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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Mar 1, 2016 7:32:49 GMT -5
Year: 999.M41 Galactic sector: Segmentum Tempestus System: Tarragonis World: Tarragonis VI
The Tarragonis VI campaign is part of the Imperium's ongoing conflict with hive fleet Leviathan. A tendril of Leviathan was recently detected close to the Tarragonis system after devouring three worlds. In order to weaken and divert the tendril towards an appropriate battle ground, the Imperium proceeded to evacuate and sterilise several worlds that lay in the hive fleet's path. Eventually, the hive fleet reached the Tarragonis system and headed straight for its only life-harbouring planet: Tarragonis VI.
Tarragonis VI is an arid world, with only a few scattered oases in its Northern hemisphere while the rest of the world is covered in huge swathes of scorching desert. It is a Feral World (classification: Mu) inhabited by scattered and mostly nomadic tribes, although some permanent fortified settlements are present in the North. Due to the low number of organic lifeforms present on Tarragonis VI, the planet was deemed a suitable world to engage, weaken and destroy the tyranid forces. Several regiments of the Astra Militarum (Imperial Guard) as well as several Space Marine chapters and forces of the Adeptus Mechanicus have been dispatched to Tarragonis VI.
The hive fleet's assault has already begun in the Southern hemisphere, and it is probable that a large number of mycetic spores has reached other parts of the planet. Imperial forces are currently disembarking and fortifying their positions in preparation for the assault.
Lady Agatha Windemere, Lieutenant-Colonel of the 1st Albionese Women's Battalion, had never been in a place as desolate as Tarragonis VI's largest settlement: Attala. Buildings made of bricks and dried mud clustered behind crude walls, and simple dirt roads lead in and out of the town. A few small lakes dotted the land around Attala, and green grass and palms clung to the arid earth like limpets on a sea-battered rock. The air was scorching, the sun unbearable and the smell of Attala far from pleasing. All around the oasis stretched an endless expanse of dust and rock.
Agatha wiped the sweat from her brow and returned her attention to her battalion. The 1st Albionese Women's Battalion had taken up positions South of Attala, outside the town's necropolis. A great number of tombs, ranging from simple graves marked with a wooden effigy to large stone constructions, clustered around another more intriguing set of buildings. Rumour had it that the large temple-like building at the center of the necropolis predated Attala by thousands of years, and some believed it to date back to the days of the Great Crusade.
Shading her eyes against Tarragonis VI's cruel sun, Agatha surveyed her battalion: trenches and firing positions were being dug into the sand. The soldiers of the first Albionese had abandoned their traditional uniform for khaki shorts and short-sleeved shirts better adapted to the planet's heat. Agatha turned to her vox operator and asked: "Any news as to the whereabouts of those pesky bugs?"
The vox operator, a small woman with blue eyes and short chestnut hair barely visible under the rim of her helmet, shook her head: "No ma'am. We've received some reports of movement down South, but the brass think it might just be a dust storm."
"Drat" said Agatha, scanning the horizon with worried eyes before adding with a smile: "At least the greenskins had the courtesy of making their presence known. Those bugs have no concept of fair play!"
She scanned the horizon again as well as the skies. Information on the tyranids had been sparse, but Agatha had been told they had flying and, Emperor forbid, burrowing units.
"I say" she declared, turning to her faithful assistant Jane, "waiting around for those pests has made me dreadfully thirsty. I believe a cup of tea is in order! And do make sure the girls get a round, too."
"Of course, m'lady" said Jane before rushing off. A few minutes later, she returned with a thermos and a set of cups.
"Thank you, my dear" said Agatha before unscrewing the cap and pouring herself some iced tea.
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Post by Commander Xillian on Mar 1, 2016 21:21:28 GMT -5
The Soulfire, behind Tarragonis VI's moon 'Vau'
"It's a..."
The warroom was dark, lit only by Cherubs holding aloft smoldering candles. The smell of incense and oil was thick, the sound of Servitors drilling power armor into place occasionally disrupting the intense atmosphere.
"It is as if, there were a shadow over the Warp," the Chief Librarian said, mulling over the words carefully. Forgelord Carmak Dalgan nodded, narrowing his red eyes as he recalled back to his days among his comrades who had served in the Deathwatch. The term range a bell to the Artificer veteran, and smelled of familiarity to the tactics of the Tyranids.
