damage the wall!"
"Prioritize the Astartes!"
"Take the guns!"
"Bring in-"
A giant weight settled upon not only Lucian's mind, but his very soul.
The mountainous voice that belonged to this hive-mind of an entity, resounded in his ears, mind, and all around him.
"A watcher..?"
At that moment, Lucian was aware that something was observing him. Yet he was helpless to resist its curious inspection.
This great force that bore down on him was not aimless or unintelligent. It was conscious. And it was guided by a living thing.
As this close contact was made, Lucian felt the issued commands, he felt what was giving this hive-mind 'orders'.
Far away, hidden away in one of the many Ork vessels that had landed upon Balor, a living thing was looking right at him.
"Shrouded in the mist…"
This thing… it controlled the entity that besieged them… and it was now aware of Lucian.
The boy shook like a leaf in the wind.
This was the master of the Orks.
"No…not a Watcher… a Spy…"
And the deep baritone voice almost swallowed him whole with its following command.
"Kill the Spy."
Lucian was returned to the real world with a whiplash of invisible force. A gasp ripped from his throat, he fell back to the floor of the battlements.
Blinking blearly from the floor, the boy slowly came to realize that all the Guardsmen around him had stepped a few meters away. Every single one of them stared at him with mixed emotions, but the most predominant expression was plain and obvious fear.
"Lucian"
Vartic's voice slowly drew the shaken Psyker's gaze.
The Private was a step ahead of the fearful ring of onlookers, not exactly standing beside the blatant terror displayed by the other soldiers of the Guard, but still a 'safe' distance from Lucian.
His look of worry was more pronounced than the underlying layer of fear, something that eased Lucian back into the now 'normal' looking world. What bright colors that had interwoven with all things before him were now gone, instead replaced by the drab and monochrome tones of Imperial architecture and clothing.
"You still with us, kid?"
Vartic's question brought back Lucian's wandering eyes to the man in question.
The boy nodded, not trusting his voice right now.
"Right" Vartic huffed, striding forward and reaching down to the boy with an open hand, "next time you do some weird Psyker phooey, you let us know beforehand"
Lucian glanced around at all the fearful and disgusted faces.
"Yeah" Lucian looked back at the Private, "sorry. Was trying to get a good view of the fight"
The small comment on his actions visibly alleviated the worry from a few faces, but the tight knitted concern was still present in the features of most.
Lucian reached forward and gripped Vartic's arm, the man promptly pulling him to his feet a second later.
"Don't sweat it" the older man pointed to Lucian's Las rifle, "might wanna pick that up though. Quickly"
Before the young Psyker could get a question in edgewise to the implied urgency of needing to retrieve his weapon, a sharp voice cracked like a whip.
"What the fuck is going on here?! Back in formation you shits!"
The barking order of the Commissar immediately drew everyone into the correct lines and formation.
Those that now stood behind and beside Lucian did seem to lean somewhat away from the boy, but he was back to being a relatively anomalous figure in the crowd of Guardsmen.
Little did the boy know that he was still being watched.
And not just by human eyes.
Far away but just beyond the outer wall, if one observed them closely, it would appear that the Greenskins 'rabid' attack… changed.
In that moment, the war shifted on a dime.
As if heeding some invisible order, the fighting at the Western Gate of the Outer wall turned from brutal brawling to an all out blood bath.
Endless waves of ladders found themselves attached to the walls, removed, and then replaced. Orks came hurtling over the battlements by the hundreds.
The Guard was basically shredded by the onslaught, nearly every firing line disrupted by the sudden Greenskin push.
Of those that survived, many were treated to the view of savage combat that the Space Wolves immediately engaged in.
The audible waves of Bolter fire now contended with the revving and roaring of hundreds of chainswords.
Blood sprayed indiscriminately from the corpses of Orks subjected to the Ceramite teeth of the Space Wolves melee, limbs were blown off by Bolter fire or hacked away by the aforementioned Chainswords.
Wolves were hacked to death by jagged Ork Weaponry or cut to pieces by crude Greenskin ballistics.
The slaughter had kicked up a gear, the combat degenerating into an all new level of chaotic discourse in response to the elevated battle.
