Hey everyone! A bit less then usual, but its here as soon as it was ready. Really setting up the guts for the war with the characters we have available. This light skirmish is almost over, and no we can start the heavy stuff.
And please, I have a big request for you all at the bottom, please let me know what you think?
Vownus Kaede found himself tucked away into what relegated as the sidelines of the main stretch of the battlements.
The hustling march of hundreds of armed Guardsmen, the Outer Walls recently arrived reinforcements, proceeded in a steady procession before his sternly focused eyes.
Sergeants shouted orders amongst their squads, their calls and commands joining the general atmosphere of the ramparts. Commissars moved swiftly up and down the lines of fresh troops, their attention focused on both their latest arrivals and the wall's remaining defenders.
Vownus couldn't speak for the other segments of the Wall, perhaps maybe the West Gate considering the brief break in human air superiority, but the south had taken the relative brunt of the fighting.
The once numerous soldiers of the 224th Balorian Regiment had been cut down in size significantly. And cut down quite literally for that matter.
While the surviving Guardsmen were going through the process of a swift reformation and reforming of squads that had seen their numbers dangerously reduced, a small segment was focused toward dealing with the significantly numbering dead.
The Space Wolves addressed their own, Vownus having caught sight of the animal skulls that masked the Chapter's Apothecaries amongst the littered fallen of the Sons of Russ.
Wolf Priest's, as they were referred to by the Space Wolves.
It was a strange sight, the differing colors that the darkened warriors were dressed in completely contrasting their blue-ish brethren. Even unmarked by the red sigil of the Firewolf Company, the Wolf Priest's armor was as black as night. This midnight hue accented by the dull gold that ran the edges of each plate of ceramite.
A golden wolf, styled in the Sigil of Leman Russ himself, was placed upon the pauldrons of each.
The Wolf Priests did their duties in solemn silence, the odd quiet extended over to the living Space Wolves.
They watched in complete silence, a near reverence to their gaze, as their chapter's slain were dealt with. Vownus could see the workings of silent prayers upon the lips of some, but their quiet remained absolute.
'Wolf Priests' Vownus thought to himself as he too observed the faith filled service.
'... there always has to be a wolf in there somewhere' he mentally remarked on the Chapter's common use of the lupine word as he cast a respectful look upon the proceedings.
But as the super human organs of the dead Space Wolves were removed from their forms with due grace, Vownus couldn't keep the wince from his eyes at the almost callous sweeping of the 'mere-mortals'...
The dead Guard were treated as fairly as the Universe could.
And that translated to 'Poorly'.
It was an act motivated by cold practicality, but essential nonetheless. They couldn't throw the dead back to the city… and there wasn't enough time to cart them off for a funerary service.
The problem would need to be dealt with.
Now.
So in stoic and numbingly stiff pairs, the surviving Guardsmen were forced to grab the slain remains of their fellows, and fling them from the battlements.
Along with the slain Greenskins, the dead Guardsmen were cast out onto the southern grounds. Beyond the wall…
What remained of their fallen comrades was cast into the metaphorical abyss, likely never to be seen again.
The Inquisitor could see the faces of sorrow, regret and anger that the men and women of the 224th were widespread.
Even those that did not have to handle the desecrated remains of their now forever lost comrades in arms looked on with mournful approach.
They did not approve of the action.
But they, like Vownus, quietly yet regretfully accepted it; the grim necessity of cleaning up their battlements, while silently condemning the dark nature of disgracing their dead.
More than a few looks were cast the Inquisitor's way, the dirty and bloodsoaked warriors observing the man that had ordered the bombardment upon their own position.
Vownus, who stood clean of all signs of battle bar the stains of his own perspiration, was an easy sight to spot from his clothing alone. Even beside the battle worn Aethod he stuck out like a heretic in a Pastor's Church. The Librarian, who's bulk, stature and distinctive wear probably did more to draw the despondent looks of the survivors to the Inquisitor, gave a rousing comment.
"Not often in your company do I see an instance of good luck"
The words were enough to draw Vownus' now bemused stare toward the Librarian's head. There wasn't a smile on Aethod's face per say, but the ever stoic son of Dorn had a slight curl in his typically blank features.
The Witch Hunter skimmed over the sentence once more, realizing the Librarian was referring to Dorrhitas. Their first Siege and how that had ended up.
A massive smile worked across Vownus' features.
"Are you making a joke, Librarian Aethod?"
The Astartes' face twitched, his head turning to the columns of troops moving by. Vownus could still see in the side of the trans-human's face the bare essence of his invisible smile.
"Merely remarking on our fate my Lord" he stated with a touch of lightness to his voice, "For once, we are reinforced"
Vownus couldn't help the slight bark of laughter as he looked up to Aethod in wonder.
An Astral Knight, the ever pragmatic and calculating Son of Dorn, making a joke.
"Oh I will never forget this moment. Ever" Vownus grinned, "I want you to know that Aethod, you have gifted me with a core memory"
The Librarian looked down at Vownus with a worrisome gaze, "my Lord? Was that not a… humorous comment?"
"Oh don't worry" Vownus chuckled openly, "spot on humor" he gave a thumbs up "Just wasn't expecting it is all"
Aethod's eyes narrowed a moment in thought before the man returned to a calm expression. Unknown to Vownus was how Aethod made a silent Vow in his head to improve his displays of humorous intent.
The Inquisitor's attention moved to his Vox-caster.
He thumbed the activation.
"This is Kaede. What's our status, Castellan?"
"One moment my Lord" Hageski's voice blurted through, before the Vox connection clicked once, then twice, the private channel connecting to two other Vox Links.
"Inquisitor Kaede" a new but familiar voice greeted him, "as soon as the first casualty reports filtered into command, these Regiments were redeployed to your position immediately. I had feared they would be too late"
"I appreciate your foresight, Governor," Vownus addressed Andoa Paxat, quickly coming to terms with the multi-person Vox Channel he was now connected to, "I had not the thought to immediately call for reinforcements. Even I…. I have underestimated the Orks Governor Paxat, and it is your people that have paid the price. I am sorry"
"There are casualties in War, Inquisitor. I know this. So long as you keep your eyes open from now on, I find blame in only the enemy, not you"
The Governor's response was measured but calm, a practical response to the situation.
Vownus felt humbled by her professionalism.
War was upon them and there was little time to turn on one another.
Even if Kaede felt he had been a damn fool.
"This battle is queer Governor, and Kaede is far too modest to admit the truth of the matter. And that is, this Greenskin attack reek's of strangeness" the gruff and growling voice of the Wolf Lord, Kjarl Grimblood, even being broadcasted over the crackly Vox, still managed to convey his concern and worry.
"Unlike other Ork forces I have been in combat with before, this one is far more calculated then I could have anticipated"
"That makes two of us" Vownus couldn't help but mutter to himself as Andoa pounced upon the Grimblood's words.
