The Consort of Baal was a beautiful ship barely twenty years out from her inception in the shipyards of Anvellus, she was the child of a warmason and artisan given form.
A battle-cruiser whose prow was a gigantic bone-white skull. Gold-cast wings reached back from it down the length of the bow. Maws of torpedoes filled the huge, sightless eye sockets. The rest of the ship was rendered in two colours; from stern to stern it was rich red, edged in black. Golden masks and statues ran its hull.
In truth it was a lesser geniuses imitation of the Legion flagship; the Red Tear. But to any that had never seen that magnificent craft, it was the most gracious craft they had ever seen.
From the underside of the battle-cruiser, drop-pods came crashing towards Three-Eighty-Twelve.
The first wave of drop-pods fired from the Consort of Baal landed in clouds of fire and smoke as their boosters slowed them after their journey through the atmosphere. As each pod hit the ground, the release bolt on its door-lids burst, and the sides unfolded to reveal its contents.
Each pod in this wave was Deathwing-pattern, equipped with an array of auto-firing weapon systems. As they opened, the weapons began to pour streams of flames into bunkers, as bolts found their mark in the exposed rear-guard of the city defenders.
These were the pods targeted at the cities of Leptkul and Hyhad, the cities of Torghun and Holtec respectfully. A second wave was targeted at either city, unmolested by the limited anti-air fire of the cities, they crashed into the cities like crimson tears.
The hatch blew open on explosive bolts and Raphaen had his bolter loose in his hands, ready to kill anyone to inquisitive to come in but it was a sudden flood of yellow-sand water that sloshed in, not an enemy defender. The water was luke-warm, swirling in the angled drop-pod barely reaching his greaves, it was the water of a beach.
'Forwards!' Raphaen roared. The captain was aware of his men moving behind him as he launched himself out of the drop-pod. He jumped into the water, thigh deep, they were not far from their original target.
It had been poor odds. They had been targeting for the city port-district, but now they had arrived just a few meters from the beach. Raphaen followed the contrails of the other incoming drop-pods, it seemed only his and two others had fallen short of their intended target. Nearby, be saw Fenarix jump from the lip of his pod and shouting his men forwards.
There on the shore, pointing with his twin-linked lascannon was the brother-Dreadnought Vorn. The sight of the Dreadnought not firing his mighty weapon told Raphaen all he needed to know; they were alone.
'Forwards!' called the captain, and he didn't need to turn around to see the elements of his Company following in formation.
Raphaen marched forwards from the drop-pod with the warriors of squad Hykrion's assault squad at his side, joined by Fenarix's tactical squad. Above them, the volley of drop-pods was falling silent, replaced by a howl of aircraft thrusters.
'Our brother's will take the port,' Raphaen said. 'We will move into the city, from what I can gather a bastion of sorts is directly north of here. We will split into three squads, Fenarix, take your squad left. Hykrion, take half your squad right, the rest will come with me straight to the target. We will divide the enemy and draw them from our brother's. Vorn, you will accompany Hykrion as support.'
'Affirmative,' growled the venerable warrior. The three units separated.
It wasn't long before the soldiers of Leptkul became aware of the off-target Blood Angel's in their midst. The green runes signifying Fenarix's and Hykrion's squads turned red, suggesting they had made contact with the enemy and engaged them. The heavy rumble of primitive 'tanks' confirmed this.
Raphaen's own combat squad remained unnoticed for a time longer. They opted for stealth when possible, they had taken out lone troopers patrolling the streets with the combat knives. They were few and far between each other, Raphaen suspected they were merely fresh-faced reservists.
Once the Blood Angels spread out from the port-district, a wider cordon was established. People fled towards the city centre, abandoning the safety of their homes. The cartolith's reach grew fast as his squads filled in the city areas behind him. In one instant, an area they had identified as a sprawling preserve was actually a series of built up hab-blocks. A signified rune flashed green in his helm-display, identifying the port-district as secured. A couple more runes followed in quick succession as the combat squad ran further towards the bastion.
The streets began to broaden. Windows grew from stout to lankey, thick to thin. The homes had oak tables, candles that would give poor light.
They had penetrated a kilometer and a half into the city, and still no one had come to fight them.
Raphaen led his men on down a branching alleyway. Half his attention was on the flash of red and green dots and steady stream of combat reports scrolling down his faceplate. He still had enough left over to deal with the men who came heaving out of a side avenue straight into the Blood Angels.
