The Chosen Few [IC|40K]

[Antimersia]

Cyprig

Elyrian's snide remarks brew nothing within Cyprig. To him they were nothing but the self absorbed ramblings of a wrongly vindicated man. He looked over to his brother, and sighed. "I forgive your obstinate opinion of me Elyrian." He said with almost no emotion in his voice. His anger is singularly focused and something so innocuous as Elyrian's childish jests bore no fruit from him. He turns to Coracus, "Your words are appreciated Coracus, but unnecessary. Elyrian's words are like dull arrows." He adds. "Excuse me, both of you, I have much to do. Please relay my apologies to father as I will not be able to attend the festivities. And don't kill one another on my account." Cyprig adds as he turns and begins walking away towards the rooftop access of the spire, Passing his other siblings along the way.

[Endem]

Nikolai Szaraczkiewicz

And thus their father humiliated Cyprig, and even though Nikolai rarely felt compassion for the psychotic Primarch he could not help it here, and that was also the reason why he was disgusted by Elyrian's speech, even if he knew that both of the Primarchs were ussually squabbling over many things, but still, Nikolai did not appreciate it.

And then Coracus, the one who ussually mocked the other joined in threating a fight, "Quit your squabling" the Primarch of Iron Sentinels rumbled from under his featureless mask, however, the situation was averted from getting into a fight when Cyprig simply exited the room, for the better or worse perhaps.

Nikolai decided to follow Cyprig's example and too started to walk towards the exit, yet before exiting the room he turns around and wants to say one more thing, yet seeing as Elyrian and Coracus were looking like they were about to fight, intrigued he decided to stay

[Skaldia]

Co-Write Between Skaldia, Imperialisium, Revlona, and Ameriganastan

Icarion Anasem
Primarch of the 1st Legion, the Lightning Bearers

Icarion was absolutely shocked at the sudden turn of events. But there was nothing he could do for it. Coracus had crossed a line. Elyrian's words had been cruel. The twist of the knife when Cyprig had clearly been broken by the censure from the Emperor. Instead of recognizing that, Elyrian had chosen that moment to be cruel. It had been a sore blow to the respect Icarion had held for the Eighth Primarch. To make matters worse Coracus, in a futile and erred show of loyalty, had so rudely smacked Elyrian's mug of ale from his hand. The contents of said mug had splashed all over the floor, a slowly expanding brown tide ignored by the fury so clearly evinced by the two Primarchs.

When Icarion spoke, it was with a deadly whisper."If you two fools are so eager to see the blood of your brother, then by all means, let us give it to you. Both of you! Out of your armor!" He strode between them, pushing them apart as he did. Icarion had no animosity for either of them but he was clearly sick and tired of the petty squabbling. The fight would end it now. Or else the Darkness would consume them all.

Satisfied that they were at a distance from each other, Icarion sought out the eyes of Remigius, who was closest to the door."Remigius, if you would be so kind, close and bar the door. This is a family affair."

As Remigius closed and barred the door Icarion once more turned to Elyrian and Coracus."To first blood, gentlemen. And let me be clear." He said this louder to the assembled Primarchs,"None of this is spoken of afterwards! This feud, between us all, ends NOW! This agreement will be sealed in the blood of our brothers."

Icarion spoke to Elyrian and Coracus."Do you both agree to what I have said?"

Coracus Isserec
Primarch of the 13th Legion, the Blades of Solus

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say. First blood, never speak of it again, etc. Let's do this thing already." He spun Desert Devil around and pointed it at his brother. "Let's go, you arrogant piece of talking venison. See how tough you are when you don't have Father to hide behind."

Elyrian Manuxus
Primarch of the 8th Legion, the Sons of Calmora

"I'd ask you to stop behaving as a first among equals Icarion, but yes, Lets do this Coracus you arrogant bastard.." Elyrian said as he stripped the armor from his body to reveal the full bodyglove he wore beneath, thin enough that should a blow land from the hand of a primarch it would show. He twirled his axe in one hand and recovered his shield from where he had placed it.

"On your word brother.." he said to Icarion

Icarion Anasem
Primarch of the 1st Legion, the Lightning Bearers

Icarion merely gritted his teeth. He was eldest. He was First. He had a duty to act such to his younger siblings. Even if such dubious honor led him to moments like the one he was now in. Instead of saying such to Elyrian though, he merely tightly nodded and stepped away from both of them. By this point, the Primarchs all had stepped to the edges of the balcony, a ring of armor and disapproving faces all looking inward to where Elyrian towered over Coracus.

Only Icarion stood in the circle with the pair of them. He spent a moment looking from one to the other. A brief moment of incredulity at what had led to such an event to occur. A part of him railed at what was happening. A part of him wanted to pull them close and embrace them as brothers. He did not want this! But he also knew, if he did not control this moment now, they would seek each other's blood eventually. It was better it was done now. To save face and to spare future bloodshed from happening.

With resolve returning to him, Icarion took his place against the balcony. With a deep inhale, he cleared his throat and spoke a single word.

"Begin."

Coracus Isserec
Primarch of the 13th Legion, the Blades of Solus

Gladly." Popping a crick out of his neck, Coracus took off like a flash. Without his armor weighing him down, he was a blur. Though he wasn't attacking. No, he was darting around him like an excited puppy. "The matter, fat boy? That spoiled noble upbringing make you too slow? Well, I was raised to be fast." He finally saw what looked like an opening and swung for his back.

Elyrian Manuxus
Primarch of the 8th Legion, the Sons of Calmora

Elyrian didn't speak, focusing his entire concentration upon winning against his arrogant brother. His brother was fast, he'd admit that freely, but speed wasn't everything, because for all his speed, they were both demigods and that allowed Elyrian to easily track his brothers movements. He easily brought his shield up to deflect the blow aimed at the apparently open section of his back before bringing the blade of his axe whistling towards the now unguarded body of his brother. He fully intended to stop the blade at the skin, but the blade still whistled through the air at full speed.