Looking up, Dalgan stared his counterpart dead in the eye, a grimace painting his features. Across the room, Servitors anointed the Armour of Faith with holy oils, the smoldering torch above the Jump Pack casting whisps of smoke through the dim light.
"I have heard that said of the Tyranids before," Dalgan confirmed, more sure of himself after a moment of introspection, "Warp travel will be more dangerous, and we may find it impossible to evacuate civilians out of the system."
The figure across, Fredrich Xillian, the Emperor's Champion of the Emperor's Torch crusade-chapter, crossed his arms across his chest, thinking deeply. After a moment, he spoke, "I have seen our victory. The measure of the cost of lives however will be within our hands, not the outcome."
"It may be wise for us to launch into stalling actions with all due haste," Chief Librarian Bolo Orgmar counseled, "That will allow us to evacuate what few Humans are on this planet without potential loss of life."
"Then it is decided," growled Xillian with finality, "I shall lead a wing of Initiates into the fray. Our Neophytes can work to ensure the Guardsmen are undergoing preliminary defensive measures and evacuation goes accordingly."
"Astute," Dalgan chided, "but brash all the same, Xillian. No, we can't leap in so forcefully. We should keep our Neophytes in reserve until we reach Sancti Tarragonis. There are two more fronts between here and there, and we may need all our hands."
The growl of annoyance from Xillian shook like a boulder bouncing through the room, but he nodded, "Then I shall take a wing and reinforce the main Guardsman position when they make contact with the enemy. I will collect the Initiates and launch immediately to take up position behind the Duskline."
"The Soulfire shall remain in position behind the moon for the time being," Orgmar added, "We will ambush any Tyranids that attack our evacuation vessels."
"Drop-pods will be offline for now, as are fortification emplacements," Dalgan recited, expecting his counterpart knew the plan.
"Once we fall back to Tarragonis V, we will regroup with the Deathkorps Five-fourty-First, and deploy armor and Initiates," Orgmar added, looking down at his dataslate that detailed the battleplan. If all went as planned, this small barren planet would be abandoned after a few days, and the real fight would happen on the water-rich, frozen world of Tarragonis V. While Tarragonis VI was further from the sun, it's atmosphere was whisper-thin compared to the thick, almost gas giant-like, atmosphere of Tarragonis V. Two planets, one of which was in fact a gas giant, lie between the Sixth planet and Santi Tarragonis, the Shrine World that the Imperium has chosen as its center of command. This war would take too many lives to win, and it would cost planets, but they would stop the Hive fleet here, and show all the galaxy, and whatever other galaxy the Tyranids came from, that the Imperium was eternal and would never fall. The Emperor willed it so, and it was so.
Without another word, Xillian turned to leave, holding up a fist in salute to his fellow commanders, as they set to finishing their final work. Soon, they too would see combat, and they too would sunder the Xenos that aimed to devour soul and body both.
Within an hour, the Thunderhawk holding four Initiates of the Emperor's Torch had taken up position in the shadow of the planet, hugging the twilight as dusk rolled ever closer to the city. In the dark, redlit interior, Xillian's eyes burned with fury and righteous hate, his composure unbroken however as he remained completely still. Behind him, Initiate Vit made the final check over his jump pack, his Flamer clamped to his belt above his Chainsword, while Initiates Calsonn and Maeburn simply checked and rechecked their bolters. The hour was closing fast, and the dust storm-like cloud of Tyranids could be seen growing, had one the eye from the stars to spot it.
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Post by perkele on Mar 2, 2016 15:28:32 GMT -5
Tarragonis IV
Hailing from the distant world of Kalevala, Captain Jan Itkonen found himself once again between a rock and a hard place. He and the rest of the men of the Kalevan 1st regiment had participated in the defense of their planet alongside the space marine chapter which called the planet home, the Steel Confessors. In the battle that had raged across the planet, the space marines had taken a beating and were now licking their wounds before resuming operational status some time in the near future. Meanwhile, the planetary defence force had endured an even worse bloodbath. At the end of the day, the Imperial forces had however prevailed. In honor of this, what remained of the PDF had been formed into a regiment of the Imperial Guard while the former PDF filled its ranks with underage youth and old men. Apparently the Imperial high command didn't expect Kalevala to be invaded in the near future, and given the threat the Tyranids still posed, they had decided to capitalize on the newly gained experience fighting the xenos these men possessed. Having expected some rest, the Kalevalan 1st was instead promptly shipped to another conflict zone, Tarragonis IV. Itkonen wondered if after this there would any men left in the regiment the men even now jokingly referred to as the Kalevalan 1st and what's left.