"Lord Grimblood. I expected ferocity and death, of this I know to be a typical component to Greenskin war, but what do you mean by calculated?"
The Wolf Lord broke down his observations.
"Our defenses are being tested. Myself and my most distinguished Warriors bear the focus of the larger Greenskins. Each method of attack has come at the opening of another, the ladders that were deployed taking up focus by the Auto Cannon Batteries. Then the Orks deployed their flying Scrap" the Grimblood muttered a foreign curse, "There is a keen plan behind this Warboss. And I am afraid we can do nought but spring it"
Silence blanketed over the Comms for the moment.
The Governor was the one to break it.
"Be that as it may, hold for as long as you can. The Outer City is doing its best, but large pockets of Civilians are unaccounted for"
"How many Orks made it over the wall?" Vownus asked, his eyes glancing toward the Central Fortress of the Inner Wall.
"Too many. The Planetary Defense Force is handling it, but the beasts are as tenacious as they are random"
Vownus frowned, "what kinds of Orks have you come across?"
"Kinds?" the Castellan couldn't help but blurt out before silencing himself.
"As in?" the Governor gave a prompting question.
Vownus pinched the bridge of his nose, "oddly sized, distinguishing armor, evidence of tactics or specialized weaponry, if none of these have been noted yet, tell the PDF to keep their eyes open"
"What can we possibly expect?" Andoa asked after making a muffled comment to her aside, likely delivering the order out to another in the command center.
"Before today I would have said Ork Special Forces. Groups tasked to eliminate high value targets" Vownus's eyes narrowed as he scanned beyond the wall, "but there could be more to it. Something we are not expecting"
"I will dispatch Search and Destroy teams into the outer city. They can report directly to me regarding what they find"
Kjarl growled an affirmation at this, "a temporary measure, but it is the only response available to us"
"The armored divisions guarding the Gate's from within the outer city have been ordered to full alert. Should there be any… demolition-Orks, operating behind our lines, then we shall be prepared" said the Castellan.
Vownus nodded his physical affirmation of the order, "good. That keeps us from being worried about our backs" the Inquisitor regarded the arriving infantry for a moment.
"But the walls…. According to the casualty reports, where did our forces suffer the most?"
"The Western Gate House and Battlements," the Castellan promptly replied. There was no need for the specific numbers, Vownus just needed to know the answer.
"And the least?" the Witch Hunter immediately followed his prior question with another.
Hageski didn't let a moment between his last answer and his decree of "the Eastern segment. Lord Grimblood's Psyker was able to sufficiently manage the Ork's numbers"
"You are planning something" Governor Paxat shrewdly inferred, "would you care to let us in on your thinking, Inquisitor?"
Vownus's mind was moving a mile a minute, a layout of the Outer Wall and city in his thoughts as he explained himself.
"The Orks are testing our defenses. I propose we test their offensive"
"How so?"
"We build the illusion of a gap. A point of weakness" he looked down the stretch of the wall toward the East, "what is the exact makeup of our reinforcements Governor?"
"The 226th, 227th and 228th Regiments are converging on the segments near one of the three Gate Houses. The 229th are deploying across the Western section alongside the survivors of the 224th and 225th"
Vownus shook his head.
"Belay that. Redeploy any forces sent to the West to other sections of the wall. Lord Grimblood, how are your Wolves fairing?"
"Minor casualties. Enough to leave a sting in our pride, but nothing we can't handle"
"Good. Myself and the Astral Knights will be redeploying to the West. Grimblood, your Guard already holds the Gate House, but I would have you spare whoever else you can. I need the best warriors you have"
Kjarl growled an affirmation, "aye. I can spare enough"
"Vownus" Andoa cut through, "what are you doing"
"Creating a pocket" the Inquisitor gestured to the vigilant Librarian by his side to follow him, "With less soldiers in one place, but these warriors being a majority of our more proficient fighters… we create a perceived gap in strength"
"What does this hope to accomplish?"
"We direct the pressure of their next attack"
"Thus relieving other sections of the wall" Kjarl explained, the Wolf Lord having caught on to Vownus' intention.
Vownus slipped into his authoritative stride, the self righteous step that every Inquisitor worth their salt knew how to execute. A channel blossomed open before him.
That Aethod cut an imposing figure by his side certainly helped get Guardsmen out of the Witch Hunter's war path.
"And if the Orks do not take the bait?" Andoa asked, a solemnly quiet note to her tone of voice.
Across the wall, the reinforcements were altering their marching paths, orders and instructions firing like gunshots up and down the lines of soldiers.
"Then each of the other segments will be glad to receive a full Regiment worth of reinforcements"
"And if the Xenos do observe the West to be lightly guarded and attack?" the question came from the Castellan.
Kaede rolled his shoulders, a stiff strain having worked its way up his back without him fully taking note of it.
"Then the result will be twofold. Firstly, we will soon be keenly aware of how smart our enemy really is… and secondly, I'm going to be up to my neck in Greenskins before the morning is upon us" Vownus curtly remarked.
The Outer wall had been subjected to fearsome punishment. Entire sections of the defensive battlements had been stripped away by gunfire, with segments entirely destroyed due to constant salvo's of an explosive nature.
Pockets and gaps for the firing lines were created, compromising the defense of the wall's occupants.
And when the Greenskins returned, the protection offered by the battlements would be significantly dulled.
However the damage randomly wrought across the length of the great defense was to be dealt with.
By the Governor's order, the Imperial firing lines were to be restored.
News broke out across the infantry of how the Western parts of the Wall were being reinforced only by the most prominent warriors.
Wolf Guards, the Inquisitor and his Astral Knights, and highly decorated squads of specific regiments.
The minimal forces committed spelled a worried thought amongst the troops. A thought that the Commissars and Ecclesiarchy Preachers were quick to crush, yet still permeated the air.
But the wall adjusted to the new orders.
The reinforcements brought alongside them not just fresh blood, but defensive utilities sorely needed for the coming conflict.
Upon the horizon it was clear to see the Ork's were amassing again, their great numbers driving forward into another great bodily attack.
Sandbags were ringed around heavily damaged areas, with Soldiers deploying a series of mounted weaponry all across the defensive lines.
These guns were a variety of adjusted and altered Heavy Bolters, Storm Bolters and Flamers, each and every one of them gifted from the weapon troves of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
It seemed Manufactorum Baleris, the greatest of its likeness within the Outer City, had been ordered to make a generous donation.
And these weapons were well received.
Freyr stood in silence as the Rune Priest whispered words beneath a soft breath of prayer.
A quiet penance to Russ and the Universe for using the powers and abilities many saw as 'Godly'. Ivur had communed with the Immaterium to cast his great storms of lightning, the true buffer to the Eastern Section of the Outer Wall.
It was by his hand that many avoided a passing to the Realm beyond life.
