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Futuristic The Return of the Primarchs (Warhammer 40k RP/PM for Interest in joining)

ValinoreanDawn

Namarië
The following narrative has been derived by both after action and eye witness accounts of the Defence of Valtmar from Hive Fleet Leviathan, Ork Waaagh! Hive-Killa, and 88 Legions of Khorne led by Ka’Bandha.
The aggregate account given for dissemination among Imperial High Command has been sanctioned and approved by the Holy Ordos of the Inquisition.

The Devastation of Valtmar

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.....<<DOWNLOADING COMMAND LINE:.....>>
///RETRIEVING FILES///
/APPROVAL REQUEST: GRANTED ORDO SUPREMIS/
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The destruction of Cadia and the smothering grasp of the Noctis Aeterna has plunged the Imperium into a near communication black out. Warp Travel is slow and hazardous even within the same Sector. While the enemies of Mankind circle and swarm the marooned worlds. Cut off from reinforcement and even plea for aid. Distress calls go unanswered across the Galaxy. The Sun Angels, fresh from the bloody wars on Armageddon and Cadia had returned to their homeworlds of the Valtmar Hegemony. A welcome respite except for the 3rd Company which remained on Armageddon to oversee successful follow-up operations. Save for the grave news which reached them in the waning weeks of the nine hundredth and ninety-ninth year of the forty-first millennium. Hive Fleet Leviathan had breached into the Galactic Disc from under its plane and was still making for Holy Terra. The only saving grace, ironically, was the conditions of the Noctis Aeterna slowing its tendrils grasp. Now, the Hive Fleet sought to follow a winding path and descend upon Terra via the north-eastern routes of the Segmentum Solar. Through the strategically important and stable region of space known as the Hegemonic Gate.

The Imperium was besieged, and Holy Terra was under Demonic assault. But even as these fragmented and weak astropathic communications came and went the threat loomed. As such it was through the wisdom of the Lord of Angels, Dante, that the Heavenly Host would marshal its strength in the Hegemony alongside all mustered and available Imperial assets. To blunt and if possible, defeat Hive Fleet Leviathan before it can gain access to the environs of the Sol System. The Imperium's presence in the region was great at least. The Hegemony was long a strong bastion of highly productive and populated worlds and more than one Forge World with numerous smaller Forge Fanes on lesser planets. While, reeling from the onset of the Noctis Aeterna significant Imperial assets had regrouped in rendezvous over the main worlds of Valtmar, Solaria, Hesperidium, and Belletyne. This would lead to the event known as the Devastation of Valtmar, or in Imperial Historical Accounts as the Battle of the Hegemony, as one of the largest Imperial campaigns waged in the closing days of the forty-first millennium. One that would involve millions of Imperial Guard soldiers, Aeronautica airmen, voidsmen of the Imperial Navy, and thousands of Astartes belonging to the Sun Angels and all their Successor Chapters.

Of the Imperial Navy and attendant Aeronautica Imperialis the mighty Battlefleet Valtmar was amassed under the command of newly minted Lord Admiral Sean van Zandt, an officer of Terran stock from the Merican Gulf Hive Cities. While the Imperial Guard was amassed and deployed under the overall command of Lord General Robiere d'King, also of Terran origin from the Northern Merican Baronial Hive Cities. While the Canonesses of the Shrines and Cathedrals on the worlds of the Hegemony were marshalled and composed of a priory from the Order of Our Martyred Lady, Sanguine Rose, and the entirety of the Order of Our Golden Queen. The Inquisition similarly mobilized the regional Deathwatch from their fortress in the Girdle at Ashfall alongside various Ordo Xenos inquisitors and their retinues to augment the tactical knowledge of other Imperial forces. While the Sun Angels accounted all their successors: Carmine Blades, Angels Excelsior, Angels Encarmine, Blood Knights, Blood Drinkers, Angels Sanguine, Angels Erythean, Angels Glorious, Angels Numinous, Angels of Light, Angels of the Grail, The Midnight Host, The Dark Knights, Angels of the Midnight Sun, Angels Penitent, Angels Vermillion, Golden Sons, Golden Palatines, Solar Templars, Solar Hounds, Sun Lords, and Blood Legion, Silent Wardens, Helican Brotherhood, Flesh Tearers, and Blood Dragons. Alongside, rather surprisingly, renegades in the form of the Night Lords, Angels Excruciators, and Crimson Host.


779.999.M41

The earliest indications of Hive Fleet Leviathan's approach were confirmed by listening station Rho-Hospex 14 in the Akkadian Shield asteroid belt in the Viltran System two point one light years away from Valtmar itself. The Viltran system with the worlds of Lys, Akoshara, and Galliena were part of a ring of systems known as the Angel's Halo. Just within the encircling nebula known as the Girdle of Myrromyne. The Angel's Halo being a ring of shield worlds and the outer most defenses of the Hegemony. It was here that the first battles of the war for Valtmar would be fought.

The very first contact was in orbit of the world of Akoshara. A dusty world but mineral rich and home to the large hive city of Akosha. Garrisoned by the 4447th Cadian Airborne. Dante, however, had not been complacent and had planned a rapid counterstrike once contact had been made. In coordination with an Imperial Fleet organized by Lord Admiral van Zandt and under the tactical command of Solar Admiral Vandred di Augusti the Imperials launched a massive naval sortie on the flank of the incoming tendril. However, the Hive Fleet upon passing through the Girdle and outer asteroid belts, primarily composed of ice, had adapted via secretions which hardened into thick diamond tough layers. The massed guns of the Imperial Fleet were less effective and gradually pushed aside by the sheer amount of Hive Ships arriving. Forcing an Imperial retreat once the fleet began to be overwhelmed.

The Battle of Akoshara began in earnest with Imperial Guard General Malor Ghresh sending frequent astropathic updates until the shadow in the warp obscured transmissions. The battle of Akoshara was lost in a matter of hours as the Guard and PDF forces of the Hive City fought a brave but ultimately futile defensive action that ended in a frantic withdrawal from the world.

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(Troopers of the 4447th Cadian Airborne's 5th Company defend evacuation sites amid the ruins of Hive City Akarosh)

784.999M41

It had only been a couple of days when it became clear that the Hive Fleet had fanned out in its pursuit of targets and a multi-pronged invasion of the Hegemony was underway with fierce orbital duels between Imperial Navy taskforces and ground-based void capable attack craft of the Aeronautica Imperialis erupted over Lys and Galliena. But also, on the world of Volgirre in the neighboring Voltaris system. The 4447th Cadian Airborne was sent to reinforce the 6777th Cadian Airborne at Volgirre while Dante coordinated the defenses of the increasingly besieged Angel's Halo shieldworlds.

Lord General Robiere d'King bolstered the defenses and launched tenacious counterattacks in areas of mass Tyranid infestation on both Lys and Galliena in engagements involving hundreds of thousands of Guard soldiers and millions of PDF. Even personally taking command on Galliena when General Feldt's HQ was overrun during the climactic Battle of Aureolus Hive and in a spirited defense involving eight regiments of the Arcite Patricians Heavy Infantry Regiments re-equipped from Forge World Solaria a repeat of the chaotic retreat from Akarosha was avoided. Allowing untold numbers of Imperial civilians and the orderly withdrawal of Imperial Guard forces from the world when it became evident that the planet would fall to the Tyranid Hive.

For as valiant and masterful as the Imperial defenses were, as tenacious its commanders, the Tyranids kept coming in their billions.

While on Lys the world became besieged and bypassed by the larger Hive Fleet after a spirited two-week defense and a daring strike using nuclear weapons that destroyed numerous Bioships and hive infrastructure across the planet. At the cost of 604 of the 1,000 Marines of Solar Hounds.

786.999M41

Approximately, 15 hours after bolstering the garrison on Lys and realizing the Hive Fleet is bypassing the world to penetrate deeper into the Hegemony, Dante, withdraws the Astartes forces from Lys and engages the Leviathan vanguard bioships near the Red Scar Nebula that juts across the Terra-Ward region of the Hegemony and the central worlds. The Hive fleet seemingly spreading out among the Nebula and its errant planetoids and asteroids as if searching for something. The Sun Angels and their successors eventually determine the Hive is hunting for an Inquisitorial Citadel belonging to the Ordo Xenos on the rogue planet of Maloris. The Astartes fight a sharp search and retrieval operation before destroying the infested fortress with a cyclonic torpedo. The object pursued by the Hive being a Xenos artifact of some sort, supposedly a weapon according to the Ordo Xenos, a fact proven true later on.

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793-850.999.M41

The Angel's Halo Enveloped...


The retrieval of the Xenos artifact seemed to galvanize the Tyranids and Hive Fleet Leviathan launched a full force, redoubled, assault on the Angel's Halo with fighting erupting all across the Hegemony from Saint Bellicosa Shrine World to the pearly blue skies of the Agri-world of Aera. On Saint Bellicosa the Order of Our Martyed Lady bolstered the morale of the Imperial 222nd Army under General Hektor Draviere and the Golden Sons 4th Company. While on Satyr among sprawling Industrial factories the Regiments of the Vostroyan Firstborns XXXth Army fought Tyranid Hormagaunts and Lictors alongside the Satine PDF. On Aera Valkyrie patrols and the bravery of the 44th Imperial Aeronautica Wing allowed the defenders time to secure themselves within fortified settlements. Through the vast hab-stacks of the great city of Phodia on Asphodex whose levels and avenues became choked with alien dead. While on Tartaros the Valhallans and Vostroyan Tank Regiments fought amid poisonous mists to protect the city-domes of the world. In each of these emerging battlefields it seemed the Imperium would prove victorious. But at the cost of countless Imperial lives.


///Accessing Audio-Video Log///
<Strategium Session 016/Arx Sol Angelicum>

The Fortress-Monastery of the Sun Angels on Valtmar was as much an imposing citadel as it was aesthetic beauty. Angelic statues, golden and silver crenelations and filigree in the stonework, stained glass windows, and marbled floors. The City of Valtmeris encircled the mountain-top fortress in wide semi-crescent. Home to millions. The City of Diamond Spires. It was truly a hallmark for when the Primarch, the Golden Queen, of the Sun Angels still walked amongst her sons.

Heavy boots fell on the marbled floor as the armored form of Dante entered the large strategium room held in the third sublevel of the Tower of the Sun. Lord Admiral Sean van Zandt stood off to the side with a dozen naval officers and aides while the rest of the room was filled with the rank and file of Lord General Robiere d'Kings command staff. A pair of Sanguinary Guards, the golden honor guard of the Sun Angels, flanked Dante as he arrived. The Lord of Angels presence eliciting a bow of all those present.

While scrutinizing a large holographic projection of the planet was the Imperial Govenor of the Hegemony, the Solar Regent, Penn Hyran. It had been tradition for millennia, since the Primarch herself, that the Regent be a mortal.

"Status Report," said Dante.

Van Zandt spoke first, "It is as expected. The Xenos continue their tactic of besieging and then bypassing the shieldworlds. The Angel's Halo shall be fully besieged in a matter of days."

"We must assume the Tyranids are already nearing the inner worlds."

Dante reached up and removed the beautiful, grim, battle mask that had the features of his Primarch. His face was chiseled and finely featured. High cheekbones and noble brow. Long black hair and bright eyes with a hint of red like all the Sons of the Golden Queen. His mouth's movement showed glimpsed of elongated canines. The retractable fangs another feature of the Chapter and their successors gene-seed.

"I concur with the Lord General. We must make final preparations."

"I shall assume field command aboard the Domina Solari." The Emperor-Class Battleship was one of the principal command ships of Battlefleet Valtmar and served as the flagship of Van Zandt.

Dante nodded. He had pulled back nearly all of his Astartes to the inner worlds in anticipation of this.

///Log End///

850.999.M41

The Waaagh! and Battle of Arcane-Vangelis...

Whether by coincidence or the Emperor's intervention, the Tyranid assault on the inner worlds did not come as expected. The reason for which becoming all too clear in the early days of the final year of the 41st Millennium for the Imperial defenders. Waaagh! Nid-Killa under Warboss Krull Ur Maulla, a protege of Ghazghkull, who favored the attritional combat of fighting the Tyranids above all, came crashing into the region. Assaulting the Hive Fleet from its Rimward flank in a bloody path across Galliena, Lys, and Saint Bellicosa. For the most part the Orks largely ignored the beleaguered Imperials and fought in massive engagements against the Tyranid swarms. While in the void thousands of Greenskin ships, a vast armada, rampaged through the Hive Fleet regardless of losses.

However, this only slowed down the Tyranid invasion of the inner worlds and the main tendril of the Hive entered the inner sphere of worlds bound for the twin worlds of Arcane and Vangelis....


The Battle of Arcane-Vangelis 878-899.999.M41
///<ENGAGING RECORD FILE>\\\
FILE BEGIN:


When the Nid's arrived in the vicinity of Arcane & Vangelis, twin worlds orbiting a common barycenter, they were met by a carefully orchestrated trap to lure the Tyranids into a costly assault, already fighting multiple fronts and now assaulted by the tireless Greenskins, it was hoped the xenos hive fleet would be blunted or at least parried here. Lord General Robiere had organized a fearsome terrestrial defense with no less than six million Guardsmen, hundreds of millions of planetary defense troops, and backed by the Skitarii and Battle Automata of the Vangelis Forge-Fane Magi. Further, the Astartes of the Angels of the Grail, Midnight Host, and Dark Knights had been deployed. Over 3,000 Marines. While I, Lord Admiral van Zandt, had organized a hammer and anvil of no less than thirty battleships, eight cruiser squadrons, and over one hundred screens.
-Combat Journal of Lord Admiral Sean Van Zandt, dated 875.999.M41

///<File Ends>\\\

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(Imperial Titans of the Legio Solaris counter-attack Hive Spires alongside the Death Korps 62nd Army and Tanks of the Nemesis Brigades)

Hive Fleet Leviathan struck at Vangelis first and the skies of the world became alight with thousands of AA guns, missile batteries, and las-cannon emplacements. Ground based macro-cannon batteries fired their tank sized shells at descending bio-ships while flocks of Imperial Attack Craft engaged swarms of Tyranid fliers in the skies above the Forge-Fanes and urban conurbations. The Imperials were dug in and tight coordination between Guard and Mechanicus forces had been achieved via constant liaison attaches and noospheric links.

On Vangelis the Tyranids swarmed over the sweltering sandy planes and toxic waste-dunes in their millions before the trap laid by Lord General d'King was unleashed. At his signal aboard the mobile battlestation Archangel, the Fortress-Monastery of the Solar Templars that had been deployed in reserve at the last moment by Dante, once it became clear the full might of the Hive Fleet's main tendril was targeting the twin worlds. The Templars, a crusading chapter, had accordingly mustered some 4,000 Marines, in orbit.

At 1100 Hours new suns erupted on Vangelis as the Imperium and Mechanicus unleashed a barrage of 288 Deathstrike Missile Platforms, 426 Bombards, 1,104 Manticores, and 7,499 Basilisks. Billions of Tyranid Bio-Forms and dozens of emerging Hive Spires were destroyed in the apocalyptic atomic barrage and follow up counter-attack with the more conventional Guard artillery. While in orbit the hammer of the Imperial Navy engaged in conjunction with the anvil arriving on the flank of the Hive Fleet.

Thousands of Tyranid Bio-Ships were destroyed in the furious assault that also included the guns of the Archangel and Astartes fleets of the Solar Templars, Angels of the Grail, Midnight Host, and Dark Knights.

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It seemed the Imperium would strike a grievous blow against Leviathan when the Hive fleet split and pushed forth with larger ships not yet seen before. Ships that lowered to orbit and out of vast sacs birthed creatures of monstrous proportions, rivaling Imperial Titans and Knights in size. Leviathan had deployed a force gestating all this time. Cohorts of Bio-Titans, dozens of Heirophants, Dactylis, and Harridans backed by pairs of Dominatrix synapse Titans deployed along a fresh wave of millions of lesser Tyranid bio-forms on not only Vangelis, but also striking at Arcane in a furious orbital assault in conjunction with an insidious Genestealer cult uprising in the bowels of Arcane's cities.

The Genestealer cult was however small and new in number. Likely seeded only weeks before and as such targeted only one specific objective. The city void shield arrays. The coordinated assault damaging the void shield generators sufficiently to cause their collapse and swarms of Tyranid monstrosities landed directly onto the city streets. Forcing the Imperials and Astartes of the Dark Nights to fight an abrupt urban fight across hundreds of levels and hundreds of square kilometers.

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(Imperial Guardsmen and PDF Troopers battle Genestealers on Arcane)

All while this was occurring the Hive Mind introduced a startling new tactic not seen before in either the First or Second Tyrannic Wars. Leviathan launched coordinated boarding actions of Imperial warships. Swarms of Tyranid attack ship sized bio-craft engaged the point defense batteries of the Imperial Navy and even managed to board several vessels. Disgorging Genestealers and Tyranid Hormagaunts into the decks of Imperial vessels. Several ships were lost in this furious surprise boarding action, those lucky enough to overload their engines detonated with the force of a new star while the might Retribution Battleship Adrasti, overran with 90% crew dead, and genestealers about to breach the Enginarium overloaded its warp-drive while on collision course for the center of the Hive Fleet. Detonating in furious storm of vibrant magenta and orange the ship disintegrated and took thousands of Tyranid ships with it into the warp.

///Ship Log Uploading....
They've breached the outer blast doors!
The voice of the ships officer of the watch, a redheaded woman by the name of Sabine, shouted as she drew her las-pistol. Lord Admiral van Zandt clasped his hands behind his back as he continued to issue fleet orders. The kill ratio in the void was impressive, 57 to 1 in attack craft and 93 to 1 in ships but they were losing, slowly. The Hive just had more and more to throw at them. Fresh waves of hundreds of bio-ships arriving on sensor read outs and auspex array projections by the minute. Thousands of attack craft and over one hundred and thirty-four imperial navy ships had been lost in the course of the engagement. They just kept coming. The mass of a moon was descending on Arcane and Vangelis each.
They're at the antechamber annex! Lost contact with Deck 37 through 42! Enginseer Norstrum is readying emergency overload protocols on your mark Lord Admiral. Lord Admiral?!
Van Zandt due his twin side arms, a laspistol and a bolt pistol, turning towards the blast doors as they began to dent and heat with whatever sick bio-acid was being belched upon them.
Ready Reactor Overload on my Command.

///Ship Log Ends\\\
The Domina Solari had been boarded by dozens of clawed Tyranid bio-breachers disgorging thousands of creatures and genestealers onto the decks of the mighty Emperor-Class Warship. But still its guns fired and the armsmen sacrificed themselves in a merciless hall by hall, compartment by compartment, siege and counter-assault action. But the Imperium in space was being overwhelmed and the wrecks of both bio-ships and starship hulls began to rain down upon the twin worlds like the fury of a vengeful god.
<<CAUTION: INQUISITORIAL FILE REDACTED BEING ACCESSED>>
INPUT AEGIS ULTRA AUTHORIZATION GENE-CODE
INPUT ONE HUNDRED AND NINETY-THREE CIPHER CODE
OCULI SENSOR READING PROCESSING
WARNING FAILURE TO COMPLY WITH ALL INQUISITORIAL VERIFICATION METHODS IS GROUNDS FOR IMMEDIATE BIO-TERMINATION
WOULD YOU LIKE TO PROCEED?...[YES] NO

ACCESSING FILE/INQUISITION NOTIFIED.


