Days like this were when Edwyn Cain really hated being the grandson of one of the Imperium's greatest heroes. His grandfather's great reputation only earned an even more fraudulent reputation than what his grandfather claimed his own was. At least his grandfather lived through the events that gave him that reputation. He just happened to be the descendant of the man who lived those events.
That was how he found himself attached to a stormtrooper battalion of a newly reunited world that owed its fealty to a previously unknown chapter of the Adeptus Astartes that was charging headlong to a heavily fortified weapons battery that the most recent report indicated that was filled with almost two dozen traitor Astartes in terminator armor.
He cursed his fondness for good amasec and the comforts of civilized life. He could have been safe in a mountain valley too far away to send reinforcements by chimera or Taurox.
At least the men he rode with were all battle-hardened veterans that were equipped with some of the best weapons available to forces of the Imperial Guard and they had pilfered any special or heavy weapon they could get their hands on.
Though that was counterbalanced by the fact that these men had absolutely no concept of self preservation. From what he understood about these men who were all universally greybeards or near enough unlike almost any other Stormtrooper formation; was that these men after serving their time and raising a family would volunteer for military service again and request the most hazardous assignments under the belief that their deaths would keep their families from starving.
A relic of their days from before the forces of the Throne established contact to be sure, but a strange one. As typically veterans like them would be revered and they would be kept back on their homeworld to train fresh recruits and form the ranks of the senior noncoms, warrant officers, and commissioned officers for new Guard Regiments. Yet these men would throw themselves back into the fires of war, particularly where the fighting was the thickest and death was nearly guaranteed.
In addition to the hellguns and carapace armor that was standard for stormtrooper formations, they were also heavily armed with various melee weapons to make up for the hellgun's inability to mount a bayonet and their own homeworld's martial traditions. Though the most relevant non standard equipment was the fact that they were very well equipped with grenade launchers with a variety of special grenades he had never seen before, meltaguns, plasma guns, a variant of a hotshot volley gun that he was unfamiliar with, and a shoulder fired launcher which had some similarities to the ubiquitous missile launcher but was noticeably lighter and quicker to deploy than the standard guard patterns.
Which might make up for the fact that they wouldn't be able to use the Tauroxes to support their attack. Given the CIC was in the center of the complex. Under meters of hardened rockrete and steel.
He looked up at the men he shared a Taurox with, ten large and burly stormtroopers and the 11th man within the chimera, his aid, Private First Class Jojen Snow.
Where the stormtroopers were all older men of at least 45 standard Terran years and by any account considered large men standing over 6ft tall, Jojen was young only in his mid 20s and barely stood an inch over 5ft. Jojen had a face and build that was utterly unremarkable especially in the company he found himself in, save for two distinct features. The runic tattoos that ran down from his scalp passing through both eyes and leading towards the rest of his body; and the deep green of his eyes that seemed almost unnatural. Snow had come into his service as his aid by recommendation of the planetary governor, Queen Regent Sansa of House Stark and Targaryen, of the world and specific region the regiment had been drawn from.
He had met her once when he was attached to the regiment after they had returned to their homeworld for reinforcements. She appeared to be middle aged though given the nobility of the Imperium's fondness for rejuvenate treatments it was always hard to tell how old she really was. Though Edwyn honestly didn't care considering how beautiful she was.
Part of his assignment was to watch for signs of heresy and any customs or rites that deviated too much from the Munitorum's standards, which included the culture of the homeworld the men under his command came from. Truth be told, he spent more time enjoying the hospitality of House Stark and in particular the youngest granddaughter of the Queen Regent.
They were nobles in a backwards feudal world who only received such advanced military equipment and economic favors since the same noble families that the Queen Regent Sansa and her granddaughter were from had produced a scion who became a Captain within the Space Marine chapter that the world owed fealty to. Along with the world also being considered an Astartes recruitment world.
So he hadn't noticed anything that struck him as a clear sign of heresy.
Jojen's voice broke him out of his musings as he said, "Care for some recaff sir"?
Edwin replied as he took the thermos of recaff "Why thank you, Jojen".
He sipped the recaff, taking the time to run through potential scenarios that the combat could follow.
The Sargeant spoke interrupting his mental preparations, "This your first fight against traitor Astartes, Commissar"?
Cain replied with all the false bravado he could muster, "Against traitor marines, no. Against traitor marine terminators, yes. Do not fear, sergeant. We Comissars are trained to fight every enemy of His Holy Majesty's Imperium".