Ivur's great power came with great restraint and responsibility, so much so that the act utilizing it was considered quite sacred among the Psychic of the Space Wolves.
And not just the Fire Company.
The words of his initial chant went from an Ancient Fenrisian dialect to that of a quiet Prayer in High Gothic.
"-say unto thee, by the divine will of the All Father, such as gifted upon me in-"
It was not just the Space Wolves that looked upon the Rune Priest's bated words. Many of the Balorian Guard that watched on in starkly awe filled silence were captivated by the act.
Not a noise was uttered as the prayer continued, each taken in by the quiet act of the powerful warrior.
"-as I am that be, my service is for thee…"
He snapped a final word in the Old Tongue, a soft growl to his aged and wise features.
Many forgot that Ivur was old.
Very old.
He'd lived longer than most, and seen far more than the eye of any old being has. Not of the age where tale's were written regarding his deeds from a time long past.
But, as Freyr quietly glanced around at all the captivated faces, perhaps Ivur's time to shine amongst the legendary deeds of the Sons of Russ were upon him.
As the Rune Priest turned away from his pocket of silence, his gaze having been cast out toward the enemy far beyond them to the south, it was as if the illusion of serenity was shattered.
The small moment that stole away everyone's recognition of the world around them vanished, the first call's of Orders and Commands came over them.
Ivur paid no heed to the attention of all those around him, his gaze seeking out Freyr without coming to terms with all the staring faces.
It had been his prayer after all, the other's, but mainly the Mortals, merely a witness to it.
"Lord Grimblood and the Inquisitor have come up with a plan"
Freyr shook away his clinging awe with a blink, the Rune Priest he was assigned to as a Guard dumping his full focus upon the Lone Wolf.
"A plan?" he reiterated with a curious note, "We have not the force to attack, and thus we can only defend, what plan is there to make?"
Ivur beckoned him to his side, permitting the Lone warrior to stand with him beside the battlements.
"A test, to be blunt"
"Test" Freyr repeated, "for the enemy?"
"The attack was strange. All of the Wolf Guard know it, perhaps some of the Long Fangs too" Ivur met Freyr's gaze with a side glance, "you have faced Greenskins before Drakth Maekith, tell me what you have observed"
The sharp intonation of his 'title', in the Old Tongue, bristled at Freyr's neck.
But it was no insult.
Merely what he was.
The Lone Wolf straightened his spine, his eyes meeting Freyr's own with a look forged in ice and Ceramite.
"The rabble acted in synchronous waves. They deployed various methods to assail the wall, each method leaving a gap to be exploited by another. There is a guiding hand amongst the Greenskins, a War Boss of great intelligence"
"Or beyond that" Ivur nodded resolutely at Freyr's explanation, his gaze looking away to the charred Abyss of the southern land's corpse, "the Inquisitor has divined to see this occurrence as well. Yet, I suspect he has also seen a way forward…"
"My Lord?" Freyr asked, "what do you mean a way-"
Ivur waved a dismissing hand at the question, "nothing. Idle thoughts of an Old Soul. Lord Grimblood has agreed. They plan to lay a… trap, so to say, for the Greenskins"
The Rune Priest nodded once, "it is a good idea. A way to observe the cunning of our Foes. Heh. To think I'd put Greenskins and the word Cunning in the same sentence" he huffed out another laugh.
His tone immediately sobered as he blankly observed the world beyond the battlements.
"You are being resigned to this trap, Freyr" he still did not look at him, "you are needed at the Western Gate House. You will be serving directly under those of Grimblood's Wolf Guard. I will remain here with-"
"Which of the Guard"
Ivur sighed, "do you really have need of me to speak his name?"
"He hates me" Freyr bit back simply.
Ivur exhaled a stronger breath of wearied note.
"Hate is a strong word-"
"I dishonored him"
"No. You avenged your Brother's lives"
"At the cost of his brother's honor"
"Oggar was…" Ivur hesitated, "a tragedy. No warrior deserves a death like that. But his anger is misplaced. And the sooner the two of you buffons get it through your thick skulls that your on the same damned side as the other, maybe you'd finally start seeing some general mood improvements-"
The tirade was brought into a sudden existence, and silenced just as quickly.
Ivur exhaled once more.
"Please. Freyr. I'm not asking you to become his most trusted Long Fang, I'm just asking you to mend the rift" Ivur smiled lightly, "is that too much for an old man to ask of you?"
"You'll outlive us all at this rate" Freyr drly groaned, "fine, 'old man', I'll do it. But don't expect a miracle. Russ will return before myself and Skorn, can be in the presence of the other"
Ivur grinned, his sharp teeth bared in the look of humorous joy, "perhaps you are learning from me. I enjoy being an excellent teacher"
Freyr's look was as dry as his words, his departure given in a snarky quip. "stick to prayers, Old Man, you're a groxshit teacher"
"Take care of yourself, Drakth Maekith" the Rune Priest grunted, "If by the end of this I find myself to the All Father's Ball after you do, I shall never let you hear the end of it"
"What news is there, my Lord?"
Kjarl Grimblood looked to Hammersbald, the one who had eagerly asked him the question.
"We are reinforced" Kjarl smiled, "and there is a plan"
"A plan" the great Thunder Hammer wielding warrior cocked his head, "what kind of a plan?"
"The Inquisitor intends to set a trap" the Lord of the Firewolf Company found his hand upon the pommel of his sword as he spoke, "a test for the enemy. To see if we are indeed dealing with a cunning foe"
"Cunning? Orks?!" Hammersbald guffawed at the very notion, his laughter only ceasing at the disapproving knock on his shoulder from Joran.
"Forgive me, my Lord" the warrior bowed his head.
Kjarl waved it away, "there is nothing to forgive Brother. I myself see only the undercut of intelligence, where it may indeed be mere coincidence that my eyes observe"
"It was a planned attack"
The heads of the Grimblood, Hammersbald and Joran turned to the fourth of their group.
Kurgskald had been looking to the lands beyond the battlement, but his attention returned to his brethren once they laid their gazes upon him.
"Each move was followed by another, pawns to be moved in order to extract weakness from us… these are the subtle tactics of the Eldar, not Greenskins"
"We have never encountered a Warboss such as this," the Wolf Lord nodded to Kurgskald in agreement with his observation, "but others have. A long time ago there was such an enemy…"
Joran, once a pupil of history and lore, found his tongue before the others did.
"The War of the Beast"
Kjarl nodded his affirmation once more, expanding on Joran's contemplation "aye. Where the Primarch of the Salamanders, Vulkan, came across an enemy once believed unheard of, an impossible foe"
"And you believe we may face such an enemy?" Joran promptly followed, his brow narrowed in focus.
"Perhaps" Kjarl nodded, "but this is what we are going to find out…" Kjarl Grimblood faced the swordsman directly,
"Joran"
The Wolf Guard stood at a rigid attention.