You're certain Inquisitor?-Dante
Yes, Lord of Angels I am certain. This is the Magnitovitrium as described by compiled research among the Conclave.-Lord Inquisitor Harken Valquameda
May we use this weapon? What is its tactical usage to us. As abominable as that may seem.-Dante
Truly abominable but the theoretical is no less than the temporary creation of a gravitational implosion anomaly roughly 26 million kilometers in diameter.-Lord Inquisitor Harken Valquameda
Has this been?-Dante
Tested. No. But observed. The Grul-Stran Incident a century ago in the Ghoul Stars matches this very artifact. Further, interrogation of Xenos captured from Necrontyr tomb worlds corroborates this finding.-Lord Inquisitor Harken Valquameda
But you would advise against this, no?-Dante
I would advise against the use of any Xenos weapon, officially. But these are desperate times. The Halo is breached and communication with the wider Imperium is cut off while the Shadow in the Warp smothers the region.-Lord Inquisitor Harken Valquameda
Unofficially, I would demand this device be remit to my keeping.-Dante
Very well. May the Golden Throne protect our souls.-Lord Inquisitor Harken Valquameda

<<FILE ACCESS TERMINATED>>
As the Imperial Fleet began to be forced into gradual disarray and individual captains began to retreat as their hails to the Domina Solari went unanswered. The Imperial forces on Arcane and Vangelis began to feel the full un-mitigated might of the Hive Fleet as billions of Myocetic spores rained down upon them. On Arcane the Dark Knights stood shoulder to shoulder with the forces of the Guard and local PDF as they were forced back into the upper hive citadels and barracks-fortresses. Millions of Imperial citizens, like those on Akarosha, slaughtered by the Tyranids and fed to the gestation pools being formed across the planet.
While on Vangelis Imperial Titans dueled Tyranid Bio-Titans with Princeps Gallaceni valiantly sacrificing herself and her Warlord engine to buy time for Imperial forces to fall back to inner Forge-Fane defenses bound by rivers of magma mined from the planets mantle. The situation was growing increasingly dire by the hour as the Tyranids through themselves at the bridges across the magma rivers. Bridges that were blown by the defenders when they became precarious amid spiraling casualties, and while millions of civilians had managed to cross millions more remained trapped on the other side. Whether to spare them or not a second barrage of atomic weapons was unleashed upon the Tyranids in the outer forge fane districts and beyond. The Guard and PDF closing themselves in rad-shielded bunkers or donning anti-radiation equipment. The Death Korps volunteering to hold the river perimeter while the defense reorganized. Fighting a hit and run war in the inner defensive works and walls against infiltrating Lictors alongside the marines of the Midnight Host and Angels of the Grail.

It was now when Dante struck with the Sun Angels, Knights of Blood, and Angels Excelsior. The Knights of Blood combat dropped onto Arcane while the Angels Excelsiors 1st Company conducted a rapid breach boarding action and placement of the Magnitovitrium in the core of a massive Bio-Ship believed to be coordinating various Hive elements. However, the Hive Mind caught onto the threat and the 1st Company could not exfiltrate and stoically activated the weapon while sending a singular transmission: For the Emperor.
The detonation of the Magnitovitrium manifested in a rapidly expanding gravitational vortex. An artificial black hole and warp-null zone that winked out of existence a planets worth of Tyranid bio-ships in a matter of seconds. The Sun Angels combat dropped onto Vangelis as the Hive Fleet went into disarray and the voice of Van Zandt came over the vox detailing the repelling of boarders and rapid fleet counter-offensive was underway.

The Sun Angels at Chapter strength landed and drove the disorganized Tyranid ground forces before them like fire in a wheat field.
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(Sun Angels Terminators engage Tyranids on Vangelis)
The Siege of the Inner Worlds

///Log Access Granted\\\
We'd repelled the Tyranid's from Arcane and Vangelis but at what cost? Estimates could only be guessed but at least 66% of the civilian population both planets were dead or consumed by the Hive Fleet. Imperial Guard casualties exceeded 72% with most Regiments below combat effective strength ratios. The Mechanicus fares little better with a sardonic report that at least 64% of all combat assets were lost or 'inoperable'. The Legio Solara reported the loss of 11 Engines and critical damage to 9 others. The Sororitas remarked a reported loss of 3,300 Battle-Sisters while the Astartes have been tight lipped, but eye-witness testimonies seem to corroborate a guess of around 820 fallen members of the Adeptus Astartes.
A victory but a hollow one.
-Lord General Robiere d'King, Campaign Journal Entry 22
///Log Ends\\

The use of the Magnitovitrium may have salvaged and dealt a bloody blow to the Hive Fleet. Buying precious days as the xenos were observed chaotically attacking Imperial and even Ork forces with little benefit. Seemingly, struggling to reorganize and re-orient its predatory path through the region. Solar Regent Penn Hyran had however been vigorous in the war effort and as much as the casualty lists spiraled so to do the conscriptions. Twenty-two million souls were enrolled into the Imperial Guard and PDF across the Hegemony and a hundred million more pressed into levee labor services to fortify the inner worlds. Reinforcements were sent to the beleaguered shieldworlds to keep them in the fight and a monumental logistical task of supplying their besieged populations was carried out around the clock under the supervision of the Solar Regent. Truly, the fact the Shieldworlds were holding as best they could and remaining in the struggle was testament to her administrative and economic acumen.

But the tactical and strategic front had remained grim. The Orks had gradually began to diversify their targets and now Imperial bastions were coming under Ork assault as well as Tyranid. While the Astropathic Choir had confirmed that the main mass of the Hive Fleet had crossed into the region. Much to their strain and madness, a struggle that saw the deaths of no less than a dozen Astropaths, but to their credit the psykers of the Astropathica kept to their stations and did their duties. Monitoring for communications.

922.999.M41
A Cautious Hive Mind....

The Tyranids had pulled more than one surprise and that had given both the agents of the Inquisition and the officers of the Imperial forces in the region pause. The Astartes Chapter Masters rightfully assumed the Hive Fleet was evolving and learning at the tactical level and not just blindly funneling in resources like previous Hive Fleets were expected to do. A fact most apparent when the Hive Fleet struck at the Saint Sabine Naval Port in the outskirts of the Inner Worlds. A large naval bastion as the furthest orbit from the triple sun system that the inner worlds sat within. Admiral Cubrick had been in command and the swiftness of the attack was unprecedented from the Tyranids. Complete with genestealer subterfuge that distracted the station and a massive assault by both long range attack-fliers and fast assault bio-ships the Tyranids scored a rapid victory. Destroying the port and reducing both a cruiser and escort squadron to drifting debris.

The Tyranids progressed much slower now. Taking a circuitous route and utilizing comparatively minuscule tendril fleets to probe Imperial defenses grouped in a series of spheres around the inner worlds. The Astartes Fleets and Imperial Navy fighting a series of intercept, rearguard, and delaying actions across the system. It was clear that the Hive Mind was trying to force the Imperials into a decisive void engagement in which to be overwhelmed and destroyed. A dour reminder of the pernicious tenacity of the malicious intelligence behind the Tyranid swarm.

Meanwhile Dante had pulled all Astartes forces back to the inner worlds in exchange for two million Guardsmen being deployed to Arcane, Vangelis, and the Shieldworlds. The inevitable was coming...

955.999.M41

On the Feast of the Sanguine Ascension the skies of Valtmar lit up as the Imperial Fleet and Astartes ships in orbit opened up their batteries on the incoming Tyranid Bio ships. Hundreds of Imperial vessels dueled a seemingly endless stream of Xenos bio-ships in the space around Valtmar. Lance batteries tracing the night sky in fine beams of light. Macro-batteries forming millions of tiny starlight pinpricks. While swarms of Imperial attack craft juked and dived amid vast hosts of smaller Tyranid bio-craft.

The Astartes Fleet arranged in four battlegroups under the command of Master of the Fleet Bellerophon accounted for 31 Battle Barges and 104 Strike Cruisers with hundreds of smaller ships arranged themselves over Valtmar and Hesperidium while the Imperial Navy supported the protection of the inner worlds alongside a Mechanicus Fleet from the Forge World of Solaria. The latter accounting for over a thousand ships including forty-five operational battleships. But the Tyranids had thrown over fifty-thousand bioships to each world with more in reserve.

The sky above Valtmar erupted in a firestorm as the vessels of the Space Marines slammed their way into the midst of the approaching Tyranids, launching storms of nuclear-tipped warheads. The Tyranid fleet took grievous losses amounting to over 300 Hive Ships and an untold number of lesser vessels. As impressive as this naval action was, it was hopeless. One by one, Space Marine Battle Barges and Cruisers were isolated and overwhelmed, battered by organic missiles and enveloped by swarms of smaller bio-ships. The entire Angels Excelsior Chapter was wiped out defending the orbital dockyards and grav-elevators of Hesperidium, and a second Tyranid fleet of tens of thousands of more bio-ships revealed itself from behind the moon Ballastine. The remnant of the Astartes fleet was helpless as this force began landings on Baal and its two moons.

The Imperials constructed a 4-layer defensive line consisting of not only Space Marines and heavy cannon batteries but also a moat of Thirst Water and large amounts of Conscripts and Regiments of Imperial Guard brutally held in place by Chaplains and Commissars. The first twenty waves, each larger than the last, were driven off at great loss by the Imperial forces. However, the Imperials held firm, in large part because of the Valtmeris Void Shield array which protected them from heavy artillery and flyer organisms. The Tyranids countered the Thirst Water moat by filling it with their own bodies, allowing for larger Tyranid Warriors, Carnifex's, and Exocrines to cross. This allowed the first line to fall, and the Space Marines covered the retreat of the mortal conscripts back to the walls. However, the Tyranids were still unable to penetrate the Void Shield, and the Hive Mind quickly adapted. A Lictor behind Imperial lines identified a derelict tunnel deep beneath the Fortress-Monastery which Trygons tore open. The Lictor along with a large amount of Genestealers infiltrated the depths of the Fortress, with the latter launching themselves at the hall containing the sarcophagi of Neophytes undergoing Insanguination. This enraged the Space Marines, and Dante himself led the counterattack to save their next-generation of warriors. However the Hive Mind had counted on this diversion, and in the meantime the Lictor disabled the Void Shield generator. The Imperial position reversed dramatically as the Tyranids began overrunning the Fortress-City. Five Chapter Masters died in the desperate battle, including three in the Dome of Angels alone.

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(Sun Angels battle the Tyranids amid the Fortress-City of Angels, Valtmeris)


Gabriel Seth and his Flesh Tearers initially held the Sun Angels Aspirant training facilities while the Carmine Blades held the Astropathic Station. The Space Marines initially held their own thanks to formidable, recommissioned Apostasy-era fortifications and weaponry, but the presence of the Swarmlord himself turned the tide in favor of the Xenos. Dante managed to slay the Swarmlord, but was badly wounded in the process. It was upon this that the Xenos readied a massive assault using what appeared to be all reserves. Throwing a quarter of a million Bioships into the battles on Valtmar, Hesperidium, and Solaria.

A trillion myocetic spores fell upon the inner worlds as untold billions of Tyranid bioforms emerged. The grievously wounded Dante carried on the command of the defense of the City of Angels even as the inner sanctums were breached after a month of constant battle.

~980-999.999.M41

The Last Stand of Angels...

As the Tyranids breached into the inner sanctums of the Sun Angels Fortress-Monastery and the Forges of Solaria were being overrun while Hesperidium's cities lay in ruin and alight with the fires of chaotic warfare. Lord Admiral van Zandt carried out a desperate struggle in space even as half of the Imperial Fleet in the region was destroyed or crippled and forced to retreat. Even as his own flagship the Domina Solari suffered heavy damage and trailed debris and smoke trails. While on the ground Lord General Robiere d'King, most of his command staff dead in the fighting as thrice his command post was breached by Tyranid bioforms, had taken up position in the confines of the Tower of Sun with himself personally plugged into the data-stream watching overwatch and signal transmissions across the battlespace.

The Sun Angels were down to a couple hundred Marines, also the Flesh Tearers who had suffered similar casualties on Hesperidium. The Angels Excelsior, Angels Excruciators, and Crimson Host had been all wiped out. The Solar Hounds, 400 survivors from their battles in the Angel's Halo gave their lives in a heroic last stand defending the evacuation of civilians at the Angel's Gate Spaceport. The Angels Penitent was down to seventy marines fighting with the one hundred and thirty-four survivors of the Dark Knights defending the Reliquary Halls of Ancients. While the remnants of the Solar Lords, Midnight Host, and Angels Numinous defended the Dome of Angels. While the Tower of Angels perimeter was being held by the Solar Templars and Angels Sanguine. The Angels Glorious had made a self-sacrifice to destroy a major Hive Synapse complex and allowed several other chapters and dozens of Guard regiments and PDF brigades to retreat to the inner sanctums and bunkers. The Chapter serfs stood armed beside their Astartes masters with remnants of Guard regiments grouped around Astartes positions. The Sororitas of the Order of Our Golden Lady and the Golden Palatines still held the inner basilica of the Cathedral of Our Blessed Queen which also possessed bunkers holding a hundred thousand civilians.

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(Flesh Tearers Battle Tyranids on Hesperidium)

This was it; Leviathan had gambled it all and had overwhelmed the Imperial defenses, all other strongholds across the region besieged or otherwise cut off. Then the skies rent asunder as the Cicatrix split the Galaxy, Warp Storms erupting, and the Astronomican while flickering in the final days of M41 went dark. Emerging from the Warp Storms came a bellowing roar as Ka'Bandha, Arch-Nemesis of the Sun Angels descended onto Valtmeris with eighty-eight legions of Khornate demons. Swearing that it would be it that would destroy the sons of the Golden Queen once and for all. The Demons of Khorne drove into the untold numbers of Tyranids and all hell broke loose across Valtmar as the skies rained blood and the plains and fair valleys of the world became slick with xenos blood and demonic ichor.

The rich fields of Valtmar burned, the forests and snow capped mountains ran red, and the skies darkened crimson-black.

The arrival of the Great Rift and Daemons prevented additional Tyranids from arriving but killed every defender upon Hesperidium. With the Hegemony itself cut off from the greater Imperium, Chapter Masters ordered a desperate call back to all defenders across the Inner Worlds to consolidate on Valtmar or Solaria. Only the sacrifice of the Knights of Blood, an excommunicated Successor Chapter who had nonetheless been accepted as allies by Chapter Master Dante, allowed the survivors to board their vessels and escape, as Hesperidium was overwhelmed by warp-spawned monstrosities. As Seth’s forces retreated, they caught one last glimpse of the Knights of Blood, hurling themselves into the thick of close combat with mindless ferocity, fully enveloped by the madness of the Black Rage.

It all seemed lost until the flickering signal appeared at the edge of the Valtmar system. Signals bearing codes from Holy Terra itself.

<<This is Titus Ironborn, Valtmar Control Respond, we are attacking the rear of the Tyranid Hive Fleet and inbound to make planetfall in four hours>>.

The Hive Fleet was broken as the incoming Indomitus Crusade reached the Hegemony and the forces of Khorne were expelled in a furious campaign led by a returned Primarch of the God-Emperor of Mankind. A swift rebuilding scheme enacted to restore the Sun Angels numbers and those of their successors. While Primaris Marines were also used to refound destroyed and wholly new chapters.

It is now 131.M42 and the Imperium's survival is still precarious.
 
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M42
World of Parsarius

A Primarchs home…

City of Coronet.

Detailed Imperial Units in defense:

109th Harakoni (Understrength)
173rd Cadian Mechanized (understrength)
1037th Composite Parsarian Rifles (Irregular Unit, Understrength)
Coronet City Arbites Units
Order of the Lady’s Rest (Minor Sororitas Convent, Understrength)


Status: Urgent, Sector level support requested.

Loading…No units currently in the area.

Winter Contingency is in effect. The shrine of St. Elia’s rest must not fall. Coronet City must not fall. Winter Contingency is in effect, the Primarch’s home must not fall.

Winter Contingency call acknowledged, Raptors Chapter Inbound, Retributors Astartes Chapter inbound, Lamenters Chapter inbound. Astral Glaives Chapter inbound (Unconfirmed)

Hold. The. Line.


The Sky was on fire. The Aegis array barely holding under the withering fire of the Tau bombers as they battered it with their railcannons. They had been up to this for hours now, swooping down low to avoid the heaviest of the Defense laser grid for strafing runs, with only the wreckage of a scant few of them marking where the ancient defense cannon had been able to catch them as they attempted to speed above the shield.

They had 200,000 Civilians sheltering in the city and the Xenos had resorted to mass bombardment from conventional artillery on top of their bombing runs, obviously having never come against something as sturdy as an Aegis array.

Staff Sergeant Clare Brunhild watched the lightshow from her gun pit. Her lass rifle at the ready near her shoulder. That shield array would stop orbital bombardment and prevent the faster units from penetrating, but she knew from intel reports over the Vox that enemy infiltration units were already being dropped in to search for the reactor complex powering both it and the few still operating Defense lasers.

They had come in a few nights earlier, using the system’s star to mask their approach and quickly waylaid the local defense picket. They had guard units with them, a mauled Cadian armored unit on leave, and a small spattering of Harakoni on the same ticket.

Still, the left most of the outer city and its defenses up to the Blue hats, and she didn’t fancy her odds considering her platoon only had a single Hunter Killer missile team and a few spare single use Krak rocket launcher and the Xenos, those blue skinned tau karkers had bloody dreadnoughts and knights, or what ever passed for those, among their kin.

Unfortunately for the first few infiltrator units, they had met the battle sisters protecting both the Shield array and the reactor complex, and their first go on the largest of the Defense laser cannons had been met by the Harakoni counter dropping right on top of them.

A call came over the Vox that brought her out of her day dreaming. “D Platoon, this is Battalion CP, you have stragglers running for your position, the Harakoni are running them down, preparing to be their back stop.”

“Afirm.”

Shouldering her rifle, she checked it over while barking orders. “Look alive folks, those Drop troopers are pushing the bluies to our killbox, check targets and leave none alive!” a cheer came up as her platoon of around 20 men did the same. She had a full rifle section, an AT team, a heavy stubber team and a Cadian Chimera on standby for support. They were covering a T intersection. Her stubber team was situated in the building behind her, an old Cafe, and the AT team opposite. The rest of her riflemen were situated in gun pits and foxholes dug in to the concrete with overlapping fields of fire

They went quiet as the sounds of battle neared. Then, through the mist of fog and the clouds of pulverized concrete came the soft whining as one of their APCs, something called a Devilfish, swerved into view, a krak missile missing it by a hair’s breadth and impacting an apartment building. It corrected itself and accelerated down the avenue before swerving into the intersection, its chin gun sending bolts of blue plasma down at the shadowed form of the Harakoni as they danced from cover to cover, some even sprinting across rooftops as they fired potshots at the grav tank as it steadied for another shot.

Suddenly one of her platoon fired a Krak rocket into its side, tearing open a hole in its side as the vehicle lurched and died, dropping to the ground with a thump while its rear doop fell open. Stumbling out came the forms of tau fire warriors, looking dazed and swinging their long rifles out in random directions only to be met by the bark of the heavy stubber team opening up from behind and above her.

She and her gun pit opened up with their lass guns as the first few Tau were stiched up by high caliber tracer fire, covering the emerging xenos with multiple streams of lead and hellfire. In a moment they were all dead, cracked and holed armor, scorched and blasted meat.

Emerging from her foxhole, bayonet ready she was flanked by her own squad, two firemen, a grenadier, and a pair of lost arbites hastily conscripted to act as her personal bodyguard, shotguns at the ready. Bayoneting the first body, she and her squad did the same to the rest before the arbites chucked a pair of frags into the hull of the APC to make sure, a pair of muted thumps registering their detonation.


