... And There Is Only War

[StormWolf]

Planet Vionsec, a desolate desert world with black sand, red rock and dark waters. The planet surface is cob-webbed with massive fortresses of ceremite and ferocrete, bastilles and walls dozens of stories high with weapons ranging from multi-las turrets to Volcano cannon batteries.

The bare earth of Vinosec was pock-marked with massive craters and scorched leagues of earth. Entire deserts now planes of glass from orbital bombardments and deserts now stank of death, the bloated bodies of last month's battle rotting in the sun. Carrion eaters darkened the skies daily, their cawing filled the ears of both sides, demanding more food, even though they had leagues of dead to feed upon. Echoes of gunfire and war and carnage echoed around the entirity of the planet as the Green Tide smashed against the imperial defensive line. The local imperial guard and the early-arrival reinforcements held their line with iron-clad bravery and indominable will. They knew that if they wavered, their families would perish soon after they did.

The sun was at it's pinnicle in the sky, noon. The air was dry and blistering hot, waves of heat snaked from the baked earth, casting tempting mirages on the horizon. The only thing keeping the Guardsmen from going to the illusion of water in the distance was the mass of green on the horizon, the Ork horde. Their primitive warcry dominating the air as they began their charge.

***

In the deep black of space, a blinding flash of light sparked for a moment, a solemn grey Astartes Battlecruiser emerging from the warp, entering realspace after the three day trek through the Warp.

Immediately after all the systems diagnostics were run and all the lights were green, the order for battle preparations rang out through the battleship Thunderfist, every Wolf inside it's hallowed ceremite halls running to their battlestations. The Drop Pods were being readied for launch by the Iron Priests and their Thralls.

The Blood Claws were rambunxious as usual, the Pack of Andhun Stonejaw already making bets and jabbing fun at one another. A few punches thrown here and there in good sport.

"Blood Claws! Save the fight for the enemy before I flay all of your hides." the booming voice of Skoll RageClaw echoed through the metal halls. The entire Pack flinched at the voice of their mentor. All eyes fell on the massive hero of the Space Wolves, his 13 foot tall frame filling the doorway, his three massive Thunderwolf companions close behind him.

"We make drop in less than twenty minutes. Do one last weapon's check before loading." Andhun was the first to do as his mentor commanded, always eager to please.

"This is your first combat off-world, lads. Remember all that you have been taught and stay in line, or I will thrash you myself." Skoll finished before walking inside the Drop Pod, his Thunderwolves never staying far from their master. The Blood Claws joined in the Pod.

"Allfather guide us and Russ protect us. For those of us who are to fall this day, may they awaken in Russ' Golden Hall." Skoll chanted deeply as the Drop Pod was loaded into the firing tube...
***

On the surface, the greenskin menace had engaged the Imperial forces planetside. Gunfire, warmachine engines, and bombshells rocked the earth and air. Screams of the dying and wounded on both sides rose up to the heavens in a sorrowful and grim serenade. The Imperial guns kept the Greenskins at bay, keeping their blades from Imperial flesh as long as they could, but the massive tide of savages was closing in quickly, jaws foaming and slobering, massive, muscled green arms swinging massive bladed weapons, begging to be drenched in human blood. Just as their red eyes came into view, the sky was filled with fire and a massive roar filled the ears of all who walked on that plane. Drop Pods wrapped in fire fell from the sky, the radio interference garbling, a chorus of howls as the Great Company of Ragnar Blackmane fell upon the Ork menace.

"Show no mercy you would accept!" The dominating voice of Skoll RageClaw echoed out once the ramps of his Drop Pod fell. His Thunderwolves charged out from the pod, himself not far behind, and his Blood Claws right behind him.

"For Russ and the Wolftime!"

[Atrum Daemon]

The green horde smashed into the defensive line again and again like water breaking upon an immovable wall. Even with the limited time they had been given to set up, the forces from Krieg had done so with almost maddening efficiency. At the front of their line was the newly reformed 101st Panzer Grenadiers. Having recovered from their massive losses a little over a year ago, colonel Kell Kilmeinham had been more than willing to get his men into a combat theatre.

As the green skins rushed again, the gunners ducked down and their flamer squads popped up in their place, their weapons belching gouts of fire and setting their enemies ablaze before they were torn down by the heavy bolter emplacements.

***

A flash in space sparked for a single moment within the vicinity of the planet. A second Astartes Battecruiser emerged from the Warp and fell into orbit of the planet. The ship carried the name Exalted March and belonged to the Black Templars.

