- Nordyc Plains: 5 years before the Battle of the Red Frost -
"So… how much you think Old Sen's sermons are just a crock of shit?" The thick bearded Anders gave a smug smile. He always wore that smile when he wanted to goad one of the crew into a bad-faith debate.
"Shut it Anders." The commander ordered gruffly. "This tin can stinks bad enough without you opening your damn mouth."
The Rapid Heavy Infantry deployment and Nexus Operations vehicle, or RHINO for short, was pretty cramped for the 4 of us. There was me, Erik the techy, Harald our driver, Anders our gunner, and the old commander we called Chef (Short for Bataljonschef, or Battalion Commander).
The rear section relegated for troops was large enough to carry 10 half-man, half-machine monstrosities we called Troldfolk. However, all that extra troop transport space meant there was less for the RHINO's crew.
"But don't you think it's strange, Chef ?" Anders continued. "How's the cycle of rot and rebirth not part of the strand of change? Look at the hard-bread in our ration packs. Stuffs gone through plenty change with all that mold on it."
"I said shut it Anders." The commander repeated his order. "We lost contact with the mechanized infantry after they reported contact 3 days ago. I don't need you to add to my headaches. Erik, what's the sensor dish say on this old biddy?"
I took a look down at the various readouts and screens from the RHINO's cogitators. The only thing I could see were the frigid Nordyc plains and other vehicles like ours kicking up white ash with their treads.
"Nothing so far, Chef . Just us and the other transports." I reported.
"Shit." The Chef swore. "We just crossed the tertiary defense line. They should be here."
"Maybe they took that old diddy the great 'Tyrant-Prophet of Maulland Sen' likes to blather on about to heart and waltzed on out of here. You know? The one about the necessity of change, but to remember the cyclical nature of the universe…" Anders pantomimed the hand gestures of the Priest King mockingly, wiggling his fingers and pretending to throw off sparks.
"Do we keep on going forward, Chef ?" Harald asked, ignoring Anders.
"Keep us at cruising speed." The Chef said. "We can't go back until we know what happened to them."
We kept on moving forwards with the other RHINOs, kicking up more dust and toxic crystals as we went.
The Nordyc plains were a frigid wasteland covered by white ash and poison. Mutants and murderous machines wandered these wastelands, tearing apart anything they got their talons, tentacles, or vivisecting scalpels into. The Priest-King Maulland Sen, also known as the Tyrant-Prophet ruled these lands, providing so-called divine prophecies predicting the future for his people.
"For all the talk of great prophecy and destiny, Old Sen sure hasn't made much way with the rotting Albians has he?" Anders chuckled. "400 years, so they say, but the good'ol prophet's got no answers when it comes to them."
A sigh left my lips as I tried to drown out Ander's blathering with my own thoughts.
Faith in Maulland Sen might have been great once, but it had waned over the years. It all went well in the beginning, while the Priest-King unified the scattered techno-barbarian tribes under his rule. People flocked to him when he could predict when the ion storms would hit, and where to set up their lightning rods to gather power from the sky. He gained many acolytes when he shared the inner workings of his gods, but the once mighty religion of Maulland Sen was now mostly a formality. 300 years of fruitless fighting against the Albian steam-walkers, and dwindling rewards from the raids Maulland Sen himself planned had slowly bled the faith out of his people.
"Slave girls cost 3 months pay now, 'cuz the raids don't work no-more." Anders continued his grumblings. "Quality's gone down too. Albian girls, 'specially the high-born ones, were a treat."
"The priests need the slaves we have for their rituals." The Chef pushed back. "We need more mind-mutants to make sure we keep pressuring the Albian forces. If they start crossing our borders enmasse, we'll have no way to stop them."
"Let them cross." Anders shrugged. "There's nothing out here for them to take. Just ash and storms. They'd be wasting their time searching for us."
"That's the reason we can't let them cross." The Chef retorted grimly. "There's nothing to slow them down, besides the weather. If they get serious enough to make a concerted push, they'd reach our border cities within weeks."
