The battle lust in him was starting to make itself felt. He was eager to release the leash on his troops, yet slightly intrigued by the unorthodox approach by the enemy commander. He would have liked to have waited a little longer to see what his counterpart might do, but the tactical situation required immediate action. With a curt order, he ordered the teaming mass of unholy warriors to charge the advancing elements. With an unnatural roar they charged forward, armed with a variety of weapons from small arms to heavy weapons teams, from flame weapons to modified fusion bombs. The advancing space marine vehicles spat death as the vehicle mounted weapons opened fire, ripping massive gouges in to the advancing army. Heads were blown away, bodies thrown back by the physical force and limbs scattered in all directions as the explosive tipped projectiles from the bolt guns began the emperor's retribution. Ikrare's war host cared not for their fallen, as their chanting rose to a cacophony accompanying their unstoppable charge. They looked as if they were ready to rip the enemy vehicles apart with their bare hands. The unit of Khornate warriors had been directed to face the deep green coloured vehicles of the Dark Angels with the explicit aim of defeating them in close combat and collapsing one arm of the advance. Ikrare held his breath abruptly as the holo-vid display screens suddenly revealed that all the advancing rhinos and razorbacks had screeched to a halt, slewing around and dropping their ramps to disgorge grey armoured warriors. Armed with massive close combat weapons and howling the war cry of their chapter master, feral warriors of the spacewolves chapter spilled forth, from their own as well as the Dark Angel rhinos. The Khornate warriors were well ahead of the rest of the force, their blood lust driving them onwards towards the enemy. The spacewolves met them with a charge of their own. Blood curdling war cries emanated above the clamour of battle and with a mighty roar the two forces clashed. In a focussed fury of violence the two space marine forces smashed in to each other, the blood lust and millennia long experience of the berserkers being matched by the unmitigated ferocity and tactical cunning of the spacewolf warriors. Taken aback momentarily by the sudden unforeseen event, Ikrare rapped out further orders, making changes to this rapidly evolving opera for which he was, and intended to be the choreographer. The enemy commander was impressive indeed, having been able to out think Ikrare himself, though only momentarily. He noticed that the rear forces of the both space marine flanks had joined in the middle, spilling forth green armoured giants who took up tactical dispositions. Slowly and methodically the Dark Angel firebase started its deadly task of dealing with advance of their enemies. Accurate and concentrated fire ripped in to the advancing enemy. Superb mastery of fire control was demonstrated by their commander as the volume of fire kept the enemy force from interfering with the bloody combat between the spacewolves and khornate warriors. Ikrare realized just how well the imperial lackeys were employing their fire support to channel his advance. The rain of fire corralled his advance elements in such a way that the spacewolf assault was able to concentrate at focal points, achieving local superiority and destroying one group before moving on to the next. In a brilliant display of coordination between fire power and assault the warriors of the two chapters were effectively eroding the numerical advantage of the chaos war host. To Ikrare this came as a shock. Here was an enemy commander of some worth, using numerically inferior forces in a tactically disadvantageous situation and yet was deftly out manoeuvring his every move. This was a worthy opponent indeed, but he, Ikrare was not known as the manipulator for no reason. He barked out a host of orders to his command thralls who relayed them immediately. Despite the rude surprises caused by the enemy, their main battle line was now in the killing fields of the plains of Kasr Badden. The big guns of the Detrosian XVIII had already ranged in to that killing field once this morning. He had ordered a firestorm which would bracket the enemy's fire base as well as the close combat taking place. He was prepared to loose a substantial portion of his advance elements to remove this space marine blocking force. Time moved rapidly on the battle field as the combined space marine forces of the two chapters demolished the first wave of advancing cultists and wiped out the khornate detachment in bloody fighting. The spacewolves had paid dearly in the close combat against the frothing, blood thirsty madmen but had finally prevailed. Now, the two flank forces were advancing in alternate leaps while the fire base held the rest of the enemy force at bay. The space marine artillery was continued to reap horrendous casualties, massive gouges being created by their ordnance weapons. Yet, the maddened cultists advanced. Where there were six million before now there were four. Distant explosions were once again heard from behind the space marine fire base. Ikrare expectantly looked up at the field of battle, waiting to see the firestorm engulf the Dark Angel and Spacewolf forces from their rear. The armoured elements of the Detrosians would then smash in to their rear like a steel wedge. His eager anticipation turned to surprised anger as no explosions blossomed amongst the enemy, who was now making a determined advance. There was a troubled look on Braynor's face as he quickly assimilated the tactical situation. Urgent