Aboard, the Sword Bretheren were preparing themselves for the drop. Those that had already customarily renewed the one of the vows taken when they were inducted into the Chapter. Chaplain Bartuc Horazon was one of the Chaplains overseeing the Sword Brothers renewing their vows before they boarded their drop pods. Once the last vows were resworn, the Chaplains were allowed to board their drop pods. Bartuc quickly joined a contingent of Sword Brothers in his pod. “We go to glorious victory today, brothers,” Bartuc said as the pod prepared to drop to the surface, “the Emperor will guide and protect us in the coming battles.”

***

The Panzers looked up as a second series of screeching roars filled the sky, their eyes met with the sight of another group of drop pods making their landing. The pod doors opened and unleashed the Black Templar forces of Marshall Dordon. Kell blinked in mild surprise, not expecting such heavy reinforcements so fast. He could practically feel the morale of his men swell in the air at the sight of the Space Wolves and Templars. “Switch!” Kell ordered, his fire team switching out to the back line to get a short breather and get a full reload on their weapons.

[VardenV2]

"Interrogator, the prisoner is ready," muttered a servitor in a slightly robotic tone. Boreus Varden turned swiftly towards the robotic servant.

In a rhaspy and aged voice he spoke, "Very well."

As the miserable servitor stepped aside, the Interrogator Chaplain proceeded to the thick sliding doors leading to the torture chamber. Boreus stared deeply at the horned, crucified skeleton engraved into the door. The eyes on the door began to glow just as the blood red optics of the Chaplains skull mask peered into them. The door cracked open with a dull moan. A sliver of light flooded into the torture chamber, revealing a bloodshot eye and a bruised cheek at the far end of the room. With heavy clanking footsteps Boreus Varden stepped into the darkness, the door grinding shut behind him.

***

So foolhardy. So misguided. He may 'know no fear' but he will fear me! He will feel such torment by my hand that there will be nothing left but fear.

Boreus sent his cold stare at the prisoner. The red glow of his fiery eyes reflecting off the prominent cheekbones and pale teeth of the his mask. The prisoner looked away immediately.

Look at me! Look at me!

The prisoner glanced back just for a second only to meet the fierce stare of the skull mask before him.

This has taken far too long. He is a stubborn one indeed. I can persuade him.

With a low murmur, the rack on the wall the man was strapped to began to bend backwards forming a table. Boreus disappeared into the shadows only to re-appear behind the victim. A massive powered gloved reached at the switch at the corner of the rack. Two flaps rose out of the table-like structure at the corners closest to the prisoners head. The began inching slowly towards the prisoners ears. Once they reached their final destination, the prisoners head was restrained, staring straight, up into the endless blackness of the chamber. Cold steel pressed against the prisoner's forhead. With a sharp whizzing sound, 5 small screws drilled into the victims cranium. The moans of pain echoed through the hall.

Now I've got him. I admire his tolerance and dediaction. He would have made a warrior indeed.

The red eyes re-appeared above the moaning victim.

"Where is the ship?"

Silence.

"Where is it? You will tell me."

Silence.

Admirable, but foolish.

The red lights vanished. The whizzing sound returned and the pain soon followed. The moans echoed once again as the restraint pressed into the victim's head.

"Where is it? Where did he go? You know who I seek."

The prisoner coughed, blood sweeling out onto his bare neck. As he choked he said, "I-I- I know- I know not where- where he is now. I-I- only got- a glimpse. His- his ship..."

Boreus loosened the restraint slightly. The prisoner relaxed momentarily, but clotting blood soon spilled down his face.

Here we go. At last. I have broken him. At least I give him hope before the end.

"Tell me everything," Boreus commanded cooly.