It wasn't completely a lie. There had been traitor Astartes among the Chaos warband that raided Albanian V which included the Schola he had been raised at, but there were approximately 5,000 cultists to one traitor marine. The closest he had gotten was when he took command of a Leman Russ platoon after its commanding officer had been killed by a sniper when he poked his head out. So he had been as safe as he could be in a battlefield supporting the PDF and Guard with the Leman Russ' guns at range rather than fighting himself.
The Sargeant laughed, "Don't you worry Commissar, you have nothing to fear. Were not your typical Northmen or even grenadiers".
He pointed to the sigil on the left side of his cuirass.
The Sargeant continued, "We were entrusted with the protection of her grace. We're are the Dragonwolf's own, born and raised in the services of the Starks!" pausing he continued, "Our battalion can trace its lineage to the warriors who defended Winterfell from the Others and their undead thralls"!
He didn't have the slightest clue as to what the "Others" were, perhaps some Chaos warband. But before he could ask, a voice came over the vox.
"ETA to target 10 minutes. Make your final preparations. May the Allfather grant us strength and the Allmother receive us upon our deaths. Our deaths give life to pups who cannot fight. For the Dragonwolf, the Wolf King, the Allmother and the Allfather"!
A short but effective speech given the cheers and hollering that he heard from the men he was riding with. Just what he expected from Major Sven Dustin. A quiet man who was well respected by the men he commanded.
He wasn't too sure on the theological validity of the Allmother, though he knew that Allfather was a title that many worlds gave the Emperor, particularly the world of Fenris from whom the chapter these men owe their fealty to would have likely passed on to them over the millenia.
As the cheering died down another voice came over the vox, but this time it wasn't Dustin. It was the Battalion Priest. Singing what he assumed to be war hymns to inspire the men. Most of them weren't in a language that he knew, but every once in a while, the chaplain would sing a hymn that was in High Gothic.
The singing faded out as the Tauroxes reached the Planetary Defense Laser Battery complex. The tauroxes as they fanned out to make room for the entire battalion to disembark. The men inside his Taurox quickly began attaching their gas masks, locking it into their helmets. As the Taurox came to a halt, the interior light flickered from red to green. The seal on the hatch released and the nearest stormtroopers exited. The dust cloud from the impact that wiped out the city of Massalia had now fully reached the installation and made it almost impossible to see a couple feet ahead. Luckily for him, Jojen was there at his side. Longlas slung over his back, the short man guided Cain to where the squad of stormtroopers they rode in with, had entered the complex.
Cain saw that the stormtroopers weren't the only guardsmen moving about. The Battery's remaining PDF garrison had taken positions to prevent the traitors from reinforcing their position by more conventional means.
A voice came from his vox-bead, "Cain, I would like you to join the Major and I to get the sitrep from the PDF".
Cain instantly recognized the voice as only one of the officers from the battalion had felt close enough to him to call him anything other than Commissar or southerner when they thought he was out of ear shot. Though why they called him the latter, he had no clue. Captain Eddard Stark, 1st Company's Captain and the Battalion XO, was a decent enough man with a jovial nature and had enough gossip that Cain had managed to pick up a decent amount about the regiments produced by the world and general trivia about the world. Though he could never get a straight answer about who the Allmother was. Stark guessed it had something to do with the Astartes and the Maidens of the Grove that had taken up service with many of the noble families and helped spread the faith of the Emperor to the world.
Cain and Jojen found that the quick sitrep had turned into a full war council as the Major was working with his Captains and the surviving PDF officers to devise a plan to assault the CIC.
The more Cain heard the reports the worse he liked their chances and his chance at survival in particular. The Battery complex was a perfect Zone Mortalis. Tight corridors that turned into open kill zones where the defenders had clear lines of fire.
The installation's corridors were perfectly designed to repel a conventional assault force like theirs and if it wasn't for the loss of the massive generator district in the city it would have even been well shielded from teleportation assaults.
The plan was as well thought out as could be. With a three stage attack where they would attempt to draw out the Khorneate terminators, relying on their bloodlust and desire to engage in close combat, into the causeway that connected the hardened bunker that was the CIC with the rest of the installation. The first stage was for two squads to zipline across the chasm to the top of the bunker and prepare melta charges to breach the top of the CIC. Once the charges had been detonated and the breacher teams had made entry, the second stage would begin. The breacher squads would be followed by a full platoon who ensured that the enemy became fully devoted to killing them. Once the terminators fell for the bait they would withdraw to draw them out onto the causeway. The final stage was to focus every gun they hand on the terminators. Distracting them with the sheer weight of fire from hellguns, heavy stubbers,autocannons, and heavy bolters so that the anti-armor weapons would target the terminators from the rear where the armor should be the weakest and the reactor the most exposed. This would require at least a full squad to hide on the underside of the causeway and then climb over close enough to use their melta and plasma guns. This was extremely dangerous without much fire being rained down onto the causeway but it was the only way to ensure kills. As a grenadier unit they didn't have a lot of heavy anti-armor weapons that could engage the terminators outside of effective bolter range. Not that Khornate marines were too keen on using their bolters, but only a fool would give up a tactical advantage.