"We are to send our best to the Western Gate and wall. Take command of our Brother's there"
"I shall" Joran bowed his head.
But Kjarl was not done.
"Vownus Kaede will be in charge of the forces there. I would have you follow the Inquisitor's orders as if they were mine own"
Joran faltered for a moment, before solemnly affirming.
"To the best of my ability, my Lord. It shall be done"
And then he turned to the other two of Grimblood's Wolf Guard.
"Russ is with you Brother" Kurgskald murmured clasping once with the master of the Chainsword.
"As he should be. I'm his favorite," Joran joked, his body turning toward the much larger figure of Otalig a moment later.
"Aye. Come back in one piece you short bastard" Hammersbald gripped as well with Joran, a serious shake in his eyes, "I can't be having all the fun without you"
"You worry too much" Joran smirked, "I'll be sure not to craft a legend or two while I'm gone"
And then he departed to Hammersbald's grunt of "cheeky fool"
Only once the youngest of them was out of earshot did one of the three speak.
"You trust the Inquisitor my Lord?"
Kurgskald's quiet question was delivered with his gaze upon Joran's departing form, the master of the Chainsword disappearing into the marching Imperial forces, his large stature the only sight of him above the moving crowds of soldiers.
"Ivur does" Grimblood admitted, "and I trust Ivur"
It was as simple as that.
A relative silence and calm returned to their portion of the battlements.
But it would not remain for long.
"Lord Witch Hunter"
Vownus turned away from the aggrieved 'conversation' between the Space Wolves. A few of the new arrivals had rankled at the calm of some of the Wolf Guard.
The one called Skorn had found issue with another, a black haired warrior with a serious contenance.
He had tried his best to pick apart whatever the problem was between the two, but refrained from politely interfering. Good entertainment was hard to come by right now, and seeing two grown warriors bicker with one another was amusing.
Besides…
Regardless of how the Lord Grimblood had felt about Vownus and the power's he served, the Fire Company warriors were not their Master.
They were not as welcoming as the Wolf Lord was.
Most, if not all of the Space Wolves around him, had only heard of him by title. He was the Inquisitor. Nothing more, nothing less.
So instead of trying to play peacemaker to the little spat, Vownus found his attention pulled elsewhere.
But the distraction in the form of a Preacher-Militant was both a nice change of pace, yet the beginning of a potential headache of gigantic proportions.
Vownus had ill favor with those of the Ecclesiarchy, a feeling not created for no reason. History played its part in Kaede's dislike of the church, how it turned rational people into mindless zealots who could not see a foot beyond their own blinding faith.
After all, Vownus had a reason he was bereft of a cadre of the Adeptus Sororitas.
Only the Emperor had the Emperor's authority.
None could claim to know the inner workings of the Emperor's mind, and thus wield his divine authority with perfect clarity in any given situation.
It was this private thought of the Witch Hunter that had never escaped him. Due to the rabid nature of the Master of Mankind's most devoted, such words would be considered borderline, if not outright heretical.
Many no longer recall the name of Goge Vandire, and the pains rested upon the Imperium at the hand of that monster.
Many more failed to learn the lesson that the Years of Blood should have taught them.
Only the Emperor should wield the divine authority, not those that supposedly spoke for him.
Humans were weak.
They could be corrupted.
And power was a dangerously addictive thing.
Vownus looked the warrior up and down, taking into account his plain and practical battle garments.
Lacking a helm or any headwear reminiscent of a Priest of his status, the man of Faith was fully armored. His form, so very like that of the Astral Knights, a tabard and robed sections adoring his entire feature.
Clothed in tones of ethereal white and grey, his armor a deep tone of brown in stark contrast to his adornments, Vownus realized that the man before him was not just some crazed zealot.
This was a Warrior of the Faith.
And he kinda looked like a miny Germael.
Even if his features were adorned with the stern calmness the Captain of the Astral Knight's regularly wore, Vownus found a story in the man's shape and look.
Broad shouldered and tall like himself, the Priest had a light dusting of bright ginger hair atop his head and face.
Patches of baldness across the top of his head revealed he was aged, but his look was youthful.
Steel grey eyes were fixed upon Vownus's own.
The Inquisitor glanced the man up and down once more, his eyes settling to each and every one of the Wax seals across his armor.
'Very much like Germael'
"Pontifex" Vownus greeted, "is there a problem?"
"No my Lord" the Priest swept slightly forward, his head bowing in the motion, "I come with a request"
"And what would you need of me, Pontifex…?" Vownus indulged the question between the Holy Man's words, his voice taken to precise curiosity at what a member of the Ecclesiarchy would want of an Inquisitor.
He had also prompted for the man to give his name, the Pontifex rising from his bow as he gave his name.
"Credon Ibrallid my Lord Inquisitor. I would ask you to lead us in prayer"
Vownus glanced an eye over the preacher's shoulder, and the faces of grizzled and battered guardsmen.
The Survivors of the Western battlements.
They had suffered the most.
Vownus's mind suddenly brought up the image of a pain filled gaze, a look lost in a sea of death and judgment.
There they stood, the bravest of all men, soldiers of the Astra Militarum in all there beaten and wary glory.
Blood stained the armor of many.
Dark irises within furious eyes were directed into the blank space before the soldier which held the grim look. Many held grief and sorrow in the reflection of their souls.
Comrades dead, Brothers in Arms butchered, friends slain…
Yet Vownus saw how many looked to Credon, the Pontifex.
And in the eyes of those few souls, there was hope.
There was a shining ray of light that they could latch onto.
A promise of greater things, a tomorrow to their existence that the present could not promise.
"I would pray" Vownus found his voice drier than he anticipated, a well of hurt building up in the corners of his vision, "but my words are old. Passed down from Master to Apprentice for many eons…"
Credon's face morphed into a soft smile, his expression welcoming.
"All our words are our own, Inquisitor, but we are all of one true faith. A prayer to the God-Emperor from one voice, no matter how different, may add to the strengths of others"
He gestured to the raggedly assembled Guardsmen.
"I would be honored to add your voice to the voices of Balor"
Vownus understood how this man had risen to the rank of Pontifex.
The warmth of the invite mixing with the man's pure honesty was not something Vownus think he could turn down.
And he did not.
Yet as he stepped to join them, the Pontifex followed up with another question.
"Mighty Librarian. Would you care to say any words of your own?"
Kaede stopped, his head carefully turning to observe Aethod.
The Librarian didn't obviously react. In fact, Vownus failed to read his expression at all, something that he believed he'd been getting good at.
Instead, Aethod answered the question quite simply.
"I would be honored"
And so Vownus and Aethod walked over towards the Guardsmen.
Kaede saw how many heads looked up toward the massively approaching figure of Aethod. The Sons of Dorn were as big as their cousins, each armored and as mighty as the next, and as such drew immediate notice.