Vasilisa Sanguina
Primarch of the 5th Legion, the Sun Angels

Vasilisa, alone out of all the Primarchs who had put a solemn hand on the chastised Cyprig’s shoulder. Could not bear to watch the fool hardy recklessness of her siblings. She stormed out of the room, crashing the lock aside and damaging the door, her Athanatoi following her with Lord Arkidamus picking up the rear. Casting on last look of pursed lips at what had befallen. Her orders would disseminate through her Legion shortly after. The 5th and it’s Auxilia would be departing to orbit. They would be allowed to have their own festivities aboard their ships. But she would not take part out of the shame her brothers had befallen themselves and their Legions. To all of her brothers who had participated in this egotistic display, they would know, a gut feeling of loathing had laid over their reputations in the eyes of their sister. One who had, regardless of their petty rivalries, always come to them in times of need to aid them without a second thought.

Coracus Isserec
Primarch of the 13th Legion, the Blades of Solus

"Oh, shit!" Coracus was suddenly realizing this was not a great idea. He was a master duelist, yes. But Elyrian was a full foot taller than him. You could be as skilled as you wanted, it didn't matter when your opponent was a brick wall. It was only by a hairs length the blade strike didn't take off his head. He darted backwards, rubbing his neck to make sure it was still there. "Oh, so you do know how to fight after all. Surprising, really. I've seen your Legions tactics before." He paced back and forth, trying to get in his head. "So reliant on firepower. I imagine even your top Legionnaires would lose a fist fight to my Aspirants. But I guess that-" He stopped mid taunt and drew a dagger from his boot, tossing it at him and springing at him for another strike, aiming for his legs this time.

Elyrian Manuxus
Primarch of the 8th Legion, the Sons of Calmora

The old "attack mid-sentence" trick, a dishonorable tactic but not an unexpected one from who he was fighting. Yet he was right, Elyrians legion was very reliant upon firepower except for in the cases of its elite units, but this had not always been the case. The very early campaigns of 8th legion with their primarch always resulted in high casualties do to the forbidden doctrine. It had taught Elyrian a lesson, but he still remembered his dueling lessons, he remembered the years of combat that won him his planet, and he remembered the glory of battle in which so many of his sons had died looking for foes to stab with a blade only to be shot dead. He remembered, and he embraced.

The dagger was easy to deflect, slight twitch of his shield was all it took and the dagger went streaking towards the ground. The blow from his brothers blade was he harder blow, but a step to the side using the blinding speed that their father had gifted them, he did so, skillfully shoving the axe at his brother, aiming for his sword arm with the spike that sat atop the weapon.

Coracus Isserec
Primarch of the 13th Legion, the Blades of Solus

It was either surrender his blade or lose his arm. Coracus wisely surrendered his blade, drawing his arm back to avoid the strike. He handsprung over his brother's head, quickly putting some distance between them again. "...Brother, why must we fight like this? We're on the same side, are we not?" He began walking back to him, arms open like he was asking for a hug. "Why to fight like this is so beneath us. We're primarchs. Glorious servants of the Imperium and you shouldn't have let me get so close!" Coracus juiced up his lightning claw and struck for his brothers chest...or he would have, had he not forgotten he didn't have it on him. No, he'd just walked into grabbing distance of his opponent and rather harmlessly punched him in the chest. "...Heh...truce?"

Elyrian Manuxus
Primarch of the 8th Legion, the Sons of Calmora

Finally Elyrian decided to speak as it seemed he was the victor. “We fought because you insulted me, but you insulted me because I acted dishonorably towards our...brother...no matter my disdain for him, kicking Cyprig while he was down was and is a low blow and dishonors me. You did what was right Cora.” He said before a thought seemed to come across his face.

He dropped his axe before drawing a small dagger that was attached to his body glove. He looked at the dagger for several seconds before cleanly and quickly drawing it across his palm.

“The victory is yours, as it should be...please...relay my apologies to Cyprig..” he said before turning, collecting his gear, and leaving.

Coracus Isserec
Primarch of the 13th Legion, the Blades of Solus

"...Well, alright then. I guess I win. Yay me." Coracus did not feel good about this. No, he'd basically been thrown a pity victory after never landing a strike. "Gadriel is right. I need to practice more."

Icarion Anasem
Primarch of the 1st Legion, the Lightning Bearers

Icarion was happy to see such a change in Elyrian. He had feared that, when Coracus had blundered into Elyrian, that the giant Primarch would smash the smaller one into so much pieces. Instead, Elyrian had given up the fight to the Coracus and then retreated. Although Icarion would have respected the 8th Primarch more if he had sought out the word of Cyprig himself, Elyrian earned some of Icarion's respect for behaving the way he did.

With the fight over, Icarion turned to the remaining Primarchs."Well, we have a party to get ready for."

[Imperialisium]

Without Darkness, there can be no Light
-Sun Angels Maxim

912.000.M31
Mirienh System

The Warp transit from Dolgota to the Miriehn took just over seventeen standard Terran days. The Warp currents roiled and churned in their eldritch, maddening, energies around the numerous vessels of the 13th Expeditionary Fleet. What was supposed to take under ten days took nearly twice as long due to sudden tempests that blew through the Warp several days after translating from realspace. The Fleets of the Imperium headed for the Mirienh system having to slow their pace to remain in contact with each other and keep more accurate track of the celestial bodies around them and the beaming light of the Astronomican. Needless to say when the ships began to exit back into Realspace a sense of comfort circulated among the hundreds of thousands of voidsmen crewing the mighty vessels of the Imperialis Armada and the 5th Legion.