The moment he laid his eyes upon the landscape of the planet he knew he was going to hate every passing moment on the surface. He leaned on to the Leman Russ he commanded while his men made some repairs.
"How's it going?" he asked his driver, Rask.
"I've cleaned the worst of the dust from the engine, just need to install the filters still." Rask responded.
"Fucking desert piece of crap world." Itkonen muttered. The dust was truly a nuisance as it did not just suffocate the engine, it was found all over the cramped insides of the tank as well.
Itkonen glanced at the other crewmembers, some of who were smoking.
"Remember lads, you got to double up on the maintenance on this world dryer than your mom's pussies. Get to work and oil those guns!" he yelled.
The crew muttered in protest but quickly yielded. "I'll go see what's going on over there." Itkonen said, gesturing at the fighting positions nearby. "I'll be back in ten and I want the old dog back in war condition by then!"
He left the crew to work and started pacing towards a fighting position nearby. He was eager to get some idea of the surroundings and the strenght of the positions, as the idea was their armored platoon to work as a fire bridage in the event of a possible Tyranid breakthrough. He descended into one of the trenches and stumbled upon a strange looking guardsman. Further inspection revealed that indeed it was a woman. A woman in a short sleeved shirt and shorts. He remembered seeing something like that the last time as a drawn caricature on the wall of a public latrine aboard their transport ship.
"Praise the emperor." he muttered silently before regaining his composure. "Captain Itkonen, Kalevalan first, I'm in charge of the armor over there and I'm here to inspect your fighting positions." he introduced himself.
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Post by aliestor on Mar 5, 2016 12:47:06 GMT -5
Amadeus Aleistus, Magos Explorer of the Adeptus Mechanicus did not care much for the attention braught to the area, the Imperial and Leviathan presense was an inconvenience and interrouption to his very importaint work.
Being 347 years old Aleistus had experience and had faught in severals wars, first as an Enginseer where he conducted repairs in workshops and later on the front line. His time on the frontline was costly, an explosion lost him a lot of his human body but miraculesly he survived even loosing his heart.
His augmentations include a cybernetic left arm and leg, most of his organs, left eye and part of his brain had to be replaced and his blood is 100% syncthetic meaning his aumentations was genuanly needed and not just replaced to become closer to Omnissiah.
Before this he was a good Enginseer always saying all the right chants and following protocol but his age and experience coupled with with close encounters with death made him realize that you dont always need to chant to please the machine spirits. His change made him lose interest in fighting in wars and got consumed by the quest for knowledge. Due to his service and experience he was made Magos Explorer meaning he had a small fleet and facilities at his disposal which could further his quest for knowledge and turely make him closer to Omnissiah
Before the Imperium decided to combat the Leviathan hive in Tarragonis on Tarragonis IV; Aleistus was operating in the Segmentum Tempetus Sector conducting importaint excavations. He was asked to participate and fortify the imperial positions which likely would give him the change to explorer the catacombs of Attala and other settlements that may seem primitive but was build on top of much older settlements which may predate the Age of Strife in a time when the planet was green and beautiful.
Aleistus was inspecting the operating system of the flametowers his subordinates had erected with the help of his servitors who had been instructed to do the heavy lifting. Aleistus had lost his original voice and it had been replaced by a a digital one, it was not much different but to the trained ear it sounded more mechanical. To an outsider it would seem like he was conversing with the turrets or the machine spirits but in reality he was transfering commands. “1001111010110101001110011110001... 1001001000100010010... 1001001001001000100100010001... 10010101111000101010101001..” The turrets complied turning around, up and down and opening fire on critters on the ground glassing areas of the sand making big barbeque. The smell was terrible but he didn’t really care. He was pleased with the work.