The Western Gate House, while smaller than its Southern compatriot, found the entirety of its Gun Batteries focused upon the rising ladders and Ork siege equipment.
Coming at it from all sides, it seemed as if the Greenskins were attempting to overrun the Gatehouse and its defenders.
But Kjarl Grimblood has tasked a particularly vengeful spirit to watch over the Western Gate of the outer wall.
At the barricaded entrance to the Gate House itself, this Wolf Guard stood, embroiled in combat with as many enemies as he could lay eyes on.
Skorn's Plasma pistol evaporated one Ork for each precisely placed shot. Without even blinking an eye the weapon was holstered at his side when a larger Nob charged forth to challenge him.
As the mortal Guardsmen surrounding the sandbagged passageway into the Gate House chipped away at what they could, Skorn Myrksyn locked blades with the Nob.
The snarling maw accompanied by beady red eyes locked onto Skorn's own rabid look, the clash of their weapons sending shrieking sparks between the two of them.
The Space Wolves savage smile never left his face as he met the Ork with bloodthirsty defiance.
One of them had to give, this moment stretching out like an eternity in the middle of all the Chaos.
With a mighty roar, Skorn forced his chainsword forward.
The Ork's sword shattered, giving the creature a second to come to terms with the snarling teeth of the chainsword that approached its face.
Striking true, the blade brutally sunk into the Greenskin, the Ceramite teeth recklessly chewing into the Ork.
"RAAAAAAAH-HAHAHHAHAHHA!"
Skorn's roar of rage quickly translated into laughter as the Chainsword drew a savage and gorey red line through the Ork Nob.
Blood covered him from head to toe as the weapon opened every major artery within the Ork's torso.
The Mad Wolf would do as his Lord commanded him, and as long as he stood, no Ork would see the inside of the Western Gate House.
Disposing of the corpse with a sideways slash of his sword, Skorn's issued battlecry reached the ears of both Xenos and Human alike.
"Which of you monsters is. fucking. NEXT!"
Another cluster of Orks was keen to oblige the warrior, the group of five having finished up with a distracted pair of Blood Claws before their attention turned to the challenge of the Guard.
Skorn met them with near suicidal glee.
"For the ALL FATHER!"
Ulvarr fought without his helmet, a decision made when he realized how crucial it would be to have a full view of the battle even before the Orks had reached the outer wall.
A helmet provided excellent protection from stray shots or ricochets, but Ulvarr was more than willing to bet that the Greenskins would try to get as up close and personal as possible.
Kjarl Grimblood's 'peacemaker' found himself unexpectedly thrilled when the Orks managed to actually make it to the battlements of the wall.
As one of the Wolf Guard posted to the Western Gate, he'd been worried that the rest of his Brother's would be getting all the action and glory.
Everyone had witnessed how the Southern Gate went from quiet to hell hole in a matter of minutes. But as the Ork's seemingly turned their attention to the West, Ulvarr was less concerned.
This sudden and fervent assault eased his simple worries.
As the tide finally came within melee distance, the Guard had been more than happy to activate both of his Lightning Claws and dive right in.
His keen gaze distinguished targets before him, and with Svessl and Torrid behind him, the Space Wolf Terminator cut a bloody swathe through the invaders.
While certainly lacking the grace of the Astral Knights, none could argue how good Ulvarr was at rending the flesh of his foes.
Fatal strikes were dished out with an idle flick of his talons, concentration of his assault only taking place when larger opponents appeared before him.
But this was only a moment of focus needed to pinpoint priority targets from the rest of the Ork fodder.
The larger Nobs fell just as quickly as the regular Ork Boyz, the Lightning Claws doing very little to distinguish between the armored and unarmored Greenskins.
A screech of Warp Lightning flew over his right shoulder, impacting the docking cables of an Ork Siege ladder and subsequently shattering them..
Following the strike, a gust of ethereal force blew past Ulvarr, and the ladder and its eager climbers were blown clean of the battlements within the next second.
"Shame on you Torrid" Ulvarr howled with humor, his claws reducing an obviously charging ork into green sushi, "there were quite a few on that ladder! I wanted to see if any had what it takes!"