Vownus' time with the Deathwatch had somewhat desensitized him to how truly grand an Adeptus Astartes was. And while the Guardsmen of Balor had the Space Wolves orbiting their world for a handful of years prior, they still were not accustomed to the Emperor's Finest.
Especially to be engaged with one directly on, Aethod looking down at all the soldiers now gazing up at him with some uncomfortable nervousness.
His embarrassment hidden, the Astartes immediately found himself first to speak, his low Gothic spoken with pride and strength.
"Take heart, Soldiers of Balor" he shifted calmly before them, coming to a still position at center of the semicircle around him "on this day you have fought. With weapon in hand and valor in your heart, you have prevailed"
More faces looked towards them. A commissar observed the event from behind the quietly formed crowd, other squads moving forward to watch and listen.
Aethod's great height allowed all to see who was speaking.
"You have shown not to yourself, or to me, but to He Who Resides on the Golden Throne, that you are the fist of humanity; The will to prevail against all darkness!"
Silence reverberated from the crowd, their awe removing their mutterings and worries.
"Will you do so once more? Will you stand against the coming Darkness?!" the powerful prompt received a general cheer of raised spirits.
"Will we defeat this Xenos menace?"
"Aye!" the affirmation was louder, many more having joined their voices with the prompting call.
"Will we show this foul enemy not to take our proud Imperium lightly?!"
"AYE!" the shout was deafening.
"Soldiers of Balor! Will you stand with me!"
Every voice formed in a chorus, their near perfect response deafening across their section of the wall to the ears of hundreds.
Aethod bowed his head forward.
"By His blessing, the Emperor protects us all"
"The Emperor Protects" was the quiet return from them all, the cheer given away to the solemn honor of their faith.
Vownus grinned as subtly as possible, the small eddy in the Warp beginning to settle.
.Now when did you learn how to do that?.
Aethod's cheery and innocent response of, '.Do what?.' almost got a snort out of the Inquisitor.
But then Vownus realized that the eyes of the many Guardsmen shifted to him.
'Nice job getting them focused' Vownus gripped to himself, but quietly surveyed them all.
The hopeful looks were upon him now, their spirits raised and then mellowed out.
Their strength had returned, yet they needed faith now.
And Vownus? Well he couldn't put it any other way.
"I don't know about you all, but I'm not much of a speech guy"
A few Sergeants and Corporals barked a laugh at that, an easy note of humor pulled from their throats. The Commissar at the back even smiled.
"But I have words. Words passed down to me from my Master, passed down to him from his Master, and so forth…" Vownus idly waved his hands, his voice choking up for only a heartbeat.
"And I feel, considering our mutual predicament, that I would be honored to share them with you"
The gazes were attentive and focused now, a slight curiosity filled in all of them.
"And so I shall"
Vownus took a deep breath to steady himself.
If only his Master could see him now….
"I know not of my enemies, where their thoughts may lie or how their minds are coiled. But I know of myself"
Vownus closed his eyes, his hand swiping his hat from his head.
Head bowed forward, he continued the somewhat chanting prayer.
"I know of my faith. It is strong and it fills me with power. I know of my soul. It is pure and it is honest. I know of my shadow. They are my failings that I keep watch of"
Though he could not see it, many heads bowed forward, their eyes closed in equal prayer.
"And I know of my Mission. By the Emperor's will, I will do all I can to achieve it."
The silence lingered for a few moments.
Credon's voice joined them in a final note of service.
"The God-Emperor watches over us all. As he always has. Amen"
"Amen" the Guard echoed out.
Vownus grinned at the crowd before him, "let's crack some Ork skulls ey?!"
A cheer was his response.
The horde returned shortly after.
Its scattered masses reformed and rearmed as they came upon the hellscape lands before the Outer Wall.
Ork Trucks were now present in the rabble, among other strange technologies cobbled together from scrap. Where the warrior had outnumbered the machine, the Greenskins were now near equal to the number of war machines they now brought.
And there was no feral charge.
The attack was no longer masquerading as a bloodthirsty and thoughtless assault.
And the being which puppettered the Orks knew its enemy was aware of its schemes. Merely the existence of schemes, but perhaps not the content of the plans themselves.
Besides, the consciousness of the Ancient Krork had seen many lifetimes of combat. It knew the ebb and flow of War as it did the back of its hand. It would engage with the enemy how it wished. It, would dictate how the war unfolded.
Firstly, it ordered a change in assault.
As the Aerial war picked up intensity in the skies above, the resurgent ork attack was preempted by a spattering wave of projectiles.
Rockets.
Hundreds upon hundreds of rockets.
And the defenders realized that the steel and metal of the outer wall could only do so much against such a grand number of improvised explosives.
That came across the wall.
"INCOMING!"
Defenders were already hustling beneath the nooks of the battlements and their sanbagged gun positions long before the follow up call of "BRACE!" reached them.
The first wave of rockets struck them.
Many died.
But this was not the point.
While the Defenders clustered for a brief moment in safety, the Orks were allowed to reach a significant distance into the charred firelands.
And there, the tactics changed once more.
"Return fire!" Vownus hollered over the din, the last explosive blast leaving a blasted ringing noise in his ears.
He stood upon two feet, carefully bringing himself up to look over the edge of the battlements he sought shelter beside.
Just because Vownus knew he could take a rocket to the chest didn't mean he had much need to have taken a rocket to the chest.
And so he had positioned himself with the Guard, many of which were affected by the rocking force of the missile attack then he was.
The nearest Commissar was finally coming to his senses, rigorous training and regiment guiding the man's shaken countenance into action.
Vownus called before the man could "Do not let them-!"
And was immediately drawn into confusion by the sight before him.
"Trenches"
Hammersbald laughed as the Imperial Forces began to return fire at the Ork vehicles, the masses of which were arranged in a blockade for their true intention.
"I'd never thought I'd live to see the day!" Hammersbald guffawed.
For the Orks were digging trenches.
The groups of Greenskins huddled behind their vehicle cover, were indeed digging into the deep earth, cutting lines and pathways into the soil to provide cover against the defenders return fire.
"Bah!" the Thunder Hammer wielder grinned, "where's the real attack!"
And as if the Universe were listening to the Wolf Guard, the Ork battlelines came surging forward.
Jet-pack wearing Xenos sailed into the air by the hundreds.
Ladders were carried by great groups of Orks, their long metal form's draped over the shoulders of spriting Greenskins.
The Lord Grimblood couldn't help the withering glance he sent at the now tart looking Hammersbald.
"Are you happy now, Brother?"
Hammersbald didn't apologize, but he did close his eyes in a penitent moment, forgiving the powers at be for asking something of the Universe.
One should not goad fate so carelessly.
As the Las Fire flared up once more, now joined in the chorus of the recently deployed autocannons, Vownus was granted a scant few moments to study the Ork attack for priority targets.
Hel pistol drawn as bullets ricocheted off his invisible field of protection, the Inquisitor lined up his target from a great distance.