The Light Cruiser's Equinox's Light and Shade Unto Dawn were the first to drop out of Warp at the Mandeville Point. The region of space at the outskirts of a star system deemed safe to enter and exit the Warp without risk of affecting other stellar traffic or hitting some celestial object. They were followed by Blue Squadron of frigates and destroyers, eleven ships of Sword, Firestorm, and Cobra class. This was followed by the Strike Cruiser Spear of Caliban and then the Battlebarge Sword of Baal. Every minute that past more and more ships translated back into real space. Soon forming up on the mighty hulking mass of the Gloriana-Class warship Aeterna. All told the 13th had marshaled most of their vessels into the system totaling 38 ships. This was in addition to the 16 Legion ships that had joined them.

The Mirienh system itself, like most star systems, was a Binary Star System. A system that had two Suns. The closest one to the vessels of the Sun Angels and attendant 13th Expeditionary Fleet was a Red Giant which formed a baleful red orb in the far distance. A red pin prick from the bridges of the mighty warships of the fleet. The other was a main sequence yellow star that would be barely visible through visual scopes. Both were clearly seen through the Auspex-data supplied Holo-liths of the various warship's bridges. The system had sixteen planetoids. Seven orbited the Red Giant and four the Main Sequence Star. The rest were the small planetoids that rotated around both in massive orbiting paths larger than Pluto's back in the distant Sol System.

Mirienh, however, orbited the Main Sequence Star and was the only Terrestrial world of the system. Yet four others had breathable atmospheres, yet, were long dead worlds of barren rock and craggy landscape. Their cores still hot enough to maintain a magnetosphere and thus an atmosphere. But otherwise they were dead. Dead planets. Three asteroid belts were present in the system. An outer ring sat in a massive oval around the outskirts of the system in a belt horizontally to the Galactic Disc. The second much smaller inner belt sat between the inner worlds and stars and those of the outer planetoids. The third held vertically to the Galactic Disc and only circled around the Red Giant. This third belt being mostly comprised of asteroids made up of frozen water.

For Mirienh two moons orbited it, the third planet orbiting the Main Sequence Star. In such a manner that the planet had fierce and frequent tides and a long season of hurricanes.

Striding along the bridge to observe the data streams, the holo-lith, and get a brief report that all ships had arrived from the Aeterna's Tactical Officer, a slim blonde female Lieutenant whose hair was done up in a military style bun under her officers cap, before he took position before the raised dais of an empty command throne. Master of the Fleet Krisztoff von Tisza und zu Solaire looked back at the empty throne for a moment before returning his attention to the central strategium holo-lith.

"Notify all commands. Hold position, we move in when the other fleets arrive, gunnery prepare for engagement and notify Chief Enginseer Veren to have engines ready for maximum burn." ordered the Master of the Fleet to his attendant officers. The latter breaking off to relay orders to their respective subordinates.

913.000.M31
Duro System

The Battlebarge Solarian Night's translated into realspace at the head of a fleet of 5th Legion vessels. Six other Battlebarges and eleven Strike Cruisers alongside seven squadrons of Nova, Gladius, and Hunter class escorts. Much of the 5th Legion's fleet had been assembled in a singular star system and made immediate cruising speed from the Mandeville Point into the system proper. The Duro system was Trinary. Two blue giants bathed seven worlds in their radiation. Lifeless barren rocks of Venusian scenery. The third was a white dwarf. Yet, an inhabitable, yet blasted and scarred world rotated around it as the second world orbiting it. Possessing four small amorphous moons, more geo-synchronous asteroids of impressive size than proper moons, orbited the world. It was the only world with a breathable atmosphere and long distance scans returned that life did exist on the world. But barely. A sparse equatorial green belt and sparse vegetation and remains of once vast forests as the only signs of the vibrant life this shell of a planet once had. Its Biosphere long decimated.

916.000.M31
Dream of Asur

The Dream of Asur was a Void Stalker class ship. To the Mon-Keigh it would be classified as a Battleship. As inelegant of a term that that is. The beautifully athletic form of a woman standing, hands on hips, looking out into the blackness of the void could be seen among the well lit bridge. She wore red body armour and her black hair hung in a long pony-tail from her scalp. Her eyes and face were perfectly shaped. Too perfect. Holding just the right amount of eye and brow slant. The right symmetry. The right shade of colour on her lips to accent her unblemished fair skin. Pearly white teeth could barely be seen as she smirked as her ships advanced sensor suite picked up Warp signatures. The Mon-keigh were arriving.

The Oelil System was a binary system that dwarfed Mirienhn in the sheer number of celestial bodies it possessed. Two main sequence stars were each orbited by three planets and another eleven, mostly gas giants, drifted around in massive orbiting circles. Two asteroid belts, the much smaller inner belt that was vertical to the Galactic Disc was comprised of mineral rich stellar debris; while, the second and much wider belt was a mix of ice and rock. The immeasurable mass and varied diameter of the Phyrgian Nebula permeated the star system. Distorting Auspex censors unevenly across the star system. Giving ghost contacts, inaccurate triangulation, and overall unreliable telemetry data unless within five light minutes of the most densely packed regions of the system with the clouds of the Nebula.

Vaeldairya Starchaser's ship, the flagship of the Red Corsairs, sat on the edge of one of these clouds in the outer regions of the system. Between the orbits of Oelil VI and Oelil VII. The Red Corsairs had brought twenty-two ships to the system. Not their full strength for many were back at their Craftworld of Saim-Hann. But an impressive force to go defend some Exodite backwaters. The Dream of Asur was the only Void Stalker the Corsairs brought however. One Phoenix, One Shadow, two Eclipses, and Three Dragonship class ships were present to provide the other Capital ship force for the Red Corsairs. This was backed up by several Aurora and Solaris Light Cruisers with the rest being a mix of escorts.