Even in with the big traditional tech priest coat Aleistus was not bothered by the sun which was mainly due to his augmentations. He surveiled the front line looking out over the 1st Albionese Women's Battalions trenches, even through the were women and wearing an interesting uniform he had mostly transcended having a gender and was able to focus on fighting the tyranids and his own mision. If the tyranid made it through them they would be right on his fortifications. The flameturrets had a straight line of sight over the trenches but they were not the only fortifications. Behind them was several missile batteries and in front of the trenches mines had been burried under the top players of sand and deeper, but was it deep enough? Aleistus was unsure what to expect from the tyranids.
Most of his fleet was parked on the north side of Attala ready to take him and lucky survivors away in case the situation got too hairy, he had no intention to die for the emperor on this sandy rock. He had however left a few ships in the air above the city to cover the position Aleistus was no coward and he was intend on uncovering the secrets of the world. He looked out over the trenches again and found looked like the command bunker and decided to make his way there. On his way there most people moved out of the way for him, most looked stunned, others terrified and other facinated by his appeareance. He had 2 mechanical arms hovering over hi head attached to his spine and a few thinner smaller mechahical tendrils moving around he was wearing a sandy coloured rope which covered most of his cybernetic parts and a pair of googles . He armes and tendrils ducked under the doorframe and scanned the room and notice a single male in the room: “I was invited to participate in the defence of Attala” he said while moving forward and introduced himself he saluted the man with his unaugmented arm: “Amadeus Aleistus, Magos Explorer of the Adeptus Mechanicus; The position have been fortified hopefully the tyranid will not reach the trenches but if they dig below the mines we may have a problem, I have a few ships in the air and some on the ground ready to take us away if needed”
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Mar 5, 2016 13:46:37 GMT -5
"Captain Itkonen, Kalevalan first, I'm in charge of the armor over there and I'm here to inspect your fighting positions."
Agatha turned swiftly to face the newcomer, and saluted him. "Lieutenant-Colonel Agatha Windemere, 1st Albionese Women's Battalion" she declared, as you can see we are still fortifying our position. Although we've never faced bugs before, we've seen our fair share of combat against the galaxy's green-skinned brutes."
Agatha swept her left arm across the ongoing trenchwork before her and declared: "So far we've built three lines of trenches, with the rear ones equipped with their own dug outs for ammunition storage and safe resting places for the troops. All are connected by diagonal trenches to avoid enfilade fire. In the frontmost trench we are erecting fortified firing positions for our heavy stubbers. We are also setting up coils of razor wire."
The beast crept silently through the sand, invisible to all. All around it the two-legged creatures were running to and fro, carrying objects and shouting at each other. It could smell thousands of similar beings all around it, the stench of their sweat and excrements, the unnatural scent of their metal steeds. In silence it crept on, taking in every creature it saw, watching and sensing. It watched a couple of creatures unloading a length of shining and obviously razor-sharp material in coils across the sand before continuing on its path towards the trenches it had seen from a distance. Even more of the two-legged creatures were there, carrying boxes, chatting or digging in the sand to further expand the trench. From their smell and appearance, the beast deduced that they were females. However, unlike the females it had seen on other worlds, those were armed and exuded the menace and discipline of soldiers. The beast chose to remain cautious, and leaped over the trench, silent as a leaf floating on wind.
Further behind the trenches, the beast saw some of the ugly, menacing metal things that humans made to kill other beings. They reeked of adamantium, oil and electricity. The beast saw that some of the things moved on their own, as if imbued with some strange life, and others were simply the metal steeds that humans rode into battle. Suddenly, the beast caught the sound of two voices nearby, voices that exuded authority. The monstrous creature scuttled towards the voices and stopped at the edge of a trench where two humans, one male and one female, were talking. The creature watched and listened, deducing that these two humans were commanding figures. Perhaps they knew more of the plans the humans had to fight the hive?
The lictor, silent and invisible, followed the two humans. Their brains would surely be rich troves of information for the hive. As it crept along, it began to emit pheromones, pheromones that rose into the air, carried by the scorching heat exuded by the sun-baked sand. Pheromones that would soon find their way to other hive fleet scouts, and be relayed to the rest of their brethren.
The hive would soon be coming to the feast.
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Post by blackpapermoon on Mar 6, 2016 22:23:14 GMT -5
Tarragonis VI: badlands a few miles south of the Attala settlement
Amodeer was dead. The Eldar Ranger held the glowing Spirit stone in his hand, as light warmly pulsed and swirled within the gem. His friend and mentor’s soul was safe from being devoured by She Who Thirsts. That was perhaps his only solace in the rather precarious predicament that Nimmel and his fellow Rangers found themselves in. The camp was silent, the only sounds came from the blowing of the duststorm outside their protected rocky alcove. Thal’railion kept guard over the camp towards the entrance as Laerena meditated on her runes that protected them. That left Nimmel to care for Amodeer’s remains.