He could feel Torrid's irate glare upon his spine, but no word came from the Rune Priest who obviously returned to felling as many Ork's as he could. After all, Ulvarr could still make out the noise of further strikes of Lightning and the smell of Ozone even from behind him.
A reply did find itself his way, the shout coming from the usually lazy Svessl Dolk, who was keen and focused in the current moment.
His pinpoint accurate shots with his Bolt Rifle, even in the close quarters environment, resulted in a fair number of Ork's having their heads removed from existence.
Over the symphony of violence that surrounded all about them, Ulvarr was able to make out Svessl's called question just over the cacophonous din.
"Should we be concerned about Skorn, Brothers? He seems to be having a bit too much fun!"
Ulvarr couldn't help the savage smile on his face, "he wields Oggar's blade! You thought he would keep himself tame?"
"I see! I thought-" Svessl was interrupted by something, the steady thumps and deep cracks of his bolt rifle obviously dismissing the distraction, "-I thought I recognised that blade!"
"HA! As if you did!" Ulvarr snarked, his right Claw sinking into the chest of an Ork, before he ripped it upward and out of the beast's torso. Blood sprayed all over the Orks that stood behind the beast, the sudden fountain of liquid blinding some of them.
Ulvarr ripped into them without hesitation while he continued conversing with Svessl.
"It goes without saying Brother, Skorn would rather-"
A dark sharp in the skies caught his eye.
The brief glance skyward nearly cost him his life.
"ULVARR!"
While his backstep allowed him to keep his head, the Peacemaker knew that Svessl's counter strike of two bolter rounds truly saved him.
The Ork that had attempted to slay him fell over dead.
Without thanking the marksman, Ulvarr clicked on his Vox channel. The dark shapes in the skies? Ork Troop carriers, each and every one of them gunning it for the city.
The gun batteries did what they could, swiveling sharply from denying siege equipment to taking out the newly arrived airborne targets. The guns did their best to thin the number of carriers, but for every two shot down, one flew beyond the wall.
Ulvarr opened his broadcast to the entire Imperial channel.
No matter how few Orks made it through, the city needed to be warned.
"This is the Western Gate House. Xenos Troop Transports have breached our airspace and are making for the city. I repeat, enemy Troop Transports have made it into the outer city! We are losing control of our airspace! Request immediate support!"
"Imperial Command acknowledges you Gate House, air support is inbound. Hold tight, help is on the way"
"Imperial Command this is Gold Wing, we are engaging the enemy, over"
The Ork Landa's were large and tubular vessels. What they lacked in aesthetic appearance they made up for with effectiveness. Heavily armored and armed with a touch shy of too many guns than was necessary, as was common for Ork vehicles, the Landa's ignored most small to medium arms fire.
Only the Hive's Gun batteries and Fighter craft Autocannons could put a dent in their thick plating.
Unfortunately, this meant more than was expected had managed to make it into the Hive's outer city, their presence in the airspace calm and serene for a moment.
This was likely due to the fact that the inner city's gun batteries needed a moment to identify and track the bogies.
And when they did, they found their airspace to be very unwelcoming.
Many went up in flames, their entire transport cabin taken with them in a spiraling crash of flame.
These doomed ships found themselves crashing into Hab blocks that surrounded the manufactorums.
Other's began their immediate descent, attempting to get to ground before the anti-air guns could rip them apart.
Seeking relative safety in between the large outer city habitation and workplace structures, the landing Ork craft were introduced to another hostile human element.
The Balorian 88th armored division was currently occupying the walkways and roads of the Western district.
Tanks versus landing troop transports?
Tank wins.
But not every Ork transport was immediately dealt with.
A fair few made it to ground, or at least managed to crash land without killing all the occupants in the process.
And from these transports, both landed and crash landed, the Greenskins finally took their first steps within the Outer City.
Wing-Captain Sonnet Tash banked out of his strafing run, the entirety of his autocannon burst rendering a Xenos transport into a streaking pile of burning scrap.
"Scratch four" he mumbled to himself, pulling the nose of his fighter into an opposite turn as he flicked open his Vox to his golden boys.
He'd spotted his next cluster of targets out of the corner of his eye.