Her plan was simple. She would harass the Mon-keigh all the way to Oelil Prime. To bleed them white. She did not expect a victory in this system unless Calthanir managed to score stellar triumphs elsewhere in the Ishariel Sector. But her persistence would hopefully delay and frustrate these Imperials.

[Skaldia]

916.000.M31
Oelil System

Klaxons were roaring throughout the Emperor Class Battleship, the Zephyr’s Might, as it translated out of the warp. Men and women were rushing through the ship as they prepared to go into combat, far sooner than any of them had planned. Auspex scans of the system had detected the faint signal of Eldar ships and Lord Admiral Borv Tarso was worried, although on the outside he remained calm. Under his command were hundreds of Imperial ships of the line, the second largest battlefleet gathered to take the sector. Marching to war beside him were the venerable Night Stalkers, Obsidian Warriors, and Fallen Angels.

His battlefleet had been the first to so far translate on the outside of the system, and he was not eager to dive into the nebula cloud towards the Oelil system. Instead, he would wait for all of the might of the Imperium to gather before he dove into that maelstrom. Turning to his senior communications officer, Lord Admiral Borv alerted the rest of his fleet to gather and wait for the rest of the battlefleet to come together. When that was done, they would break the Eldar and move towards Oelil.

It did not take long before word came that the Night Stalkers flagship, the Caburus Eternum was translating out of the Warp. When that happened, he ordered vox communications be opened with the Gloriana Class Battleship. Only four words were necessary from the laconic Lord Admiral.

“The Eldar are waiting.”

913.000.M31
Halathel System

Remigius and his forces had the honor of entering the system before any of the others of the Battlefleet assigned to take Halathel. Halathel was an empty system of a single, solitary blue star. The worlds that orbited were likewise few, only four considered large enough to be classified as planets. Of these four, two were gas giants reminiscent of Jupiter and Saturn in the Sol System. One of the rocky planets was dangerously close to it’s system star. Indeed, within a few millions years, Halathel One would be burned to ash by the heat of it’s star. Halathel Prime was the primary world of the system and early auspex scans and the scouting operations carried over the last few months told that it’s defenses were formidable.

While Halathel lacked any orbital or naval defenses, it did boast significant surface-to-orbit laser defenses that would wreck havoc on any premature landings. In order to take the world, these defenses would need to be destroyed. Unfortunately, it also meant that the ships that would orbital bombard these defenses would be in range of the planet’s defenses. They were guaranteed to reap a heavy toll on any ship that attempted to.

Luckily, the attack craft would be vital in opening a hole in the defenses as any landing by drop pod would be too risky and too many Spaces Marines would be lost. When that was done, landings could be conducted that could be used to disable the remaining defenses and allow the bulk of Imperial forces to land on the planet.

The Sons of Calmora and Night Haunters would have the honor to disable the first defenses, to be quickly followed by the Hospitallers and Blades of Solus. After the Legiones Astartes made their landings, they would be followed by the millions of Auxilia waiting to make the Eldar bleed for their transgressions.

As Dawnbreaker and the rest of the small, but powerful fleet of the Hospitallers moved through the narrow asteroid belt of the Halathel system, other ships of Task Force Hammer had begun to arrive.

912.000.M31
Mirienh System

Magi-Maximal of the Astral Colleges, Blade of the Tempest, First Sentinel of Madrigal, and Marshal of the 2nd Maniple, Susanoo Empyon frowned as the Storm Unbound led the way into the Mirienh System for the forces of the 1st Legion and it’s Auxilia. Nearly eighty ships all told, and a hundred and fifteen thousand Lighting Bearers were under the command of Susanoo Empyon. While he missed the opportunity to serve alongside his Primarch, he was eager to unleash the might of the 1st against the hated Xenos.

While he was disappointed that he had not been able to lead the way into the system, that honor taken by the Sun Angels and the 13th Expeditionary Fleet, the forces under his command far eclipsed that of the 5th Legion in the system. However, he would not concern himself for the most part in the command of the 2nd Fleet, the auxilia fleet from the Sphere. No, he would instead concern himself with the Legion fleet assets. He trusted Fleet Admiral Xai to lead the Rakurai Navy well.

Vox communications had already begun between the 13th and 2nd as both coordinated their forces to move in synchonicity upon the world of Mirienh. All that was left was to wait for the arrival of the Emperor’s Talons and their Primarch, Napoli. Icarion Anasem had told Napoli that it would be Napoli to have overall operational command in this theatre while Icarion and Vasilisa traveled to Duro. Marshal Susanoo chafed at such an order. While he did not think less of the Emperor’s Talons, their Primarch was overly eager to prove himself. Susanoo would not sacrifice his men for the glory of Primarch Napoli.

Turning from the holoport on the bridge of the Shogun Class Battleship, he spoke orders with rapidity, the crew accustomed to the Marshal’s way of command.”Match speed of the 13th. We move in on the world of Mirienh when the Emperor’s Talons have joined us.”

913.000.M31
Duro System

Unlike the Sun Angels’ fleet assets in the system, the 1st Legions’ were paltry in comparison. Only the Thunderchild, two battle barges, and three strike cruisers made up the forces under Icarion’s command. He had the 1st, 11th, and 15th Maniples with him, fifteen thousand Legionnaires. He had also taken the cream of the crop of the RAF as well, the Sando Erite waiting to deploy next to the vaunted Lightning Bearers at regiment strength as well as five regiments of the elite Rakurai Orbital Drop Troopers.

