Hello, and once again, I claim no ownership to any Games-Workshop stuff mentioned here. This continues the epic of Sergeant Erasmus and his squad.
With grim determination, Erasmus watched as the rebel battalions came into view. Hundreds of rebel guardsmen intermixed with a few Leman Russ battle tanks, which were moving slowly in the rubble. But, as Erasmus noticed numerous large shapes behind the masses of guardsmen, he raised a pair of magnoculars and was horrified by what he saw. Two dozen Traitor Marines, supported by what looked like a Defiler or Stalk-tank. Erasmus shook his head, and loaded a fresh magazine into his bolter. Chaplain Kylan ordered them to hold, and hold they shall.
The first wave was in range now, and dozens of las-bolts were impacting everywhere. Erasmus opened fire, the heavy report of his bolter drowning out the pitiful zipp of the las-guns. Several rebels fell, their bodies shredded by the mass-reactive rounds. The rest of the Marines opened fire at his lead, dozens of the heretic rebels died, their blood spraying over the survivors. But, there were so many, so very many, whatever holes were created where quickly filled back up by those behind. One las-bolt came so close to Erasmus he could taste its oxidized wake. A Leman Russ fired, but the massive battle-cannon shell landed short, killing a dizen of rebels, vaporizing their bodies and wounding numerous around them. Honored-Brother Morees fired his las-cannons at one of the Leman Russ's and shrieking las-round blew apart the tank in a massive fireball, sending debris scything through the back ranks. One of the rebels stopped and deploying a heavy stubber and was sending chains of fire into the Marine position, forcing several to take cover. Brother Scamander pulled out a frag grenade and threw it at the rebel. With a dull crump, the grenade exploded, killing the rebel and five of his comrades. The explosion also set of the stubber ammo, the heavy rounds firing off randomly, killing or wounding several rebels. Some rounds hit Marines, but only one fell, the lucky shot blowing his head apart.
The rebel wave was close enough that flamers opened fire, sending gouts of promethium into the rebels. The ones who died quickly were the lucky ones; those merely lit on fire screamed horribly, and ran, only to collapse and die as the flame ate through their muscles and charred them to the bone. Erasmus threw a grenade to clear a nest of the scum that had set up auto-cannons in a nearby building. Bodies tumbled out, shredded. Those wounded screamed and screamed and screamed, their limbs shredded and pulped. The Defiler and the Traitor Marines were closing, but were not a major threat, yet. A Marine from Topes squad fell, his armored body falling from the third floor. Another Marine from Erasmus's squad fell, his body ridded with countless las-bolts.
"Death Comes for You!" shouted Erasmus as the rebels poured into the apartment, their sheer weigh of numbers destroying the Marines barricades. He emptied his bolter into the mass, killing half a dozen before his magazine ran dry and he pulled out his chainsword. Morenas was right next to Erasmus, firing his flamer into the mass of bodies. With their retreat blocked by their comrades, and their advance cut off by the Space Marines, the rebels died in droves. Then, the barricade to Erasmus's flank was destroyed by a krak missile. The rebels trying to storm the room from the front were all dead, and now a flank attack began. Erasmus shoved Morenas aside and began to cleave the rebels down, his sword shuddering and jolting as it hewed through bones and organs. Blood was spraying freely, and the bodies soon piled up, their blood forming in pools. The chainsword was whining, dried blood clotting the gears. But, the rebels kept coming. A large shape suddenly blocked the light. Cackling, a Traitor Marine shoved his way to the front of the fighting, a grinning daemon-sword in one hand. Morenas was at Erasmus's side again, but as he fired, his flamer spurted and died, the canister spent. Cursing, the Marine fell back and began swapping canisters. In the mean time, Erasmus's was on his own.
Erasmus ducked the first swipe of the daemon-sword, and thrust his chainsword at the Traitor, the blade chewing a hole in the ancient power-armor, but not nearly enough to kill the foul bastard. The Traitors reverse stroke caught Erasmus off guard, and cut off his left arm at the elbow. Bellowing in fury, Erasmus thrust his sword savagely but a rebel threw himself in the way and was speared on the sword, a maniacal grin on his face. Erasmus threw the rebel off the sword and hastily blocked a downward chop, deflecting it to the floor. While the Traitor was open for a second, Erasmus spun in and drove his knee into the area his sword had opened. The Traitor reeled and Erasmus saw his chance. Screaming, "For the Emperor!" he cut the Traitors head off with a savage slice.
"Fall back to the Second Floor!" shouted Erasmus into the squad vox. There was no hope fighting on all sides. He could no longer hear Honored-Brother Morees firing and assumed the ancient Dreadnought had been destroyed. Righteous anger griped him, but he still fell back up the stairs, reloading his bolter one-handed. The firing had stopped now, the rebels were falling back, their initial assault blunted. The rebel bodies had completely blocked off the first floor and almost formed a ramp up the second floor. Blood was ankle deep everywhere. At least seven Marines were dead. Erasmus's squad was down to five men. Brother-Sergeant Noras nodded at Erasmus as he reformed his squad at the top of the stairs. He was worried that the Traitor Marines were storming the bottom floor, but he could hear nothing.