"This is Gold Leader. I've got my eye on a group of five making a break for Manufactorum Baleris, any takers?"
"Gold two, on your Six Cap"
"One here, I'm game"
"Gold Five here, that's a negatory from me Cap, got my eye on another prize"
"Three here. Me and Four are backing up Five, Cap"
Tash nodded to the news, "right! I don't want a single disgusting Ork foot touching Balorian soil, are we clear!?"
The affirmations were clear and direct.
Tash let himself grin as his eyes focused on the Ork Transport cluster chugging toward the Manufactorum, "happy hunting boys!"
Between the dogfighting that was occurring just beyond the borders of the outer wall, Tash found this little search and destroy operation to be just the right hit of stress relief before they all jumped back into the proverbial frying pan.
Stimmed up as they were, it was a miracle that the entirety of Gold Wing had survived the initial clash of Ork and Imperial aircraft, let alone the bombing operation.
Greenskins didn't seem to be so concerned about owning the air, merely doing as much damage as-
His body responded to his eyesight before his mind picked up on what exactly the movement was.
A harsh dive let the projectile sail past him, Tash's tail just avoiding the rocket that was sent his way.
Courtesy of the Ork Transport Landa's.
"Looks like they've seen us coming"
"No shit" the Captain snarled to himself as he righted his aircraft. What he did say to the Vox line however, was; "no more mucking about. Blow these monsters out of the sky!"
The Outer City of Hive Primaris was still under evacuation orders. Of the millions of citizens that called it home, approximately 75% of the populace had successfully passed into the Inner City.
The tunnels beneath the Hive were filled to max capacity, and the streets were filled with flocking and mildly panicked people.
These large clusters of civilians on the surface were directed by a mix of Balorian PDF and a comparatively small force of Adeptus Arbites. Great swathes of the Outer City walkways were lined with Tanks, the ushering calls of the planets defenders channeling the people to safety.
All roads lead toward the Inner City's wall, the center of which was dominated by Hive Primaris's greatest Fortress. The gate to the fortress was wide and welcomingly open, two lanes of traffic having been opened by the defensive site.
On one side, the fleeing civilians headed for the Inner City's bunkers and shelters, on the other, the deploying Guardsmen being sent to reinforce the Outer Wall.
This entire process had been taking place since the beginning of the Siege, and was still underway when the Ork Landa's finally made it into the city.
As the smaller, but no less effective, Hab Block Anti-Air guns joined the skyward volley's, the fleeing people soon began to realize that the war was finally upon them.
Panic began to spread up and down the jostling masses, the PDF and Arbites just barely able to contain the people from scrambling over one another.
That would be until an Ork Landa came hurtling down from the sky, a crash landing that was aimed toward one of the largest Civilian Walkways.
The crowd exploded with fear, thousands of people stampeding over one another in order to avoid the plummeting vehicle.
Some of the Leman Russ tanks bordering the evacuation channels did their best to shoot the Landa out of the sky, but the crashing transport was too fast.
Those that weren't killed by the panicked rush of the kinfolk were crushed by the long metal Ork vehicle, the body of which was both long and wide.
It cut a vast gouge into the walkway, the supports of the path straining dangerously under the weight of the Ork vessel. Thousands died from the rushing civilians as well as the Transports crash.
Before the enemy ship could even come to a stop, Greenskins were pouring out from its innards.
They didn't care who they were aiming at.
PDF, Arbite, Civilian… So long as it was human, the Orks began to kill anything they set their eyes on.
This particular group didn't get very far. Their sudden arrival had painted a prime target upon them, and once the PDF forces managed to wade through the fleeing civilians, the Orks found themselves swiftly cut down.
The Tanks prioritized the downed transport, finally destroying it as Orks continued to spill from its wrecked innards.
The resulting fireball of an engine going critical due to an incendiary round striking it claimed the lives of the attackers.
For a moment, Order was almost restored, and the process of evacuation could continue calmly.
But pockets of Orks had been deploying throughout the Western districts since the first transport had broken through; each and every one of them drawn to the screams, explosions and chaos of the central evacuation line.
The civilians that had attempted to flee into the side streets and alleyways, fearfully searching for another path to take them from the newly minted battlefield, came across these rampaging Orks.