The Thunderchild’s bridge, unlike other bridges aboard Glorianas, was smaller. Despite that, it was still hundreds of meters long and wide. Standing at the bridge, staring into the inky blackness of space, Icarion stood, eyes closed as he probed the system with the power of his mind. The pariahs among the Sun Angels, including the most powerful of them all, made it slightly difficult but he managed to work his away around their blank wrongness to focus on the world of Duro. As soon as his consciousness brushed the atmosphere he almost balked at what he sensed. The Darkness he and his Legion had fought so often was thick upon this world, old wounds still screaming with agony and despair. Of the Aeldari that called the world home, their souls too burned balefully in the void. And they knew the Imperium was coming.

“Match cruising speed with the Sun Angels. And alert the Lady Primarch that Duro waits for us eagerly.” With his words being relayed through vox, Icarion turned to the 11th Marshal. Raiden Athrawes had eschewed command of his battleship to allow it to fight with the bulk of the 1st Legion’s forces at Mirienh. He stood next to Hizade Matusaga, Marshal of the 15th Maniple. Around the perimeter of the bridge, terminators in the armor of the Volta stood silently guard.

“What has our scrying told us?” He asked of his Marshals.

“Scrying on Duro has been obscured by Warp taint, Lord Primarch.” Hizade said in the silence that followed the question.”Despite that, we deduce that leadership on Duro is concentrated in the Southern Hemisphere of the planet. As we get closer, auspex scans of the planet itself will allow us to glean more information.”

“Good. Alert Vasilisa and let her know.”

914.000.M31
Ishariel System

As soon as the Imperial forces translated on the outside of the system, Calthanir and the Brotherhood were waiting for them. While he possessed a sizeable Corsair fleet itself, only being marginally larger than that of the Red Corsairs, he was loathe to throw them into the fight so soon. However, he was determined to make them bleed. Especially after the cowardly act that had occurred just several hours ago when a lone Imperial frigate had translated dangerously close to Ishariel and detonated close to one of the Onyx Citadels. While the frigate had failed to destroy the Citadel, it had damaged it severely. It now served as a noticeable chink the formidable defenses of Ishariel.

Despite that, Calthanir committed his forces to the defense. The first ship to feel his wrath was the Lunar Class Cruiser, the Indomitable Wrath. Isolated from the other ships translating into the system, Calthanir led his Void Stalker to in a rapid strike that peeled back the shields of the Cruiser with a single strike. These were quickly followed by smaller Dragonships that pummeled the ship mercilessly. It was only a few strikes before the ship literally split in half along the keel, burning in the void.

It was a clear message to the rest of the Imperial battlefleet. Ishariel would make them bleed for every step they took into the system. Despite that more and more ships were translating in, led by the mighty ship the Bucephalus and the Emperor of Mankind himself. The targets of opportunity for Calthanir became fewer as ships congregated around this core of Imperial might and Calthanir was forced to pull back when one of his Dragonships wandered too close to the Imperial flagship. A single lance from the Bucephalus left the Dragonship a wreck.

Despite the loss, Calthanir merely smiled in anticipation. He ordered the Brotherhood to fall back to the edge of the system. While the Imperial battlefleet committed to the destruction of the Onyx Citadels, he would circle around and strike the Imperial forces in the rear. While he had no doubt that the Imperium would subdue the Citadels in time, they would pay dearly for it as his fleet tore at their rear. Regardless, the first shots had been fired and Calthanir had taken first blood.

[Antimersia]

913.000 M31
Ishariel System

The lone frigate of the 20th legion's fleet, The Lancelot, flew through the warp at the greatest speed the frigate and their fuel resources would allow. 11th Chapter Commander of the Night Haunters, Skinner Lascerous stood at the bridge as a paltry few steer the vessel to its destination, Ishariel. Long before the operations of the crusade were set in place, The 20th's Primarch, Cyprig Lussard, gave Commander Lascerous his own personal orders. The particulars of that order fill the room around him. A minimal crew, and a room filled with armed plasma torpedos to an almost claustrophobic extent. His orders weighed on him. He had not been a Chapter Commander long. But, he new what it meant to take on such a heavy role, and to earn the trust of his Primarch. So when the order to punch a whole in Ishariel's defenses by any means necessary were relayed to him, He followed them without hesitation.

As the Lancelot neared its exit point from the warp Commander Lascerous felt only one true regret. That his rotund figure might have take up room that could have been filled with another plasma torpedo. The Commander chose to speak some final words of encouragement for his crew. A crew that knew what the cost of this mission would be. A crew, made up entirely of Archimedaens from the 20th's Auxilia forces, that owe so much to the Primarch that liberated them long ago. A crew just as prepared for the coming battle as the Commander leading them.

"Crew of The Lancelot. We are mere moments from arriving within the outer orbit of Ishariel. Man your stations, and prepare for a battle that will bring glory to us, our families, our legion, and all of mankind. The Eldar will never forget this moment. The sight of a single ship from the 20th legion, shall Haunt their dreams for the little time they have left." Skinner said over the intercom. His voice permeating throughout the ship as the soldiers and crew get into position. Some sweat and shake in fear and anticipation. Some, like Skinner himself stand firm and resolute in their resolve.

The Lancelot exits out of warp just where they intended to, At the edges of Ishariel's outer orbit. "Full thrust ahead!" Skinner roars. The Lancelot's engines all begin to fire at their full strength, barreling the ship down towards the planet. More particularly, towards one of the massive Onyx Citadels used to guard the planet from attacks. The Citadel does its job, and does it well. They were prepared for a fight, and it showed as the Lancelot was almost instantly hit by a barrage of weaponry. The Citadel's weapons had pelted the frigate into an inoperable state. Though the frigate was already moving at an incredible pace before its engines could be destroyed. Its speed was enough to get close, but a final strike from the Citadel ignited the vast number of Plasma torpedos within the ship. It burned bright green. as bright as a second sun in the sky as a wave of explosive force and plasma bellowed out in every direction, damaging the very citadel that had destroyed the frigate in the wake of the wide orb of fire and molten metal. Leaving a glaring hole in the planets defenses. The mission, was a success.