With the plan decided, the only thing left to do was to actually execute it.
He took up position in the firing line, closer than he would have liked but required given his status as both a commissar and the son of a legendary hero of the Imperium. Jojen at least was by his side with his trusty Longlas charged and aimed straight towards the CIC.
Simultaneous explosions meant that there was no going back. They were committed to the end.
The sounds of battle, followed by the dying screams of the advance squads soon were heard even across the large chasm and the thick walls of the CIC.
The blast doors of the CIC opened. Which only made the screams of men being torn apart by chain axes, power weapons, prometheum flamers and bolter shells even worse.
The men were withdrawing across the causeway in an ordered fashion, stopping every one or two yards to turn around and fire at the traitors. That is if they weren't caught by the traitors. Who were putting out a surprising amount of firepower out for the followers of Khorne. Though they still chased after the withdrawing grenadiers. Cain saw the platoon sergeant get shredded by chain ax as he attempted to fire his plasma pistol at a traitor's head. The Platoon's Lieutenant was disemboweled by another traitor's lighting claws.
As the traitors took the bait he noticed that they didn't all wear the same type of armor as the Emperor's own blessed terminator Astartes wore. Even ignoring the taint of Chaos there was still significant difference in the base suits. Which frightened him as they moved far faster than their brothers in the more recognizable pattern of terminator armor.
He didn't have long to contemplate the terror of the speed at which they moved, as they entered their own killzone. At once they opened up. Hellgun bolts streamed forth like the Emperor's fiery wrath while grenadiers armed with grenade launchers dropped krak and more esoteric grenades of plasma and lighting. The teams manning the heavy automatic weapons roared to life. The missile teams were taking great care in their aim as they fired far slower than their grenade launcher counterparts. There were some missed shots as these millenia old traitors still had far greater reflexes and experience than any mortal. Though Cain saw two go down. One to a series of the lighting grenades that seemed to slow the ancient armor followed by alternating denotations of plasma and conventional krak grenades. Another was felled by a krak missile opening up a large rent in his armor that was focused on the smaller munitions until whatever organs remained were turned into bloody pulp. Followed by another krak missile for good measure that finally put the traitor down.
They weren't having it all their own way as even blood maddened traitor astartes were still astartes. As men were being torn asunder by the bolt shells, plasma bolts, shrapnel from frag grenades, and autocannon rounds as one of the traitors had enough sense to use the powerful autocannon strapped to his right arm.
They fought on still. Even as the traitors were closing in, they were determined to put up as much fire as possible to take down the traitors. As most of the traitor marines had crossed the halfway point, the special weapon kill teams that hid beneath the causeway, brought themselves up and over to bring their guns to bear.
They managed to down two more. One with a blast from a melta gun and the other was felled by a focused burst of plasma bolts from the rear, finished off by a krak missile.
Those teams paid for their success with their lives as the rearmost traitors focused their weapons on them.
Cain saw the sergeant that he rode in with, get cleaved in two by a power ax. The others slain were no less brutal, being turned into red mists by a power fist or being shredded by chain weapons.
While a successful stratagem, it didn't prevent the traitors from reaching their lines. The traitors smashed into the forward lines like a freight train, slaughtering anyone in their path.
For all of their bluster and seemingly braggart natures, these Northmen proved that they spoke nothing but the truth. They faced the World Eater terminators with not a single ounce of fear. Continuing to fight even as they lost limbs. So long as they could still move they fought. Cain saw one of the Northmen charge at one of the terminators with a melta mine in hand. He was run through by one of the terminators with a lighting claw. A second later the mine went off, slaying another one of the Chaos monsters.
Even with such a stalwart defense, Cain knew they wouldn't be able hold out forever. He knew he had to get the men back into a solid firing line to give himself the best chance of survival.
Cain yelled, "Form a firing line! We need to buy time for the weapons team to get here"!
The two squads that were about to attack the traitors formed a firing line and with the disciplined and precise shots that only a true combat veteran could pull off, they fired their hellguns. Even managing to avoid hitting the few remaining grenadiers that were making their last stand to slow the monsters down.
One of the terminators turned their way. A helmetless brute with countless scars whose ancient warplate was covered in dents and flashburns that blackened and bubbled the blood red paint. The brute's chainfist was drenched in blood while his power ax reeked from the smell of the blood and fleshing cooking from the heat of the disruptive field.