Children, women and men were butchered by these battle bloodhounds, the beasts storming over their corpses to look for more carnage and combat.
The PDF was glad to give it to them.
Armed with a Bullpup configuration of Las Rifle, the nimbler warriors were able to pull themselves into defending firing lines.
The small clusters of attacking Greenskins found themselves dead quite shortly.
Either to the PDF's adaptable movements or the fact that there were Tanks of the 88th armored division covering much of the causeway, the Greenskins were kept to a minimal disturbance.
Kill teams were dispatched immediately to hunt for Ork assets now lurking within the outer city, but most of the PDF forces were concentrated around the Civilian areas.
As the Ork's seemed to come at random intervals from multiple sides of the evacuation path, the soldiers were constantly shuffling between points of focus.
This meant they'd have to swiftly move through the panicked and fearful crowd.
The result of this was the evacuation process slowing down.
With reinforcements to protect the civilians, the true purpose of the Ork landing managed to stealthily insert itself into the outer city.
Vownus was a sweaty mess. His barrier had managed to keep the blood and grime from his well maintained outfit, but he couldn't keep it away from the sweat produced by constant bloody combat.
His brow was strained, his focus darting from target to target as he continued to kill each and every Ork he came across.
The battle had increased in fervor.
Most of the Guard was dead.
Where the mortal soldiers had outnumbered their Space Marine allies twelve to one, the ratio was now down to four to one.
And still the Ork's kept coming.
Aethod's lightning blasted across the battlements, the licks of energy roasting every Ork it touched.
Vownus blew a creature's head off with his Hell Pistol before cleaving another from shoulder to hip with Slight Jest.
A stray cluster of rounds caught his side, the force of which spun him on his foot.
Realigning himself, Vownus leapt through the Immaterium to bodily slam into the daring Ork.
The beast was forced back by the momentum generated by the Gate of Infinity, and Vownus let his blade lick across the monster's front.
It fell back dead as the Inquisitor landed upon his feet.
He took a brief moment to analyze the corpse littered battlements.
The gun batteries fired into the skies and at the ground.
Space Wolves dueled with Savage Orks.
Guardsmen rallied.
Everyone was dying.
And the Ork's did not stop coming.
Something needed to be done.
"Imperial Command, this is Inquisitor Kaede. We need a bombing run near the Outer Wall, immediaetly"
His vox caster received an immediate response.
The Witch Hunter was drawn into melee combat as the reply blurted into his ear.
"Inquisitor Kaede, airspace South of the Wall is too hot, our bombers will be shot from the sky before their mission is done"
Kaede brought his sword down on the creature's shoulder, severing its weapon arm.
"FUCK!" Vownus snarled to himself, firing a shot at the monster's torso so he could watch it slump back charred and dead.
He spoke once more, eyes drifting around for more targets.
"We are losing the wall!" he snapped, "the artillery is not enough! We need… we need-"
His mind formed a thought, one that he traced the entire vein of as he turned to study the Southern Guard House.
"Patch me through to the Castellan!"
Vownus' vox caster clicked once before a beat of silence. The next second, the hurried noises of a command center were the backdrop to Hageski's stout tone.
"Harkoden here. Inquisitor, what is it-"
Vownus cut the man off immediately.
"This is a fortified world, Castellan. You possess a wide variety of weaponry. What of your arsenal is Incendiary?"
As the Witch Hunter was accosted by two Ork Nobs, he was just able to make out the Castellan's response.
"My Lord, we have already deployed over half our Helfire Artillery, and are-"
"Not the small fry shit!" Vownus barked, ripped his sword into an Ork's stomach. The beast tried to strike him, but the axe it carried just bounced off of Vownus' shield.
As his power sword split the Greenskin in twain, Vownus continued to speak, "You have something up your sleeve Castellan! I can fucking feel it!"
"Feel it? Or know it, Inquisitor. Every decision I make is to defend the Hive. The wall will hold regardless of what you feel is necessary"
Vownus found himself oddly relaxed as his brain processed what the Castellan had said to him.
He felt it in the words, even over the static filled Vox… he felt the Castellan's dislike and lack of trust. The man held no favor of Vownus regardless of Kaede being an Inquisitor, and therefore it was another aspect of the Witch Hunter which the man could not work through.