914.000 M31
Halathel System

Cyprig stood at the bridge of the Arcana as they exited the warp into the rendezvous for Operation Hammer. He breathed easy, knowing that all of his research was being safely tucked away on Archimedaes with Archem. As the Emperor's Custodes stood near him wherever he went. They acted like machines, never letting Cyprig get more than ten feet away from them, never taking their eyes off him. It was an oppressive feeling, being watched so closely. A feeling of paranoia that he knew all too well from his early years on Archimedaes. But he knew he could not so easily dispose of this oppressive surveillance, so he resolved to deal with it, for the time being. Following just behind The Arcana; coming out of warp are the eleven hunter destroyers and eleven battlebarges of the Night Haunters. The almost full legion at the ready to fight by one another's side as they always have.

"Send transmission to Remigius that we have arrived." Cyprig says coldly to a nearby officer. He taps his fingers on a surface to his right. The sound of his metal fingers, tapping against the metal surface ring through the room. It is a wholly unpleasant sound. An clang that lacks both rhythm or tempo. Just random metal pings with no describable pattern. His eyes dart around, scanning their surroundings in the void, and looking down at the planet. Cyprig is anxious. He is uncertain if the plan will go off as intended. And there is nothing he hates more than uncertainty. But even when anxious, Cyprig is patient. And so he waits with baited breath for the arrival of the rest of the legions.

[Union Princes]

Legacy of the Little Lion #4

The Primarch of the Emperor’s Talons didn’t know what to feel during the meeting with his father and siblings. The sudden and unexpected beration Cyprig experienced by the Emperor left Napoli standing in place like a statue lost in thought. Is that it? Is he not gonna talk about anything else? It takes a lot for Napoli to experience confusion with his jaded view of the universe but for the longest time, he really was confused both logically and emotionally. Was Father really not gonna congratulate him for fortifying the planet? Napoli practically designed the very Tower of the Primarchs that the family was standing on. The Emperor’s Talons were everywhere in the construction of Dolgota and the most busiests of the assigned legions. For the first time, Napoli really did feel like he was air and like air, he stomped away from the tower and away from his siblings in silent contempt and whispering self-pity.

---

The crusade has begun and that puts Napoli in a slightly better mood. He hadn’t really had anyone to talk to and his Legion tended to avoid a conversation with him and opt to perform the routine “Silent Obedience” in order to prevent his wrath. However, the seed of doubt has begun to take root in his mind, if Father would not congratulate him for winning the crusade, Napoli figured, he wouldn’t congratulate him ever. That’s why Napoli brought everything the Emperor’s Talon had to offer and 16 million men of the Gallian Fusiliers with him. Quite overkill when it comes to conquering the planet of Mirienh. But of course, Napoli had to work with Zahariel, something that makes his own stomach turn upside down. Not that fanatic suck-up to father...

[Theyra]

Miztli Huitzilihuitl
Kalramia's Sword

Miztli was just exiting the sparring room, having just personally congratulated the ship's sparring champion and was heading to the bridge with Youn following close behind. Miztli was in a good mood after seeing his warriors fight with honor and handled a friendly sparring tourney well. Builds good relations with each other and works to keep their melee skills fresh. As he was about the reach the bridge, a space marine approached him. He bowed his head in respect, "My lord, I have some information from Dolgata"

Miztli had a surprised look on his face, "from Dolgata?" He asked thinking that what could be the reason for the sudden call from Dolgata as they were about to leave the system. "What is it, warrior?

The marine looked unsure,"I believe it is best you read it, my lord", the marine handed a datapad, bowed his head and left the pair to there devices.

"Hmmm, what could this be about? Curious and he looked down at the datapad and read it intently. His expression went from curious to shocked as he read it.

Youn see the shifted expression on the primarch and spoke, "What is the matter my primarch? What is wrong?

"A fight Youn, it turns out my two of my brothers, Elyrian and Coracus have fought each other during the party after meeting with the Emperor".

Youn then too had a surprised look on his face, a fight between two primarchs? What could have caused that?

"Insults, insults made by Elyrian towards Cyprig who was censured by the Emperor and Coracus went to defend Cygirg from Elyrian". Miztli did not have a high opinion of Cygirg really though he would not have insulted Cygirg after getting censured by the Emperor. That enough is bad enough and Elyrian took things too far. He sighed heavily, as he turned to face Youn. "This is unexpected and it seems that Coracus ended up winning the fight. I would have thought that my brothers would have shown restraint and not be at each other's throats before the campaign has begun properly. But it seems they did not and at least from what I have read, they seem to hold no anger towards each other after the fight".

That is good then", Youn spoke up.

"Yes it is and I hope that tensions do not rise like that during the campaign, we do not need primarchs fighting each other while we are supposed to be fighting the Eldar.

I agree my primarch and we should resume our duties if that is it.

Miztli looked back at the datapad and looking at Yon and nodded his head. "That is it and we got a long journey ahead of us before we reach the Oelil System. I just hope that we will not have any more unexpected turns of events".
--------------------------------------------
916.000.M31 - Present Day
Oelil System

When the Obsidian Warrior fleet translated out of the warp and into reality. Miztli was on the bridge of the Kalramia's Sword when they arrived and noted that they had translated on the outer edge of the system. Far away from their target and that the other fleets were waiting for them on the edge too. "Something is not right, we are not supposed to be at the edge of the system".

"My lord we are getting a hail from one from the Zephyr’s Might", said the captain of the Kalramia's Sword, captain Ohyotl Ixcachel.

"Put it on captain", Miztli quickly replied.