She raised her hand to the vox report the action when a glint of blue caught her eye and she looked skyward only to see the form of a tau dreadnought, a battle suit, leveling one of its plasma guns on her squad. “Cover!” she screamed as she dove for the street, only to be picked up and thrown by the force of the plasma blast that threw her squad in all directions. Landing on her back, she gazed up, dazed and numb as the thing went about dispatching her other gunpits with its plasma guns as it rocketed up into the air.

It was then the Chimera answered, its lass cannon opening up on the suit as it jerked in an attempt to avoid it. Swinging its guns to the APC it fired a return shot that reduced the turret to slag just as the gunner found their mark, spearing the suit dead center and burning a hole through its chest plate as it went limp and fell to the ground.

Clara looked back up at the sky, the world going dark just as she saw a storm forming in the twilight...



The Bridge of the Arethusa’s Wrath.
Somewhere in the warp.

The man stood over the console as he quickly pressed buttons and imputed commands. Ancient consoles blaring to life, long dead power circuits once again coming to life for the first time in until millenia.

Behind him, the deck rumbled with the noise of giant, metallic footsteps. A voice, low and smooth, spoke out. “Is it time, Gene Father.”

The man stood over the consoles as the massive form of the ancient behemoth lurched forward, long dead plasma drives sparking to half life and nearly burning themselves away at the strain. “Indeed, Macharius, indeed it is.” He pointed out the front of the windows as the formless, shapeless unreality before them gave way to a golden light. “A rift is opening, I just received a garbled transmission over my personal receiver, wake the others, the long war continues.”

“What does it say, Gene Father.”

“Our home is under threat.”


High Orbit above Parsarius.


Reality broke as the warp rift opened amid the Tau fleet, tearing vessels in half and utterly crippling others with bolts of arcane energy and tendrils of warp fire as the realms material and immaterial met and savaged the Xenos vessels with energies they were ill equipped to deal with.

Out from the portal, amid the still burning wreckage came something of utter nightmare. A vessel, a singularly massive behemoth that defied Tau understanding emerged prow first, its potmarked and scorched bow beholding a blazing sigil of a five fingered hand clutching a dagger.

As the beast emerged it gained speed, its titanic bow catching a still disabled Or’rs El’leath class ship, the command vessel of the fleet, and shattering it utterly under its titanic weight. Their command and control ship lost the xenos fleet scattered as the massive battleship, now identified to be an Imperial vessel unlike any they had ever encountered before, fully translated the rift from the warp and hung for just a moment as the wound in reality was forced shut by some power they didn’t understand, the flash of golden light burning their sensors for a brief moment.

As they attempted to right themselves and regain cohesion, their sensors regained clarity just in time to identify multiple weapons systems powering on and massive, gothic gun turrets swinging about to lock on them.

Just as orders were given to open fire, great beams of sun hot energy lanced out from these turrets, ancient macrobatteries spat the shells they had that remained in their magazines, and torpedoes left their tubes and oriented to find targets among the shattered fleet. Fire blazed from all sides as the ship made its hatred of the Tau manifest, shattering cruisers, piercing shields in single shots as Tau ships left and right were gutted and blown apart by the apocalyptic solvo of weapons fire savaged their numbers.

In moments, as the vessel rocketed down towards the planet the fleet was gutted, utterly so. Cruisers, battleships, escorts alike were not safe from the wrath of humanity made real as the massive battleship destroyed all it fired on, its wrath akin to that of an angered, vengeful god.

What few remained attempted to flee, only to be picked off at ever increasing range as the godsbane lance batteries stripped shields and lanced hulls in single strikes.

The behemoth right itself and fell into the atmosphere, it keel armor glowing white hot as it made reentry into its home.

On the ground the Tau forces went into disarray as orbital cohesion was lost, their communications awash with panicked cries and pleas, only to be replaced by deafening silence.

Shas’O Vrayla watched with confusion as orbital relays and scans went dead as the head of the Tau battlenet seemingly died in orbit. Had the Imperials broken through? Was another Tendril of a Hive Fleet?

What was happening.

One of her aides waved for her to watch the view from the main view screen set up in her ad hoc command center amid the still blown out control tower of the Starport. Being Situated some dozen kilometers from the city, it was the ideal and obvious spot to command her forces as they attempted to take the city.

Gazing upon it, she watched as the dark form grew larger and larger in the twilight of the sky. “It reads as an Imperial Vessel” the air cast aid was cut off by Vrayla’s shout. “A single Geula ship took out the fleet?!” “Yes ma’am, it emerged from an anomaly in space and eliminated our orbital assets with extreme prejudice. It does not match any known references from our records, but captured records of the Guela identify it as a…a “Gloriana Class battleship.”

“Size and weight class?”

“23.8 Kilometers in length, 1 Kilometer in width and height, and nearly 120 billion tons of mass.”

“By the greater good…”

“Estimated velocity puts it…puts it on a crash course with our lines!”

“Did we disable it?”

“No Ma’am, its main drives are sputtering, whoever is piloting that thing is using station keeping drives to steer it on course.”

“I'm getting energy flare ups! It's firing weapons!”

“Brace for impact!”

Yet none came, for instead of rocketing the starport with its weapons, the Titan of the void instead answered with lance fire as great pillars of light turned night into day as they swept across the lines of the gathering assault force, atomizing everything they touched. The command room was awash with blaring white light as it did so, only the growing shadow of the ship as it neared its landing causing it to dim.

Shas’O Vrayla watched in sheer, utter dumbstruck as the behemoth landed with a resounding boom that rivaled any she had ever experienced before, shrouding the battlefield, her lines, and the entire city in a great plume of dirt and dust to rival any atomic detonating she had ever seen.

The ground, the room, the very world shook as the ancient starship settled in the dirt and mud of the plane outside the city, crushing the army beneath it flat.

As she attempted to recover from the shock of the sheer insanity of the events before her, her aid called out to her. “Ma’am, I'm receiving a message over open frequencies. It’s being transmitted over all of them.

“...Put it on.”

In a moment, with the crackling of interference, the voice spoke in the Geula Tongue.

“...I repeat, this is Clausewitz Parcarian, Primarch of the 13th Legio Astartes, Son of the Emperor of Mankind, to any and all imperial troops holding the city, Hold fast and stand too, reinforcements are coming. My home will not fall for as long as I draw breath. To the xenos who have walked upon its soil and killed my kin, know too, that I am coming for you, Personally…”

“It repeats after that, Shas’O.”

“Give the order for all surviving units to disengage and return to the star port, we have to call for help…”
 
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Three Days later...
Coronet City Defense Bunker Complex
Command Center.


"Ten thousand years..."

The words left his mouth as but a whisper, the towering form of the Primarch, clad in his dark artificer armor still bearing the scars of a long war fought in the fringe during the dying hours of the Apostacy...It haunted the room like a specter. His helmet was removed, yet the dim lighting of the command center sent long shadows on his weathered face.

He took a long breath and let it out slow, so damn slow, with the near momentary flicker of emotions playing out on his face being the only thing betraying his calm, and even then, only his sons, Castor and Pollux, veteran brothers of the 1st "Iron" Company had the ability to detect it, the momentary shift in their father's normally stoic calmness when face with adversity.

The gathered men and women in the room represented the total sum of the command cadre of the city's defense. Jump Captain Hanne Schmit of the 109th Harakoni heavy drop corps, Colonel Constantine Valintin of the 173rd Cadian Mechanized, Colonel John Killgore of the 1037th Parsarian "Blue Hats" Rifles, the planetary PDF's highest surviving officer, and Coronet City Arbites Provost-Captain Hanz Ulbrecht.

"Ten thousand years and yet the Long War persists...blessed thee, oh children of Man, that you have held aloft your King's Kingdom through naught but blood and sacrifice."

Leaning down, he hunched over the Tactical table. "I am assuming Command of the situation. Give me a situation report." His tone was overtly placid, yet Castor and Pollux, the twins, could sense the latent venom that dripped from his words.

Colonel Killgore spoke first, being the highest rank in authority present and spoke in quick, definite terms. Clause found himself liking the man already.

"They call themselves the "Tau", they are an outwardly friendly and diplomatic Xenos race in possession of advanced warfighting capabilities and advanced tactical command and control structures. They prefer to fight in rapid fluid warfare maneuvers using sophisticated communications and control mechanisms."

The primarch spoke. "And what is their reason for sieging my home?" Colonel Kilgore nodded and continued. "They tend to prefer diplomatic and covert subversion of civilian populations to turn worlds for them before ever resulting to military operations, they attempted some years prior to reach out, as we seem to be on the edge of their sphere of expansion. They were...rebuffed. Curtly so. No shots were fired, as the Lord Commander Ironborn has put to mandate we avoid as much open conflict with the Cicatrix Maladictum and the Tendrils of Hive Fleet Leviathan still active and about."

"We had no prior word of their advance, they simply exited the warp at the edge of the system, burned hard to engage and subsequently dispatched the orbital picket fleet. They would have taken the orbital relay station, but its crew elected to activate their self-destruct canticles before they were overrun, denying it to the Xenos."

Clause nodded. "Continue."

"The Sororitas met their initial infiltration and assault units first and stopped them dead with the aid of the Harakoni who were, despite being on leave, the first Guard unit to don kit and respond." With this he turned to Captain Schmit.

"109th Harakoni...I distinctly recall your unit went by a different cognomen during the time of the Crusade." With this the young women, as she was indeed barely in to her late 20s, nodded. "Vasilia's Helljumpers, sir, at your service." He nodded. Another one he'd began to like.

Turning to the other Colonel of Junior rank, he gazed upon him expectantly. Colonel Valintin spoke. "We were also on leave, sir, we took some heavy hits as a part of the Crusade Indomitus."

Lastly, he turned to the Provost-Captain and expected his report. "All quiet so far sir, Morale was dipping, and we expected a revolt of some kind, but the arrival of a Son of the God-Emperor seems to have squashed that."

This brought something to the forefront of his mind, and with a sigh, the primarch spoke. "Let me get something clear and presant. I understand a lot has changed in my time...absent, and that most of you look to me as some form of...divinity, demi or otherwise notwithstanding. When, and only when, we have banished the wolves at our door may you treat me as such. You may address me as lord Primarch, nothing more or nothing less. I will not waste time with flowery language or religious suplications. Do I make myself clear?"

The various affirmations were made just as the armored door to the command room was slid open to reveal the power armored forms of three women, bolters held in the hands of all of them. The twins met them at the door silently, their own bolters held in a low ready, seemingly stopping short any sort of entry theatrics they had planned.

"Castor, Pollux, let them pass."

With out hesitation, the twin Astartes, clad in the gold trimmed, garnet painted armor parted to allow the battle sisters through. Stepping forward, the leader seemed to hesitate for a moment before removing her helmet, revealing a attractive face, framed by short cut brunet hair. "By the God-Emperor, it truly is the greatest of his blessings to be in the presence of his most holy son-" Clause cut her off.

"Report."

This seemed to take the wind out of her proverbial sails, the women stuttering for a moment before answering. "M-my Lord I-" Clause held up a hand and straightened, towering over everyone in the room. He was not a psyker, he wielded no Psykana like some of his siblings, but every primarch had a certain charisma around them.

"I said report..." His words trailed off, obviously waiting for her to identify herself. Seemingly deflated, she did so. "Elianora Varun, Sister superior of the Order of our Lady's Rest." Clause nodded, his face softening a minor bit. He was already forming assortations and conclusions. She was obviously a veteran or at least well-trained soldier, and her entire order, or at least its combat cadre, were donned in powered armor and wielding nonstandard bolters. There, of course, also the deep religiosity that wafted off this woman and her compatriots.

Great, more zealots.

"
What is the status of you and your formation".

The women cocked her head for a moment before speaking. "178 Sisters, only 60 or so of them combat capable, and that's including the trainees. We aren't really a combat contingent, most of us with arms are here to guard the Hospitallers in their work as doctors and nurses. We are based out of and operate from the Blessed Convent of our Lady at Rest, St. Elia. It's a hospital."

Clause nodded. "I hear you and yours were the first to rebuff the Tau during their initial combat drop." The women nodded, a flicker of uncertainty playing on her face. The Primarch kept his gaze on her for a moment before his face broke into a genuine smile. "Good work, sister superior. Are you the most seinor of your unit?"

The women beamed for a moment before answering. "Technically no, Cannones Morwrn is, but she's not a battle sister, or at least an active combatant. I'm the most senior in terms of combat rank."

He nodded. "Castor, Pollux, have Sister Varun and her chambers militant folded into the Iron Company, make it known to the Old Man they are to coordinate and cooperate with our own forces. We need all the bolters and hands to wield them that we can get."


Turning to the others he began issuing commands. "Jump-Captain, you and yours are to coordinate and act as QRF for the Parsarian Rifles, Colonel Valintin, your armor and heavy assets are to support them. Colonel Killgore, you have the numbers advantage now, when Jump-Captain Schmit and Colonel Valintin are engaged, you are to station and mass supporting elements, I understand the 1037th are mostly infantrymen, but you have the weight of fire now. If the Tau are fond of maneuver warfare, deprive of them this, pin them down, hem them in, force them into killzones and boxes."

"Show them the mastery of urban warfare Humanity long ago attained."


Turning to his two gene-sons, he spoke again. "Castor, Pollux, you and the Old Man are to act as the final hammer for any incursions, if the Auxilia forces can't eliminate them, cut them down with bolter and Plasma."


"I am going for a walk."



The Plains...

Utter Ruin, destruction, desolation. It was words like this that the scene before her brought Shas'O as she and her bodyguards dashed and danced through the night as they made headway towards the wasteland that was once her front line, once her assault force. 26,000 Tau of the fire cast, Tanks, APCs, even the lesser suits of her crisis contingent, all gone in an instant under a hail of energetic hellfire as the human ship made its home on the plains.

They had sent drones first, only for the first few to be lost to some form of Data-warfare her technicians weren't too sure were Human or...something else. The last few had been engaged by what seemed to be the many automated defense turrets that dotted that behemoths hull. Their scout teams though...

Every single one of them dead, most turned into mere meat paste and metal fragments strewn across the ground, a few simply torn to bits and pieces of gore by...something.

"Shas'O, we are being watch-" He was cut off, the transmission going static as...as...something flying at a ludicrous velocity lanced out from the city walls and shattered the XV8 suit of Mor, one of her bodyguards. Her own XV8's sensors weren't able to fully scan the object but registered a momentary velocity of nearly 8 kilometers a second. In a moment she gave the order to spread out and activate countermeasures, several plumes of smoke and chaff went out, momentarily bathing the area in flashes of light. A noise, a distant crack of thunder and another impossibly fast object lanced through the growing cloud of smoke and chaff to find Takar, the next bodyguard, and simply erase his chest plate with impossible speed. His limbs, the rest of his crisis suit spun and flew into the night, streams of blue-purple blood and viscera dotting the ground.

On pure instinct she activated the jet pack on her suit and rocketed into the night sky, her sensors on full active scanning, drinking in every detail as they surveyed the field and the walls.

There, atop the walls. A figure, an outline of one, clad in a cape that seemed to bend light around it. A rifle, a weapon she didn't recognize and one her tactical array only labeled as an extreme threat. A Flash, another distant crack of all mighty thunder as the round lanced out...

"Shas'O I have a shot!"

Her head snapped low, the warning to not attempt to use his own rail rifle cut short by the horrible sound of shredding metal and pained screams as the Human mass driver round tore through its Tau counterpart, leading to a chain reaction and a detonation rivaling a plasma bomb detonation.

The force threw her up even farther and forward, her thrusters barely keeping her upright. With a thud she landed and rolled to a stop, her suits auto gyros kicking in and bringing her to feet. Another flash, another crack of thunder as a round tore off her suits left arm, sending its gun spinning off into the distance. Futily she raised the other plasma gun only to have another thunderous round sheer it off cleanly at the should joint.

Standing there for a moment her and the figure locked eyes for a moment. The figure stood, letting its hood fall and his light bending cape deactivate, showing an armored form that her scanners told her was taller than her own crisis suit.

She stood there, dumbstruck. Just who was this human. In a moment it clicked in her head. The Drones, the Scouts. It was a trap, a lure. The Data-warfare was some form of esoteric jamming, it was all to lure out some officer of rank to capture or kill.


And she had fallen for it. Hook, line, and sinker. She didn't even flinch as the next flash of light and crack of distant thunder came, only closing her eyes as her suit's sensors went dark, and she lost consciousness.

On the wall.

Letting the rifle fall to a low ready, the Primarch keyed up his vox unit. "Macharius, send the dragons, trap has been sprung. I'm fairly certain out target is out cold."

"Aye, Gene Father. The twins are inbound, do you require pickup?"

"Negative, have them make a low pass over the wall, I'll catch a ride."


As the distant whine of engines grew nearer, Clause shouldered his rifle, Arclight, and checked himself over. Soon enough the dark form of one of the two surviving Stormbird gunships swooped low and with a momentary tensing of his legs, he leapt into the air just as the gunship flew over. Reaching out, he caught the end of the extended loading ramp of the ship and pulled himself up. Sitting low with a leg hanging off, his cape fluttered in the rushing wind as the gunship accelerated and kept low, near nape of the earth. They weren't stealthy, quite the opposite actually, but they were well armored and armed, as well as void shielded.

He figured, based on combat reports and other gathered date, they had 8 minuets to secure their prey. "Gene-Father, I have the tau QRF on auspex. A half Dozen tanks and twice their number in APCs, all grav vehicles, making for our target." Came the report from the pilots.

Clause nodded to the twins, who had elected to stand on the open ramp with the primarch, and spoke. "Combat landing, void shields at maximum. Dragon-2, stay aloft and prepare for close air support. We should have our prey and be airborne before they arrive but be prepared none the less."

Two clicks on the vox signified the other Stormbird's acknowledgement of the order and the other bird tilted it's nose up and gained speed, climbing into the night. Turning to the twins and the other Burning Scrolls Astartes he spoke. "Twins, you're on me, personal protection. The rest of you form a loose permitter, configured for anti-armor."


The Stormbird began to slow just enough to prevent a crash landing and with a nod to the twins, he tucked his head in and fell off the ramp, forming a ball he rolled, the armor taking the impact nearly flawlessly as his landing kicked up dust and dirt in the night.

Jumping to his feet he broke into a full sprint, actually outpacing the descending gunship and reaching the still smoking, de-limbed Tau battlesuit first. Not even paying mind to the advancing Tau armored advance, he mounted the chest piece and, with a smooth motion of his hand, drew his dagger.

Looking for just a moment, he found the seam were the plate seemed to meet the shoulders and slammed the dagger down into it. It gave after a moment and with a wrenching motion, the plate opened with a hiss of escaping air and a groan of bending metal.

There he found his target. It...she, was unconscious, still breathing but with a mottled blue-purple bruise along her left eye socket, hands still grasping the controls of her mechanical marvel. With a few more deft movements of his knife, he cut the xenos women out of the crash webbing of her battlesuit and, wrapping an armored hand around her still suited torso and removing her from the wrecked suit.


He was perhaps a tad more ginger with the obviously frail Xenos, but if his intuition was correct, she was valuable. He threw her over his shoulder and looked up at the approaching Tau advance just in time to see Dragon-2 make its attack run, underslung deadstrike missiles lancing out and finding targets among the vanguard tanks. It swooped in and strafed the collum with lass cannon and heavy bolter fire.