Their home Craftworld of Biel-tan had sent them to observe the Humans and their ongoing conflict with the tendrils of the Hive fleet Leviathan. The clumsy Humans had been wise to draw the Tyranid out to this barren world, but still their numbers swelled. The cacophonous psychic chitter of the Tyranids had grown louder and more painful in the minds of the Eldar over the last few days, by now even some of the Mon-Keigh could feel the distortion in the the warp.
Nimmel had walked the Path of the Warrior for many Terren years, mastering his emotions of rage, bloodlust and even fear. He walked the Path of the Dreamer but yet all of his dreams left him wanting and filled him with wanderlust. A powerful craving for freedom to experience the stars in their full glory; and thus he willing exiled himself from his Craftworld, to tread the dangerous Path of the Outcast. He had traveled the the galaxy, roamed with the Exodites on their worlds and had even joined a Corsair fleet for a short time. He had met Amodeer who helped to aid him in controlling his emotions that he had allowed go unchecked. Amodeer was a Pathfinder of the Craftworld of Alaitoc and was one of the oldest Rangers that Nimmel had ever met, and his death complicated things.
Nimmel was ready to rejoin his Craftworld and return to the Eldar path, this was to be his last mission as a Ranger. He was assured that Amodeer was going to see after the other members of the band namely the youngest and most wild Thal’railion. The young Eldar was extremely skilled with the Long rifle even amongst his race, he had added many deeds to the history of his rifle. However Thal’railion was reckless and at times unpredictable, he was prone to be lead by his emotional whims. He had perhaps been following the Path of the Artisan given that Thal’railion had been able to decorate the Wraithbone stock of his Long Rifle with intricate designs, the latest of which depicted The Red Death of Dûriel and the bittersweet victory over the Tyranid. The last member of the scouting band was Laerena, she had been a Warlock but something had scared her off the Path of the Seer and off the Craftworld. It was her past skill with runes that aided the band in keeping the Warp Shadow from overtaking their minds, her runes also kept their camp hidden from their foes. She blamed herself for Amodeer’s fall in the recent ambush by a Lictor who had come upon them as they returned from scouting the southern most human defenses.
“Amodeer was a fool,” the young Thal’railion spat pushing his lith body of of the rocky wall of their outcropping, as his figures curled up sharpy in harsh but subtle gesture. He was abrasive as always. Why Thal’railion always tried his patience Nimmel would never know.
“It is unwise to speak ill of the dead, brother,” Nimmel remarked not taking the bait, “one day you may need to seek advice of the spirits and none may heed your plea.”
The dark haired Eldar scoffed,
“We should have abandoned this camp and not returned, we must stay ahead of the swarms. Let the Mon-Keigh be our bulwark.”
It was a surprisingly tempered response, but lacked understanding of an escape should the worst come to pass. Amodeer had wanted to stay near the Webway portal, as not to become trapped on a doomed world.
“Do you believe that the Mon-Keigh can defeat the hive fleet here?” Nimmel asked.
“They haven’t the choice, the IllMureead would gain enough of a biomass here to go deeper into the system and threaten more important planets, besides can we risk this tendril doubling back to our territory.”
Nimmel paused, Thal’railion’s logic was sound, it would only be a matter of time before the Tyranid began to swarm north and their camp would be overrun. There would be no way to cloak their presence here then.
“Very well, once Laerena is done and the storm subsides we will find a new encampment behind the Mon-Keigh necropolis.” Nimmel said once again turning to Amodeer’s body. There was nothing left they could do for him; as much as he hated to leave the body here to be found by the humans or far worse a resource for the Tyranid, he had no choice. Burning the body would only draw their foes to them, the least they could do was make sure his gear did not fall into Human hands.
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Post by aliestor on Mar 13, 2016 14:35:16 GMT -5
OCC: “Blackpapermoon you need to get your people to the city otherwise you will be caught on the planet when we get overrun and retreat to another planet, there is enough room on the the fast ships waiting on the north side of the city, we are making a stand on the south side.”
