Izar continued to look at Castor, the red lighting of the Thunderhawk finally turning on, strobing all around them. A few, awkward seconds passed by before Izar broke the silence.
"You heard him. Get your weapon ready, we'll discuss this further when we are done here." Izar said a cold anger buried deep within his helmet. Castor simply nodded in response. He knew he was fucked, he shouldn't have said anything, to begin with, but if he had any luck, he might be able to turn things around during this mission. Maybe he could salvage this, maybe.
A sudden jolt resounded through the gunship as it landed hard upon the alien forest world, Castor, racking the slide of his relic bolter, quickly stood up and joined in formation with the rest of his squad, Captain Sirus leading them all. What felt like hours passed before the boarding ramp slammed open and the Angels of Death made their way forward with inhuman speed.
Spreading out, the warriors scanned the foggy horizon and the maroon trees and flora that surrounded them, all hefting bolters except for two. Izar, always being the specialist of the bunch, carried the form of an ancient Ryza pattern plasma gun. The weapon's green glow shone in the dark red ambiance. Izar immediately fell in love with the weapon upon finding her in the Chapter's armory, the thing supposedly dated back to the legions of old. Despite her age, the weapon was still deadly, deadlier than any other Plasma weapon the marine had ever set his hands upon, and she still purred like it was the Great Crusade all over again.
The second marine who went without a holy bolter was, of course, the Captain himself. Sirus was never one for ranged warfare, every single Astartes present knew this well. He understood the importance of it and the need for complementary tactics, but he was never one to align himself with it. Sirus was always a simple man at heart, and this was never more clear than when he was on the field of battle. Holding a massive, sparking power sword in one hand, a bolt pistol in the other. The weapon was a simple beast, one he simply called "Thorn Breaker."
Sirus held the ornate handle of his mightly weapon hard, the power field buzzing and sparking as he scanned the vast horizon for any and all enemies that would dare to impede him, the red helmet lens of his mark-4 helm peering into the living void, the crimson helmet crest billowing in the wind. As he did so, a brother marine withdrew the large, recognizable shape of an Auspex Scanner from his waist, the maglocks releasing at his command. Activating the scanner, Sergeant Aiolos scanned the horizon for any signs of life larger than a rat.
The trans-human warrior whistled loudly, the vox-grill of his helm distorting the voice into something almost deafening. "When we were briefed that the LZ was gonna be cold, I didn't know they meant it was gonna be colder than winter on Fenris. There's nothing here on my scanner for at least 60 klicks. This place is for all intents and purposes, abandoned." Aiolos said as he placed the scanner back on his waist.
"Speaking of cold, anyone else getting this?" Brother Ogma stated plainly. "This place is way colder than it should be. Temperatures are near 0 c, that's not natural. This planet's rotation and axis indicate it should be the middle of summer right about now." Aiolos and the final marine of the squad, Tabit looked towards Ogma as he finished his sentence.
"The likely cause of this is the warp-related corruption this world has suffered, grave-chill, and the like. Either this or Maul is close by. Keep on guard." Sirus added before walking forward, his men following him close behind.
0
The marines had been walking for what felt like hours, but, in all likelihood was anything but. The crimson forest enveloped them like a blanket of darkness, all light draining as they walked further forward into the abyss, their only companions being the darkness and the ever-present chill of ambient sorcery. Suddenly, as if time itself froze, Sirus stopped dead in his tracks, causing the men behind him to follow suit.
Long, deathly seconds passed before one of the marines spoke up through their closed vox-network.
"Captain, why'd we stop?" Izar asked calmly, his years of experience winning out over any and all battlefield nerves the Astarte had left.
"We walked into an ambush, Izar. Ready your weapons men." Sirus stated, his eyes locked on the form of a poorly disguised foxhole built into one of the 2 ridges surrounding them, the noticeable rustling underneath the tarp giving the assault away.
Moving faster than the eye could see, Sirus opened up with a volley into the poorly disguised concealment, blood and meat erupting from the hole's opening. As he did so, the previously unseen enemy opened up with a salvo of their own, a stream of red blaster fire opening up from all directions. Ducking, Sirus's marines soon opened fire as well, the super-heated red tabana gas either hitting the marines' armor harmlessly or missing entirely.
Firing with pinpoint accuracy, the Sternguard Veterans of the Angellis Mentors well and truly earned their name, blowing bowling ball-sized holes into every enemy that even glanced their gaze of doom. The forms, Xenos and Human alike continued their barrage despite this, bolts of death that would have well and truly killed anything else continuing to rain down upon the Astartes. As the fighting continued, tens of men falling dead with every second that passed, a new stream of weapons fire began to fall upon the defending Adeptus Astartes.
Grenades. Fired from Xenos launchers, small packets of explosives strong enough to blow limbs even from Astartes fell from the ridges. Some of the marines fired their bolters at the falling projectiles, blowing some out of the sky completely. Others, using their inhuman instincts ran clear of their explosive range, the fruit-sized projectiles exploding harmlessly. Now, focusing fire on the direction these ball-like weapons were launched from, the marines executed their would-be killers effortlessly and without haste, mass-reactive bolts blowing heads from necks, limbs from bodies, and souls from mortal coils.
However, in one last, desperate attempt to kill even one of the Emperor's finest, the enemy let loose on one final weapon they had been holding as a last resort. Like a stream of purple hail, deadly spheres of ionized plasma began to fall upon the marines. A pulse cannon.
These energy-based projectiles moved much faster than this galaxy's usual particle beam-based weapons and hit much harder as well. More comparable to Tau pulse rifles, the projectiles fired by this weapon managed to hit Brother Ogma in his abdomen, blowing a burning, blackened hole the size of a bowl in his stomach as he ducked to the ground, the man wincing in pain. Upon seeing this, Izar took the task of killing the wielder of this new, deadly weapon into his own hands, firing a glob of green super-heated death towards the dugout in which this deadly stream was fired. In an instant, the dirt and stone of the hideout exploded, turning the man inside into nothing but ash and burnt meat.
Finally, as the rest of the squad mopped up the rest of the would-be attackers, the forest again fell silent, the attack leaving nothing but the putrid smell of blood and ozone behind. Slowly, Izar walked over to his brother, the marine propping himself up using the ridged stone of the former attackers' ridge. All and all, the ambush lasted less than 30 seconds.
"Brother Ogma, how bad is your injury?" Izar asked calmly and collectively, holding the man's shoulder in one hand, his plasma gun in the other.
"It hurts like a bitch, the plasma from whatever the hell that weapon was probably fried half of my internal organs, but I'll live." Ogma replied slyly, dumb bastard was probably smiling underneath that helmet.
"Can you stand?" Izar asked simply in response.
"If you're asking if my legs can work, yes. Just give me a minute." Ogma said, the Marine slowly standing up, servos whirring as the damaged suit of powered armor attempted to keep itself working. The weapon probably fried some of the servos on his abdomen from the looks of it.
Tabit, doing what he did seemingly instinctually, managed to count the kills. He tried to count all of them but because of the state of some of them now, he knew for a fact he would miss one or two. He tried his best anyways.
"If any of you wanna know, we killed like, 80." Tabit added, more to remind himself than anything. "Who do you think they were?"
"Probably mercenaries. If you'd recall, this Maul used to be a crime lord, racked up some money while he was at it." Ogma responded, hefting up his bolter as he talked.
Sirus looked back towards the men and simply glared at them, his modified mark-4 helm cutting into them like a knife. Seeing this, Brother Sergeant Aiolos simply nodded and ordered his men back on their feet, and slowly but surely, they continued again on their way.