This was joined in with the first few ranging shots from the lass cannon of his Iron Company astartes, as expected. What was not expected, was the sudden thundering stream of heavy autocannon fire lancing out from the walls. Snapping his head over to their source as he jogged back to the waiting gunship, he could just make out the distant, boxy form of Macharius Oldwain, clad in his Leviathan pattern Siege dreadnought form, letting off controlled bursts from the quad heavy autocannons on his right shoulder.

While largely ineffective at this range, nearly 8 kilometers out, they still peppered the formation with wide shots. Keying in the vox as he entered the loading bay and set the Xenos women down for the astartes apothecary to look over.

"I appreciate the effort, Old man, but you're wasting shells at this distance." The words did little to hide the humor in his tone.

A crackle on the vox as the dreadnought replied. His low, gravelly voice wearing its amusement proudly.

"I wish to shoot things too, Father." This drew a chuckle from the Primarch as the loading ramp closed and he turned to the apothecary. "It's Status?" The Apothacay knelt stooped over the blue form, clipping a pair of binding cuffs, loaned from the arbites on her wrists. "It is, in fact, a Xenos father." The heavily accented Parsarian native snorted over the vox.

"It'll live. Simple concussion. I'm amazed it still breathes; I've seen what that rifle can do at max power settings." Clause nodded as the Stormbird lifted off and ascended into the air, disappearing into the night sky as it jetted off towards the City.
 
The Past

Life, is life

Once upon a millennium those words held different meaning. Life is a thing of chance and beauty. Resilient yet feeble. The Primarch Paragon Karthaax, long before the Heresy, viewed all life as equal. He found no point or value within Humanity that elevated them above other beings such as Orks or Aeldari. He only saw beings who aimed to harm him and his fellow man. And would fight to defend them and himself. Yet being ordered to end the lives of the enemies of the Imperium time and time again, during the Great Crusade, weighed heavily on his soul. It broke apart. Bit by bit with every death he caused. And it gave him no solace that he was incredibly efficient at slaughtering said enemies. He felt like a hypocrite at every turn. And he blamed much of it on the Emperor and the Imperium at large. How could they speak of bringing Humanity forward when some many of the steps towards this end did nothing but bring Humanity back to its barbaric routes? It built endless rage within him. Rage at the Imperium, rage at the Emperor, and most of all rage at himself.

This rage was ripe for taking advantage of. And that is exactly what the Blood God did. Molding his rage. nurturing it and when the time was right, letting out all of the rage that Paragon had built in his centuries of crusading all at once. And pointing him in the direction of Holy Terra. Paragon's rage had left him so uncontrollable that even his own legion was not safe from him. For their own protection, while orbiting Holy Terra, the first shot of the siege was that of Paragon being ejected from his flagship, down onto the planets surface. Impacting the ground like a meteor, Paragon arose from the crater a changed being. No longer the Primarch that was once known and revered. But now, a scaled and gnarled beast of pure bloodlust. His skin shifting into shimmering red scales. Plumes of oily black feathers bursting forth from his head. His jaw, elongated and pointed. Sharp at the chin to match his razor like teeth. Fingers extending into curved talons. And wings sprouting forth from his back, through his power armor. Covered in the same oily black feathers as his head. Truly a beast of a form to match the viciousness that has boiled over from within. Paragon spilled much blood on that day. And only just barely survived after the traitor's defeat at the hands of the Emperor. But, it is nothing compared to the ravenous bloodlust that he continue to feel. Building, overtaking his will more and more every moment. Life, is life. These worlds still hold true, though for different reasons. Life is a thing of anger and waste. Waiting to be extinguished.



M42
Orbit above Meliveon


A small agriworld moon, orbiting the gas giant Polythemus. A savannah covered world covered with millions of souls. Human, and now Tau dot its landscapes. Paragon cares not who inhabits the world. Or the circumstances of their dominion. He only cares to spill their blood and lay waste to their lands. Paragon does not even know the circumstances of his summoning. He presumes that the remaining members of his legion, the Defilers, summoned him to lay waste on this planetoid. To go to battle with them. A Daemon Prince, treated like a rabid dog to be unchained and unleashed. Paragon might have found this to be an insult at some point. But his rage and desire for desolation is far too great to allow such trivialities to reserve space in his mind. He simply revels in the opportunity to fight. Though this will be no normal battle.

High above Meliveon, just beyond the orbit where Tau ships reside, is the Dominator. The flagship of the Defiler's legion. A ship that once belonged to Paragon himself as he commanded the Pyrite Reavers from it. But now this ship, warped into a nearly unrecognizable state by the powers of Chaos, travels real space while their Prince resides within the warp. Paragon waits impatiently within its corridors. The walls, once shiny and polished metal. Now so rotted and stained with blood that they look of rusted iron. Gore and offal, rotted and decayed plug the corners where the walls meet the floors. Every step is wet with blood and viscera. Among it all Paragon paces. He carries one of his devoted in his hand. A simple crewman, his faced carved with the sigil of Khorne. Paragon slowly pulls the crewman apart. Sating his bloodlust ever so slightly. He starts with the hands. Pulling off digit by digit. Pinching the human's flesh with his sharp talons and pulling it apart and needing such minimal strength to do so that it feels no different than tearing wet paper to him. Once the hands are gone, he moves onto to his skin. Peeling him like a fruit. Slowly, maximizing his pain. Corrupted saliva spills from his mouth, dripping down onto the flayed body of the crewman. Salting his exposed body as he roars out in pain. The cries of pain serve as a minor symphony to Paragon's ears. Each second becoming hard to quell his rage and desires. Boiling over and leading to the Daemon Prince to grip the human by his head and exposed collarbone. Pulling them apart quickly and smoothly. He shoves the head into his draconic mouth. Gnawing on the muscles fibers and polishing his own teeth against the bone of the skull. Paragon snaps the corpse's ribs out, one by one. shoving the shattered bones back into the exposed organs like pin cushions. When he runs out of ribs, Paragon twists and spins the body at the waist. Tearing the muscles and pulling it in two. Long threads of blood vessels and nerve fibers slink out of the spine like sausage pulled from a casing. He holds the lower half by the thigh. Crushing it in his hand and enjoying the sensation of the femur cracking into dust in his palm.

It's not enough. It could never be enough to assuage his hunger. But it need not try. It serves only to delay him as he awaits his opportunity. And, as the first shots from the dominator are fired on the small Tau fleet detachment, his mouth forms a wicked smile. The time has come. The initial barrage does little to the ships beyond begin to drain their shielding. But it is none the less vicious and excessive. An entire broadside of lance batteries firing at once. Vortex torpedos fired in barrages. Seemingly endless suppressive fire is levied against the first ship in their way. The Tau fire their railguns back at the Dominator. But a ship so viciously ready to attack without restraint cares little for minor collateral damage.

Paragon himself cannot stand to allow a ship do all of the battling for him. He enters into an empty drop pod tube. His own hulking size rivalling the troop deployment vehicle. He orders the crewman to launch him at the Tau ship and they comply. Lest they be shredded apart like their formerly intact compatriot. Paragon is ejected, barreling through the void at immense speed. Missile explode silently against the shield as he flies towards it. Rounds zip past him. making him feel the slightest hint of heat for just a moment as they pass. The shield gets closer and closer until he rips right through it. The energy singing and grinding his scaled form as he bursts through. The pain only adding to his rage. In less than a second after penetrating the shield he slams into the hull of the Tau ship.

A Tau response team enters the breached hall of their ship. Their boots magnetizing to the metal floors to prevent them from being pulled away by the decompressed area of the ship. The power to the sector has been lost. And they must rely only on dim emergency lights to see anything. It is not enough to help them though. As Paragon flings himself from the darkest corner and grabs hold of the first Tau coming to face him. Crushing it's skull in his grasp. He leaps after the next, grabbing it by its shin and lifting it up so quickly that the force of Paragon lifting it, combined with the magnetic boots keeping it in place makes the foot remain as the Tau is ripped up and slammed face first back down onto the floor. The remaining Tau open fire on the Daemon Prince but their weapons are so negligible that it borders on comedic. The Defilers on the Dominator, still firing on the fleet, watch as eventually the shield goes down. And the Tau ship is shredded by the constant barrage of fire. As well as from within as well. It begins to descend out of orbit. Breaking apart in the atmosphere as it collides with the Surface of Meliveon.

Woe upon those unfortunate souls. As Paragon has made landfall.
 
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<<ASTROPATHIC TRANSMISSION INCOMING....>>
<<RELAY FROM ULTIMA SEGMENTUM RELAY NETWORK>>
<<RECOMPILED BY ASTROPATHIC CHOIR SECUNDUS-MU FROM EYDOLIM>>
<<ASTROTELEPATHIC AUGURUM FROM FORT NEXUS CONFIRM APOSTASY ERA CODING....>>
<<ASTRA TELEPATHICA CONFIRMS MARKERS FOR PARSARIUS ASTROPATHIC SIGNATURE. MNEMONIC-PICT CODE CONFIRMED.>>


"So, it is true, the Emperor's Tarot dealt this morning confirms the notion of a great return." The hulking form of a figure in golden armor stood watching the data stream above the rows and rows of astropaths joined in the vast Conduit beneath the City of Sight region of the Imperial Palace.

"The Inquisition confirms the codes and the authenticity of a warp breach detection in the area coinciding with this transmission. There is one Astropath on Parsarius still alive and they used codes not seen since the closing days of the Apostasy. If the Augurs are right, then it is possible a second Primarch has been found." The remark came from a figure, a full head and shoulders and then some shorter than the golden giant beside him. His bald head bearing the tattoo of a stylized 'I'.

"I will alert the Watch Stations. The Inquisition, I surmise, are already moving to contact?"

"Of course, Captain-General, and a concise report of such developments has already been filed with the Office of the Lord Commander of the Imperium."

"A heavily redacted file."

"The Lord Commander is busy, always, the Inquisition prides itself on our signature ability to be efficient in both administration and practicum."

The golden giant shrugged as the figure of the Inquisitorial Representative eyed the data streams before him. "What of the Imperial reinforcements earmarked for the Parsarius Warzone."

"Segmentum Command has been appraised as has the sector level commands. Lord General Militant d'King and Lord High Admiral van Zandft are organizing a significant shift of Imperial assets to reinforce such a vital religious world and that of the supposed Primarch's being as well. Not before our own taskforce arrives of course. Will take approximately 70 days before Imperial reinforcements begin to arrive en-masse. If everything is true, we may even see a heavy blow dealt to the Tau."

"Astartes?"

"Predictably the Burning Scrolls successors will be enroute. Lord Commander Dante has also been appraised and elements of the Sun Angels will sortie to the theatre."

"Quite the resource deployment."

"A second Primarch to the Imperial cause is a boon of truly great proportions."

"So, you say." The Representative cocked an eyebrow at the hint of disagreement in the Custodians voice.


An Unthinkable War

Nordafrik Under-Archives

Analogous to the Region once known as 'North Africa.'

Vigilatum Ignis Arcology
M42


The whirr of the Valkyrie's twin engines could be heard clearly in the main cabin as Lieutenant Fantasia Ermeline looked left to right from behind the tinted visor of her combat helmet. The stylized 'I' of the Inquisition was emblazoned in red and surrounded by silver finish on their pauldrons. "Lieutenant, we're here. Captain Varino is at the staging area." The voice came from the trooper next to her with a vox caster on their back. The Valkyrie shuttered as it came in on approach and she felt the engines high pitch thrum dim as it stilled. The lights of the landing bay door going from red to yellow and the troopers, a full platoon of forty-eight, readied themselves. Checking their hellguns and equipment before the acrid light of Holy Terra's sky washed over them. Their helmets fitted with internal rebreathers a step above those used by the Guard. Less bulky and more space efficient.

Needed in the Under-Archives given the levels of toxic pollution across air, water, and even ground surfaces. But yet, the sky showed through a bipolar haze. The smoggy haze of pollution coalescing a mile up into the sky fading to a less stark but still sickly yellow sky. The light went green as the lip of the bay door touched the cement of the landing zone. Columns of Inquisitorial Stormtroopers were gathered or marched off in various directions.

Above a flight of Thunderbolts soared with flights of Valkyries coming and going. The entire Arcology had been cordoned off by entire regiments of Inquisitorial Stormtrooper Regiments backed by Angkorian Dragoons and Lucifer Blacks. Over thousand Custodians had also been deployed by Trajann Valoris in a battle most unthinkable. The Genestealers had infiltrated Holy Terra and had infested part of the Nordafrik Under-Archives. So far contained.

As Lieutenant Ermeline stepped down from her craft with her men she was stopped by the heavy footfalls of a gold armored giant. She bowed deeply, along with all her men, as the mighty paragon of the Emperor's gene-wrights stood before her. One of Terra's Noblest Sons. A warrior of the Adeptus Custodes.

"Your regiment is marshalling here in thirty-minutes before departure." The voice of the giant had a metallic tone due to the helmet mouth grille.

"But, my Lord, we just arrived."

"Orders from the Highest Authority has seen fit otherwise."

"From the Sena-."

"The Highest Authority."

She bowed so low as to touch her forehead to the ground. Going to her knees. "Blessed God-Emperor."

The golden armored giant was silent at her theological remark. Merely turning and walked away as high above a shadow was cast over the entire staging ground. A vessel piled with crenelations and dirty gold hull bearing ostentatious baroque artistry loomed overhead.

Two-Hours Later

A golden vessel of baroque design departed the Sol System in a flash of Warp energy as it activated its ancient warp drive. The vessel, the size of any Imperial Navy Battleship, left without fanfare of communication once clearing the area around Holy Terra and Luna. Its passage cleared by the highest of Imperial transit codes. Plunging towards a distant world: Parsarius.







 
Coronet City
Municipal landing pad Alpha



Clausewitz gazed on the muted grey dark of a craft as it swooped low and came in for a landing. It was a gun cutter, a small warp capable craft of Saturnine make he actually recognized, much to his mild surprise, to the Calisto class light freighters and yachts. He had intended on purchasing one for personal use before the Great Betrayal.

To see it so heavily armed for a craft of it size, and bearing the mark of the Sigilite however, caused a crease in his brow. As it slowed and settled in to a gentle hover, he had to admit who ever was at the helm was capable. At nearly six hundred meters in length, it just barely fit in the otherwise deserted landing pad, normally used for much smaller shuttle craft and drop ships.

None the less, with a soft burn of the station keeping drives, it came to a gentle landing. For a moment it sat there, still, before the ramp beneath the bow cracked open with a hiss of equalizing atmosphere and lowered to reveal the retinue of this "Inquisitor."

Nearly four dozen stormtroopers, clad in carapace and bearing markings of Cadian origins marched out in full kit, keeping near perfect parade step and formation. Behind them came a small detachment of Chimeras, a pair of Sentimental walkers, and a pair of Russ tanks, one standard, and one that resembled a pattern of Vanquisher tank he didn't quite recognize.

Behind them came a more loose formation of what he recognized as more Harakoni drop troopers, their unit insignia being replaced by the white markings of the Inquisition.

Taking up flanking positions on either side of the Primarch and his small squad of Burning Scrolls Astartes, they held their position for a moment, seemingly waiting for orders. Soon enough, down the ramp, came the man him self. Clad in a dark set of carapace armor complete with armored helmet, an obviously mastercrafted lass rifle slung across his chest and an esoteric pattern of force sword at his hip, he was flanked by what the Primarch assumed were his personal retinue.

A women, clad in the white carapace robed clothing of an Sororitas hospitallar, her Order markings replaced by more Inquistorial markings, a Schurgeons bag and bolt pistol on her belt. A younger women, barely in her 20s, clad in a baroque but fitting suit of power armor, a bolter in her hands, and an Astartes.

The Astartes drew his attention. Tall, clad in a set of armor he didn't recognize and, strangely, a bit taller then most of the Astartes he was familiar with. He wore a dark hooded cape over his green armor, a white Raptor insignia on his pauldron, and carried bolt rifle of some model fitted for long range work.

Still, he held his questions until the man, the women, and the Astartes approached. They seemingly eyed each other for a moment before something clicked in the Primarch's mind. A certain combination of trace factors that came together in his mind to a worrying conclusion. This man was a psyker, and a potent one at that.

While not wielding archana him self, all Primarchs were inherently warp touched beings, it being an intrinsic portion of their being and of the gene science that went in to their creation. Motion brought Clause out of his inner thinking as the man reached up with slow, cautioned movements and removed his head, revealing a rather plain face, brown shaggy hair cut short and starting to show grey streaks, and a neatly trimmed beard.

"My Lord Primarch, I must say, it does bring me some warmth to see another of your kin yet lives." His voice was smooth, low. No obvious intent but Clause's intuition told him the Inquisitor was testing the waters. Clause nodded, removing his own armored helmet in a sign of trust. "Indeed, I hear my brother Titus has also emerged, brought back from his slumber by a most unlikely cabal of alliances."

The shorter man nodded. "Forgive my lack of courtesy. I wished to see you my self before making introductions." A sound move, logical, tactical. Clause began to feel some from of liking for this Inquisitor. "I am Lucian Dunn, Lord Inquisitor of the Ordo Mallus, hair to the Grim family of dynastic Rouge Traders."

Grim Family. A brief search of his mental library revealed an anecdote in a millennias old report on a minor merchant captain being awarded a writ of trade by his father for some act of valor or another during the mid years of the Crusade. Then there was his Ordo. That word. Malleus. Something to do with the neverborne, the predatory intelligences of the warp. In a moment of lightning fast mental processing, he made the connection.

This man was a daemon hunter.

He motioned to the others with him. "This is interrogator Valina, my confident and second in command." And likely his wife, based on the silver ring she wore on her right hand and the matching band hung on the same chain his rossette hung from. "And my protege, Lucretcia." And likely daughter, given the mixing of features the younger women possessed, she resembled most her mother, sharing sharp yet attractive cheek bones yet held her fathers violate eyes and brown hair.

"And this." Dunn said, motioning to the Astartes. "Is brother Sargent Morrin. Of the Raptors chapter." Clause did not say anything at first, simply holding his gaze on the marine for a long moment before finally speaking, his voice low and distinctively soft for once. "Your...one of mine, aren't you."

The marine nodded, setting the butt of his bolt gun to the ground and snapping a salute, one he recognized as a 13th Legion courtesy. "I am, Gene father." Clause's face, held in a stoic form for the entire event up to his point, broke in to a soft, but still reserved smile. "It is good to see my sons still continuing the Long War. I look forward to your tellings of your formations history."

The proverbial Ice having been broken, he turned back to the Inquisitor. "I take it your here to investigate some preposterous rumor a Primarch has been sighted in the area." Dunn nodded, letting his own stance relax at the lighter tone in the transhuman. "Originally I was here on trading business, I supply the local establishments with fine liquors and rums, how ever I was notified of my order of some similar rumor, yes."

Easy going and a sense of humor. Clause was indeed beginning to like this man. "Vary well, Notify your superiors. I have indeed returned. I fear your forces have arrived at a temultious time, how ever." The Inquisitor nodded. "Indeed, while my Ordo doesn't oft deal with Xenos, we have received intelligence of the movements of the Tau in the sub sector. Your world does lie on the boarder of their territory."

"I will be frank, I was hoping the word of a Primarch and Legion home world being under Seige by Xenos would have garnered a more substantial reaction." Lucian blanched for a moment, sensing the ire in the Primarch's tone. "I would be inclined to agree, but this close to the Great Rift, our forces our spread thin here, and the Tau represent the lesser of the various devils that plague the area. I would have arrived in my Family's more substantial voidship, with escort, but I figured the smaller, faster form of the Star Dancer would be a better fit to run any blockade, and indeed, it was."