vox messages were now suddenly arriving from the Detrosian XVIII. Black coloured space marines on bikes were assaulting their artillery positions. The intensity and frequency of the explosions in the back ground increased rapidly culminating in a massive rolling explosion which denoted the demise of the Detrosian's main weapons magazine. The vox messages were becoming more and more desperate. The armoured spearheads had been attacked from the rear by fast moving bikes and attack bikes. He frantically tried to assess the identity of the newcomer. He wondered if another chapter lent its hand to the assaulting force. He tried to comprehend as to how his intelligence could have failed in such a manner. His battlefield surveillance systems were gradually being destroyed, the icons marking his units on his command displays slowly fading as each unit failed to report in. He cursed the false emperor and stepped outside his command vehicle. He stepped outside just in time to see a swarm of black land speeders racing in from both flanks and enveloping the rear of his assault force. The speeders weaved a delicate pattern through the incoming fire, dexterously avoiding the harm. They opened fire at long range yet their fire was as accurate as the ground elements of the enemy. Armour blew up, cultists died screaming by the droves and panic set in to the teeming mass of humanity that had been the pride of Ikrare' achievements. Frank terror now played on Braynor's face as he replaced his helmet and drew his arms for combat. The advancing space marine forces were now rolling forward with increasing momentum. The combined close combat skills of the wolves and the tactical discipline of the Dark Angels had over powered a massive enemy war host and reduced it to a mass of terror stricken rabble. The black land speeders came in waves, flitting in and out, each pass leaving death and destruction in their wake. It was they who had smashed the advance of the Detrosian XVIII in their tracks and their bike mounted comrades finished it off. An archaic looking speeder could be seen leading the assault accompanied by three others. Ikrare's battle lust was now at fever pitch, yet he forgot none of his training and experience. He accepted the loss of this battle, but there would be others. He relayed orders to his command units scattered within the now retreating force to disperse and activated numerous contingency plans. As he turned to enter his vehicle he was thrown to the ground by a massive explosion which transformed the front of the massive war machine to molten slag. Cursing blasphemous words and calling out to his patron gods he saw Braynor also pick himself up and attempt to flee, terror oozing in his every move. Ikrare stood up, and drew his archaic sword that dangled at his side with both hands. The daemonic entity trapped within cooed in anticipation of the coming blood bath. He saw the massive land speeder turn rapidly towards him, with an agility that would shame an elder jet bike. He noticed that speeder which bore down on him was an ancient one, armed differently and containing the apparel of command. He noticed the crew also wore jet black. The gunner was on the far side, and stitched a stream of fiery death using twin linked weaponry on board. The pilot leaned out from his side, a massive sword in his arm, poised to strike. Ikrare raised his own daemon sword in anticipation of the coming thrust. He remembered the speeder approaching in slow motion, the noise of the surrounding battle disappearing to his senses. The white winged dagger painted on the speeder was now very evident. The opponent's sword swung in slow motion and Ikrare raised his own to meet his swing. The last thing Ikrare saw was his headless torso standing up right, held aloft by the ancient daemon encrusted armour. As his life blood rapidly washed away in to the plains of Kasr Badden he saw his nemesis swinging away in victory. His entire war host had been annihilated and the breach in the defences of Kasr Badden secured. His pain staking plans had come to naught and now he screamed his frustration. The weak scream from his decapitated head quickly faded in to nothing as darkness set in. * * * * * * * * * * * * Interrogator chaplain Sarpedon leaned over inside the command rhino transport. Apothecary Beremial was tending to the prisoner. The wounded warrior had had his left leg and right arm blown away by assault cannon fire. They had been lucky to get to him before he had died. The super human space marine anatomy and physiology had allowed him to survive these near fatal wounds. "Beremial! He must live. Much depends on that." "He will live, but only just. We must evacuate him immediately to the apothecarium aboard the Sword of Retribution." "Agreed! I will accompany him. Grandor! Open secure link to the Sword of Retribution. Emergency code Omega Sigma Nine! Code encryption Crimson Lilac Blue! Message reads as follows: Mission accomplished. Fallen 179 in custody. Immediate apothecarium required. Transmit confirmation and forward to the Tower of Angels. We will evacuate immediately." |
CHAPTER XXIII: SHADES OF GREEN! SHADES OF GREY! (Cont) Chronicled By ( Shadow Guard ) |
GATHERING OF ANGELS |
This section provides the narrative history of the events that took place during the Gathering of Angels campaign conducted by the Inner Circle, during Abaddon's Thirteenth Black Crusade. This is in no way the official GW version nor is it in anyway an attempt to infringe on their IP. There are many versions of imperial history buried within the sands of time and this is but just one of them. Read on if you dare! |