The prisoner spoke:

"Our squad saw a glimpse of the ship leaving orbit. As we approached to investigate we saw a glimpse of robed minions gathered around the launch site. Our brothers marched us closer in for the kill, to rid the planet of these vile worshippers. As we readied for the charge I remember my mentor saying to stay focused on the task ahead. 'Show no emotion, show no fear, let the Emperor protect.' And then we charged. The blast of bolter fire was everywhere. The- ugh- the tainted chaos acolytes fell swiftly. Around their necks they wore horned skull pendants. Every single one. I remember- I- I remember brother Methias stopping down to pick one up, as soon as he did, the eyes glowed a deep green. His mentor turned to him, disturbed by this omen. My mentor, Brother Felior turned to me. He- he- he said, 'You have made me proud. You have made the Emperor proud!' And- and then- ugh- and then there was a blinding flash. It knocked me down, I was dizzy- I- I- I remember- I saw my brothers falling on all sides. Their blood flowed along the ground. It trickled beneathe me. I looked up, and Felior- he- he was kneeling besides me, protecting me, screaming at me to get up, then-just-screaming. I saw him fall, as two flashes burst out his back. He fell back looking at me. Just before he died, he sent his distress beacon. Then- he- he died. The last thing I remember seeing was a hulking green boot step over his corpse. It kicked me over, I looked-I- I looked up. The heel hit my head. Then, blackness..."

The prisoner coughed up more blood.

"Wait, I- I remember hearing a gruff voice of an answer to the distress call. It was confident and booming. Almost snarling."

The prisoner coughed up more blood.

Thank you neophyte. You have done your chapter proud.

Boreus Varden flipped a switch on the wall. A large injector needle fell from the ceiling, suspended just above the neck of the victim. With a quick motion, the needle pierced the soft flesh and injected its deadly contents into the victim. Withing nanoseconds the young neophyte was dead.

Ah... So, now we look to the Wolves.

[StormWolf]

The half-mad and sadistic laugh of Skoll RageClaw rang out on the battlefield as he lead his Brethren into the green tide. His sacred Wolf Claws swinging deadly archs through the Ork menace, cutting them deep, the energy surrounding the blades destroying the insides of the Orks they cut through, making the air heavy with the reek of burnt flesh, bone, and boiling blood. The Blood Claws under his charged laughed and hooted and hollared as well, their chainswords roaring as they hacked wildly at the Ork menace, their bolt pistols occasionally barking and spitting a round or two into the face of a greenskin.

Skoll's Thunderwolves clawed and chomped thier way through an Ork mob, their massive forms meant to kill and rend flesh. Thanks to Skoll, they were trained to kill exactly what Skoll was killing. More Drop Pods fells from the bleak sky, both of the Space Wolves grey and the white and black of the Black Templars. Skoll simply smiled a cruel, wolf-toothed smile, turning to impale an Ork on one claw, lifiting it with one claw and removing whatever was above his fist with his other claw, sending the top half of the Ork flying into the trenches. Another Ork charged, swinging it's choppa over it's head, only to have Skoll's Wolf Claw upper cut him, opening him from groin to chin, the slop that was once it's internal organs making a sick slurping noise as it spilled to the baked and blood-soaked earth.

The roar a Wolf Guard assault cannot rumbled nearby, the lethal rounds leveling the mob swamping Skoll's squad with the help of some other Wolf Guard.

"Carry on, Brother-Commander!" The Wolf Guard with the assault cannon saluted, blue-grey discharge smoke billowing from the eight barrels of his weapon.

"Many thanks, Brother Hrothgar, I owe you a drink when this all be over!" They both laughed before returning the their duties, Skoll leading his squad of Blood Claws deeper into the fray, Hrothgar and his Wolf Guard laying down the fire on a mob of Ork armed with flamers. Orange flashes flooded the corner of Skoll's vision as one of the flamer-armed Orks erupted in a ball of fire, engulfing some of his comrades in turn.

The Black Templar joined the charge, their swords shining and their robes pristine. Skoll laughed aloud, they dressed well for war. The Emperor's Crusaders smashed into the Ork horde, their swords and robes soon changing color from the blood spilt. Skoll just kept laughing, red tinting his vision as he clawed at anything that was green and stinking.

[Atrum Daemon]

“General Schiesskopf,” adjutant Valthin whispered in the officer’s ear, “Sir? Sir!”

“What, what is it?” Schiesskopf snapped out of his daze only to find the planet’s military leaders all staring, and some glaring, at him.

“They are wondering how long the city can be defended, sir,” Valthin said, handing the General a status update from the line.

“As long as it takes,” Schiesskopf said, standing from his ornate chair and opening the report, “the defensive line the Krieg forces have set up will not be breaking anytime soon, I promise you that. And it seems the Emperor has looked upon our struggle as worthy of his assistance. Two fighting companies of Astartes have landed, gentlemen. From this report, it seems the Space Wolves and Black Templars have joined the fight.”

***

“All batteries fire,” Kell shouted into the vox caster, “concentrate your fire on the center rear of the green skins! Now!”

