Line Captain Dazkov was absent mindedly grinding rockcrete in his fist while overseeing his Line Company take up positions. As each one took their defensive positions, his lips moved in perceptively, muttering calculations for fire patterns. It was at moments like this his mind was taken away from the pressure within his chest, the imagined one, the despair that crept upon him.
“Squad Bharkar, in the upper ruins, move Lascannon 3 47cm right, elevate Lascannon 2 3 degrees” he called into the vox, the data from their autosenses updating on his own feed.
Perfect, it was as close to perfect as he could make it, at least with Nicator and Razkho there. He could not bear their presence, two wild variables in a perfect pattern, it made him despair. It reminded him of old wars, of Istvaan, unsuspecting weaklings, running into their planned out patterns, teaching them their error for abusing them.
“Enemy sighted! Astartes Heavy Armour Column! Ultramarine thinbloods” came a call into the vox.
Armoured column, it was as expected. The firing pattern was set with an expectation of heavy counter attack, a kill box that did not look like a kill box, a crack in the stone.
“I’m attacking!” Came an arrogant hiss into the vox.
“Razkho, If you move out of position you will find yourself in a sarcophagi by my hand, do not move.”
Even Razkho was not stupid enough to openly disobey a direct order, not publicly anyway, his petulance continued over the private channel, Dazkov simply cut the link and switched to command channel, so the Line Company could hear.
“At my signal, you have your orders, we make war in the old way my brothers, not with Daemonic entities or madmen, but as proud warriors of the VI! On my signal, show Guilliman’s Bastard spawn why they should fear the Sons of Perturabo! Iron Within!”
“Iron Without!” came the bellowed reply that echoed around the city.
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The cabin of the Sky Lords Land Raider was filled with a dull, jade glow from the sensorium display. Chapter Master Potitus checked the disposition of his troops and the enemy who had taken up refuge within the ruined plaza. A large number of infantry, the kind of defensive position the Iron Warriors had employed in the north against the Imperial Guard, but they faced Astartes now.
“Based upon numbers present, suspect small number of Traitor Astartes supporting a main body of human traitors” reported Sergeant Tricario.
“The Iron Warriors are using the same tactics again, driving their Cultists forward into our guns while the Marines take the real objectives.” grumbled Cyprian, “they’re in for a shock if they think that’ll work on us!”
“Aye, the sons of the Eyrie will purge them in the Emperor's name” replied Potitus.
1 minute till deployment, Potitus breathed deep, he was looking forward to this, Hexis had been hard on his Chapter, and to blood it against traitors once more would bring heart to the men.
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The 9th Line Company, 3rd Grand Battalion had marched into the eastern plaza of Praxis City under the orders of Line Captain Dazkov in earliy 1201.019M42 . Dazkov had convinced his superiors of a critical weakness in the Imperial lines, the “Crack in the Stone” and was keen to exploit this it. In response to the threat, the Sky Lords launched a blistering counter attack of Terminators and Land Raiders - led by none other than their Chapter Master Lucius Potitus. Flanked by the experienced hand of Lieutenant Danae the Imperial forces were confident they could not only blunt the assault but use the Sky Lords as a spear tip to push back into the city.
The first sign that the Sky Lords plan would go awry was a garbled communique from Sergeant Decius, leader of the forward scouts. Decius warned the Sky Lords that it was not a cultist horde but in fact a whole Company of Iron Warriors marching west and to expect heavier resistance than first anticipated. Potitus was undeterred and ordered the advance, though requesting further aerial support from base. As a Stormhawk interceptor screamed overhead Danae on the Sky Lords left was the first to see the error of the Chapter Masters orders. Dazkov had spent hours preparing the perfect firing pattern now each bolt and las round expended in a symphony of destruction. As the Stormhawk Interceptor banked into its attack run 4 lascannon shots perfectly speared the duel engines with unerring accuracy sending it plummeting to the ground. Seconds later, 4 more Lascannon blasts sent the Land Raider Redeemer carrying Terminator Assault Squad Olennius careening to the left, only for a second 4 shots to punch through the now exposed side, causing explosions to rip through the internal cabin. 3 of the 5 Assault Terminators managed to tear their way free, only to be cut down by a storm of bolt and plasma rounds, again placed with unerring precision, punching fist sized craters in their armour.
As suddenly as it had started, the firing ceased, and across in the ruins, Dazkov allowed himself a smirk of satisfaction at the destruction as his Line Company reloaded. His foe, Potitus, then ordered his own barrage, with a storm of fire from high orbit that wounded Dazkov and cut down a number of Legionaries.