Taking a moment, the Inquisitor peered around the rather quite landing pad before continuing. "I take it I have arrived in a rather quite moment?" It was Clause's turn to smile again. "Indeed, I seemed to have...landed my flagship among their main assault force. There is a small contingent held up in the starport to the west, but I was able to absconded with one of their officers last night and this seemed to have left them stunned for the time being."

Dunn gave him a look of respect. "Very well then. Seeing the situation at hand, I bring news both good and bad. The bad news is any more substantial reinforcements are a month out. The Good news if I have it on good authority several Astartes Chapter are burning hard for this world after hearing your message to the wider Imperium. The Lamenters, Retributors, and Raptors specifically. The first two are...currently understrengthed currently, being a few days out and a week plus, respectively. The Raptors, how ever, are inbound at near full chapter strength and are, in all likelihood, the first substantial reinforcements to arrive, complete with growing escort fleet alongside their battle barge and strike cruiser compliment."

Clause nodded. "I take it..." "Aye, my Lord Primarch, all are successors to your Legion." Clause felt a flash of pride before speaking. "Good news indeed. Your troops are clear to form in with mine, we have a scratch defense going, but a well maned one. Please, lets continue this in my residence."

Dunn nodded before motioning for his Stormtroopers to move out. "Please, lead the way."

Some weeks later.

The Lamenters made it first.

They slipped into the system in an old, battered war sloop that barely made it through the Tau blockade. They came, in similarly ragged looking landers and Gunships and presented themselves before their Gene-father. 68 Marines. No Dreadnoughts, no terminators, three Stormhawks , and a single barely functioning Predator tank.

At first, he was upset, seeing so little from one of his Successor chapters arrive to the call of their Gene-father. Upon being informed on their chapters ill-omened history. First came surprise, then perplexment, then realization and anger. He saw too much of his own battered company of survivors of the 13th Legion in them, and the sheer level of ill luck that seemed to plague them.

They didn't even have a chapter master, and so, in full view and company of his own Astartes and the gathered command element of the City's defenders, he bestowed the title to Seydlitz, veteran sergeant of the scratch company the understrength chapter had formed.


Then the Retributors. A solemn chapter, he met with their chapter master Saymus Pedderson and was a bit more relived to see nearly 300 Astartes arrive, on the eve of the second Tau advance no less


They came at dawn this time, Manta's and other flyers, bombarding the Aegis array with multiple impacts. The system wasn't single piece, of course, with multiple layers of redundant local shield generators.

The Command Bunker.

Orders, shouts, commands galore, the bunker was a wash in activity and a veritable hive of movement as the command elements of each detachment orchestrated the defense of Coronet. The Parsarian Rifles were to act as padding and blocking elements, using the cache of Apostasy era weapons and materials to funnel and redirect Tau advances. The Sisters, alongside the battered survivors of the Lamentors similarly formed one keystone of the City's defense in the holy quarter, the section of the city used as a shrine for the Sororitas and which also held a substantial portion of the underground bunkers were the civilians had taken shelter.

The Retributors were split in to halves, with one half covering the reactor complex in the heart of the city while the other half were broken in to their individual kill teams and were actively engaging the Tau in their own brand of warfare. Lastly, the Iron Company were mostly held up in several strong points clustered around the ancient residence of the Primarch him self.

He stood, seemingly detached from the command staff as they went about, hunched over his own personal cogitator unit as it quickly sped through the entirety of his data archive via a hard line strewn about the floor. He had two objectives in doing this. The first was to download and store the useful portions of his personal section of the ancient data archives of Coronet. The other was to asses the failsafe he had installed deep beneath the city, hidden in the heart of his personal Laboratorium.

"My Lord Primarch!" A call from one of the Astartes, Pedderson, broke him out of his enrapturement in the lines of code rapidly flicking across the screen of his cogitator unit. "Multiple sensorium reports indicate rapid atmospheric distortions across the city's central quarter."

Clause raised an eye brow and walked over to the macro screen at the center of the wall in the room. "Report." A datasmith, clad in the red robes of the mechanicus answered. "Atmospheric distortions in alignment with multiple aerial units of unknown make and model, likely a squadron of enemy combatants utilizing Xenos stealth Technology."

"Likely point of landing?"

"Reports are scant, their nature precludes exact rout calculation." The room shook and the lights sputtered as the distant muffled sound of explosions vibrated through out the space. "Report!" exclaimed the Primarch as he helped one of the guard officers to their feet. "Enemy air strike, a flight of their bombers managed to run the gauntlet and strike the residence up stairs."


For the first time since the second assault, Clause cursed in the archaic tribal tongue of the original people of Parsarius. "Damage report!" he barked, hand drifting to the plasma pistol at his hip. "Unknown, surface vid feeds have been knocked out momentarily." came a reply from one of the other officers.

Time seemed to slow for the briefest of moments as his senses picked up on the shifting in the air. His eyes shot up just in time to see the bulging of the concrete ceiling. Cracks formed in milliseconds as the transhuman stepped in to motion, grabbing the two near by mortals and wrapping them in his arms as he dove clear of the breach as it formed. With a deafening blast and a shower of plasma a mass of armored forms landed in the room amid the dust and debris.

Tau battle suits, painted grey, at least a squads worth rose from the rubble of their entry and leveled their plasma guns on the still dazed members of the command element. Before they could fire, a the sound of a bolt gun being fired rang out through the room. Pedderson had drawn his bolter first. Clause drew his plasma pistol just as the largest of the suits turned its guns on the chapter master and fired a shot, the golden bolt of plasma catching the suit on its shoulder and boring a whole in its pauldron. All at once the room erupted in a mix of plasma, bolter and lass fire as the two sides exchanged shots in a chaotic gunfight as the Xenos kill team attempted to sweep the room.

A blur of movement cut through the air, accompanied by the screech of metal as the room was awash in a tide of pure malice as Clause drew his sword and charged the Xenos, the black blade oozing sheer unease as it swung through the air and cleaning severed the other arm of the largest suit, throwing sparks and metal fragments through the space in doing so.

Having not worn his helmet, both sides beheld the face of the Primarch as he brought the sword buck up and down in a flash to swift for even the Astartes to track and severed the suit in the middle, a spray of blue blood mixed in with various other fluids signifying the death of the pilot as the top portion of the mech seized and toppled over.

The others, numbering four in total, whirled in apparant shock as the towering figure rose from the low stance the strike had left him and stared at them, a look of cold rage cast on his features. In another impossibly flash of transhuman speed, he raised the sword and swung again, cutting through each of the suits at their thinnest points, severing torso from legs and leaving their pilots to bleed out on the floor as the Primarch again went still, seemingly surveying the damage he had wrought to them and what they had to his command bunker in return.

Flicking the blue blood off his blade, he turned to the chapter master and spoke. "Retreat to the secondary command bunker six levels down, seal the doors. I am going top side to conduct the defense." Before any words of descent could be voiced, the Primarch was up and out through the new skylight in the room.

Eastern Sector of Defense
The main avenue.


Captain Varus shouted orders to the other Retributor Astartes as they danced from cover to cover, exchanging bouts of fire with the enemy as the main Tau advance battered it's way through the main causeway. As a plasma bolt flew inches past his helmet, he raised the bolter in his hands and snapped off a trio of shots, not bothering to watch their impact.

The Tau had several Hammerhead tanks pushing up the wide avenue in an echelon, three ranks of Devilfish APCs behind them, multiple companies worth of Fire warriors in their holds. As he readied him self to fire another burst of fire, the ground began to shake and the hammerheads, who's long railcannons had been scanning the ruins and rubble in an attempt to catch an Astartes out in the open all swiveled up and towards him...no, behind him.

Turning back he saw it. A tank, a massive behemoth of a tracked vehicle who's sheer size put even a baneblade to shame lumbered through the rubble with deceptive ease, pushing aside wrecked ground car and armored vehicle alike. It was an Imperial thank, the Aquila adorning its front plate being evidence enough to that. It sides were adorned with Volkite cannons mounted in side mounted sponsons, each topped with a lass cannon large enough to fit on a Russ rank. Atop this land ship was mounted a massive turret featuring an equally massive cannon, easily large enough to fit the shoulders of a space marine in armor.

The Hammerheads fired in a coordinated volley, multiple railcannons firing in sequence and sending multiple hyper velocity slugs directly at the behemoth. In a flash of light the rounds seemed to disappear as they crashed against the void shields of the tank, the tell tail smell of burnt ozone in the air as they swatted the slugs like a beast does biting flies.

Wait, Void shields?

The tank answered with a reply so thunderous it shook the vary world, it's massive, Titan scale cannon returning fire with a thunderclap that made even the enhanced transhuman ears of the veteran captain ring from its report. The shell lanced down the avenue like a lightning bolt and impacted the center most Hammerhead, rendering the thing in to a burning, melted hunk of slag, detonating its onboard munitions and power core that, along side the sheer force of impact, threw the other two tanks on each echelon at it's sides like toys picked up and cast asunder by some petchulent child.

Astonishingly, the shell kept on flying, sundering the line of Devilfish APCs behind it in a massive blast of fragmentation and shrapnel, wrecking several outright. In this single moment the advance was broken and with the roar of a coaxile auto cannon spitting fire, the beast accelerated and reached their line deceptively fast for something that large. As it stopped, he spied the script written on it's barrel in High Gothic.

Diocletian's Fist.

Behind the beast came the war horn of an ancient dreadnought, it's quad autocannons spitting fire, multiple ashen colored Astartes in crusade era plate moving up along side the elder dreadnought and the behemoth tank, returning fire with plasma, bolter and Volkite rifles, gunning down surviving Tau and bathing the surviving vehicles in withering fire. As the captain stood from his crouch, the top hatch flipped opened with a hiss and a clang and out came the head of his Gene father.

"Captain, you and yours that aren't actively engaged form up with me and mine, we are going to push them back to the gate. Switch to the secondary vox and coordinate." Raising his chain sword the Astartes nodded. "Aye Gene father, the emperor protects!" Clause nodded. "Indeed he does." With that, the Primarch slipped back down in to the turret of the tank and shut the hatch.

Turning to his men, he reloaded his bolter and spoke. "Our Gene father fights along side us, brothers, lets not keep him waiting!" With a triumphant cheer, the Marines broke from cover and fallowed their brothers and their Primarch as his tank spat more fire at the enemy.


18 hours later.

They had managed to push the main armored advance back down the main causeway and back out the other side of the gate, the Tau breaking in to full retreat as the withering energy fire of the Iron Company and the titanic fire power of their Primarch's heavy tank. As they reached the gates, Clause parked Diocletian's Fist right at them.

He sat atop the turret, Arclight in his hands as he scanned the Tau lines with its scope. Captain Varus, the elder dreadnought Oldwain and Chapter master Pedderson standing near by. "What are our losses?"

Pedderson nodded to the others and spoke first. "One hundred fifty two Astartes, almost all of our remaining tanks. The Guard have also taken nearly six thousand casualties and most of their heavy vehicles are also disabled or destroyed. Most of our strong points have either been damaged or outright destroyed, and while we killed them to a man, they managed to disable the last of the defense lasers."

"So your saying we won't likely be able to resist the next assault." Pedderson grimaced and nodded. "Aye, we're low on plasma fuel, bolt shells, heavy weapons and pretty much everything. There is simply to many of them. We've savaged them, certainly so, Gene father. But the fact remains we simply don't have the munitions to ward another full assault force off again. Eventually they will attempt and may even succeed in disabling the Aegis array and then their orbital weapons are in the equation." Clause sighed and let the rifle lower in to his lap.

"And they likely wont hesitate much at strikes from orbit. We've bled them too much."

Above them, distant pinpricks of light twinkled and seemingly caught the Primarch's eye. Raising his rifle, he turned the scope to spy on the distant objects and found him self spying on some type of space battle. "Oldwain, what was the time table on our reinforcements?" The Elder dreadnought was silent for a moment before speaking again. "We we'rent likely to receive more for another few days, the Raptors I believe, more of sergeant Morrin's kin."

"Notify the defense command, I think they are early."

The pinpricks grew in size and intensity, streaking through the evening sky like shooting stars. Pedderson spoke first. "Drop pods..."

Indeed, across the city, breaking hard enough to not be dashed against the still standing Aegis array, green and grey clad drop pods landed across the City, with green and grey armored Astartes emerging from them and beginning to sweep the surrounding areas. Dreadnoughts, terminators, assault squads and scouts. Over five hundred pods containing Raptor Marines and other containing ammo and weapon supply drops.

One landed a scant few dozen yards from them, and out came a full 12 man squad of Raptor Marines. After scanning the immediate surroundings they lowered their bolters and approached. The marine leader, a Captain, raised his hand and removed his helmet, revealing a weathered and solemn face.

"Hail, Gene Father, I am Captain Lorus, we are here to aid you." Smiling for the first time in days, Clause turned to Pedderson.

"The Emperor Protects indeed."
 
The Surface of Meliveon

The Tau ship landed into a lush jungle. Slamming into the canopy and being pierced by the thick arbor. The impact flattens most of the area. Erupting in plumes of smoke and flames and pieces of the ship burst one after the other. There is a moment, just after the last fire ignites, of eerie stillness. The silence is broken as Tau ground units fly in and inspect the wreckage. Emergency responders as well as several Tau soldiers, including one in a Battle suit arrive at the scene. Four Fire Warrior, and one Tau in an XV8 Crisis Battlesuit, walk ahead of the emergency responders. Pushing through the dense thicket towards the wreckage. Hoping to find survivors. The will find none. Outside the ship has been silence. While within, Paragon Karthaax has been slaughtering every living things within its walls. A rampaging beast, unfettered by even the strongest of opposition still available to the grounded Tau, however few were still remaining after the crash. Each and every one, found as if Paragon could smell them like a bloodhound, then razed through until the ship were devoid of life. The silent façade hiding the horrific screams of pain and fear from every corner within.

The façade would break in time. The walks the of ship rupture outward. As a blur of shimmering red ejects out into the lush foliage. Followed by the sounds of a blood curdling roar. One filled with hate, desire, and catharsis. The bloodied wings on Paragon's back extend fully. Feeling the soft heat of Meliveon's star heating him up. The sun reflects off the thick layer of Tau blood soaking it. His talons, nearly dyed cyan with the viscera. The Tau hesitate. A deadly reaction. Paragon swoops towards them grabbing a fire warrior in each hand. His talons piercing their armor easily. He flies fast. with both of them out in front. Slamming into the nearby trees. Crushing and shredding their bodies more and more with every slam until they are so ripped apart that they fall from his grasp on their own. He lands, roaring again. His roar is interrupted by railgun fire from the XV8. The projectile flies through his wing. The pain serving only to spur Paragon on. The Daemon leaps forward and flies with tremendous speed at the XV8, flying low so that when he gets close he can grab the battle suit by its foot. Lifting it up suddenly and dragging it behind him on the ground as he continues to fly. The ground is ripped up as the heavy Tau is dragged at blazing speeds. The Tau is helplessly immobile. Between the ground, grinding against him, and the speed of Paragon's flight, every attempt the Tau makes to move is rendered futile. He can do nothing but endure as piece after piece of his battle suit is torn away. When the front is ripped off, Paragon throws the Tau into the air and grabs the fleshy amphibian within, pulling him out and continuing his flight. Dragging him on the ground and letting the moon do the work for him. Shredding him apart into viscera. Leaving a miles long trail of gore in his wake.

The break in the defensive line has allow multiple squadrons of Defiler Chaos Marines to land on the planet. With chain blades and flamers in hand, they begin to lay waste to Meliveon. Destroying all life that they come across. Whether it be Tau, or humans of the Imperium who remained after the Tau took the planet. In orbit, the Dominator continues to bombard both the surface and other ships in the Tau's defensive squadron. Making more fall with every passing hour. Paragon's thirst for blood cannot, and will not be sated. He advances forever. Slaughtering every living thing from flora, to fauna, to intelligent life, that bares the misfortune of being in his path. Cities will burn. Buildings will be razed. The sigil of Khorne shall be emblazoned into the very soil. And before the Defiler's legion leaves this moon, they will be the only life remaining on it.

Meliveon was not the first world lost to Paragon's undying rage. And it shall not be the last.
 
Holy Shrine of St. Elia's rest.
Cathedral.


He could be remarkably quiet when he needed to be. Indeed, the otherwise monolithic form of the Primarch, still wearing his battle scarred armor, his rifle still slung over his back, moved silently, only making the barest of noises he had long since found the average human could not easily detect. So he did, taking an opportune moment to slip away from the command bunker and in to the still dusty streets of his home city, his objective: The towering gothic cathedral that rivaled his own personal residence in size and scope.

Throwing up the hood on his cape he stuck to the shadows, avoiding his own Astartes, the guard, and even the civilians. Soon enough he found him self at the large, wood and metal framed doors and, hesitating for just a moment, pushed his way inside as silently as he had approached.

The interior was large, spacious and oddly, colorful. Stained glass windows that reached in to the rafter, the scent of burning incense and oil, the various shrines and statues that gazed back at him. As he strode forward he found the pews had been pushed to the far walls, actually to barricade the lower most sections of the windows and to make room for row upon row of cots, munitorium issued field cots. Upon most were sleeping civilians, a few were empty, the still wet stains of blood of likely now dead occupants being all that remained.

Movement caught his eye at the far end of the room and as he quietly made his way over, he took note of the three largest statues in the room. One was obviously his father, clad in the one true armor, flaming sword out stretched in a pose he clearly recalled of being of a pict cast of the vary same order to commence the crusade. It was well kept, polished even yet he couldn't shake the small sense of unease in it's eyes as it gazed outwards.

The other was of a women, clad in flowing robes, a holy text of some kind in one hand, a bolt pistol in the other, raised in defiance of some enemy. Her face was also immaculately scalped, as was his fathers, and shown a look of righteous fury upon her features. This one was too, anointed and polished and alight by the soft light of votive candles.

The last drew his gaze for just a moment was the third. It was of him, seated upon a large boulder in his own set of simple robes, a child seated upon his knee and smiling innocently as the Primarch read from an old book to the boy. He paused, actively searching his mind, the vast mental library with in for that moment and found...he almost couldn't picture it. Had it truly been so long since that moment? Had his normally near perfect, clinical memory finally begun to fail him?

A sense of unease wired up his spine and he found him self transfixed, trying, desperately searching for the details of the moment when a voice broke his trance.

"The Emperor's Scholar."

A man's voice, a distinctive twang and brone marking him as an offworlder, and Clause snapped his head over to source to find its source. He was short, compared to the Primarch though all baseline humans were, but easily six feet tall and clad in a blood stained and partly holed set of vestments underneath a grey colored jacket, a rough carapace armor vest covering his chest. A pump shotgun slung on his shoulder.

The man continued. "A devotional piece commissioned shortly after the construction of the shrine some time after the Apostasy, its exact origins are unknown, but it was decided to be put here along side the shrine to St. Elia and the God Emperor to honor the lost Primarch."

The man was speaking to him, but otherwise his attention drawn to the data slate held in his hands.

"Martin, I think."

The man looked up from his slate for the first time, eyes squinting in the darkness and he barely made out the tall armored form standing a few feet away. "I'm Sorry?"

Clause took a step forward and reached out, his height allowing him to rest a hand on the boys leg. "Martin was his name. He was the son of a...I think a farmer, a tribesmen. He had to have been, what, six? Seven? when I gave him that lesson. It was on orbital dynamics and the function of orbital tracks in the local stellar volume."

The man looked up on the armored man with cautious eyes before realization set in. "My Lord Primarch I am sorry, I didn't know you were visiting the shrine, I should have..." Clause raised a hand, silencing the man. "I didn't notify anyone I was coming. I wanted to see this for my self, with my own eyes."