He popped off a single shot, the flare of energy traveling straight and true. The ork at the front of a running ladder line fell forward, his corpse stumbling his fellows briefly.
As other Imperial waves of gunfire strafed the stalled Ork attackers, a voice called a remark over to him.
"A fine shot!"
The Pontifex stood beside Vownus, his eyes gazing over the coming tide.
Vownus gave a gruff note of thanks before spotting another target.
"I know of my shadow. They are my failings that I keep watch of," the Holy Man recounted the phrase from Vownus's 'Prayer', his head turning to look curiously at Vownus.
"I am curious as to what that means, Inquisitor?"
It was not a sharp question. Nor was it phrased with any kind of accusation. Honest and friendly curiosity bloomed up from Credon. Vownus didn't trust it.
Not one bit.
Yet he engaged with the man, taking a moment to choose his words as he lined up another shot.
"No man is perfect" the Inquisitor fired, his target meeting an instant death, "we are all inherently flawed"
"A pessimistic view… very interesting…" Credon hummed, his mind devouring Vownus' choice of words, "and why is it that you suppose us all to be flawed?"
Vownus frown grew into a glare.
"The Great Enemy would not be a threat if we were all good" Kaede bitterly exclaimed, "humanity has a darkness in its heart, a weakness we have refused to accept for so long"
"And knowing your shadow, is knowing your weakness? I see. Yes, 'that I keep watch of'" Credon explained aloud, seemingly for his own benefit of exclaiming his understanding of Vownus' words.
He smiled at the Inquisitor, before his eyes took upon a more serious gaze.
His words were solemn and honest, a deep sense of faith finding its way into every word.
"I will take your words to heart, my Lord. I shall know of my shadow. And I shall keep a sharp watch over it"
This was no zealot.
Not some faith crazed fool.
This was an accepting, honest, and kind individual. One who took to heart the beliefs of others, adopting their strength into his own.
"Aye" Vownus blinked stupidly at the man, his mind completely caught of guard by the friendly nature of the man.
His smile was broad and welcoming.
"May I say. You are perhaps the strangest Pontifex I've ever met"
Credon grinned back at him, "I shall take that as a compliment, my Lord"
"Just Vownus" the Inquisitor corrected, "I don't care much for titles"
The man reached forward with his hand.
They clasped in a strong shake.
"Credon" the Pontifex also said, affirming that he was just as fine without the titles.
A call shot across the battlements, the shout coming from many voices of Higher Ranking Guardsmen. From sergeants to Commissars, the general shout affirmed that the battle was now upon them.
"PREPARE TO REPEL!"
Rocket strikes shook the metal beneath their feet, each missile now directed at the outer surface of the wall.
The Orks were planning on leaving a lasting impression it seemed.
And Vownus was more than willing to reciprocate.
Ladders managed to reach the wall.
From the rungs of the siege equipment or from their rocket packs, the Ork's resumed their melee combat amongst the defenders of the wall.
Imperial Artillery resumed its hammering of the southern grounds.
Planes shot one another from the sky.
Jagged blade and chainsword struck once more, each locked with the other in vicious combat.
Blood flowed.
A dark presence purred between the shades of reality.
As the War continued to grow,it realized that soon it's time would come.
Another opportunity with its quarry.
It observed this conflict, only a cursory amount of its full presence, but with enough attention to discern the fighting.
A keenly pitched battle.
But this dark being knew its former prisoners, the Greenskins once trapped in the warp as toys for its amusement, and knew of what they would wrought.
For it saw as a shadow grew.
A change in the war.
In the waning night, a great force emerged from the landed Ork Voidcraft. These aircraft, numbering in the tens of thousands, began to rise into the skies like a great swarm.
This was an attack summoned against the Imperium for one purpose, and one purpose alone.
To destroy the hive.
The Vox channel alerted Vownus to the development before his eyes did.
"This is Imperial Command, a fleet of enemy aircraft is amassing-"
After cleaving a Xenos from hip to shoulder, Vownus tore his attention away from the surging melee in order to look upon the horizon.
He saw them, so far away in the night, yet present against the shortly arriving light of dawn.
Credon explained it best.
"By the Emperor"
"Indeed" Vownus grimaced.
Instead of saying anything further, Vownus quickly established a Vox connection.
"Captain. What is your status"
After a short moment of crackling static, a voice returned to him.
"Inquisitor" Olivina Ceris returned, her tone unreadable by the patchy connection, "regrouping with surviving vessels by Balor's moon. The Xenos have not acted to follow us"
Vownus considered this.
'Then the Orks are committed to scouring the planet…'
He would unpack this information later, instead affirming to the Captain of the Tempests Advance.
"Extraction is required. I've gambled with this War, Inquisitor. And I have lost"
"I see. I will dispatch a Dropship with strict orders"
"Aye, but prepare a ship. Do not deploy it yet. I must impart instructions upon Agents Decelus and Helix"
"My Lord?" Vownus could make out the surprise, even over the interference, in Olivina's voice, "you intend to stay?"
"Yup" Vownus popped the P, "Balor's going to need every sword it can get"
"This is a pitched battle my Lord, you ordered me to not chase honor and glory, yet what makes you stay now?"
An Ork charged the Inquisitor, only to be met by a firm strike from Aethod.
The Astartes was quickly accosted by another enemy, but Vownus took note of the warrior's prowess in that moment.
"We all cross over one day, Olivina. I'm not going to get an end better than this"
"Respectfully my Lord, my position does not allow me to argue with you, but if I could-"
"You'd rip a flank out of my hide, I'm aware" Vownus couldn't help but grin, "don't count those of that remain planet side out of the running yet. After all, I've still got some tricks up my sleeve"
He fired off a shot, twirling to avoid an axe that plummeted down from the sky.
Vownus didn't have to dodge, but some habits are hard to shake. He didn't always have his field of protection.
His mind wandered briefly, before he imposed his will upon the Captain.
"I have indulged him too long" he muttered to himself, before making his order expressly clear, "All that matters is getting the boy out of here, Captain. Get him to the Cabal. Get him to Cadin. Do not let Zerbe get in the way"
"...and you intend Agents Lynwood and Caius to follow your command"
"Aye. I expect you to guide them, Captain. They're good people, but somewhat lacking in my vision. You know me best, you'll keep a straight course"
"Aye my Lord"
Vownus switched the channel over to his agents.
It was time to get Lucian off world. This War had proved it would no longer be a simple affair.
No.
It was going to be bloody, and vicious.
And the boy could not be risked to such combat.
"By the Throne…" Vartic growled, taking a bodily step toward the sight in the skies beyond the outer wall.
Lucian felt his jaw slacken slightly.
Many whispers of grim determination and observant horror sprouted up and down the lines.
Fear began to spread.
For the innumerable black dots that dotted the horizon beyond the outer wall were coming toward them.