“Advance” was the single order given as the IV’s left flank started to march. Storm Squad Berican were already ahead, Dazkov having callously placed them in a position to receive the now dead terminator charge. Razko was boasting that he would take the head of the Sky Lord Chapter Master.
If the Iron Warriors were expecting an easy fight they were mistaken however. The Sky Lords were no longer able to smash through but they could break their foe. On the Iron Warrior flanks scout squads broke from hiding spots to assault both sides and Terminator squad Antius tore into the middle, attacking the Chosen veterans of the Iron Warriors. Squad Antius’ bull charge into the Chosen swatted half the squad to the ground, though the attack was blunted by the equally heavily armed chosen who had power weapons aplenty to counter charge, along with the Sorcerer Nicator, eager as always to kill corpse god worshippers. Between the Chosen and Nicator 4 Terminators were cut down leaving only Sergeant Antius who deftly parried each blow, only to killed by Nicator who pulped his skull with a psychic gesture.
On the left and right - Squad Belicose’s Iron Warriors were stuck in a stalemate with the Scouts, unable to bring their Plasma guns to bear, Storm Squad Berican had no such issues however and ripped apart the young Astartes with ease. The Iron Warriors began to march towards the remaining Sky Lords once more.
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Lieutenant Danae knew the situation was bad - the Iron Warriors were about to overrun the centre and the Chapter Master was refusing to yield, Potitus knew the battle was lost so why fight on? Danae banished the thought.
“To doubt our superiors is Heresy to the Emperor” he muttered, cursing himself for his doubts. They were born to fight, and they fought until they died, and that was it, the highest cause was to die slaying the Emperor's enemies.
The whip crack of displaced air and stink ozone told of another teleport strike, this time it was the enemies’ terminators who had set upon the Land Raiders - their only long range support.
“With me Sky Lords! We Slay our enemies and Reach for the Sky to his hand!”
Danae charged speeding towards the four baroque Iron Warrior Terminators as they blazed away fire but were too slow to catch him. His chainsword, “Cruel Wing” revved to life. It was no ordinary chainsword, it’s teeth inlaid with a rare alloy that acted as a superconductor, allowing a powerfield to spark through its mass despite its complex machinery - the perfect meld of power and chainblade - perfect for destroying the foul armour and the meat inside. Lightning sparked across the blade as he took it in a wide arc and brought it down to crush the skull of his foe - the foul creature bellowed “Iron Within” as it raised its Power axe to block the blow, not fast enough to stop it, only enough to deflect it into his pauldron. The world slowed in that moment for for Danae, Cruel Wing, first cut into the pauldron like butter, passing without hindrance, but then, a black light more akin to ink boiled from inside the armour, arcing along the sword. This all occurred in a microsecond, far faster than a human could see, but to Daenae it happened in slow motion and he was helpless to stop it.
Pain speared through his body, the source, his sword. It electrified every nerve ending and every port where his body interfaced with his armour, every cell. He let go, as that was all he could do. Danae collapsed to the ground as his vision darkened with the enemy warrior standing over him, drawing the still imbedded Cruel Wing from his pauldron which ran like hot wax over the wound and closed. Daenae refused to let the darkness take him and went to draw his bolt pistol, hoping his brothers would be just behind, but they were not and the monstrous Terminator severed his arm at the elbow before he could fire. The bastard “brothers” were laughing while stabbing with their weapons, Danae’s vision a mess of falling axes as the first Terminator took his Sword two handed over his chest and drove it through his hearts.
As Danae’s vision began to fade and his blood pool into the Hexis dirt, he realised why his brothers joined him in his charge. They had not heard him, his comms must have been down without his knowledge. Only now were his brothers turning to attack as the Iron Warrior counterparts turned to face them. The laughter hadn’t stopped, Danae’s last thought was the horrifying realisation that it was not the Iron Warriors that were laughing, but, someone, something else.
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The centre now belonged to the Iron Warriors, though the Sky Lords still refused to give in to the traitors. Sergeant Quirinus and his terminators moved to push into the gap where Antius fell. Dazkov, seeing his opportunity to rid himself of one irritation ordered Nicator to charge but his Chosen to hold ground, leaving the Sorcerer unprotected. Expecting support Nicator charged headlong into Quirinus, only to be backhanded by a Terminator through the air, and through the tangled mess of rockcrete and promethium pipe relays. Nicator, bloody and battered but still alive made to stand as the squad of Terminators sent a stream of Bolt shells into his position, igniting the leaking promethium in a huge fireball, seemingly killing the venomous Sorcerer. Satisfied that Nicator was dead, Dazkov ordered Squad Quirinus to be surrounded and cut down. Storm Squad Berican were unable to comply, Chapter Master Potitus and his Tactical squad had led a daring counter charge. Left and right Potitus hacked into the mutated Marines, cutting down half the squad and expecting to sweep through into the main body of Iron Warriors. Berican ordered his warriors side step to the ruins giving a clear line of fire. Against Razko’s screamed to let him take the head of the Chapter Master but the Iron Warriors, loyal to Dazkov, opened fire upon the Tactical Marines and Potitus, cutting them all down in a hail of bolt and plasma.