The man seemed to mull over his eyes for a moment before continuing. "But still, my Lord the cathedral hall is a mess, I can clean it up." Again, Clause cut him off, a soft, almost melancholic tone in his voice. "What Is your name?"

The man seemed taken aback for a moment before answering. "Gincarlos, I am father Gincarlos Garcia of the Catheric branch of the Adeptus Ministorum, my Lord."

Clause kept staring at the statue. "A Priest then?" Father Garcia nodded. "Yes, my Lord, I retired to this diocese after serving twenty years with the 213th Aragon Terricos."

"He didn't understand what I was teaching him, not the advanced concepts, but he understand the basic principles behind orbital mechanics and liked to hear about the stars. I marked him as advanced for his age, sharp for an adolescent. He was inducted in to the 13th some time later, served with the 23rd Grand Company until..."

His voice trailed off, an edge of remorse and guilt to it. The priest, sensing his Lord was leading up to a point, mustered his entire wealth of courage and asked. "And what, if I may be worthy to ask, became of him?"

Clause's head dropped, a lump forming in his mouth as he recalled the moment. "Lost upon the world where it began, where everything went wrong. Where Astartes fought Astartes, where brother slew brother." His voice was barely a whisper, tinged, no, drowning in emotion and sorrow.

Father Garcia seemed to think for a moment before continuing. "May I posit thee a question, my Lord?" Clause nodded, his head still low. "Do you still remember him, as he was in life, as an Astartes, as a man." Clause hesitated for a moment before answering, again a nod.

"Then if I may be so bold to philosophize with a son of the emperor, he is not lost to us. Even if those who look upon his face only know him as a child upon your lap, even if your are perhaps one of the few who still know his name, he is not lost to us, not truly. For if you still know his name, still hold it in your heart, if even only the emperor truly knows of his true fate, he is not lost to us. As long as some one who still lives speaks his name, he is not truly dead."

Clause once again lifted his gaze to the child's statue and processed Father Garcia's words. "I remember them all, you know, all of them. Even if I only spoke to them once, even if I only ever saw a name and a pict on a file report, I committed them to memory. I wanted to know them all, for they were my sons."

Father Garcia lowered his head for a moment in contemplation and seemed to settle on something. Muttering a silent prayer to the God Emperor, he looked up at the transhuman and spoke, preying he wasn't over stepping. "My Lord, forgive me for being so bold as to assume I can do so, but if you wish to speak about it, plainly I mean, I'd be more then happy to do so with you."

Clause thought for a moment, contemplating the man's offer. A portion of him knew the man was likely terrified at the prospect of violating some tradition or regulation, and that he, in all seriousness, should simply thank the priest for his time and move on, that he had genuinely more important things to tend to...yet another portion of him self spoke otherwise, that he needed to get this off his chest and out of his mind.

Looking up to the priest for the first time since the conversation began, he flashed the priest a haggered smile. "I think...I'd like that, Father Garica."
 
Parsarius System

The Mandeville Point beyond the orbit of Meliveon burst asunder with the cackling cloud of Empyrean energy. Cascading lightning and drifting debris brought from the far reaches of the Sol System found new orbits in the far outer stellar clouds of the Parsarian system. The core of this eruption, which even now was diminishing to nothingness, came a gilded vessel of ostentatious ornamentation. Golden sun colored hull, sleek in its baroque design, entered the system and ignited its plasma drives. Driving to full acceleration and within moments was clearing the orbital path of Meliveon and the outer planets of the system. Passing like a rapidly coursing comet into the inner reaches of the star system. A blazing star. The Battleship sized vessel only began its deceleration once it had reached halfway through the system and adjusted course in a gentle arc to intercept the approaching world of Parsarius along its own orbital circuit. The alignment of the ship and world such that they would seem to be on a collision course. Until the vessel again adjusted itself and approached directly to the rear of a xenos flotilla in orbit.

Having bypassed the chaos on Meliveon without concern the golden battleship did not repeat such ignorance now that it had arrived over its intended destination. A blue-white beam shot out from the battleship and landed amidship of a Tau escort known to Imperial strategists as a 'Castellan-class Escort' and the vessels shields pulsed briefly before failing. The beam striking the vessels armor and penetrating within moments to unleash a string of superheated internal detonations. The atmosphere inside the vessel igniting within micro-seconds like the sudden flashfire of a solar flare manifesting within the very decks of the alien vessel. The escort vanished in a hot-white explosion and expanding debris ring. A second escort died a moment later to the same fate.

A trio of Tau cruisers of the 'Protector' class maneuvered to face this threat but when coming with effective weapons range their computational devices died in a spiraling, catastrophic, cogitator engine failure. The Arae-Shrike machines of the golden vessel infiltrating and through ancient malifica-djinn pre-dating the Great Crusade the war-spirit of the golden battleship murdered the computer-spirits of the Tau machines. At least, that is what the Mechanicus of Mars would interpret as occurring and was as accurate a description that could be contrived.

The baroque warship in the livery of Mankind's star itself opened up on the stricken vessels. The mighty line ships of the Tau Fleet. Each shell that struck the enemy vessels unleashing sub-atomic detonations as they lashed the hull. Reducing the trio of large xenos warships into smoldering carcasses of metal and fading plasma halos.

Moving into position over the world the vessels hangars disgorged flights of craft bearing the stylized 'I' of the Emperor's Most Holy Inquisition. Squadrons of Nighthawks and Valkyries in the black and red heraldry of the Inquisition bore down onto the fire strewn edifice of Coronet City. But that was not all. For the bio-signature of the Primarch had been easily identifiable amid the masses of Humans and even the post-human biological markers of an Astartes as seen from orbit.

The first thing Parsarius would notice is the smell. Ozone. Followed by the white-blue flash of a teleportarium's terminus. There, standing in an empty outer square near the boundaries of the city, were five figures in golden power armor. High crested helms with long red plumes and capes of black. Their armor of shining alloy like the light of sol made steel. Iconography of eagles and thunderbolts adorned their panoplies and weapons. For each carried a mighty spear in their grip, the ends of which featured not only a long blade of crackling energy, but also a fully integrated bolter. Clausewitz would know them by appearance alone, no introductions necessary, the warriors of the Adeptus Custodes. The Emperor's Legion.

By now the black dots of the incoming Inquisitorial craft would appear and the vox would ignite as the Coronet sensoria post registered these contacts coming in fast and descending below effective detection height. The craft's codes coming in with the highest of authority that made the mortal attendants monitoring the atmospheric traffic around Coronet City blanche. Moving to land around the city were companies of black caraspace clad soldiers complete with hellguns and all manner of high-end squad and platoon weaponry. Troopers bearing Lascannons, flamer teams, plasma gun teams, rocketry teams with expensive prey-sight equipped seeker missiles, melta team breacher fireteams, the list went on. Even the vehicles, black painted Leman Russes of types main-line Guard armor regiments would dream of possessing one let alone a platoon of landed. Annihilators at platoon strength, a pair of Conquerors paired with not one but two Executioners, and most of all a complete company of Vanquishers. Even a pair of Macharius Heavies were dropped in a central square and took central position to reinforce checkpoints around Clausewitz's headquarters.

The golden warriors approached with preternatural grace for their size. Each larger than an Astartes and the lead of which came to stand before the Primarch of the Burning Scrolls. His voice came through the vox-grille of his helmet. <<Primarch. I am Prefectus Hadrian of the Hykanatoi. We have much to discuss.>>
 
Paragon, Daemon Prince of Khorne, strides along the now dead world that was once Meliveon. Puddles of blue, red, and purple dot the landscape. Where Tau, and humans fell, their blood remained. Sometimes mixing and changing hue. The wet sounds of Paragon's taloned feet are euphoric to the daemonic beast. If he could feel anything above his undying rage, it would be glee. Glee from the crunching of bones. The splattering of blood. The ending of life and the victory of battle. But alas his rage shall always be victorious. His rage that the battle is over. His rage that there is no life on this planet left to slaughter. And soon, after being informed of their arrival, the rage of knowing the Emperor's gilded tools have come to the system. Worse yet they ignored him. He could not know why. He could not care why. All that went through his mind was the desire for battle. The desire to attack. To tear the golden armor from their forms and shred their genetically modified organs from them with his teeth. The thought made him roar with self-righteous hatred.

"We will go after them." Paragon roared, "We will eviscerate their forms. Peel them apart to the very atoms!"

"They have traveled to Parsarius my Lord." One brave Chaos Marine replied, his voice deep and bearing a synthesized tone due to his helm. "Is Clausewitz no longer our target?"

"THEY ARE ALL OUR TARGETS. WE SHALL DESTROY THEM ALL!" Paragon hollered in response, raising his blade up, shimmering in the red tinted light of the star. The atmosphere is as blood stained as the ground. filled with so much misted blood that the air smells like rusted iron.

The marines of the Defilers roar with their Prince. Raising their own weapons and reveling in their anger and rage. Desiring for war almost as much as Paragon does. Although, back on the Dominator, cooler heads prevail. The rage of their Prince does not control the ship, the members of the legion do. And they know facing a Primarch as well as the Custodes would be far too much for the chapter to handle. Even with their Prince leading the charge.

The clawed feet of the Daemon Prince clang as he stomps angrily through the halls of the ship he once called his own. Before the warp became his true domain. The Captain of the ship, and de facto head of the legion in Paragon's absence, is a Marine that goes by the name Relagon "The Reaver". His valor and bloodthirsty battle style is rivaled only by his Prince. Though he retains more agency that Paragon. More sense. The ability to allow his tactical considerations outweigh his desire to raze everything in his path. He stands atop an elevated platform. Looking down at the many corrupted beings that were once human operate cogitators. Surrounded by blood stained servo skulls floating around. Many of which carrying cracks and scars from unruly marines and in some cases, Paragon himself.

"Why do we hesitate you knave?" Paragon asks, his wings flared and extended as he climbs up to meet the Captain at the same level. Look down into the Chaos marine's eyes.

"It is not hesitation my Lord it is tactics. As mighty as you are, facing the Custodes along with one of your own brothers would be a battle with difficulty beyond even the Siege of Terra for you to take on on your lonesome." Captain Relagon explains. Trying to withhold his own anger to not start a brawl.

"Tactics are for the weak." Paragon snarls. "For those that cannot win an honorable battle."

"There is no honor in death, my Lord. So if tactics prevent your death, it is honorable."

"Your words..." Paragon leans in and speaks with quiet vitriol, "They reek of the Schemer. Too much thought. Too much consideration." His voice begins to build into a roar. "Not. ENOUGH. WRATH."

"I carry more wrath that a thousand of your Marines combined!" Relagon replies, screaming as well. "I carry sense in my wrath. I kill what i believe I CAN kill. I do not simply get myself killed. Be joyous for my sense. Be honored by it! IT IS THE ONLY REASON YOU ARE ABLE TO BE SUMMONED BY YOUR LOYAL SERVANTS AT ALL!"

Paragon grabs Relagon by the collar of his armor. His talons so sharp that they dig into the very ceramite. Their eyes lock. Neither of them giving the other an inch. But eventually the stare is broken by Paragon pushing Relagon back. Hard enough to make the Captain stumble. But not harm him.

"Do you tactics. But be warned. If my bloodlust is not sated soon. You will be the next one I slaughter." Paragon warned with a guttural growl as he leaves the bridge. Leaving Captain Relagon to lead. The Captain gives his orders. They will not move onto Parsarius yet. They will observe for as long as they are able. Wait until the Custodes leave, and attack when the timing is right.

"Someone bring some slaves to Paragon's chambers. Give him something to toy with while we observe." He commands. Hoping to stave off his Prince's anger just long enough for the time to strike to be right.

For when they strike, it shall be ruthless.
 
Clause felt them land before he ever saw them. Custodes, his father's own. He furrowed his brow in some display of either dismay or annoyance, non could figure.

Castor and Pollux fallowed their gene Father as he made headway through the battle lines as combat wound down and found them at square of the old Cattle Auction, a historic part of the city purposely left un build up from the time of early development.

He slung his rifle, though his two body guards kept their bolters at a low ready, and stopped. He nodded at the Golden warrior's greeting.

"It is good to meet you, Prefectus Hadrian, I must say you have impeccable timing." He motioned for the man to lead, knowing full well the Custodes had an agenda and he wasn't likely to avoid it, even if it he wanted too.

What a Interesting few days it had been...
 
"Fair timing indeed," responded Prefectus Hadrian as he remained motionless for a moment, before his vox-grille spoke what Clausewitz had presumed would come. "You are summoned to Terra by the highest authority. Will you accept, Twelve?"

Twelve. Number Twelve. The Primarch's number. What was etched onto his gestation capsule in the laboratoriums below the Himalayas over ten thousand years prior. The numerals of his old legion. But despite his personality and adoption of names and titles to the Emperor's Companions he was still just a thing. A tool. A product. Number Twelve. The Twelfth Primarch. A weapon with a unique genecode like all his brethren. Forged by the Emperor and the greatest gene-wrights of Old Terra.

A vox message over the Parsarius defense network worked its way through command links until it chirped in Clausewitz ear. Astrogation and Stellar Arrays confirm Traitor Battleship class vessel inbound at flank speed. Astropathic and Radio-Telemetry Communications with Melveon are gone. World is silent. Brief datapacket dispatch from Melveon states that a Greater Daemon of Khorne leads the traitor vessel.
 
The Dominator, a vessel of such size and rippling with warp taint that its mere presence is a blight on the forces of the Imperium. And it's presence is known. The pure devastation of Meliveon is impossible to ignore. Once lost to Tau occupation, and just as quickly lost to the ravages of the might Paragon. But Paragon's wrath left nothing alive to occupy. A fate the Daemon Prince aims to see Clause fall too with equal speed and devastation. So much so that the beast goes against the better judgement of his own marine. And makes use of the loyalist primarch's astropaths to convey a message.

I care not for the records of the lackies of the entombed corpse.no time of message will be given.

what you are given is a message for the one who once called me brother,

I. Am. Coming.

The geneseed of your 'sons' will stain my teeth. Your cities will smolder and crumble. The golden fools that aid you will share the false Emperor's fate. Peeled from their ceramite like fruit. Oh how sweet the juice will be. And your 'secrets' will be known. it shall be a shame that you will be too deceased to feel the shame of the Empire scorn.

You know who is coming for you...



The message ends with no warning. Only the instruction that the 12th Primarch receive it with haste. The Dominator growing ever closer to Parsarius. But not yet engaging. Taking cautious movements to be ever advantageous. But for an attack, or to be attack, it cannot be known. But what can is the taint. The ever spreading corruption that seems to stain the void itself. trailing like an oil slick through a river. ready to ignite.
 
Clause stood amid the command bunker, flanked on either side by the Custodes.

For a moment all was quiet. For the transhumans the weight of the words spoken were nothing of news, they knew of the lost 9, and their legions. Yet for the mortals...

The Primarch broke the silence, loudly. "Muster the Cogmen and get them to those defense lasers, have secondary teams monitor the Aegis array and its power core." turning to the twins, he spoke in an all together quieter tone. "I will not suffer this city to fall to a slave of the arch enemy, prepare Contingency Midnight." turning back to the gathered mortal and their commanders, he continued barking. "Elevate Winter Contingency alert to level 3, open the armories and pass out the supplies with in. The Primordial Annihilator is upon us, and none will no mercy from it's servants. Set the city in its defense, traps, timed munitions, all of it. I will not give this bastard the fight he wishes for."

Pull the Guard back to their hardened, 3rd Ring defense structures. Captain." He'd turn to the Custodes Captain and pause for a moment. "I take it I can count on your participation in this battle?"

The City once again sprung in to action. Guardsmen taking their posts, Astartes of multiple chapters joined them. Tech priests, engineseers and priests of steel worked in underground caverns and hardened bunkers to coax more power out of the ancient archeotech power core that fed vital energy to the Aegis array.

Only time would tell if it was enough.
 
"I and my companions will stay by your side in this battle so that you may reach Terra. But of the defense of the city..." The custodian looked at a mortal officer in the black and red uniform of the Inquisitorial Stormtroopers, a Colonel by rank, at the praetorians' visors turning to her she snapped straight and looked at the Primarch, "5th Mercian Baronial Palatines, at your service my Lord." A Major in the same livery as the colonel handed a dataslate with the regiment's dispositions to one of the staff officers of Coronet City. The staff officers' eyes widened at the assets the Terran regiment possessed. Many of the uncommon of downright rare vehicles for the Guard the Stormtroopers had in full company sized orders of battle.

5th Terran Mercian Baronial Palatines
Seconded to Inquisition Chamber Militant, Solar System Conclave

12,000 Troopers, NCOs, and Officers (752 equipped with Grav Chutes as Aquilens Detachment)
54 Taurox Pattern IFVs (ten equipped with missile launchers)
72 Chimeras (26 Hellhound variants)
10 Leman Russ Annihilators (2x command, 8x regular)
21 Leman Russ Vanquishers (1x company command, 4x platoon commander, 16 regular)
2 Leman Russ Conquerors (Special Armored Company)
2 Leman Russ Executioners (Special Armored Company)
4 Macharius Heavy Tanks (Special Armored Company)
1 Macharius Omega (Special Armored Company, Outfitted with Command Array)
3 Valdor Tank Hunters (Regimental Tank Destroyer Detachment)
24 Basilisk Self-Propelled Artillery Guns (4 equipped with Earthshaker guns)
5 Wyverns (1x Command, 4 regular)
6 Praetors (organized into 2 batteries of 3)
16 Hydras (all equipped with Lascannons)
5 Atlas & 5 Trojans of the Regimental Recovery and Logistics Company
9 Sentinels (Scout Recon Walker Company)
3 Salamander Scout Tanks (Armored Scout Platoon)
2 Samaritan Combat Medic Vehicles
28 Nighthawks
10 Sky Talon Drop Ships
24 Valkyrie Gunships
4 Vendetta Heavy Gunships (Dedicated CAS Flight)
5 Vulture Gunships (dedicated Gunship squadron)


Even as they spoke the 5th was finishing its deployment into Coronet City. Most of the Regiment deploying to reinforce the 3rd Defense Ring. Its vehicles organized by platoon or operating as infantry support moved into hull down or bunker fortifications.

<<Dominator within long range engagement zone. Firing.>> The vox sqawked in the command bunker as the captain of the Custodes vessel unleashed a full lance barrage at the incoming Dominator. <<Confirmed, Archenemy warship on terminal route to Coronet City. Atmospheric breach in seventy-eight minutes.>>

Prefectus Hadrian looked at Clausewitz, "Your Aegis will not survive more than several microseconds against the mass of that warship. I trust you have a plan."
 
"The Loyalists appear to be taking defensive measures my lord."

A voice rings out through the bridge. Relagon pays no mind to its source. Caring only for the substance. Those that operate the twisted cogitators of the ship are nothing but drones serving the lord Khorne's almighty purpose. The ship moving from it's more cautious position to one of ramming. The tip of the prow aimed directly at Coronet City. The largest city of Parsius, and Clausewitz's home.

"Maintain course. They will not be so bold as to strike with the force necessary to prevent this invasion. They are cowards who will die for our lord's pleasure regardless of if they are able to repell us." Relagon orders in response. "Their slaughter will be grim. And the rivers of blood left behind them shall be vast. But neither shall be true if we change course." Relagon spoke wisely. Feeling a burning under his skin as if the Blood God were lighting the flame itself. It pained him to wait for battle in the face of their prey. A ravenous hunger within him makes his innards growl with the desire for violence. "Return fire with full batteries. This engagement will not be long. There is no need to hold back. Slaughter the ships where they orbit. Fire, everything." Batteries along the Dominator take aim and fire endless volleys at every ship within range on either side of it.