"They have an Air Force…" Ezekiel dumbly observed, eyes wide at the sight. But not fearful, merely surprised.
Because it was a grand number, countless flying ships properly armed to the teeth with all manner of unconventional weaponry.
Even with the city's guns… this may be the killing blow for the Hive.
Lucian could tell that this first Ork wave had been decimated to a significant degree.
The shelling, the wall of Flame, and Ivur's use of his powers was sign enough that the Imperium had dished out everything they could ten fold.
Thus the Orks were diminished on foot.
But with this new attack from the sky? This great number steadily moving closer to the already engaged air space of the Outer Wall…
There may not even be an Outer Wall once this aerial opponent struck.
An unfamiliar tug yanked at Lucian's mind.
Slowly, but surely, the world around him began to shift away. His senses dulled, just like before, all noise, sight and sound submerging beneath an invisible film of water.
He felt it again.
The great mass beyond. The singular entity and its sprawling nature was still speaking amongst it self.
Great commands blossomed across its giant mass, the words of which Lucian could just make out.
"Target the Cannons. Storm the Gate Houses"
Lucian observed it with this…
His mind wandered as he thought of the best way to describe what he was observing. This strange vision he gained as he focused in on the whispers and currents of the Immaterium.
"Open the Gates. Take the city"
A title came to mind, as he pressed his spirit closer to the entity. It had shown it could recognise him… and it had failed to hurt him before .
With this soul sight, Lucian carefully brought himself into contact with the great intelligence.
And the mass greeted him.
"Spy."
The massive presence loomed over Lucian once more, it's being focused upon the mind that had opened a connection between them.
It had spoken to him.
And Lucian found to his dulled surprise, that while in this trance-like connection, he too had a voice.
"What are you?"
His lips moved, but the whispered words echoed out from him like loudly crashing waves, the timeless sound of their utterance rippling out into existence.
The pressure of the great thing built upon Lucian, its focus narrowing down onto him. IT was searching across his form, an odd sense of familiarity coming from it.
To the youth's shock, it answered him.
"Old"
As Lucian became more attune to his senses while using Soul Sight, he began to register some amalgamation of feeling.
From this ascended sense, the youth could feel the age of the mass. Much of it had changed and grown, yet the core was indeed ancient.
A coagulated spirit of an artificial nature.
It was created.
Not birthed.
A part of Lucian's mind was keenly aware of how advanced a civilisation must be in order to forge a soul, while the majority of his mind remained on the burgeoning conversation.
Another question worked itself into existence.
An honest question from a young and naive being.
"You are attacking us. Killing us. Why? What have we done to you?"
"Nothing. You possess Resources. The Campaign must continue"
"But we are not your enemy"
"This is irrelevant"
A part of Lucian was baffled, his mind barely retaining the focus of his Sight as he mulled over the dull and near robotic responses.
"What ends does your 'campaign' seek to accomplish, if there is no clear opponent?"
The answer was chilling.
"War. We were made for this purpose. Our existence has no other meaning"
"Made… by what, or who?"
"The creators"
The cryptic answers finally reached the boiling point of Lucian's irritation, and the youth snapped out a demand.
"Give me a name"
The intensity of the beast's focus narrowed further.
It felt like a hot pin was pushing into his skull, but Lucian remained adamant.
And the beast answered, the heat receding from the youth's forehead as it spoke out to him in a clear ennuciantion.
"The Old Ones. A species before your time"
Fastening that thought to a small piece of his mind, Lucian kept up his questions. But firstly, he couldn't help but wonder, "why speak to me like this? Why answer questions and demands from an enemy?"
Even though the words were emotionally vacant, Lucian imagined a hollow smile on the conductor's face of this Greenskin tie.
"A tactical advantage"
The presence narrowed down viciously, its focus pulling itself right to Lucian's brow even tighter than before. Like a sharp scalpel, the image of the battlements beyond was pulled from the youth's mind.
This intelligence had ripped the sight from his eyes.
It could see the layout of the outer city.
Lucian stepped back violently, his vision turning to normal as the invisible world revealed by his Sight slipped away.
The real world was frantic now, many had weapons openly pointed toward him. A Commissar was approaching him as well.
Fuck.
The man's mouth opened to call at him, a hand placed upon his weapon in a show of imminent violence.
Caius managed to intercede the Commissar's shout with a careful word.
"At ease Officer. This situation is in hand"
The Officer of the Commissariate was startled at the sudden approach of two Throne Agents, operatives of the Inquisitor.
Their presence had been quite separate from most of the 501st.
Besides a few rumors here and there about a certain Sergeant from 3rd company, most didn't see heads or tails of them.
But the Commissar quickly engaged them with growing irritation.
"The Psyker is running wild. He chants strange words of a foreign tongue… it is disturbing the men"
"He is an Inquisitorial Operative-" Lynwood began, aggression in his tone at the blatant disregard of Lucian.
For the Commissar had been about to deliver the Emperor's Mercy. And Lynwood knew it.
He'd seen that look before.
But before an aggressive fight could spark, Caius interjected.
"We're here to take him off your hands anyway. Inquisitor's Orders"
The brief set of words combined with Caius' charming attitude managed to nullify the Commissar's commitment to carrying out his duties, merely favoring them with a nod and expectant gesture toward Lucian.
The youth who had been observing them the entire time with rapturous attention.
"Take me? What the fuck are you talking about" he angrily demanded.
"Language" Lynwood grunted automatically.
"No" Lucian snapped, "is he planning on running! Still?!"
The Psyker had quickly pieced together what was happening. Vownus wanted to leave the planet while it was under siege.
He was changing his mind about fighting.
He was giving up on the people of Balor…
"Not him. Or the 501st. Just you and us it seems" Caius quietly affirmed, "your duty lies elsewhere Lucian"
The older Agent gave the younger a proud look.
Caius was growing up a bit.
A good sign.
"No it doesn't"
Both looked at the fisted and furious boy, who's furious gaze slowly withdrew into molten determination.
"This is not a decision for you to make Lucian, you-"
But the boy cut off the elder, his voice firm and final.
"Lynwood" Lucian calmly addressed the stone cold man, "I will not leave this world until it is safe"
"The Inquisitor has given an order, Operative" Decelus's eyes bit into a stern glare, his hand now gripping his holstered gun.
The action drew a cold laugh from Lucian.
"Yes. He has" Lucian looked to Lynwood as a warm shiver crawled up his spine. The former Arbite's face suddenly lost its rigidness, his hand relaxing around the weapon as he looked upon the armored Lucian.
The youth was glowing.
His golden ringed gaze shone with an ethereal brightness, yet his entire form was encased in a soft smokey whiteness.
He shone, and many stepped back in surprise as the light around the young Psyker began to grow.
"But I know my Duty, Lynwood. And it is to the people of this Imperium. It is to mankind" he soft tone grew with command, his eyes remained kind.
