{oOo}
There was another army deploying onto the plains of Cadia when they reached the surface. They swarmed out of the hills as if the fleet in orbit had not done a deep scan of the area before landing the World Eaters. Soldiers and warmachines poured out, a host that dwarfed the World Eaters. Kharn squinted at them. Some of them were human, he thought. Many were not. And the warmachines ranged from a near match to those of the Imperial Army to the bizarre. An entire valley was clogged by what seemed to be giant scorpions of brass scuttling forwards.
In fact that was one matter of uniformity: almost without exception the hordes assembling in front of the World Eaters wore a mix of red and brass.
"Who are they? Where did they come from?"
Angron frowned. "I didn't ask."
"What?"
"It never came up." The primarch shrugged. His armour, rattled in the bag behind him. There hadn't been enough left for him to wear so he was walking back to his legion with nothing more than an improvised kilt to see to his dignity. Then again, he hadn't looked very different when Kharn first met him.
Kharn groaned. "But these are the ones that you're waiting for?"
"S'right."
"And what are they here for?"
Angron's smile was a terrible thing to behold. "Once I get my spare battleplate on, we can go over and you can ask them yourself."
Kharn blinked and then thumbed the activation rune on his axe, which roared to life reassuringly. "I suppose it's less distance to charge them."
"That's the spirit," laughed Angron.
{oOo}