After waiting and getting no answer Amadeus Aleistus realized there was no one in charge present in the bunker. He asked the people present in the bunker and got directed topside.
Meanwhle Aleistus second in command Theressa Dornius, a Magos Errant was consulting an other member of the crew the Logis; in charge of doing the math both expenditures and calculating risks involved with the expeditions, Lobos Urnus. The short version was the conversation was he was unable to give any reliable numbers on the probability of success against the Tyranids as the crew have never faced them before. Dornius was confident, she was sure it would be a bug masacre.
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Post by Commander Xillian on Apr 23, 2016 15:59:43 GMT -5
"Boost the signal, see if we can't pierce that interference."
Brother Boskys flipped a few switches on the consol of the Thunderhawk transport, watching as the comms Neophyte carefully worked the dials of the Voxstation aboard the dropship. The static was barely intelligible, but was transmiting co-ordinates that were coming through.
"Curious..." Boskys shook his head, frowning, and gave a rough rap on the side of the panel for the Comms, hearing something jiggle around inside. "Damned Engiseers need to repair the maintenance Servitors. Neophyte Christoph, get in there and fix that. Sounds like a Coupling came loose."
The Neophyte nodded, and grabbed a Hydrospanner from a nearby closet just inside the cockpit. The while of torque on bolts sang four times before the panel clattered down, and in short order the Neophyte gave a rough hiss, "It isn't a Coupling, Master Boskys, there was a short. I will try to assuage the machine spirits."
"Good lad," Boskys answered, and pressed up on the intercomm for the troop compartment, "My Lord, we are getting some odd chatter off the Vox, it is broadcasting co-ordinates. We are amending an issue, we should have details in a moment."
The door slid open as Xillian stepped into the cramped cockpit a moment later, putting a hand on the rear if the command seat, "Distress signal?"
"Likely," Boskys answered, "the broadcast is looping, and could be an automated call. Co-ordinates put it Fourty-eight miles from the Guard fortifications, under that dust-storm."
Xillian leaned in, looking out the Adamantine glass at the location the hud had marked. He chewed his tongue for a moment, "Make haste, Master Boskys. I am weary of that dust storm being just that."
The hum of the engines grew to a roar as the Thunderhawk moved out of position towards the Dust Storm, and half an hour later it was entering the atmosphere of the planet. The sound if wind whipping past the Thunderhawk drowned out most noise, as the intensity of the storm grew.
The Voxcaster roared to life without warning, and the sounds of Lasgun fire was prevalent behind the screams of the speaker, fighting to be heard over the storm, "This is Armor Trawler Hecagigantes, we have hostile contacts approaching our position. Repeat, armored trawler is under attack. This dust-storm is obscuring positions, and cannot gage enemy force size, but attacks have persisted for the last fifteen minutes. This message is set to repeat, please respond."
The Neophyte responsible for the repair pulled himself out of the cabinet, and a hand from Xillian yanked him to his feet, "It is done, my lords."
"Excellent work, took you long enough," Boskys said with a chuckle.
"The damage had left scarring on the connectors, Master," the Neophyte explained as Xillian listened more intently to the message, "The corruption had to be cleared off to allow the machine spirits life again."
Xillian rose and strode from the cockpit, "We are disembarking here Pilot. Drop the ramp," he called as he sealed his helmet on, "Brothers! To arms, the enemy assails an armor trawler carrying unknown assets. We are to recover the trawler and escort it to the Imperial Guard fortifications, to allow them access to these tanks.
"The darkness seeks to snuff out the light!"
"No fear!"
"The corrupt hide behind the innocent!"
"No remorse!"
"The enemy begs for annihilation!"
"No Mercy!"
The thrusters on his Marines jump packs flared to life as the ramp dropped, the howl of sand and wind drowning out all but the battlecry and the roar of jets as the Emperor's Torch plummeted from the sky on pinions of flame.
Ceramite on Rockcrete ground together with the force of landing, the barren deck of the Trawler devoid of life. Bolters and Flamers panned across the deck, eyes of hundred year veterans scanning for movement or things that stuck out.
"Visibility is shot," Remarked Vladimir, "by Jove this is a mean storm."
Xillian held the Black Blade close, his bolter slowly moving across the deck. He had not expected anything quite like this, the lasfire had sounded rather vigorous. The lack of blood could be attributed to the sandstorm covering it up somewhat, but there were no bodies either.