Ah.
The man disliked Vownus because he was a Psyker. And because the man could not understand what a Psyker was, he feared it.
So Vownus addressed it directly.
"I am beyond humanity, Castellan. With but a thought, I can alter the very nature of reality so it may bend to my will. I may peer into the future in order to ascertain the best possible path I shall tread. I can cut through the strongest of armor, and kill the mightiest of enemies with my mind. I am a Psyker"
His pistol hissed in its discharge, a group of Orks falling prey to the bolts of the Hel-gun.
"But I am also human, Harkoden. I am your ally. I do not intend for you to dance like a puppet on its strings for my amusement, I command as I do not for my own interests, but for ours. I have pledged the use of my gifts in service to the God Emperor of Mankind. Just as you have pledged yourself, Harkoden"
Vownus cut the throat of one beast, before burying the tip of his blade in the heart of another. A wet spray of blood battered against his protected face.
"If you cannot trust me to serve beside you, Hageski Harkoden, then trust in the Emperor that we are both sworn to. I am here to help"
The Vox caster continued to blurt movement and the ordered chaos of the command center within the Southern Gate House, but the Castellan was silent.
"Now Castellan…."
Vownus drew his weapons up, eyes toward the command center itself. Through the armored walls mounted with guns and anti-air batteries, Vownus imagined he could see Hageski staring right back at him.
"What do we have by way of fire?"
There was a brief pause in which the commander cleared his throat.
"There are Conflagration cannons, installed and adjusted by the Adeptus Mechanicus, mounted across the length of the wall"
Vownus felt like a blood vessel had popped in his right eye.
"WHAT!" he vented his anger into the nearest group of Orks he could find, "WHY in the Emperor's name didn't you reveal that earlier on?!"
Vownus butchered the five, turning to meet his next attacker with a resolute spin.
The charging Ork was blind sided by the spinning bladestorm known as Germael. The Astral Knight shot Vownus a brief look before he continued his dance of death.
The Castellan's response came through.
"My Lord, I intended to save it for the true attack"
"Save them?!" Vownus blew an Ork into three smoking pieces,"TRUE ATTACK? What are you talking about?"
The Castellan was both confused but assured in his tone.
"My Lord? The cannons can only be maintained briefly. And the real war, as you told us Lord Inquisitor, it would come once we have defeated this bloodthirsty rabble…"
The Witch Hunter couldn't help but pause for a moment, his mind tracing over the tactical meeting he had been present with.
He had indeed spoken how this first wave would be only the beginning.
The Castellan had merely been aiming to keep a few tricks up his sleeve to surprise the Orks later.
And that was actually a very smart idea… if the Imperial forces weren't currently getting their proverbial teeth kicked in.
An explosive sigh ripped from Vownus as he muttered to himself "I suppose that one's on me" before he spoke to the commander directly "A good idea Castellan, but we cannot hold this weapon in reserve. We need fire, now."
And there was no arguing from the man. His agreement was staunch, simple and straightforward "Aye milord"
"By your order, Vownus"
"Burn them all"
All along the outer wall, segments of reinforced steel and metal plating parted. From the shadowy depths from beyond these opened hatches emerged a tri-barreled weapon.
Large in size by about eight meters both across and tall, this red toned weapon saw thousands of its like protrude from one length of the wall to the other.
Modified by the Adeptus Mechanicus of Hive Primaris, these thousands of Conflagration Cannons had been adjusted to reach further, and spread their payload farther.
And the payload?
In a near simultaneous action, every single tri barrelled cannon saw a small pilot light flicker on.
Each barrel adjusted themselves, the protrusion of which pushed against some of the Ork ladders against the wall.
In one particular case, an Ork stopped its climb to briefly admire the red looking weapon it was face to face with.
The rungs of the ladder did nothing to separate this inquisitive Ork from the coming attack.
As one, the liquid Promethium was dispensed from the barrel at hurtling speeds.
The incredibly flammable liquid, tweaked by the Mechanicus to burn for far longer than normal, came into contact with the pilot light of each barrel.
The reaction was instantaneous.