Meanwhile Paragon continues to wait. Each passing moment wearing his patience thinner. A patience that was tissue thin from the beginning. The is only so much pleasure that a beast like Paragon can derive from slaughtering slaves. And without anything to sate his lust for blood, the Daemon Prince has grown wary of these tactics that his captain espouses. The massive, winger Daemon storms his way to the bridge yet again. Shoving every living thing he passes out of his way in the process. Several of them being shoved so hard that their blood joins the already thick blood stains that adorn the walls of the ship.

"I grow TIRED OF THIS!" Paragon roars as he enters the bridge. "Eject me from the ship. I will face the loathesome loyalist myself." he clenches his taloned fist. Pantomiming what he desires to do to Clause's skull.

"My lord, we have just begun our assault. Drop pods are about to be set loose. We shall lay siege to the city and salt every field we pass along the way." Relagon explained. And just as he said, the drop pods began to be released. Dropping tainted marines to the planet's surface. Thunderhawks were being prepared to bring even more troops and equipment to the surface. but only when the Dominator gets closer will they fly as to not be shot down before they even break through the atmosphere.

"Prepared a pod bay. I will be ejected, now." Paragon commanded.

"Of course lord Paragon. Where do you wish to drop?"

"Put me as close to the city as that damned shield will allow. I am here for one reason, and one reason only."

"Of course my lord. It shall be done."

Paragon leaves without another word. He stops off at the armory first. Grabbing weapons and contingencies of many varieties. Once armed sufficiently for slaughter, he moves on to the drop pods. Fitting his massive winged form into a changer and speaking into the vox comms.

"I am ready. Release me upon my enemies." Without another word, it is done. Relagon relays the order and the Daemon is unleashed upon Parsius. Set to make landfall within minutes.
 
As the Dominator neared, their response could be heard. First, the white flashing beams of defense lasers, though only a handful of the larger batteries would be able to muster the power to answer from their vantage points along the ring of the city.

Deep below the city, tech priests and acolytes of the machine god worked to sooth and calm the ancient archeotech reactor complex to provide power to Clause's last trump card...

For centuries the strange tower had pointed up to the sky, being one of the last of the old Dark Age era buildings left from before the renovation of the city, and one kept for study by his personal remit...an order backed by the will of the Emperor him self.

Defense Cannon Fire Control room.

Lt. Vorr sweated heavily in the hot air of the room, the 30 or so other officers and Tech Priests working fervently based off the instructions given by the two monolithic space marines that stood in the center of the bunker. Finally, the Vox crackled to life in his ear and Vorr began to read out orders.

"Fire Control chief, report gun status?"

"Status is Green, Emperor Wills it."

"Go for FPF?"

"Go."

"Roger." Vorr turned to the Gun captain's terminal. "Go for FPF, center mass."

"Traversing, the Holy Machine spirit lives!" The soft whine of Generator turbines became a near defining roar as the ancient gun moved to gain a bead on the incoming Dominator.

"Traitor ship sighted...solution locked, go for shot."

"Gun Captain, you have fire control."

"Shot!" With a squeeze of the control stick, the gun spools for a moment before firing with a mighty thunder clap, a 300 tone diamantine tipped slug lanced out of the towering gun barrel at an appreciable speed of light, flying true at the incoming ship.
 
Warzone Parsarius

The Dominator's prow buckled under the sudden onslaught of mass vs mass reaction within a gravitationally assisted, terminal, descent to an atmospheric possessing celestial body. The mighty vessel visibly slowed as its engines and the pull of the planet momentarily was held in check for a full second by the impact. Warped and blood red adamantium plate bent inwards before tearing. Decks atomized and galleries ejected into mid-orbit of the planet as the vessel trailed debris. Its course was unable to be fully arrested and even the lashings of the Custodes vessel's mighty lance batteries. Even the shot of an Adrathic broadside that cut grievous gaping wounds in the vessels portside. Its innards a growing mist of fiery debris entering the atmosphere. The sheer bulk of the warship prevented it from being stopped. The warship's integrity, however, was now compromised as additional ground-based lasers sliced through meters thick armor plating into the innards of the vessel. Atmospheric entry exacerbated the strain on the superstructure of the vessel as pieces began to break off and trail like a storm of comets in a widening cone.

The ship glanced off the Aegis, its course now off, to crash into a neighboring field and plot a thousand-meter-wide ditch, half a mile deep, into the planet's surface. The second sun of its plasma reactor detonating came a moment later and the Aegis was bombarded by apartment building sized debris. The generators deep in the proto-hive burned to maximum power to sustain the hail it was being put through. The thermal wash of the detonation arrived within microseconds and everyone that could took shelter in bunkers or sealed themselves in armored vehicles. The northern outer burbs of the city closest to the wreckage had been either atomized or reduce to molten slag. While a black-brown cloud of debris six miles high thrust upward to obscure the Sun.

All was still for a moment as the defenders emerged to man their positions. It would not be long after that contact would be made with the Archenemy...

The first contact came on the South-Eastern sector of the inner transit ring of the Proto-Hive. The 3rd Defensive Ring as indicated on Imperial war maps. The ring conveniently hosts to a variety of subterranean and surface fortifications and emplacements in the event the outer defensive belts were breached. The South-Eastern Sector abutted a curve in a small river that bisected the inner lower proto-hive commercial districts and the South-Eastern residential habitats. A trio of bridges spanned the river along double decker configuration and integrated into the Ring to allow a flow of ground car traffic from the outer residentials to the inner. Along with an adjacent mag-lev line which went way out into the outer towns and orchard hamlets.

Here, servo-skull sentries picked up movement among the cityscape. Rapidly moving figures in red. Automated sentry guns on the far end of the bridge momentarily registered the threat, a few got off rounds, most did not. As their receiver signals went dead. With a roar a hundred figures in red rushed the bridge on both levels. Chainaxes and bolt guns raised.

The lascannon emplacements on either side of near end of the bridge opened fire. Tube fired rockets a moment after. Then the thump-wump of heavy bolters and rattle-clacks of heavy stubbers. Only when the berzerkers got halfway across, a movement measured in single digit seconds, did volleys of disciplined lasfire join the storm of defensive fire. The red wave faltered for a moment. A dozen of the figures with smoking craters in their armor or knocked back and down by the volume of fire. Until a hellish icon of Khorne was raised with trailing totem strings of skulls and the red tide surged forth.

The enemy Astartes were now close enough that their return fire began to claim kills as PDF and Guardsmen disappeared in clouds of red mist. The Berzerkers would make it to the other side when Captain Varino of the 5th Mercian Volunteer Levies, the Inquisitorial Stormtrooper Regiment that arrived from Terra, personally rammed home a detonated trigger. The bridges flashed with a hundred bright lights before a thunderous cacophany as the bridge's masonry gave way in the middle. Blowing the bridges. The red tide melted back into the other side of the bridge. Leaving the bodies of fourteen Astartes in view, unclear of the others killed by the detonating bridge, but of course the Stormtroopers were under no illusions that the chances of survival for the traitor astartes was extremely high even if they fell dozens of meters into the river below. Of course, there was nothing but stone from the river to the level of the transit ring. So, a watch was set up via sentry drone to comb the river with thermal imaging.

Elsewhere the onslaught was slower than expected. The Khornates letting their slave-fodder and traitor mortal troops be the first wave as they rushed the defenses in the Western quadrant. The scything fire of the defenders killing hundreds and wounding thousands more. But here the Defiler captains were fine to choose their assault strategies and individual groups of Khorante Berzerkers assaulted specific strongpoints. On more than one occasion even managing to take a fortified section which caused loyalist Astartes from the Scroll's successor chapters alongside the armored elements of the 5th Mercian to launch rapid counterattacks to restore the 3rd Defensive Rings integrity.

All in all, the first six hours of fighting had seen much blood shed as the Imperials PDF and Parsarian Guardsmen tallied 463 KIA and 251 WIA. The 5th Mercian reported 11 KIA and 9 WIA. While estimates for the traitor losses amounted to approximately 800 KIA mortals and several thousand WIA with unclear amount of Defiler losses.
 
Parsarius

The Blood God cares not for whose blood is spilled. The blood of a berzerker loyal to his cause is just as sweet when lost in glorious battle as the worshippers of the corpse emperor's. At the trio of bridges in the south eastern sector, Cultists continue to lays fire on the fortifications. Berzerkers abandon the position, looking for another place to attempt to breach. In their place however, a Blood Slaughterer approaches. The mechanical spider like daemon engine stabs into the ground. Kicking up large chunks of rockrete as the serrated metal limbs claw the beast forward unto the edge of the center of the three bridges. It's lack of ranged weapons seem to make it a minimal threat at best from this distance. However, behind the cloud of smoke that obscures the horizon, a black shadow grows. A thin line at first. Growing larger as the massive wings spread from the center of the shadow. The smoke is broken as Paragon flies through it at blazing speed. With a sword in his left hand, the Daemon Prince grabs the Blood Slaughterer with his right, lifting it up and ferrying it over the gap. Dropping the beast within the fortification. It whirls a mechanical cry of rage as it swings it's bladed hands and cleaves guardsmen in twain. The blood of the loyalists lubricating its machinery. Relieving the lascannon encampment soldiers of their duties, and their lives.

Meanwhile, a Khornate Heldrake flies overhead. Attacking more defense guns up ahead and starting to clear some of the path forward towards the central spire. Where Paragon knows that Clause is hiding within. He can sense it. Feel it in his bones. Like a moth to a flame the Daemon Prince lands alongside the Blood Slaughterer and begins to obliterate guardsmen with his hellish blade. Shredding them with its massive size and power that they almost vaporize. Several astartes try to stop Paragon. And though mighty compared to the guardsmen, they fall all the same. One astartes begin bisected by the ferocious might of Paragon's assaults. All giving his Chaos forces time to scale the hive side of the river to join the fight alongside their Corrupted Primarch.

in the west, the five Ferrum Infernus Chaos Dreadnoughts among Paragon's forces lead the continued advance. it is a slow slog of lines clashing together. Paragon's personal pack of Jackals charges the lines to break ranks repeatedly. The ferocious rabid dog like fighters, enhanced by combat stims in their packs regularly fall to loyalist Astartes. But they also regularly overwhelm the standard guardsmen. Their rabid relentless assaults giving the Berzerkers behind them just enough room to chain axe their way through Clause's lines. The losses taken are never important. Because death and slaughter are the goals. And death and slaughter is what they shall have.
 
The Defense was going...sub par, but not beyond expectations.

The arrival of traitor astartes backed up by several daemons too, signaled the expected method of attack of the Adherents of the Blood god. The Five dreadnoughts made their slow, bloody assault with frenzied ease, stomping through the see of lass and bolter fire, ducking and weaving when needed to dodge the odd Krak and hunter-killer missiles the defenders could muster...That was, until a deep rumbling could be heard and the distant whine of a great promethium turbine engine grew nearer and nearer.

From a square, hidden from sight, came the popping of smoke grenades, blocking view down the western avenue as something massive rolled towards them. Suddenly, the smoke was dissipated nearly as the main gun of Diocletian's Fist, the primarch's own personal super heavy tank, made it's presence known. With a world shaking crack and a great arc of light the shell lanced down the avenue and impacted the lead Dreadnought center mass, the massive shell uttering demolishing the ancient warbeast in an instant. An unceremonious end to such a storied war machine.

In an instant the four others focused their weapons fire on the new enemy, only for it's voidshields, meant to counter near titan scale weaponry, flickered as the rounds blinked out of existence. Near by, the beleaguered astartes and Guardsmen defender rallied and began to poor fire on the dreadnoughts and their guard in a renewed effort

Similarly, the other ancient war machine of the 12th Legio Astartes made it's position known as Mcharious Oldwain, first primarch of the 12th legion, Eldest and near the last Terran born son of the Parsarian marched his way out of his position in a hardened bunker and in to the fortification and raised his weapons at the Blood slaughterer. First came a rappid burst of heavy autocannon fire, the quad linked weapon sounding more like a continuous rumble of loud thunder as is belched fire and shells at the daemon engine, doing damage, but that wasn't the point. The point was to get the beat's attention long enough for it to turn and pause, see him, and level its ire on the elder Leviathan dreadnought as he leveled a weapon older then the Imperium it self on it and fired.

The C-beamer crackled to life with archaic, eldritch energy as it stabilized and fired, the lance of purple black energy firing out at the speed of near light and impacted the beast, rendering armor and corrupted flesh as its vary atomic structure was converted to explosive energy. Near by, dedicated heavy weapon's teams of the Burning Scrolls and a hand picked few of their successor captors moved in to position to poor more plasma, volkite and lass weapon fire in to the daemon engine.


Elsewhere, the Primarch readied him self. Checking his pistol, rifle, sword and knife he turned to the Custodes captain as they ascended through the bunker turbo lift. "I don't expect you to help me, honored captain, but I know you wont let me die, least not easily. I'd rather not fight my brother directly, but his obvious, if not stated, goal of destroying my home world in repayment for my atomic bombardment of his during the betrayal is nearly complete, and at this point, his continued existence in this plain is a direct threat to those I wish to spirit of world if possible." Reaching in to the various hidden compartments of his armor, he reviled a small detonator. "This, Honored Captain, is the Midnight Contingency. If I fall, if I am to die this day, at my brother's hand, activate it. The secrets of my laboratorium below must not fall in to the hands of the primordial annihilator. The weapon will register in the mid 400s of Megaton yield, and for the briefest of moments, be contained with in the Aegis, utterly atomizing everything in the city limited before the blast shatters the shield and renders most of this continent in to glass." He paused, waying his options as the lift neared its end. "I know your orders are to keep me alive, but no plan survives first contact with the enemy. If I fall, If I die...from one son of the emperor to another, let my world fall with me. I know I'm asking you to end your self, but It would be the closest to an instant end as any transhuman of our relative caliber could experience."

He handed it to the Golden warrior as the lift's doors opened to the air of the city, rank with the smell of weapons fire and burning debris. Stepping out, he readied his rifle. Knowing his brother would at least sense him, if not hear him, he spoke aloud. "Brother, I am here."


"Come, let us end this."
 
Paragon's taloned claw pulls the head, helmet and all, from one of the 12th's astartes. Taking a moment to bath himself in the spilling blood that pours from the neck. Tasting the blood, altered by his former brother's geneseed. This moment of revelry is brief. As he hears the roar of his Blood Slaughterer be struck by a powerful weapon. It thrashes about. Slashing through nearby members of the guard in its violent death throws. The draconic Daemon feels no remorse for the loss of his daemon engine. Only rage for one of his forces failing. A shadow from above passes across the ground. With nothing but a point of his taloned finger, the heldrake descends upon Gawain and Unleashed a wave of pure hellish flame. Engulfing the dreadnought and nearly every living soul within the courtyard as it makes its pass through. Flying off and readying itself for another pass.

Then came the feeling, the sound. The scales on Paragon's neck wiggled. As if his very soul itched to burst out of his body in search of the source. A power, a strength, un matched on the planet. And surrounded by similar beings of great power that make even these astartes feel like peons by comparison. The Daemon equalizer crushes the skull in his fist. Raising his hand up to drop the gored skull; offal, skull, and metal alike, into his mouth. Swallowing them after brief crunching with his rows of teeth. The blood of his victim filling him with righteous fury as he screams with unbridled rages. The very air around him being warped by the rapturous volume of his roar. Ever being near him, ally and foe alike, falling to their knees from the unbearable power the volume. Putting even the most potent of noise marine to shame.

His massive wings extend, and in a flash he ascends to the sky. Blasting through the smokes of the battle overhead. Flying high until he reaches an apex. His wide spread wings creator a minor eclipse on the ground below him as he scours the city. He looks for the golden glow. He looks for the visage of his enemy. And with a second roar, this time creating a rippling wave of warp energies around him, he descends. Pulling both wings in for a nose dive as he aims for the courtyard that Clause has come out to. Small flames ripple along his form as he rips through the air at terminal velocity. Looking like a meteor aimed for the city streets.

Just at the very last moment, Paragon extends his wings again. adjusting the trajectory of his body, keeping most of his momentum as he barrels towards Clause as speed faster than even an Astartes eye could follow. The air itself is sliced. causing cracks in the sound barrier so frequent that one would not be faulted for thinking that it were the sound of fireworks. Shots that ring in from Clause's rifle scrape and ding Paragon's armor. That is until the Daemon finally collides with the Primarch. The collision knocking the rifle from Clause's hands as Paragon tackles him through a steel pillar and into the wall behind it. Creating a meters wide crater and kilometer long series of cracks going up throughout the building. Paragon Clause against the wall by the collar of his power armor. Corrosive ichor dropping from his his wide smiling maw. Talons digging in through the ceramite.

"It has been too long." Paragon remarks. A cackle of laughter bellowing from him before turning into a unholy roar.
 
The fighting had grown increasingly chaotic along the 3rd Ring Line as more and more Defiler and Khornate cultists assaulted sections of the defense. For the Custodes the sound of Paragon's approach was heard before it was seen. The red blur thundering forth and the Custodes began moving faster than the human eye could track. As Paragon slammed into Clause and spoke his sentence had finished for only a couple milliseconds before a golden shoulder smashed into his side. Prefect Hadrian's golden form slammed the Daemon Primarch off of Clause with all the force of a thunderbolt.

A barrage of bolter fire from Hadrian, Sebastian, and Belisarius pushed the Red Angel back. But Paragon would not be alone as the throng of battle approached. Defilers, following their Primarch, approached rapidly as a breach in the defense had occurred. Traitor Astartes moving fast enough to leave after images to the human eye advanced rapidly with bloodthirsty roars and whirring chain axes.

A squad, the vanguard of the Defiler assault, approached in the wake of their Primarch and Hadrian nodded to Clause before turning away. The Custodes would deal with the Traitor Astartes. The Defilers roaring at the sight of their Primarch and with the red fury of Khorne pumping in their hearts and coloring their vision red they charged. The first Defiler's ceramite helm detonated under a trio of bolt shells from Sagittarum Guard Gallienus. A second engulfed in disintegrating energy as the Adrathic energy weapon of the Custodes hybrid caliver fired.

The Custodes took the Traitors head on and soon met incoming traitor guard and other Defilers. The odds swiftly rising to 5 to 1 but the Custodes did not pause. Each warrior fighting in their own unique style yet coordinated around each other. Unlike the Astartes that fought as units the Custodes trained as individuals. Kurosawa evaporated a squad of traitor cultists with a flurry of bolter shells from his Guardian Spear before twirling it overhead and bringing it down to amputate the arm of a swinging Defiler. Finishing off with a swift stab from his Misericordia. The blade erupting from the back plate of the Defiler like sword through paper.

Hadrian and Sebastian fought back-to-back and at their feet the bodies of one, two, three, and four Defilers were acquired as they spun, ducked, weaved, and alternated between melee and explosive barrages. Belisarius struck down a Defiler icon bearer with a well-timed throw of his spear and placing a foot over the corpses breastplate he drew his Klaimor and dispatched the red wave of cultists that surged to assault him. Each blow of his powered long sword a kill. Each slash ending the wretched lives of multiple cultists. While further afield, the double eagle of the Imperial Aquila held aloft in its gilded glory, the Vexillum Defensor held by Fabian turned aside with its arcane technologies any ranged weapon. Cultist las and bolt fire dissipated or fell to the stones. A Defiler Predator tank shell glanced off as if striking invisible Titan armor. Ephoroi Musashi was beside him and slew a Defiler captain in single combat alongside three of his corrupted companions. While above Venetari Rameses took on a Defiler Raptor head on landed among Cultists, who swiftly disappeared in a red cloud of blood and gore, holding the Raptor's head aloft in victory. The Firepike glowing as he swung and jetted upwards with a roar of flame to engulf more cultists coming into the breach.