"I cannot run from my Duty, my friend"
Slowly turning from the man, Lucian faced the battlements once more.
He knew what he was going to do.
His power had grown, his control, greater still.
In the countless dreams of foreign worlds and greater instruction than what Vownus could provide, Lucian knew what he could do.
And now, what he would do.
"I would ask you all to stand back" he spoke to all the Guardsmen stationed around him.
"Lucian….?" Ezekiel's voice sounded out from the mass of soldiers, but Lucian did not turn to face him.
"What are you going to do?
His eyes were fixed upon the approaching enemy.
"I will defend this Hive City and its people"
He felt the flickering sparks on one of his hands, the energy from the universe channeling through his core.
Lucian raised both of his hands, his eyes locked closed as the licks of flame built up the other.
Frothing energies of jagged lightning and sparking tongues of molten flame encased each limb.
"Get back!" the Commissar shouted to the surrounding Guardsmen.
Lucian did not hear him.
The power in his body further fermented, a tipping point nearly being reached.
His eyes open, and the energy of the Warp surged into existence.
It appeared above the habblocks.
It consumed the entire sky.
And what a sight to behold.
The sharp screech of the Warp lightning was mixed with roaring funnels of fire that encased each branching bolt.
It was the act of a God.
The Lightning struck out from a small point upon the Inner City Wall, it's great power only expanding into the skies once it had reached the outer wall.
And when it did, thousands had to shield their eyes from the sudden explosive of fiery lightning.
The Ork attack was annihilated.
Ships exploded in chains as the lighting jumped from vessel to vessel. Fire consumed their remains, dropping them from the skies like hundreds of distant meteorites.
None survived.
In a second the great shadow had been basked in light.
And the Orks were for the moment, defeated.
Night returned, as did the sense of many awe-stricken watchers of the show of power.
Kaede felt the surge of Warp energy only a few moments before it exploded out into reality.
He, and likely every other Psyker on the Planet, had felt the sudden intake of power.
It was like a breath, an inhale of incredibly fearsome energies, only to be exhaled out a moment after.
The breath of a God.
Not a human.
And as the visual spectacle scattered across the skies, a horrid thought wormed its way into Vownus' head.
'How?'
He stood upright, snapping his gaze toward where the maelstrom had erupted from.
Far away, he could not see Lucian's position, but he could feel it.
The rictus of power had died down, and the boy seemed neutral.
But how!
How had he learnt this.
This was an act of Sorcery, a precise application of the warp through terribly unforgiving veins of the Demonic energy, not something easily trifled with.
Ivur was old and had learnt of the eddies and currents, the Rune Priest having had decades to learn such navigational skills.
But Lucian was too young.
He couldn't…
It was…
Vownus shook his head, but a dark thought worked its way into his mind.
'He's been taught'
His gaze narrowed in anger.
.Aethod.
The Librarian responded promptly.
.What do you plan to do, Vownus?.
.Finish this fight. And then we're going to have a chat with my apprentice.
The debris from thousands of destroyed aircraft tumbled into the Ork masses below.
It was devastating to the already halved Greenskins, yet not a completely one sided blow.
Errant sparks of warp lightning had touched Imperial structures as well, a few of the Anti-Air Gun Batteries having been consumed in a fearsome blast.
The Melta Charges planted within them certainly did not help once they were consumed by the lightning charged fire.
And despite all this, the battle continued.
Their numbers thinning, the Ork attack became raw. The war cry's and blood thirsty snarls intensified as they began to dwindle, a stark showing of their devolved and beastly nature.
At the Western Gate, the Wolf Guard saw to a swift and sudden eradication of their foe.
To the South, Lord Grimblood and his personal Guard weathered the tide, their reinforcements taking a fair brunt of the Ork's focus.
But the needless slaughter of earlier was not replicated. What remained of the initial mortal defenders managed to rally against the resurging foe.
They held the line firmly, the reinforcements stepping into stride behind their efforts.
At the Gate House of the East, magic and power lingered in the air. Though it was a lesser degree than the storm of Warp energy that had passed over them recently, Ivur's notable skill in a wide area of effect Sorcery was a boon to the defense.
Once more they suffered far less in their effort to drive them back.
No Ork retreated however.
They just stopped coming.
Many disappeared into the new line of trenches as soon as they reached the dug out fortifications. The ladders slowly lost those that would climb them. Many of the remaining jetpack wearing Greenskins were shot from the sky.
Until no more had come or bothered to stick their heads out over their watched trenches.
The battle was over.
However the true War had just begun.
It was sometime until he opened his eyes once more.
A long time.
Filled with pain and agony, a darkness having consumed his vision since the beginning of the operation.
He had been cleaved open from his toes and to the top of his head, adjustments and additions made all along his form.
Upgraded and improved.
And he felt as such.
As Titos slipped from the blood stained operating table, he felt the change immediately. His eyes focused faster, the speed at which his brain could process the world around him increasing with the detail at which he observed it all.
A tentative step revealed how accurately he could adjust and purpose his muscles, a fine connection from his thoughts to the body part.
He coiled his hand into a fist.
Titos felt his strength, tense and present as it suffused his arm.
The old man was before him, his figure slipping through the shadows to come stand before his latest instrument.
"When I found you, you were nothing. A dead man"
Titos physically moved himself to observe the Daemon Hunter Ahmazzi.
"But I saw your value. I believe I've made the right choice in inducting you into my service, Assassin"
Titos bowed forward, slowly and with great deference to the Old Man.
"What would you have your Assassin do, my Lord"
A trial mission.
One to test the Inquisitor's latest tool.
AN: RIGHT! So. Conflict isssssss herrrreeeeeeeeeeeee. Stuff's getting written. Yay.
Firstly. This is just the beginning of my story. I'm actually coming to terms with this now, but with what I have planned for story beats later on, and for the reeeeeeeaalllllllll big stuff that needs to happen... well I've got a lot of work going forward.
However. I'm gonna ask y'all some questions n stuff, just so I can get a general feel between chapters for what y'all wanna see next.
So right out the gate I need to know who y'all hate more...
Mortarion, or Angron.
Lmk.
Thanks for reading this far, it really means a lot to me. Thank you for the follows and faves. Thank you for the reviews.
AlphayriusMagyar: right on the money my dude, but we still gotta work it in. we're almost at what lucian IS.
ParadiseWorldKriegsman: I hope this chapter has appeased you. Mental bombs inc.
Jctherebel: I apprecaite it, glad to bring you more
AxeTheGreat: Here it is my guy, see you with the next one later
Guest: glad it came across as 'real'. I'd rather stick to the character side of things just so everyone gets to 'witness' whats going on. Show don't tell and all that.
StonerMcWeedPot: love the name. and glad you digested it all in one sitting. Sorry to have to keep you waiting, but I'm doing my damndest.
Much love to the rest of you un-sung lovelies.
The Emperor Protects,
Freedom.