Anders laughed, as if the Chef had just told a joke. "Albians getting serious? They can't stop squabbling over who rules who. Even if they did, they can't just ignore the Francs and Jermans. All they'll manage are those petty revenge attacks they do from time to time."
*BEEP
One of my screens began to flash, and IFF (Identification Friend or Foe) tags began to appear on the map in front of me.
"Chef, I think we've found our guys, and some friends."
"Status?" The Chef asked, scrunching himself down in the cramped cabin to look at the screens over my shoulder.
"I've got about 50,000 enemy infantry in a half-envelopment by our mechanized infantry." I reported. "They've got our backs to us, but I can't tell who's winning."
The Chef grimaced, then pulled himself back to his seat and pulled out a pair of magnoculars from under his seat.
"I'll take a visual." He said as he squeezed his way past the gunner's seat. "Get out of the way Anders."
Anders leaned out of the way as he checked the sights on the two heavy stubber turrets that were attached to the roof of the RHINO. His flippant lips were drawn together in a grim line as he switched his attention from his turrets to the forward mounted snub-nosed cannon that took up half of the front hull.
The Chef squeezed past him and opened the roof hatch. His hood and gas mask straps ruffled in the wind as he peered through the magnoculars. Finally, he retreated back into the RHINO and shut the hatch.
"How was it Chef ?" Harald asked.
"Not good." The Chef shook his head. "I didn't see any sparks or flames from our side. Mind-mutants must be spent or dead. Enemy doesn't seem to be tired out either. If things go on, they're gonna grind us down."
There was a grim silence as we gave the Chef time to think of what to do next.
"Call the other RHINOs." The Chef finally said. "We're going to charge their exposed rear, and dump the Troldfolk on them. The disruption should let our infantry break away from the enemy."
We all said our Ayes, and I got on the radio to relay his commands to the rest of the troop transports.
Harald brought the RHINO to top speed, and the engine roared as we all charged towards the exposed back of our enemy.
They were all covered in a yellowish-beige or bronze colored armor with an eagle head and two thunderbolts engraved on their pauldrons.
"Primarch Ushotan, the enemy approaches."
The primarch of the Thunder Warriors, officially known as the Legiones Cataegis, turned his head to the side, and observed the charging troop transports approaching them from the 'front' of his legion.
"Then they have taken the bait." He responded with a voice mangled by strained vocal cords and interrupted by static from the vox unit built into his rebreather. "Make sure the rearmost line keeps up their charade until they've gotten too close to pull back."
Ushotan turned back to the 'rear' of his legion engaging the men in power armor. They were from one of the Nordyc mechanized infantry battalions. Their duty was to defend the outermost cities of the savage Nordyc kingdom built by the Priest King.
The Nordyc men of the first rank fought against the Thunder Warriors with the desperation of men on death's door. The others behind them stood utterly still, occasionally raising an arm as their slaved power armor moved according to pre-programmed commands. Frozen blood clogged the holes in their torsos, and their locked leg servos kept them standing upright.
Ushotan watched boredly as his Cataegis raised their un-revved chain blades, and pretended to parry and miss as they engaged the Nordyc troops in melee. Then his ears perked as he heard the sound of roaring treads growing louder.
"CATAEGIS!" His voice boomed, drowning out the sound of the approaching RHINOs. "FIRST RANK! ABOUT TURN!"
The Thunder Warriors who had their backs turned towards the RHINOs turned around in unison, staring into the growing headlights of the RHINOs. Heavy stubber fire started to pepper their armor, sending up sparks as they bounced off of their ceramite armor.
"FIRST RANK! CHARGE!" Ushotan ordered, and the ground shook as the Thunder Warriors ran towards the RHINOs with roaring chain blades.
"Oh shit!" Harald exclaimed as the armored giants began counter-charging them.
"Heavy stubbers are bouncing off of them! Permission to switch to the cannon!" Anders yelled.