The Custodes silent, grim, counterattack of the breach Paragon's wake had made rallied the defenders. Raptors and Scrolls counter-attacked under the standard held in Fabian's golden gauntlet. The Stormtroopers of the 5th Mercian rallied and began to pour hellgun, heavy bolter, mortar, lascannon, flamer, melta, plasma, and rocket fire into the red tide. While the throttling roar of tank engines sounded as a pair of Macharius heavies, having fought their way through cultist AFVs left as blackened wrecks, came into view and belched death from their cannons and pintle mounted guns.

Elsewhere the news of Custodians taking to the field had galvanized the defense. In the West the Chaos forces met a squad of Sisters of Silence who grimly took the Chaos Psykers of the Defiler's cultist legions head on. Swiping them from the battlefield with strokes of their broadswords. The sight of the Emperor's Talons joined by hunter-killer teams of Raptors who targeted Defilers bands one at a time. Coordinated with Guard and PDF units to lure them into kill boxes.

The fighting was tough however for the mortal troops and in Clause headquarters his command staff calculated a 1:7 kill death ratio between Defilers and PDF/Guard troops. Of the cultists the fighting was decisively in the PDF and Guards favor. Nonetheless the Command staff calculated that the PDF had suffered over 16,000 KIA since the Defilers assault began and had lost contact with entire units. The Stormtroopers of the 5th Mercian accounted for an additional 1,500 KIA and few hundred more wounded. Of the Astartes it could only be guessed.

Overhead squadrons of Valkyries and Vultures pounded enemy approaches with strafing runs and bomb drops. Much of the areas along the ring road in the West and South were on fire.

For the Chaos forces things were much more chaotic. While the Defilers shirked losses to a great extant, more than one of their Captains remarked that of the ten thousand which had made planet fall at least 500 of their brethren had fallen. Further the loss of three Dreadnoughts in rapid succession had been a tough blow by some of the older members of the Legion. While the mortal troops had lost at least 40% of their strength.
 
Getting picked up and thrown with surprising ease was...disconcerting. Yet as he was held before the reptilian visage of his brother he spoke, spitting the words at his brother-primarch with no veil of kindness covering the venom in them.

"Not long enough."

Yet just as he was to pull the trigger of his plasma pistol as he held it to his brother's chin, the custodes broke the grapple and Paragon- No, the thing that wore his brother's skin and spoke his voice was sent back by the torrent of fire they unleashed on him.

Getting to his feet he leveled the plasma gun and fired, sending several golden bolts of sun hot energy in to the form his brother had taken. No, his brother no longer, not since that day. He had to remember this. The Weapon beeped, signaling the emptying of its reserves and so Clause tossed it away, drawing his knife and charged the Demon head on. Acting with all the blind fury he could he struck, embedding the knife in his brother's shoulder before, in a show of rage and surprising strength, drop kicked his brother back again before scrambling to his feet and charging again. With another surge he leapt, landing an elbow on his brother's face with a crack loud enough to rival thunder.

Then came the punches, sloppy, but as fast and hard as a primarch could muster, ceramite cracking against the force as one transhuman met another. "Why couldn't you stay dead. Why couldn't you have sat and rotted in what ever stars be forsaken fucking hole you came out of you damndable whoreson of a brother!" Each word punctuated with a blow. Clause did not simply speak, he roared with these words. Year, decades, centuries millennia of hate and anguish flowed through him.

Then something happened.

A voice, not his own, not native to his own mind, whispered in his ear, no, from the back of his mind.

"Yes. Let him know your wrath..."

Instantly he felt...Wrong.

He paused, just for a moment, in utter confusion at this violation of his mind.
 
Each bit of bolter fire or plasma that struck his armor did little to it. Some struck his scaled skin. Burning, enraging Paragon further. The adrenaline from his has flowing every bit of the power that his patron has granted him through his veins like high octane promethium in an engine. Like a thinning, a doping, made of pure rage. His pupils shrunk, and his teeth glistened with secreting ichor. And yet, he felt a pull. Something within him that stopped the Daemon from advancing. From digging his claws into the throat of the loyalist. Not even a voice in his head but rather a thumb on his tail. Then he saw the fury in Clause's eye. Each blow that lands hurts. Much more than anything else on this planet has managed to. There was something more behind these strikes. The Blood God himself was attempting to tie his strings to Clause's form. A vane waste of Paragon's time. But his time, was the Lord of Blood's time. Though he felt the release. The pause in Clause's resolve. And in the same instant the hold on his actions was release. Paragon smiled, launching three blindingly fast strikes directly at Clause's face. The first, a jab to the nose. Landing true and pushing the loyalist back just enough to allow Paragon's monstrous reach to weigh its advantage. The second a hook to the jaw. A strike less meant to damage his foe and more meant to put him in perfect position for the third strike. Paragon opens his corrupted and clawed hand and slashes his razor like talons through Clause's left eye. leaving three deep gashes that glow a violent red. Warp energies having the wounds grow at the same speed as Clause's healing tries to close them.

"So much rage from the logical one." Paragon says with malicious laughter. "Have you lost your way as well? Holding onto a thread of your loyalty to a decayed reality? Held to your flimsy oaths by the presence of gilded lackeys?" The laughter subsides into a bloodthirsty look of hunger. "Or must I finally show you what the powers you rebuke are capable of?" The daemon rushes again, barely giving Clause a chance to respond before launching a kick directly into his chest.

Meanwhile more and more Khornate Berserkers, along with waves of rabid cultists, advance on the Custodes. Most of them being cut down but the sheer numbers starting to clog the courtyard. Piles of corpses forming. With new still living bodies rushing over to throw themselves at the meatgrinder that is the Custodes. High in the sky the Heldrake soars down. Flying towards Clause's forces along with the courtyard battle. Unleashing another strafing blast of hellish fire against the Custodes but also friendly forces from the sheer volume of the flames bellowing from its throat.
 
While Clause and Paragon dueled the wider battle for Coronet City continued unabated. More of the inner city becoming devastated as the Defiler's, drastically outnumbering their Imperial brethren, penetrated the 3rd Defensive Ring and like a dam failing to hold back a bloody river began to flow into the inner defensive zone. While a seeming unending tide of crimson and blood red garbed cultists threw itself like tides against a cliff. Their bodies scythed down by sentry gun, bolter, las, and stub gun fire. The only part of the battle in which the Imperials enjoyed outright supremacy being in the air. Squadrons of the 5th Mercian's aerial detachment carried round the clock non-stop bombing and strafing missions. Extractions of surrounded personnel as individual 3rd Ring bastions became isolated and cut off from each other. Flying beleaguered garrisons to the inner Citadel defensive zone.

The Imperials by the tenth hour mark of the Daemon Primarch's assault were no longer conducting counterattacks. Not even localized counterstrikes. Instead focusing on a staged defense and withdrawal to the citadel zone and under the protection of the citadel's defensive guns. The Cathedral of Saint Elia's Rest provided another part of the interconnected bastion and fortified streets with interconnecting kill boxes and rockrete bunkers reinforced with alloyed metals.

Here the Lamenter's, alongside the few remaining Battle-sisters of the Order of Lady's Rest, stationed their number to protect the over one hundred thousand civilians in the underground vaults and sub-levels of the Cathedral. Most of whom were women and children. Every male sixteen and up had joined the defense. Sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds took up jobs as ammo carriers, rubble clearing, building basic emplacements and sandbagging choke points for gun crews. Eighteen and up were given whatever weapon could be given on hand and joined in 'Coronet Militia Companies' and attached to Blue Hat units. Some performed admirably. Especially if the foe was cultists and they had sufficient numbers with Blue Hat support. The commissars steel words hardening their ill-disciplined ranks into a somewhat cohesive mob. Something which was bloodless thanks to the Primarch's order on them abstaining from summary execution unless absolutely necessary. Others had performed poorly, as expected, reliant on nothing but blind fanaticism churned up by Commissars and Ecllesiarchy battle-priests. The Retributors and Raptors had dispersed elsewhere along the defense where needed.

Citadel Command Bunker, Sub-Level 5

A full five hundred meters below the surface the cool air of the command bunker stank with the musk of recycled ventilation and the heat of cogitators. The fans doing more to circulate the air over the last hour given the Traitors had overrun the central district air filtration plant an hour prior. Two hundred blue hats and four thousand militia had held that point alongside a Retributor squad under Brother-Sergeant Galeron since the traitor assault began. The enemy sent two waves of cultists which were beaten back with little effort. Bomb drops by the 5th Mercian's air detachment killed hundreds.

Then the third wave came with a determined mechanized assault supported by artillery. The Khornate cultists driving red painted and skull donned basilisks at obscenely close range to blast bunkers point-blank. While Hellhound APCs and Sentinels stalked forth to douse trenches in promethium flame and lascannons vaporized defenders entirely. Brother-Sergeant Galeron led the counter-attack and using their own lascannons or rocket launchers managed to disable and then destroy the traitor vehicles. Tallying sixteen walkers and seven Chimera's destroyed. Then the fourth wave struck. This time the Defilers joined the fray, over a hundred berserkers, The Imperials were forced into the filtration complex and in the warrens of the building fought a bottleneck defense until they were forced to the rooftop levels and there the survivors were airlifted back to the Citadel. Of the garrison there three thousand militia had fallen or missing along with one hundred blue hats. Galerion reported two of his brothers had fallen to Defilers. One in the courtyard of the complex and one in the fight within the structure. Their geneseed saved by the squad's Apothecary. An Apothecary that was wounded in the process via a shell damaging one of his three lungs. All of this was read by Colonel Constantine Valentin and Inquisitor Dunn who were present in the bunker.

The sound of booted steps and the haggard face of Colonel Killgore came into view. His chest armor dented and puckered from taking shots. Dunn gave his armor a glance. Killgore's response was curt, "Lunatic with a stubgun thought he'd get lucky. The Archenemy is pressing the outer vehicle depot yard. The Colonel pulled up the situation on the central hololith. Pointing to a series of icons.

"What of the..."

"The Primarch is engaged by a Daemon. He still duels," came the terse reply of a marine in battle scarred armor. His helm held in his ceramite gauntlet. The Raptor, Brother-Morrin, of the Inquisitor's retinue spoke calmly despite the situation.

"And of the Custodes?"

"They fight beside him."

A sense of relief among the men in the room. Only dimmed by the ongoing battle reports. The Defiler's were attacking in legion strength. Some ten thousand as the estimate made planetfall. Far more than what the Imperial Astartes present could fight with any hope of success. Too few. Even with the help of Stormtroopers, Guardsmen, and a sizable, blooded PDF contingent it was not enough. Add in the hundreds of thousands of cultists and they were thoroughly besieged, on borrowed time.

"Reports from orbit?"

"Custodes vessel stands by to evacuate the Primarch and escort."

"Something tells me that isn't us," responded Killgore.


"Sir," a staff major handed a data slat to Killgore, "Enemy launching probing attacks on the Cathedral. Defilers have breached the outer Northern perimeter alongside division sized elements of the Traitor cultists. Fighting in the Northern galleries underway, 109th Harakoni and a company of Arbites have joined the battalion of Parsarian Blue Hats and five thousand Militia present. Enemy forces have pressed and cut one hundred meters into the Southern defenses and now attempting to cross the Primarch's Boulevard and Mag-Lev line. 5th Mercian responding."

"Sir," same major handed a second but this time print out slip, Killgore's eyes narrowed, "Second ship in orbit, confirmed by Custodes vessel. Markings are..."


Primarch's Boulevard

The boulevard would have been pretty. Lined with blossoming trees with leaves of pinks and gold. White lilies and tall strong trunks on others. Flowers and grass carefully kept by an underground hydration system, alongside the industrial filtration system of the city, kept the air and ground decently clean for the populace. Granted such a population was small compared to a proper Hive World.

The company of Leman Russ Vanquishers of the 5th Mercian had been joined by the three Valdor Tank Hunters of the Regiment's tank destroyer detachment. Infantry rode in the three companies of Chimeras coming in behind or rode on top of the tanks. In the distance the Regiment's Nighthawks dropped a wave of 2000ib bombs which shook the ground.

As the lead tank arrived, the others arriving on three other parallel streets took up positions with buildings partially obscuring their hulls. Turning their tanks diagonal to provide better ablative protection as their turrets rotated. Auspex and Scanners hunting for targets amid the haze of battle. The infantry dismounting to take up positions in nearby buildings or along the boulevards side streets.

<<Target, Sentinel walker.>> The vox chirpped.

The platoon commander spoke back, <<Fire. All units engage at will.>>

To the left a Vanquisher's cannon blossomed as a shell dispatched the walker which had lingered too much around a corner on the opposite side of the boulevard. Destroying it utterly. A rocket plume came from a roof top across the street and before anyone could yell into the vox it slammed into the tank which had fired. But did not penetrate. Immediately all the tanks and chimeras that had good view began to hose down the building. Collapsing half of it in the process.

Clunk.

A shell glanced off the platoon commanders' tank and he squinted panning for the source as he ordered a lurch to throw off the attackers aim. A tank silhouette in the distance through a smoking column, Predator tank, his blood froze but his instinct pulled the trigger. The cannon of his gun spat and so did two of his compatriots. The first two shells glanced off but the third struck just between the treads and the hull. Blowing off a tread. By then the Predator had got off two shells and his tank sent alarms on the onboard cogitator about armor integrity on the left sponson. He ordered a charge. The Vanquishers broke forward and fired. The sequence of shells managing to penetrate the Predator's thick armor and catastrophic internal detonation. A stream of bolter shells and secondary las cannon beams scoured the wreck. never to be too sure of the Traitor Astartes inside surviving.

By then the Vanquishers had reached the other side and the commander sent a clear for the infantry to cross and begin clearing the buildings. Advancing any further likely suicide. A series of booms and the infantry scattered while emerging from side streets a trio of Predators in the blood colors of the Defilers emerged alongside weapons teams. Both sides opened fire.

A Predator's turret flew into the air. A vanquisher soon followed. A second vanquishers side blew out. A third lost the right tread. A second Predator had its primary gun damaged and auspex finders destroyed. The infantry was beset by Defilers and Cultists and the Imperials began to withdraw across the boulevard. Frantically gunning into rear drive as infantry were gunned down or slaughtered in the buildings. More enemy vehicles arrived, and the Vanquisher company commander could only watch as more of his tanks sensors showed yellow or red alerts. His tank swerved to a stop. Not of his own volition. His driver screamed about a Tred being blown out in the front. This was it, they were dead, a Predator approached with its barrel turning towards them. Ready to finish the job. Detonation. The Predator reduced to a smoking wreckage as a pair of gunships in black paint and bearing white sigils soared over head. A trio of larger craft, Thunderhawks, unleashed their ordinance on targets across the boulevard while out the back jumped a Company of Astartes in black armor and white raven motifs.

While above roof tops on their side, unknown forces began to fire specific one-shots or short bursts, dispatching individual Defilers or groups of cultists. Ultimately, as the casualties mounted the Defilers fell back amid the increasing barrage. Plasma and Melta guns, lascannons, heavy flamers, heavy bolters, and so forth. The Vanquisher commander popped his hatch and slide down beside his tank amid the chaos. His driver doing the same with the repair kit. Their gunner, who had been operating the sponsons, came in behind. The tread had been blown out but repairable with a spare segment.

<<Tend to that and rally back at the citadel.>> A metallic vox voice caught them at unawares and they jolted to see a figure in black towering over them. Wearing a camo cloak and grav chute. A bulky long barreled variant of a bolter in his hands. The White Raven insignia on his pauldrons. Raven Guard. As if the signature beaked helmet wasn't enough to give it away.

"Yes, Lord," said the commander as he turned to join his crew in the repairs.

Command Bunker, Citadel

They had entered orbit with no one aware but the Custodes ship whom on request had not relayed their approach. In order to maintain optimal stealth. The Raven Guard had been fighting the Tau for a long time, since before the Third Tyrannic War during the Agrellan Campaign. Now, the officers in the bunker stood at attention and bowed as a hulking figure in the armor of a Primaris Vanguard marine entered. Power claws on his gauntlets. The Raven's Talons. Clasps turned and a single hand reached up to remove the helmet. Revealing a porcelain white pale face, dark eyes, and black hair.

"I am Kayvaan Shrike, Chapter Master of the Raven Guard. I come with the 1st, 3rd, 4th, 7th and 8th Companies. I also bring news. Three Clans of Iron Hands are less than forty-eight hours away en-route from campaigns against the Tau."

"That is...good news," managed Dunn."

Shrike merely put on his helm and left.

Eastern City Outskirts

Sarn stomped along, his armor wet with fresh blood, a bloody fresh flayed skull in his other gauntlet. "Captain what is it?" said Sarn with a growel, barely surpressing the rage, as his fellow Captain pointed in the distance to the North. Both marines had their helmets off and magnetized to their thighs. "Raven Guard, I heard. Get on with it Gurrosh."

"The Primarch is going to get his most loyal sons killed."

"Listening too much to the sorcerors and witches again?"

"I mean it this time Sarn. He is here for his brother, the Burning Scrolls Primarch. Nothing more, and what does he do. He crashed our only means of easy escape to have this final showdown."

"And?"

"If the dogs of the Corpse-Emperor keep coming we will eventually be destroyed. Ten Thousand strong we stood. A mighty host only rivalled by Abaddon's. But our father does not lead us. He is wont for rage and unbridled bloodshed, yes, but to not make any decision to the battle and slaughter at play..."

"I grow tired of these statements Gurrosh, or are you gone cur like those litany lovers."

Gurrosh furrowed his face, which like Sarn, was but a patchwork of scars over a bony face. "I said easy escape. My warriors have wet their axes on this world and collected skulls aplenty. I lead my warband to the starport to take the Cobra destroyer docked in a shipyard girdle there. Then we leave for the Mandeville point."

"You abandon our father, our legion!" Sarn spat the words with a trail of bile onto the grass. The blood-stained grass from the pile of skulls slowly growing before them.

"I survive so our legion survives. There are rumors among the other Captains and the Apothecarion is also concerned. Our geneseed is not stable since we've thrown off the shackles of the False-Emperor and embraced the Lord of Slaughter. It took centuries, millennia, to nurture our numbers to be ten thousand strong. To keep the legion from completely disintegrating into petty warbands. No, like you yourself said once, like Kharn said once, our father is gone. Replaced by our Red Angel. But he never loved us, never was proud of us, not loyal to us like we were him."

Sarn gripped his axe all the tighter. But deep down Gurrosh knew the echo of Kharn's words ten thousand years ago and they still rang true. Out of blind loyalty the Defilers walked the eightfold path with Paragon. Deep down he knew it was all so that one day Paragon would hopefully see them proudly as the bloodiest, mightiest, warriors in the galaxy. Yet, that never came. Has not once so much as almost come to pass. The Legion was a convenience, means to an end, and Gurrosh had had enough.

Sarn lit the tip of his chain-axe fall, "What is the plan."

"Are your warriors willing to join?"

"I have two hundred who would follow."

"Two hundred and eleven myself. We break for the star port in six hours. Take the ship and make for warp transit. Simple. The Apothecarion have gathered what they can get away with of our remaining usable gene-seed. Three hundred and seven progenoid glands. No sign of degradation. We can begin anew."

"Where would be go?"

"Maelstrom."

Sarn nodded.
 

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