-2-
Kazon Hive had begun to burn like the rest of Kolstrom V. The curtain wall that protected the sprawling manufactorums and the Mechanicum bastion was a desolate skeleton of churned rock, molten slag and corpses. The front line had been pounded relentlessly with artillery shells, air burning las beams and hordes of screaming enemies. The majority of the wall had been spared the relentless attack, leaving the Imperial gun emplacements to straff the horde outside at will. The push of Chaos had been focused upon the giant gates barring the way into the Hive city, their beautifully tooled bronze faces shredded and charred, the reinforced adamantium plating buckled and dented. Autocannon fire pounded into the wide gate, never ceasing. The defenders in the gate house poured an entire years worth of ammunition production down through the murder holes in the four days they had to hold out. Those four days had proved to be the longest of any man left standing and it seperated the heroes from the chaff. The forces of the World Eaters had managed to breach the stalwart defence of the walls either side of the gate house twice, the first time sending a wave of frenzied maniacs pouring like water through the cracked battlements. The wave had been repulsed with disciplined volleys of fire from the PDF troopers and an equally savage counter attack by the Penal Legionaires and their power blades.
The second assault had been the make or break moment for the defenders of Kazon Hive. Expecting the rush of cult crazed guardsmen, the ranks of the PDF troopers assumed a rank and knelt firing position, the Penal Legionaries keeping their distance to either side of the breach. As the defenders sweated into their eyes and wiped the clogging ash dust from the lenses of their rifles and calculated barrage of grenades sailed over the wall top and between the gap in the giant void shield and the wall. The projectiles stirred instant panic and the ranks quivered, the grenades touched the ramparts and errupted in clouds of choking smoke. With their vision obscured, the PDF forces struggled for the rebreathers boxed at their hips and it was then the second attack came to fruition. Scaling the wall faster than anyone of the defenders could predict came four hulking giants in red. The first over the wall catapulted himself through the breach with the awesome strength his power armoured form gave him, landing amongst the first rank of men like a wolf into a flock of sheep. With great swings of his chain blade he clove men apart, limbs flailing through the air. Great gouts of blood sprayed into the air as the smoke began to drift clear and the mass of men bore witness to the slaughter amidst their ranks. Orders were screamed and in panic born rush weapons discharged, the first chaos warped Space Marine spasmed as three hundred las bolts smashed into him, punching craters into his power armour. With a roar of utter defiance from the brass etched grille on the front of the World Eaters helmet it fell, brought low from the overwhelming fire power.
The second and third fought to squeeze throught the gap in the wall and provided the men of the PDF scant seconds to rearm. It wasn't long enough. The berserkers broke free in a whirlwind of blades and thundered into the firing line as the first had done. The butcher work began and a furios struggle spread across the line as men fought to escape the carnage. An officer of the Kazon Commisariat shouldered his way through the line, snarling at the top of his voice, his provosts shunting men from his path as he approached the World Eater Space Marines. The Commissar levelled a glare of utter hatred at the enemy and activated the power field surrounding the mechanical fist he wore. It flared bright and he drew his bolt pistol with his free hand. With the Emperors name upon his lip he charged, his provosts slamming down visors on their helmets and thumbing activation studs on their power mauls. The first berserker died without ever knowing it, too focused on the slaughter of the struggling men before it, the Marine was blindsided by the power fist and his head vaporised in a flash of white. The second berserker wasn't so clouded by violence. The death of the World Eater allowed the men to break free and a wide space formed on the parapet allowing the Space Marine and the Commissar room to battle. The provosts shook the fatigue from their shoulders and rushed forwards in an attempt to overwhelm the enemy. Chainblades screamed through flesh, power mauls battering dents into the ancient armour. The berserker cut through the provosts as if they were wheat for the harvest on its way to the Commissar who slammed a fresh sickle magazine into his pistol. The pistol barked, blasting craters into the Marines torso as it advanced, dropping it to a knee. The remaining provosts took the advantage and grabbed onto the Space Marines arms, trying to weigh him down. The Commissar raised his fist and punched down with a yell of triumph. As his power fist connected with the gorget of the World Eater, the enemy broke a hand free and punched it's armoured fist through his midsection.