"Granted! Use the melta-shells!" The Chef shouted back.
Anders stretched behind him and unlocked the ammo compartment. Swiftly, he slid a shell the size of a small boulder out of its storage container, and into the loader near the rear.
"Contact in 30 seconds!" Harald shouted out. "Do we evade?!"
"Run the bastard over!" The Chef ordered. "We need to get close enough to the enemy's main force or the Troldfolk will just tear each other to bits!"
"Got it!" Harald gunned the engines, and turned the RHINO towards one of the armored giants. He aimed the vehicle so the treads would crush the enemy as they passed, otherwise the front mounted cannon might be damaged in the impact with the enemy's armor.
I watched the giant grow larger as we approached. He wasn't stopping, or slowing to evade.
'Gene-monsters…' I snorted as I thought to myself. They were all brainless brutes that ran in like animals.
Suddenly, the giant stopped. He skidded across the ashy wastes, letting his remaining momentum bleed off, then kneeled on one knee as he punched one of his arms into the ground.
A chill went through me. That wasn't the action of a rabid animal. What that motion meant, I had no idea, but the thing in front of us wasn't blind with rage or pain. It acted in the way it did because it thought it could win this game of chicken with the RHINO.
The RHINO's right tread ran into the giant, and the entire vehicle tilted sideways.
The seat belt cut into my chest as the RHINO ran up the giant's arm like a slope, lifting half of it into the air. Then I saw a blur on the side camera screen, and something slammed into the bottom of the RHINO. The entire vehicle flipped on its side, and skidded across the ground. Sparks and the sound of screaming metal blinded and deafened us, as we were thrown around like cheap plastic in a snowglobe.
Ushotan watched his Cataegis flip the enemy RHINOs on their sides one by one. Each one of them could tear through ceramite a centimeter thick with their bare hands. Supporting an entire tank on one shoulder was well within what they could do.
"The Nordyc infantry has done its job well." He said to the Thunder Warrior beside him as the last RHINO was flipped over. "Give them the Emperor's mercy."
The sound of revving chainswords came from behind him, followed by blood curdling screams, and the splash of spilled blood.
"SECOND RANK!" Ushotan shouted out. "PREPARE BOLTERS!"
"Aghhh! AHHHHHH!"
The sound of Harald screaming brought me back to consciousness. I looked around and saw Anders and the Chef shaking their heads and coming to. Harald was already awake, but not for his benefit. Several support beams from the screen racks, and what looked like a drive axle had impaled his left leg.
"Oh shit… OH SHIT!" Anders shouted. "Live melta-shell in the cabin!"
I looked up, and saw the shell Anders had been trying to load into the cannon bent and jammed near the roof hatch.
"Calm the fuck down!" The Chef yelled. "Anders, pull out the melta-charge and get it away from the contact fuses in the shell! We can't get out until it's made safe! Erik, try and get Harald free!"
"Aye sir!" I crawled around in the ruined cabin, and found the toolkit bolted onto the cabin wall. I pulled out a small circular saw, and a length of insulated electric cable.
"Bite down on this. You'll crack your teeth otherwise." I put the thick plastic coated cable in between Harald's teeth, and revved up the saw. His screams were muffled as I began to cut the metal metal pinning him in place.
*VRRRRRRRR!
Sparks shot into the cabin as a chainsaw blade cut through the floor plates, and my right hand.
"Agggghhhhhhh!" I screamed, falling back from the motorized blade swinging back and forth. The motion reminded me of a knife jammed into a ration can, twisting and turning to cut a hole wide enough to get at the insides.
"I got it!" Anders shouted as he pulled a bronze cylinder with rounded ends attached to wires and circuitry.
"Erik! Grab the radio and get out!" The Chef yelled as he kicked open the hatch.