Finally free to enact Dazkov’s orders, the Iron Warriors swarmed Quirinus and his Terminators who stood no chance against 40 marines armed with Chainswords, Power Swords, axes and fists.
The Land Raider Helios, following the final orders of Chapter Master Potitus, continued a dogged defence, and fighting retreat, but it was to no avail. The seemingly blessed Terminators that had been harrassing the Land Raiders for the whole battle finally caught up with it and destroyed it with a well placed melta shot. Drakov’s plan had been executed, and the Sky Lords were wiped out, with nothing to stop the Iron Warriors advancing into the ancient ruins.
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Lucius Potitus was not an easy man to kill, others had learned this over his long career, and now the mad human cultists called the “Thorakitai” were learning this terrible lesson. They had arrived long after the Iron Warrior Legionaries had moved on. His Sus-an Membrane had become active as he had fallen to unconsciousness. He should have been dead, even Astartes do not endure the barrage he did, his dead brothers were testament to that. These “Thorakitai”, were accompanied by robed, partly mechanical dregs, each going to marines and painstakingly removing the Progenoids from each, Sky Lord Progenoids. He would not allow the gene-seed of Guilliman be defiled by those wretches, not while he drew breath. His blade was broken, but it did not matter, his bare fists were enough to slaughter the humans, if they could be called that anymore. He took pleasure in it, he did not look like a Sky Lord by the time he had stumbled back to the Imperial lines, the dirt, blood and gristle had stained his armour to be nearly unrecognisable. He was lucky that an Imperial Officer had read his briefing and remembered his face. He had survived the slaughter of his brothers, but there would be a terrible vengeance wrought upon the Iron Warriors
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Lord Bezhok was pleased with his second in command. The Western front had expanded to the walls of the ancient fort, soon he would surround the Imperial dogs in the ruins and finish the Imperials once and for all, he gave Dazkov a wry smile.
“You have done well Dazkov, though, you have left out the casualty reports?”
“My apologies sire, I believe them beneath your interest. Casualties were light sire, 80% of the Line Company remain at combat readiness, the remaining 20% will take 1 to 2 weeks to recover from injuries or from rotation of troops from the south.”
“Anything else of note?” asked Bezhok.
Before Dazkov could say anything the door of the bunker swung open and standing there was Nicator, his armour damaged nearly beyond repair and whine of damaged servos and half functioning power plant.
“You bastard Dazkov! You sent me to die!”
Before Nicator could say anymore, the Line Captain drew his plasma pistol in one swift motion from its holster, its whine denoting that it had cycled to full power.
“Are you questioning the orders of a superior officer, ‘Codicier’”? Asked Dazkov, addressing Nicator by his old Librius title with all the venom and scorn his tired soul could manage.
In the old Legion, before the Seige of Terra, Codicier had been a lesser rank to a line Captain, the Iron Warriors viewing psychic might as just another weapon of war. Nicator, still enraged, looked for a moment like he would lunge for the Line Captain, but his body posture changed, shrinking away from the Line Captain.
“You are dismissed, ‘Codicier’, get your armour fixed, it’s a disgrace” called Bezhok.
He was also clearly enjoying Nicator’s suffering, who glowered darkly before stomping away.
Both the Line Captain and Commander shared a momentary chuckle at Nicator’s misery, a moment of levity among the damned.
“Now Line Captain.” Began Bezhok, but before he even begin his sentence the door to the bunker swung open again.
“Nicator I told you to f-” began Bezhok, before realising it was Legionary Behenna.
“Sir I bring urgent new from the eastern front! Commander Gerghaz request reinforcements, the Emerald Serpent has been overrun by Malkaor and have pushed on Old Town.”
“MALKAOR?! WHO THE F-... WHO IS MALKAOR!? Spat Bezhok almost beside himself with anger.
“New reinforcements from the Tau Empire sire! The Warsmith is aware and has said that Old Town cannot be allowed to fall” Behenna replied dutifully.
In a fit of rage Bezhok brought his fists in an overhead double handed strike down on the hololith table, shattering it into pieces.
“DAMMIT NOT AGAIN!” roared Bezhok in frustration.
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