"This is Sergean Elizabeth," cracked the Vox, "Thank the Emperor you arrived."
"This is Champion Xillian, of the Emperor's Torch Crusade. We are here to ensure your safe passage," he replied, "Can you provide your location, Sergeant?"
"Aye, one moment my lord. We have locked the access ramps topside, but we have maintained control of the rear lift. If you head to the island, we shall come up to you."
"No need, Sergeant," Xillian said, motioning for his Marines to follow, "We shall be down momentarily."
The deck remained clear for the brief walk to the rear, and with a quick pulse of the jump packs, the squad landed upon the rear lift with a heavy thud. Two heavy bolter entrenchments sat pointed at them, though the gunners seemed more intent on sweeping for targets above their heads. The Guardswomen were all in a decidedly less practical garb than most regiments the Champion had seen, giving them a mixed appearance of frail and intimidating, due to the frills present in areas not covered by armor.
"My Lord," Sergeant Elizabeth briefly curtsied before slamming the close button for the lift doors behind the Marines, "We have had Tyranid contacts. They took the Island, and we can't move without it. We haven't the bodies to take and hold it, and our cargo is far too valuable to go unprotected."
Xillian looked behind the Guardswoman, and cocked an eyebrow under his helmet. Not one, but two mighty Stormlord super-heavy tanks. If not for the design of the Armor Trawler to carry such cargo safely to the front without risk of damage before arrival, they probably would have been lost to the sands.
"Why are you transporting these tanks," Xillian questioned, turning back to the Sereant.
"We found these two in an abandoned tomb," she explained, "We have been transporting them to Attala for two months now, or rather, the poor Jannissaries were. We relieved them about a week ago. As glad as they were to go, they didn't like the idea of abandoning a task when they were so close. We are about eight hours from finally getting these tanks back to our lines, but as close as we are, the Tyranids seem hellbent on making all of that effort wasted."
"Why do they not continue their assault?" Leomund questioned over the Vox, the implication clear in his voice.
"There were no Tyranids nor bodies on the deck above," Xillian said, "You relinquished the Deck?"
"Gargoyles, my Lord. They started carrying my girls into the air. I think they attacked us because of the movement because the moment the Island fell and we came to a stop, they tapered off."
"I would like to see them try that on us," Vladimir laughed, "it's been a while since we fought anything mid-air."
"Don't remind me," Talos groaned, shifting his footing, "Took me hours to scrub that Eldar blood off."
"We will engage the engine and hold the Island, Sergeant," Xillian replied, "Hold position here and protect the Stormlords."
Without further words, the Marines turned and stepped onto the lift, taking their orders. The Sergeant, albeit wide-eyed, opened the blast door to the lift again, and muttered a "Good luck, My lord," half in shock at the decisive statement as if the task had already been accomplished.
"Send us up, then leave open the blast door," Xillian ordered in parting, "We will ensure that none attempt entry from the rear, but we cannot risk the Tyranids attempting entry from the other lifts."
The lift lurched and began to ascend, "We hold here, My lord. We will keep these Relics secure."
The rumble of the lift came to a stop a few minutes later, and the marines stormed the Island meticulously. When they reached the top, broken glass and a few dead Termigaunts spoke of the last stand held here, with only three Guardsmen present on the floor. The Marines took up positions with their Bolters at the windows while two flamers were positioned towards the stairs. Xillian put his hand on the throttle on the command throne, and checked over his Marines one last time. Without a word, he pushed the throttle up, and the rumble of the engine grew into a hearty roar as the entire trawler began to shake.
"Ready yourselves," Boskys called over the Vox, "I have movement on the Auspice. This Sandstorm is keeping me from providing aerial cover, My Lord. I will need a beacon to commit a strike run."
"I read, Pilot," Xillian extended his free hand, accepting a beacon from one of his Marines, "If you see a marker, make the Fiends scream to their fool hivemind for it's blasphemy."
The shadows of figures on the deck were answered by bolterfire, and Xillian's eye caught movement by the lift. Charging from the island, he slammed a wall apart and dove off the elevated tower, his two-handed grip driving the Black Blade into the unfortunate Tyranid that was attempting entry. The battle for the Hecagigantes had begun."
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