I turned back to Harald, who was staring up at us with tear filled eyes. His gagged mouth mumbled something as he shook his head. I grit my teeth. There was no way to save him now. When the flailing chain blade was pulled back, I lunged forward, snatching. the portable radio hanging next to Harald. There was the groan of bending metal as armored fingers began to peel the floor plates back like the top of a tin can.
Turning back to the hatch, I began to crawl my way out, only to have Harald grab my leg.
"Let go!" I turned to shake him loose, only to see a giant armored hand reach in through the hole carved into the RHINO's stomach and grab him. It pulled him out of the RHINO with the wet pop of cartilage, leaving the pinned leg; torn from its socket. Muffled screaming came through the hole Harald had been pulled out of, only ending with an eggshell crack, and a heavy thump.
"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" I yelled as I scrambled out of the hatch, following Anders and the Chef.
Outside, there were blurs of bronze and beige as giants tore apart both men and the Troldfolk that had been shaken free from the RHINOs. Each Troldfolk was a knobbly mass of black metal and pink flesh. The ones climbing out of our RHINO had whirring buzzsaws extending from their trunk like arms. Others had their limbs replaced by writhing masses of sparking tentacles, crushing claws, or spike hammers connected to overpressurized pistons.
The Troldfolk groaned like dying diesel motors as the metal supports that replaced their bones ground against each other within their flesh. Then the pain-amplifiers buried in their brains activated, sending visible sparks out of their skulls. Blind with rage and pain, they roared and swiped at anything that moved around them.
"Erik! Fucking run!" The Chef cried out, already several meters away from the wreckage of the RHINO with Anders.
I followed them, stumbling over myself as the ground shook as giant monstrosities tore at each other.
There was the scream of thousands of blades cutting through metal, followed by the splatter of meat and blood as buzzsaws and chain blades struck past each other.
"Erik! Duck!" The Chef screamed, and I dove into the ashy ground. A shadow passed over me, followed by a mighty wind as the thick arm of a Troldfolk flew over my head like a thrown javelin.
"Get up!" The Chef ordered again, and I followed his words blindly. The roars of more Troldfolk came behind me, but their number dwindled as I heard the sound of a chain blade dopplering from high pitch to low as it swung.
"Give me the radio!" The Chef shouted as he snatched it from me. "This is Bataljonschef Boden!" He shouted into it as he turned and continued running away from the flipped RHINOs and fighting giants. "All units, f-"
There was a bang, and my vision went red as something splattered onto my face. The smell of iron filled my lungs. I wiped my face on my sleeve, and it was only then I realized I'd been knocked to the ground. The world was strangely quiet, with the only noise being the high pitched ringing in my ears.
Anders was next to me, shaking his head. Ropy strings of meat were stuck to his beard and hair. He too seemed stunned, too stupified but what was going on to even realize he still held the melta-charge and contact fuse in his hands.
I shook my head, trying to shake off the daze I realized I was in. My eyes looked back to where the Chef had been in front of me, only to find his bottom half still standing.
Blood spurted out of it like a broken drinking fountain. Knees were locked in position, still not realizing the brain that had given the order had been turned into a pink mist.
There was another series of booms, and I saw flashes of red and yellow explosions across the field.
Ushotan's scarred lips smiled as he saw the last of the enemy's officers blown apart by Bolter shells. His Cataegis fired at anyone who seemed to be trying to give orders, turning anyone who reached for a radio, or who attracted the eyes of their fellow soldiers into gory effigies.
The primarch of the Thunder Warriors drew in a massive breath to give the final order he could give his men.
"CATAEGIS!" His voice bombed with the same volume as their namesake. "CHARGE!"
All 10 legions of Thunder Warriors ran stampeded forwards. The earth shook under their feet, and the ash on the ground was kicked up and churned into a thick choking toxic fog behind them.
Ushotan pulled his own chain blade free from his hip. The enemy could no longer out think them, or out run them. There would be no tricks or tactics to interfere with their work.
I sat there, stunned, unmoving even as the Chef's remaining knees and legs crumpled to the ground.