An officer wielding an eviscerator charged the World Eater. After a brief clash and dance of blades, Cain could see the officer's face.
It was Stark.
Cain had to redirect the fire so as to not hit one of the few men not just in the regiment, but the entire division of Northmen that he found to be passably good company.
Stark proved to be an ever better swordsman that Cain ever gave him credit for. Parrying and evading a number of blows from the World Eater. Stark attempted a powerful cut but missed the Traitor's head and struck the disruption field generator of the chainfist. The clash of the arcane energies caused a large explosion that sent Stark flying several meters, but when the smoke was cleared. The World Eater was now missing the imposing chain fist and bellowed out in rage. Looking at Stark in barely contained hatred.
Before Cain knew it, he ran towards Stark. Stark was desperately fighting to regain his breath and would never be able to get up before the traitor was on him. And that was ignoring the possibility that there were other injuries Cain couldn't see.
Cain raised his bolt pistol and fired twice at the traitor before he closed the distance. The bolts impacted against the ancient ceramite. Exploding harmlessly. The dark parody of the Emperor's Angels swung at him with the power ax. Cain parried the blow with all of his strength, the ax bit deep into the floor. Cain quickly recovered and quickly thrust his power sword at the traitor's head. The Traitor twisted his head. Cain's blade now missed its mark. Instead of driving through the Traitor's skull, it instead cut open the traitor's face from cheekbone through his right ear.
He quickly drew back his blade so as to not over extend. He took his stance. Blade ready to parry the incoming attack.
He could hear several of the grenadiers run to presumably pull back their XO.
Cain said, "Come one, you treacherous dog! I thought the followers of Khorne were famed warriors, not a bunch of yellow wankers"!
Perhaps paraphrasing his grandfather's insult to another one of the Traitor Legions wasn't the best plan as the traitor marine stood up roaring in fury. The heretic quickly pulled the ax from the floor and came at him.
He managed to dodge the ax, by charging into the blow before arresting his momentum with a well timed twist that allowed him to build up more momentum for his sword. The sword slashed hard against the exhaust vents of the terminator warplate. Sparks flew, but he failed to cut deep enough to damage the armor's power plant.
The traitor swung the ax around in a viscous sweep that he ducked under. Cain used the opening created by the wide sweep to get under and drive his sword through the traitor's unarmored head. The traitor must have anticipated the move as he moved again. Though luckily for Cain, the heretic misjudged the incoming attack vector and wasn't able to completely escape the thrust as Cain managed to take the Traitor's left eye. Cutting through flesh and bone until he hit the traitor's armor.
The traitor howled in pain before countering with the charred stump where his chain fist had been. Cain was sent flying hitting the ground hard.
His entire left side was screaming in pain and he struggled to breath, but thank the throne. His carapace armor managed to take most of the force from the counter and his landing.
The traitor was on him and Cain quickly rolled to as the blood soaked power ax came crashing down.
Even with that quick role he thought he was dead until he heard the battlecries of the Grenadiers.
"WINTERFELL! FOR THE WOLVES"!
He couldn't tell how many charged the monster, but they managed to give him enough time to get behind the traitor again and bring down his power sword for another slash as the last of them died. This time he slashed through the back of the knee with a powerful two handed slash.
The power sword cut through the relatively thinly armored joint to reach the flesh and bone beneath. He couldn't sever the leg, but he knew his sword must have cut through the ligaments in the knee and cut through bone.
The heretic astartes collapsed to crippled knee. Cain moved to get back around to the front of the traitor so he could drive his sword through the unarmored head. But the pain made him stop as he coughed up blood. This delay gave the traitor enough time to recover and with the half of the ax sent Cain flying again. This time the much abused carapace armor couldn't soften the blow, and of course did nothing for his head which hit the hard steel floor of the battery complex.
Cain could feel his vision going black and his body didn't want to move, not even his sword hand. The traitor slowly marched towards Cain.
Just before the dark parody of the Emperor's Angels could take his skull, the briefest flash of light cut across Cain's fading vision. The Traitor howled in rage and pain again as now the ugly bastard was missing both eyes and the only thing that remained of the left eye was a smoldering crater.
Which could only have come from a las bolt.
A few more bolts flew cutting into the traitor's head but whatever arcane and dark genecraft had gone into the terminator's creation had made him one though bastard. Cain summoned the last of his strength to draw his bolt pistol and fired.
The last thing Cain knew before the darkness and pain overtook him was the sound of an explosion followed by what sounded like slashing water.