The men came to a stumbling halt. Too stunned to react, they stared in surprise at the legionaries.
Raphaen's men were with superior reactions, and had their guns up in a fraction of the time it took the enemy. Mass-reactive bolt-rounds spat into the men, piercing armour and flesh. Bursting, the men were turned into a spray of flesh and armour, a splash of blood.
The combat squad spread out, guns and blades up.
'Clear,' said one warrior, Titus.
'No more from this way,' said another holding his chainsword two-handed, Agermen.
The others approached other avenues, reporting every one empty.
'Where is everyone?' Agermen asked.
'Likely with our brothers,' Raphaen said.
By now, the Blood Angels had spread out across the southern and half of the eastern districts of Leptkul, and there were few areas in those districts not filled in on the cartholith. The combat squad picked up pace. They approached a wide, open courtyard.
'Multiple enemy ahead,' Raphaen said. 'Engaging.' His brothers were at his side as he spoke. Solid-rounds criss-crossed the air, Raphaen advanced. A number hit him, pinging off his armour and whipping past his head. Beyond the first enemy troopers he saw a barricade made of wood, crates and sheet metal. Dozens of Leptkel's defenders were taking aim with their primitive weapons.
A fletcher round came flying past his head, he saw a lone trooper near the centre of the barricade, loading his gun like a soldier from a bygone age, one shot at a time.
In return, the Blood Angels' bolters cut down the men without mercy. The courtyard was awash with a river of blood, chunks of meat were flung wide, creating ponds of vitae.
Raphaen changed targets quickly, putting down their enemy one after the other. A flechette impacted an assault marine, Sazor, blood leaked from his left arm. He blasted his would-be-killer with the last bolt in his magazine.
'Who would have thought,' the wounded legionary said with a laugh. 'That they actually had something capable of wounding one of us.'
'More are approaching,' Titus stated, he and Agermen flung themselves against the barricade. The Luptkelians were numerous, but they were being slaughtered.
'Are they not afraid?' Sazor asked.
'Perhaps they know something we do not,' answered Raphaen.
A flurry of flechettes hit Titus in the knee, he went to his knee. He was still firing as a round hit his faceplate. The great-helm crumpled around his cheek. The point emerged through the upper left side of his skull, he slammed into the barricade, the flechette acted as a nail of sorts.
'Titus!; roared Agermen, his chainsword bisecting his brothers killer. He moved with raw savagery, but an art was behind it. He moved like an expert swordsmen, none of his attacks were wasted. For a moment Raphaen considered that, then relegated it as something for later.
The enemy were shouting to one another, pointing at Agermen. Some fired, hitting each other, though one hit but did not penetrate Agermen's shoulder guard. Agerman racked the closest soldiers with his chainsword, chewing flesh.
Raphaen ran forwards, bolt firing one-handed. Savor and the last brother, Artonus followed. Another salvo of flechettes and solid-rounds ripped the air, forcing the legionaries down and their shots wide.
Agermen finished the last trooper, his armour was splashed with blood. He moves towards Titus.
'Brothers,' Raphaen said over company-vox. 'We have engaged enemy forces with flechette rounds, they are capable of killing us. Brother Titus of Squad Hykrion was the price of this information.'A snap of affirmative answered as Raphaen turned to face Agermen.
He had removed the flechette from Titus, and rested his head forwards. 'I promise you brother,' he said. 'Your legacy shall live on.'
From what Raphaen could see, the assault marine's progenoid glands were intact.
Agermen rejoined his brothers. 'Let us continue on brothers,' he said swinging meat from his chainsword.
'Agermen,' Raphaen said. 'For a moment you looked like a warrior of the Fifth.'
Agermen snorted a laugh. 'Were they as good looking as me.'
The vox crackled in Raphaen's ear. 'Go,' he said.
'Brother,' it was Fenarix that spoke. 'We are securing the bastion, Torghun is dead. He tried to kill us with an explosive device.'
'Very well brother, have the enemy commanders present call for surrender of their forces. With luck, we shall finish his battle today. Then, we shall crush Holtec.' Raphaen said. 'Also brother, make sure the news of Torghun's fate spreads.'
Well, that was certainly an effort. So, I think this fic is finally starting to take shape. So, I ask you for a favour. Where would you like this to go? Also, what mistakes can you see in this so I can fix and then re-upload this chapter.
So to you all, thank you for your support. And, since I likely won't upload then. Happy New Year.