One a ridge above, the artillery commander gave a quick acknowledgement before setting the vox caster down and relaying the order: “All Earthshakers prepare to fire! Target center rear! …Fire!”

The cannon fire drowned out all other sounds on the Krieg defense line. The shells impacted the rear of the attacking Ork horde, decimating it and leaving gaping craters. Charred body parts flew through the air, raining upon the more forward sections of the attacking Orks.

***

Bartuc had been one the Templars at the head of the charge, crashing into the Ork flank like a black and white wave. Bartuc’s Arcanum shattered Ork bodies and decimated skulls while he fired into the mob with his storm bolter. The previously pristine white robes of the Sword-Brothers around him were quickly stained with Ork blood as were the blades wielded by the warriors. The shield generated by the rozarius kept Bartuc untouched by all attacks as he led a bloody swath through the green skins. They only faltered for a moment when the Krieg’s Earthshaker barrage impacted the rear of the Orks, kicking up fire, earth, and charred remains. It was only a brief momentary falter before their offensive push was back.

[GraftRaven]

Mek Gadznat stood atop the firing ramp for a makeshift grot bomb, his right hand in a hole at the rocket's base. He quickly pulled it out and slapped a metal plate over it and tightened three bolts to hold it in place. "You ther, get in!!" He swung his powerklaw around to point at a grot that had given him trouble earlier.

"oim not goin' in there!" Gadznat clocked him in the head with his bolt pistol and lifted him in, then tightened the straps around his midriff. The Grot began shaking, then grabbed the controls, if he was going out it would be with a well placed explosion. Gadznat jumped down then sparked two wires together producing an extremely loud grinding noise from inside the rocket, and then an explosion of fire from its rear.

The rocket zipped off the end of the ramp and barreled towards the defensive line, the grot inside screaming and making tiny adjustments to the flight path, not that it mattered very much.

Gadznat turned and got up on his warbuggy and punched the driver in the back of the head, the signal to go. A narrow path cleared a few feet in front of them as they zipped off towards the front line crushing grots and grotlings under the spiked wheels. As Gadznat's stolen bolt pistol coughed shells into the distance, a few of them punching through greenskin skulls and others flying off into the distance and shattering holes in the ceramite walls of the city.

"WAAAAaaaGGGGGHHHH!!" Gadznat screamed as the buggy's crew fired the deffguns attached to the small turret. The powerplants on his back sparked and fizzled, searing a bird as it swooped in and then dropped to the ground where a grot piced it up, desperate for food.

[Vladsimpaler]

“Alright you scum, lock and load. You better fight well because in the end you ain’t getting paid if you’re dead!” yelled a sergeant, looking at his squad of mercenaries.

All 5 ships of the Buccaneer fleet were alive with the kind of nervous energy that one gets before a fight. It was customary for Geoff’s Buccaneers to have a large and lively feast before a raid, for any commander knows that an army fights on his stomach and mercenaries are no different, except that they also fought with their imperial credits.

Geoff left his quarters and approached the bridge of his craft, looking at the deformed Navigators and the men working on nav-computers. He then approached the first mate of the ship. “Are we ready?” asked Geoff, viewing the cruel planet that was thousands of kilometers from his fleet.

“Yes, my lord. Except…”

“Except, what?”

“My lord, there are Imperial ships in the vicinity of the planet.”

“Imperial ships? How?”

“We are trying to figure it out. They have not hailed us yet so we believe that they are here to fight the space Orks, and more importantly, are not aware of our presence.”

“Good, good. You may proceed.”

Geoff flexed his power glove and looked down at it, then looked up again. Imperials…in this sector? He knew that Imperial ships were going to eventually arrive but he wasn’t use to Imperial efficiency. Perhaps they sent in a crack team to deal with the Orks. No matter, thought Geoff, all Imperials are the same. He knew their strategies and tactics, being well versed in the Tactica Imperialis himself. Efficiency just wasn’t one of the tenants of it.

“Keep your distance, Valsar.” suggested Geoff to his first mate. From far away, the Buccaneer Battlecruisers looked like Space-Hulks, which were of importance to the Imperium, but more importantly, looked absolutely harmless so Imperial commanders often let down their guard.

Geoff lit a death stick and inhaled its sweet smoke and then exhaled it. He took one last look at the bridge, and left to go back to his quarters with his harem, and would wait for the proper time to strike…