The fourth armoured beast took the wall, punching great holes into the rockcrete as it crested the breach. Knowing that the defenders could not withstand such a new and vicious assault, a Penal Legionaire by name of Ira Hale threw his las rifle at his feet and ran screaming at the World Eater. He leaped at the last second and clamped onto the arm of the power armoured giant. As the goliatch dug his armoured fingers into Hale's side, the Legionaire detonated the melta charge he had clutched between them. The Chaos Space Marine was vaproised in a blinding ball of white fire, nothing but bubbling rockcrete remained. The defenders were afforded a respite having repelled the impatience of the berserkers only through great sacrifice. The stretch of wall had been dubbed Hale's Breach by those that witnessed the acts of a condemned man. It was then on the fourth day that the heavens flared with light and it seemed as if new stars were being born.
-
"Helm, bring us about and prepare to exploit the breach the Defence Fleet will create for us."
The robed shipman inclined his head and inserted his mechanical fingers into the brass sockets upon the lectern before him. The think heady smell of incense accompanied the droning hymnal of activation surrounding the command pulpit. Brother Captain Tyrax of the 3rd Crusade removed himself from the pulpit, retrieving his helmet from the wood pannel surface.
"You have the bridge, Roshane"
A Space Marine in thick black robes thumped his first into his pectoral before ascending to the command throne. Tyrax took one last gaze around the command bridge of his strike cruiser, deeming everything in exact working order he vacated the bridge, the grinding blast doors admitting him entrance into the vast dark corridor beyond. He was intercepted by Veteran-Sergeant Gerhet as he made his way through the ship. A trail of servants splashing their armour with cleaning ugents, scrubbing away a patch of discolouration or testing the individual plates of their armour. It was common ritual and the servants knew to keep up or face punishment from their overlords.
"Preparations for orbital insertion are correct and complete, Captain"
Tyrax cast a glance at his direct subordinate as he adjusted the position of his left gauntlet.
"I trust all application of pre-drop disciplines have been adhered to with the strictist measure, Sergeant?"
Gerhet shoved a servant out of his way with his bionic, the man colliding into the panneled wall of the corridor.
"Aye, Captain. Brother Callisto has had the Teeth of Vengeance primed and ready for three days. They've waited in the launch bay since. I think he may be eager to embrace his new command."
Tyrax grunted, the wry smile at Gerhet's words turning his features almost maniacal as they passed under an orange glow strip and into the preparation chamber.
"Very well, he may have the vanguard. Who has been assigned to this drop, Sergeant?"
Tyrax walked to the centre of the wide circular room and spread his arms, allowing the flock of servants and their servitors to swarm about him, checking his various systems for stability and mounting his weapon systems in place upon his armoured form. Gerhet turned his perpetually sneering face towards his Captain.
"The drop zone is staggered, Brother Callisto and his Teeth will deploy two hundred metres from the curtain wall. Squads Diomedes, Saul and Claudius will deploy fifty metres from the curtain wall. Honoured Brother Lysandros and his Mantle of Hate shall deploy one hundred metres from the curtain wall and the Lance of Perdition shall deploy within the curtain wall itself in a pre-designated zone. My own squad shall accompany you and we shall deploy on a parallel trajectory with the Mantle of Hate. "
Tyrax digested the information as his power sword was belted about his armoured waist. He nodded his approval and then lifted his chin as his servants lowered his helmet onto his head. Initiating the seals around his gorget he watched the visor flicker into life, a tactical readout of all available information surrounding him scrolling across his helmet. He noted Callisto's increased heart rate.
"He is indeed eager. I commend the preparation of this strike force Brother Gerhet and you may carry the Punishment of Scorn into battle. May He cast his glance upon you and lend you his wisdom. Prepare our vessel for it's journey. May we trust it wholly or perish."
He turned, clutching the Umbra pattern bolter to his chest and inclined his corvus pattern helmet to the giant archway before him. With hissing pistons it slammed open to reveal the launch bay beyond and the waiting drop pod. Marines Malevolent finished their battle rites and clambered into the giant pods that would bare them to the world below. Remus Tyrax passed through the smoke wreathed door.
Gerhet outstretched his right arm, letting the servants bring forth an ancient weapon. His gauntlet was plugged into the open breach and the vaccum seal clamped tight around his elbow. A snaking power cable was fed from the weapon up under his reactive shoulder plate and connected to the bundle of cables there. He turned his hand, allowing the suits power to be rerouted and his servo's to compensate for the extra weight. He lifted the ancient power weapon before him and clenched his fist. With a flash of motion, two foot long blades fired forward to sit crackling with energy over his clenched fingers. The power claw was inscribed with the names of all who had bore it into battle before him and he knew that after this campaign his name would be etched forever into the adamantium casing.
He licked his lips in anticipation as his MKV pattern helmet was lowered onto his head. He turned his armoured bulk towards the launch bay, accepted his bolter with his bionic arm and marched to war.