Anders screamed, then started running off in a random direction.
I felt the ground shake, like a minor earthquake. My eyes turned back to where the enemy had been only to see a wave of bronze giants thundering forwards with a gray cloud at their backs.
"Shit!" I scrambled to my knees, shaken out of my stupor by the sight of the stampeding giants approaching.
There was another scream, and Anders came running back. Behind him, was a bronze giant covered in blood. There were several cuts and dents in the giant's armor where a Troldfolk buzzsaw had nicked him, but that gave me no hope.
There had been ten Troldfolk within our RHINO. Even if only half had survived the crash, this giant had dispatched them all without losing his life or any of his limbs.
The giant followed Anders slowly, but each step was three or four times the length of a normal man. I could see the dust swirl in eddies around him, pulled into miniature tornadoes as his titanic frame tore through the air.
Anders suddenly fell, tripped by his own two feet, most likely numb with fear.
If this were a holo-film, I would have laughed derisively at Ander's idiocy. But, I could find no fault in him. Here I was, frozen stiff with fear, unable to do anything but watch as the bronze giant drew closer.
Ander tried to crawl forwards, unable to stand. The giant, having reached Anders, shoved an armored toe under his stomach and flipped him over onto his back.
I swallowed as I watched the giant lift up his chain blade, and aim it at Ander's head. This giant wanted to witness the kill. He wanted to stare into Ander's eyes as the serrated teeth of the chain blade tore through Ander's skull.
There was a blinding flash, and I heard the distinct roar of a melta-charge going off. Both Anders and the giant disappeared in a ball of superheated violet plasma.
Then there was only a blackened glassy crater where both of them had been.
I let go of the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, hyperventilating as the paralyzing fear finally broke with the disappearance of the giant.
I had to run. There were more of those things coming after us. I had to run and call for help. Maulland Sen needed to send all his forces from his central castle to stymie this invasion. These were not the Ironsides of the Albians. Who these giants belonged to I had no idea, but there was no mercy nor forgiveness in their heart. These things were too brutal, too hateful, too-
There was a massive thump as something landed in front of me. As the dust settled, I saw blackened bronze armor moving.
The top half of the giant had survived the melta-explosion, and he was still alive.
I froze with fear, hoping it had been some trick of the light.
Then the giant dragged his torso forwards.
I hoped that this was some reflex, some last spurt of a dying creature unable to understand what had happened to it.
A soldier from a different RHINO ran past, blinded with fear and adrenaline. The giant caught the man as he ran, and tore him apart like a rag doll. Arms and legs came off as if they were held together by tissue paper instead of tendons. The head burst like a grape between the giant's fingers.
Then the giant turned his blood stained face towards me.
I screamed and ran. It didn't matter where. So long as I could get as much distance between me and that thing I didn't care.
Something struck me in the small of the back. I heard the crack breaking bones, and my legs went both limp and numb.
The scraping of half-melted armor came from behind me as the giant crawled towards me.
Sobbing, I did the same, inching forwards on my elbows as I tried to get away.
A massive hand grabbed me by the shoulder and flipped me over. The giant crawled onto me, crushing my stomach with its weight as he tore off his rebreather, revealing thick white teeth.
He was going to bite down on me. Like a wolf, he would chew through my face and skull.
Then the giant fell. His massive chest squeezed the air out of lungs, and his head slammed into the ashy ground as it went limp.
I lay there, taking in short pants of air with what little lung capacity I had left.
The giant had finally died, but his corpse pinned me to the ground. The footfalls of the other giants shook the ground, sending up puffs of ash around me with every step. I could not run, but there might be the one way for me to survive.
I held my breath as the shaking of the ground grew, and closed my eyes as the stampede of giants passed around me.
Covered by the dead giant, I hid in plain sight as just another corpse.
But it did not last.
I couldn't breathe. The giant's corpse was squeezing the air out of my lungs, choking me to death with his weight. My chest burned as I prayed to Maulland Sen to save me. I was never truly into the faith. None of us border city dwellers were, but as I lay there I prayed to Maulland Sen and the gods he spoke of.