Each Conflagration cannon was pointed southward and down, meaning that hosing of Promethium would shoot out and down into the surging Ork masses.
In the blink of an eye, a sun exploded out from the wall.
A wave of blistering fire, the heat of which scorched those too close to the battlements, burst into existence.
Armageddon itself had been unleashed by the defenders of Hive Primaris.
Then the crackling torrent of fire made contact with the sea of Green.
And the Orks, helpless to stop the coming flame… they burned.
Their armor melted on their bodies, their flesh consumed by the fire as their bones were reduced to dust. Screams of pain and howls of anger were absorbed by the incendiary attack, the flames spreading out and across the endless number of Greenskins.
The battlegrounds south of the wall was wreathed in fire and flame, a true hell-scape unleashed by the Imperial weaponry.
Just as quickly as the inferno was dispensed, so too did the guns cease spitting their hellstorm.
But the damage had been done.
The land beyond still burned with idle fires and roaring infernos. Over three hundred meters of land once densely packed with Orks had been reduced to char.
Kjarl Grimblood was momentarily distracted by the fire storm that burst into existence. No notice of it was given across Imperial Vox Channels, but rather than be irritated about being uninformed by the strike, he was glad that they were given a moment of respite.
An opportunity now presented itself to not just the Wolf Lord, but all of the defenders for his section of the wall.
With the fields beyond bathed in flame, there would be no significant Ork reinforcements to siege the battlements.
The Greenskins that were currently placed upon the wall were the last of their number.
And so the Grimblood drew in a mighty breath of air.
His sword slew two Ork's as he called to his still living allies, his weapon then raised high in the air as a standard for all to see.
"Soldiers of Balor! Reclaim the Wall! Kill the Xenos!"
His shout drew a Nob's attention, the great beast lumbering toward him.
Joran's chainsword found the Ork lacking in awareness, the teeth rending it into a blood mess.
Kjarl's words continued forth.
"For Russ!"
Around him, the Wolves chanted and howled the call.
"FOR RUSS!"
Hammersbald, the Guard to the Grimblood's left, brought his Thunder Hammer down on an Ork's head.
The beast's spine could not take the force of the blow, its form compacting in a spray of crimson and the sound of many shattered bones.
"For the Emperor!"
His call roused what remained of the Guard.
The roared response came intermingled with both phrases of;
"FOR THE EMPEROR!"
"FOR THE ALL FATHER!"
Even the typically silent Kurgskald lent his deep tone to the battle cry generated by the masses. Vigor restored and morale boosted, the Imperial forces railed with fearsome might.
Grimblood gave a vicious smile as he charged toward the nearest enemy he could find.
The Outer Wall would hold.
Tyrur's wolves danced around what few Greenskins remained, their agile physique's keeping them well out of harm's way.
When an Ork attempted to shoot at one, another of the pack would already have its jaw's around the beast's head.
That or Tyrur's bolt pistol would have found its mark.
Eiran let the occasional burst of his weapon spit forward, his focus remaining on the largest of the Greenskins left on the wall.
The fire show had certainly granted them some time to sort themselves out.
Such heat Eiran had found to be distasteful, being partial to a colder climate produced such a feeling, but it was refreshing not to be knee deep in rampaging Orks for a few moments.
Needless to say, the sons of Russ were taking a distinct advantage in mopping up their section of the wall.
"Quite the defense" Rathvind, the duel axe wielder, commented.
He was keeping to Eiran's spine, making sure no shifty Ork had a straight shot at the Heavy Bolter.
Even though Rathvind Snowhelm worked in a clean and efficient synchronous with the spear wielding Valtaf Everfeld, all of the Wolf Guard was keenly aware of the strengths of one another.
And the weaknesses.
As such, all went into battle knowing how best to work alongside their brother's in arms.
Eiran couldn't help the gruff laugh from his lips, "Tyrur's wolves already despise the climate. The heat has only made them angrier"
"He spoils them" Rathvind stated, the battle of the Eastern Gate beginning to spiral into a definite decline.
As the Orks were dealt with upon the wall, with no reinforcements the defenders were given time to recuperate.