"Sergeant Erasmus, you need to see this," called Noras, pointing outside, towards the rebels. Erasmus hurried over. A… man, if the term was applied loosely enough, was striding towards the apartment. He was dressed in loose robes, but as he neared, Erasmus could tell the robes were actually human skin. Abruptly, he stopped, about two-hundred feet out. Then, a low chanting filtered back to Erasmus, and the man was gesturing strange, painful movements.
"Sorcerer!" shouted Erasmus, as he fired a half dozen bolts at the man. Every bolter spoke also, but every single round exploded prematurely. Probably a custom force field, thought Erasmus as he ceased firing. For several long minutes, the sorcerer chanted and made symbols in the air. The tension was palpable. Then, with a sucking sound, a warp hole opened, and with a crack, two dozen daemons exploded into being. Cursing, Erasmus opened fire, cradling his bolter on a barricade. The daemons were foul, fouler than foul, sinuous and lithe, with many malformed breasts, and one arm ending in a gigantic claw. Their musk hit Erasmus like a brick, clouding his senses and dulling his mind. Reciting the Prayer of Deliverance, Erasmus shook his head and began firing again, but was forced to relocate, for the daemons had closed unnaturally fast. The daemons vaulted up the ramps of corpses and set into the Marines. Firing point blank range, Sergeant Noras blew apart three with his plasma pistol until it over heated and blew up in his hand. Before the Sergeant could swing his sword, he was sliced apart by a daemon-claw. Screaming, "For the Emperor," Erasmus dropped his bolter and swung his chainsword in a massive arc, disemboweling a daemon in mid-jump. The daemon disappeared in a burst of strange colored blood. Gunner Morenas was firing his flamer into a group of the daemons feasting on Noras's corpse and lit them up like torches. These burst into flame and also disappeared.
"Rally on me!" shouted Erasmus, for the two battered squads on the second floor had no chance on be themselves. Responding to the command, the Marines fell back to him in a textbook fashion, covering each other. One Marine who did not fall back just stood and stared at the daemons until a Marine from Noras's squad blew his head off with a plasma-gun. Few daemons were left now, and they shrieked and cackled as they slowly faded into nothing, leaving behind no evidence of their attack than the shattered bodies of the brave and noble Marines of the 1st Company.
"Resume firing positions!" shouted Erasmus; he could hear Squad Topes opening fire. Looking back out over the shattered, corpse strewn wasteland, he could see the rebels advancing again, this time lead by droves of mutants. A garbled voice came threw the vox, "This is Captain Joran of the Hexian Fourteen. We are moving up on your right flank. "
Erasmus grinned and said back, "Praise the Emperor, Captain. Beware; there are Traitor Marines out there." The vox was then nothing but static. Hopefully the guardsmen got his message. The Marines were still firing into the attacked rebels and mutants when the guardsmen stormed up the flank. Advancing in leap-frog style tactics, dozens of guard squads and platoons drove the rebels back. The sky was lit up by the hundreds of las-guns firing, and the support tanks of the guard firing their massive battle-cannons. Many guardsmen fell, hewn apart by mutant hands, or shot by rebel guns. But, the guard had numbers and the rebels turned and broke.
Chaplain Kylan slowly inspected the survivors of Objective Alpha. Of the twenty-five Marines that took Objective Alpha, the apartment, fourteen walked out. Of that fourteen, only six were not wounded. Squad Erasmus and Squad Noras were combined because of the heavy casualties each had suffered. Squad Topes had only lost one Marine.
His voice booming, Kylan spoke, "Marines, I am very proud of all of you. You have proven your courage and those who died will sit at the right hand of the Emperor in the next life. Due to your stubborn resistance, the rebels have been broken, and the Imperial Guard is taking back the city rapidly. But, as warriors of the Emperor, our work is never done and once the wounded have been treated, you will be sent to the next war zone. Dismissed."
Erasmus woke from half-sleep quickly, his arms twitching. Smiling, he flexed his new bionic arm, feeling the steel-trap strength there. The arm was perfect, the gears and servos glittering. He had triggered his Sus-an membrane as the Apothecaries and Tech-Marine set to work on the stump of his arm. They had to cut off two inches of flesh and bone that had been corrupted by the daemon-sword. It was two days after the battle. His squad was at full strength again, having been combined with the remnants of Squad Noras. He stood and picked up his freshly repaired helmet, slung his weapons and strode into the labyrinth of corridors that connected the Wraith of the Emperor, the 1st Companies Battle Barge. He was going to assemble the squad and begin training with them. If they did not know how the others fought, how could they fight effectively?