Suddenly the giant corpse was lifted off of me, and my rebreather squeaked noisly as I sucked in air through its many filters. My tear filled eyes only showed may a blotchy shape standing above me. I blinked them away as best as I could, and screamed.
A bronze giant stood over me, holding the corpse of his brethren in one hand.
I could only sit there, shivering uncontrollably, as the giant watched me.
"Do you renounce your faith?" The giant's voice was monotone and filled with static, sounding more like a broken machine than a man.
I nodded as hard as I could, despite having been deep in prayer moments ago.
"Do you wish to be our friend?"
Once again I nodded.
"Good."
The giant leaned down, and grabbed me by the throat. What little air I had left was squeezed out of me, and the world turned dark.
I woke up stripped naked and on white bed sheets. A figure in white robes finished tying bandages around the stump of my wrist with metal tendrils, then pulled away. The beep-beep of a heart monitor attached to my chest was the only sound in the room.
I was in a sterile room with an air filtration unit, most likely some sort of prefabricated field hospital.
I didn't recognize the make. It must belong to the giants, making me a prisoner of war.
I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding, relieved to be alive.
There was the woosh of air jets, and the door to the pre-fabricated structure opened. One of the giants stepped out of an air-lock style entrance chamber and approached me.
"So, you wish to be our friend." The giant's voice was hoarse to the point that listening to it made my throat hurt.
I nodded in response.
"Then, will you agree to tell your people what happened here, and of the error of your ways?" The giant was now at my bedside, looming over me.
Dumbly I nodded again. Whatever would get this monster away from me, I would do.
"Good." The giant smiled, and cold sweat began to leak out of every pore. I heard the heart monitor beeping rapidly, exposing the fear in my heart.
"Medicae!" The giant called, and the white-robed figure clattered into view. I heard the click clack of several dozen pointed legs on metal, and noticed that the robed figure did not bob with every step, but seemed to float across the floor.
"Gag this man." The giant ordered, and the white-robed figure pounced on me like a praying mantis. I saw under its hood as it moved. Glassy cameras had replaced the creature's eyes, and metal mandibles were in the place of its mouth. It shoved something into my mouth with pointed claw like fingers, and metal tentacles restrained my arms and shoulders.
"Implant a saline and nutrient pack into him." The giant ordered. "It will be several days march to the closest raider city, and we want our new friend and messenger to be hydrated and loud of voice when we get there."
I heard the whir of saws and needles as the metal tentacles descended upon me to carry out the giant's orders.
"You shall renounce the evils of your ways when we get to your city, and skin you alive before them." The giant chuckled, then stared into my eyes. "Your eyes seem to be saying something, but it is too late my new friend." The giant smiled. "Thunder only comes after the lightning has struck. When we march, you are all already dead."
A/N: Believe me, the only reason the Thunder Warriors are this barbaric is because the campaign in the Nordyc against Maulland Sen was just that bad.
Valdor recounts in "Birth of the Imperium" that the Thunder Warrior's demonstrated their greatest weakness during this campaign, namely their uncompromising nature. Redeemable civilians, and slaves taken against their will were all slaughtered by the Thunder Warriors. Ushotan himself was at the forefront, laughing even with his arm broken and helmet gone as the killing went unstopped.
They were unable to be deployed with normal human troops due to their violent nature, and the fact that any one of them could simply die due to genetic defect gave them a cavalier attitude that ignored all risks.
They are often portrayed as the victims of the Emperor, but the truth is that they were thinking monsters who enjoyed killing everyone they could. That was the purpose they believed had been given to them by the Emperor, and this philosophy mixed with a twisted faith is why they were sentenced to their decommissioning at Mt. Ararat.
The Battle of the Red Frost is the final battle of the Nordyc campaign, and took place in the Warp corrupted castle of Maulland Sen.