Only four words would spoken, "The Eldar are waiting". Then the vox communication ceased.

"They are waiting for us", Miztli pondered the worlds before turning to the captain, Captain Ixcachel, what are we getting on sensors?

"One moment... we are getting faint traces of Eldar ships further in the system".

Miztli stepped closer to the viewport and looked out at space. "Did they know that they would drop out here? He said quietly to himself and then shook it off. It matters not if they knew or somehow caused the fleet to drop out early. Either way, they need to push on through the Eldar that stood in their way to Oelil. Turning back to Captain Ixcachel, "Captain has the rest of the fleets arrived yet?

"No my lord, the Fallen Angels fleet was yet to arrive yet".

"Then we wait for them and once everyone is here, we will move towards Oelil and deal with any Eldar forces along the way. In the meantime, get the fleet ready for operations, just in case the Eldar decided to attack us while we are waiting here". Turning back to the viewport, whatever the Eldar have in store for them, they will be able to handle it. Miztli thinks this and he wondered if the other campaigns are experiencing any oddities like they were.

[Ameriganastan]

"Gadriel, is the vox channel open?"

"Affirmative my Lord. Awaiting your decree."

The Blades of Solus fleet thundered into the Halathel System, Coracus standing on the bridge of the Desert Scimitar in front of a large vox-caster. Every Astares in his fleet eagerly awaiting their Primarch's pre-battle message.

"My Legion, my faithful Astartes, my brothers of war. Today I preach to you the cold word of vengeance. Veccichi. A word that I know stills rings in some of your ears. The cowardly ambush that took so many loyal sons of Necro Solus from us forever. Some of you I know were there, the scant 2000 who escaped their deplorable, spineless trap. Well, we fall for no trap today! These filthy, knife eared, xeno scum will soon regret not taking my head when they had the chance. For Coracus Isarec and his Blades Of Solus are here at full might, prepared to do our duty for the Imperium. And more importantly, scour every Eldar from the face of this sector and beyond. We are the children born under two suns! The desert's mighty chosen! We are the survivors! We are the Blades Of Solus and we come here today for VENGEANCE!"

A raucous cacophony of cheers filled every Blades vessel as Coracus turned off the vox-caster.

"Excellent speech as always, my Lord. I believe the Legion is quite ready to get down there."

"So am I, Gadriel. So am I."

[Endem]

Nikolai Szarczkiewicz
Space, Near Ishariel
914.000. M31

The bridge of "Tchaikovsky" was, busy, to say the least, a constant stream of orders pouring out, mostly just fire to cannons stationed on one of the broadsides, and in the middle of it stood the towering figure of Nikolai, and behind him a long list of names, those that will be avenged, the primarch then directed his attention to one of the officers "Order everybody to scramble, shark assault boats, drop pods and boarding torpedoes are to be escorted by fighters"

The order went out, fortunately as everybody was already on high alert the fighters didn't take long to fly out of the ships, and various boarding craft would follow suit, Nikolai just had to get himself to the hangar, and sooner rather than later he indeed was, on the doorstep of one of the assault boats he was giving a speech "Today, brothers, we avenge the lives of our kin, today brothers, we make the Eldar race pay for our blood spilled, so brothers, fly on the wings of vengeance, and kill, maim and wound each one of them you come across, leave none alive!"

He then got aboard the assault boat, along with him a couple of squads of marines, the hatch clamped and getting out of the boat became impossible, the engines lit up, sending vibrations through the metal hull, and then they were off, flying through the vast emptiness of space, among lasers, missiles, and macro-plasma projectiles, the dark space, lit up like thousands of hundreds of small lights lit up all across the night sky, yet each light was a deadly projectile, no doubt some of the assault craft would not reach their destination, and marines in them would be denied their vengeance, no matter, they shall be added to the list and avenged.

For a few minutes, boarding torpedoes, drop pods and assault boats in the silvery colors of the Iron Sentinels were racing each other to reach their destination, an Onyx Citadel, then, a metallic thud could be heard, blinding light followed, and the marines and their primarch stormed from their assault boat, greeted by Eldar aspect warriors, they opened fire as soon as possible.

Nikolai was leading the charge, blasting an Eldar after Eldar, their body parts flying through the corridor as an entrance to the second arm of the corridor was fortified by some of the marines setting a point of arrival for further troops, meanwhile, Nikolai and his marines were slowed down a bit after one of the marines stepped onto a pressurized blade, he was promptly decapitated by the trap "tread light" Nikolai commanded as a pair of tech marines have stepped into the forefront, their purpose was to hopefully be able to detect traps.

Similar scenarios were playing for the Iron Sentinels Marines all across the citadel, as if a ravenous swarm of locusts, with an unquenchable hunger for their food, the marines have so beset the fortress, hungry for the blood of the Eldar, dozens of assault boats, drop pods and assault boats attaching themselves to the hull of the citadels, unleashing its deadly cargo upon the denizens of the fortress, the Eldar aspect warriors fought bravely and heroically, but the hate, the lust for Eldar blood, festered in the marines for many months now, and as an unstoppable beast, they tore their way into the citadel, of course, not every boarding action would be successful the spots of combat were many, and in the places of weaker defense, or were the marines simply proved more successful footholds were established, into which additional troops will pour.