"That he does" Eiran nodded, "but they are effective"
"So are your Long Fangs, and I don't see you feeding them treats in the Dining Hall"
Eiran barked a loud laugh, a soft grin on his face as he nodded to Rathvind.
"Should it encourage them in battle, I will consider it"
The axe wielding Wolf Guard smiled at the notion, before nodding his head forward.
"Let us secure the wall, see to our reinforcements, and then come up with ways to torment the pride of your warriors?"
Eiran nodded in agreement.
Skorn was covered head to toe in blood. His rabid eyes searched up and down the battlements before him.
He had maintained himself in a tethered position to the Western Gate House's entrance, only straying meters from it in order to deal with whatever Greenskin gave him a funny look.
The fire storm had only distracted him momentarily, the act of which nearly cost him a limb.
Skorn had vengefully slain the creature that presumed to harm him.
But now, cut off from the rest of their misbegotten kind, the invaders were dwindling in numbers.
Instead of Ork's approaching him however, the relatively cleared Western walls allowed Ulvarr to come before him.
The lightning claws on both of his hands still danced with energy, but the worried look on Ulvarr's face was enough to draw Skorn's manic attention.
"Brother" the blood covered addressed the Terminator, "how goes it?"
"The battle wanes" the polite Ulvarr replied, looking Skorn up and down. The melee professional could only imagine how he looked, dressed in crimson stains with bits of flesh likely still hanging from his armor and chainsword.
"I would ask the same of you"
Skorn grins savagely.
"I wear the proof of my command. No Ork shall pass me, and no Ork has"
Ulvarr frowned, "Lord Grimblood did not mean-"
"He tasked me to defend this Gate House Brother. I have done as such. Do not lecture me on my methods"
Ulvarr calmly nodded toward him, "you are angry, Skorn, I can see this. Please do not take your anger out on myself, I am merely concerned"
The chainsword alone spoke to how bloody the battle had been for the angrier of the two.
In battle there were… dangerous temptations for warriors such as Skorn, things that the Grimblood had asked the Wolf Guard to keep their eye upon.
Skorn scoffed, "I am within my right mind Brother. While the Mortal's may suffer against such foes, I have yet to find a worthy opponent amongst this rabble"
"Worthy" Ulvarr repeated the word, the dull march of boot steps being picked up in the distance by his enhanced ear, "...Oggar has been avenged Brother, you carry this rage needlessly"
Skorn took a bodily step toward the Terminator, his anger clear in his eyes but his tone hissing and quiet.
"Avenged? Avenged?" an accusing finger found itself in Ulvarr's face, "Because the Lone Wolf dispatched Oggar's killer?! No. NO! If such an act was not befitting of an ascension to the Wolf Guard, then Oggar is not avenged!"
Ulvarr frowned, "carrying his blade does not either"
Skorn glared, but stepped back as his tone returned to normal.
"I will carry this blade until I die, thus is my penance, Brother. I failed Oggar. And I will be the one to redeem him. Not Ivur's lapdog"
Ulvarr shook his head slightly, but knew his Brother's justifications well. Emotion clung to him like a vicious cloak, and it would not leave him.
"Then hold tightly to the weapon Skorn. This war is not over yet"
The Terminator turned to observe the coming figures.
It was a welcoming sight.
Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, coming at you from my cave once more, issa me, Freedom.
Right. Half way through the first wave. wowzers. Hope y'all are liking it. By the follows and fav's I'm guessing y'all do. Sorry I've been gone so long, had a crazy time across Europe, even got to go to a few 40k stores in London. Was wild.
But the Mortal Son is back once more, with hopefully just the right amount of violence y'all have needed.
And for those that would be wishing this was more of a tactical very accurate numerical battle... I'm not so good with knowing the actual EXACT measurements and numbers of not only a hive city (albeit a small one), but its defenders and attackers as well... yeah. You get what is written above. This is still a character driven story at the end of the day, and all of the action is to be used to drive the motivations and decisions made by the individuals in the story. Hopefully later on you'll see some of the effects of the Battle for Balor, but for now we gotta set those juicy moments up!
Love y'all, thanks for all the kind and motivating words, really helps me keep this up as best I can.
The Emperor hopes you have a good weekend,
Freedom.