[The Empire of Tau]

Samael sits at his command center within his Gloriana, overlooking a holo-screen of the ongoing battle between Imperial and Aeldari void forces. Lots is happening around him as staffers and commanders go about coordinating the efforts of the 19th Legion Fleet, along with the 46th Imperial Armada, the attached fleet to the 19th. Outside the command center, a void battle goes on as ships of the 19th and 46th pound away at a single Onyx Citadel. The Gloriana itself is also active, firing away its massive arrays of guns, alongside six Battle Barges, four Emperor-Class Battleships. For the Imperial Armada, they have a bigger fleet of ten Emperor-Class Battleships and a massive screening fleet ensuring the safety of the capitals. Round after round after round pound against the shields of the Onyx Citadel, creating a display of fireworks, as heavy capital shells flicker against void shields. Untold hundreds of fighters and bombers fly overhead of the Onyx Citadel, bombing its void shields with torps and likewise. All of this to take down its shields. Who knows how long this will take. If anything, Samael knows that it’ll be very long, as even a standard void battle takes a few shares of its days. Returning fire, the Onyx uses its Pulsar Lances and torps to hit both capitals and screening ships alike, with losses mounting for the screening ships.

Samael looks to his side, asking a passing human commander. “How long has it been since?”

The human commander looks back. “It has been half-hour from the time we were hitting it.” Samael nods as the commander goes back to his duties.

[Segmentia]

Ishariel System, aboard the Bulwark
914.000. M31

The Bulwark and the fleet of the Imperial Wardens and the Voln Auxiliary translated into the system roughly a million kilometers to the upper starboard plane of the Bucephalus. The Wardens fleet quickly reformed into a precise defensive formation, with the Bulwark taking up position at the head of the fleet and the massive but vulnerable Army transports and other support ships in the center. Squadrons of interceptor craft were launched and established a outward screen along with the frigates and smaller ships. Titus and the command staff of the Wardens, Imperial Army, and Armada were assembled on the vast bridge of the Bulwark.

“Scans indicate that the Iron Sentinels and Azure Rain Legions are already moving into their own engagements. The Bucephalus and its fleet seem to be maintaining position in reserve, and there seems to be no Aeldari ships within sensor range, but that isn't saying much. There's also something a bit...odd. One of the enemy citadels is returning a different signature then the others and as far as we can tell is surrounded by a field of energy discharge that is common of our plasma torpedoes, but no Imperial forces are in position for a plasma torpedo strike.” A captain on the staff of Lord Admiral Azmovz briefed the assembled officers before stepping back into the circle.

Titus frowned slightly at the news, he would have preferred to have the assembled legions concentrate their strength on the citadels, but it seemed his brothers wanted to go it alone. The report about the damaged citadel was also odd, but he would have to put it to the side and investigate it later. He allowed the assembled officers to chatter quietly among themselves for a few moments before he spoke.

“Lord Admiral, I want you to detach a battle-group to engage that damaged citadel. Use the Resolve of Iron and another battleship as its center and I will leave you and your staff to select the rest of the battle-group. The rest of the fleet, along with the Bulwark, will move on and attack the next direct citadel. Also see if the battle-group can't get some more information on this energy reading, I'm not expecting much but I am intrigued.” Titus said, and Azmovz nodded and turned to one of his staff, a junior ranking admiral by the insignia and pins, and the man excused himself to go make a list of ships for the battle-group.

Lord Commander Zvite, surrounded by his senior commanders, leaned forward to speak. “The Iron Guard is ready to deploy once the Armada makes that possible. Barring any complications we haven't already factored in we can land roughly three million troops, including a decent amount of General Temishs' armor to begin the mobile war.” The veteran commander offered, and although the war was one of the void for now, those assembled could feel the eagerness of the Iron Guard senior officers to get their troops and their own boots onto solid ground again.

One voice whom didn't speak was that of Princeps Viktoria Gormann, of the Legio Vincere, the Titan legion attached to the Imperial Wardens and the Iron Guard. She was a tall woman, with white hair and golden eyes, dressed in stark white with black finery, a stunning figure certainly, but there was a malice about her, and if the reports about her and her Titan, the Armageddon-class Imperius Rex, a delight in the slaughter of her enemies. Even then, her legio had never failed an objective before and Titus didn't feel as if they would start now.

“Well, there isn't much else for us to do until we can start to land. If the Iron Sentinels prove that boarding these citadels is a quicker way in dealing with them, we have several companies ready to undertake such actions.” Battle Captain Livis spoke, nodding as he reviewed a data-slate. “I'll be sure to send them a transmission asking for any details after their boarding action is complete.” He said. Titus nodded and spoke once more before dismissing the assembled officers.

“We now begin perhaps our greatest campaign in the crusade so far, and I do not mean just for the Imperial Wardens and myself to earn our redemption for my past failures, but for all of us. It is not every campaign when the Emperor himself is present and watching. Let us remind him what the Voln born can do!” He said, one of the rare speeches he felt needed to be said. The officers, most indeed Voln born, gave a small cheer but nothing to extravagant, that would be for the victory.

The officers departed, forming into their own groups as they returned to their respective tasks. In less then half an hour the battle-group with the Resolve of Iron as its flagship was engaging the damaged Onyx Citadel, an additional battleship, four grand cruisers, 35 regular cruisers, and about a hundred escort ships joining the Shogun. The rest of the fleet, with the Bulwark at its head, moved and began engaging the next citadel after that, using the Bulwarks vast shields and armor as a piece of cover to retreat behind when their own shields were down. Boarding companies of the Wardens were ready to be launched at a moments command.

[Skaldia]

914.000 M31
Ishariel System
Aboard Citadel Triúr

The Citadel known as Triúr was the closest to one the Iron Sentinels assaulted. Dozens of them had been killed, their ships failing to reach the Citadel before they were caught in the blast. As Nikolai's assault boat smashed into the black wraithbone structure of the Ctiadel, the massive Disruption Cannon on the top of Triúr opened fire. The black beam struck the Tchaikovsky, peeling back the multiple Void shields of the mighty Gloriana Class Battleship. The strike was enough for blooms of explosions to break out along the length of the battleship as the Citadel's powerful pulse cannons took advantage of the destroyed shields. It was enough for the Tchaikovsky to have to pull back or risk further damage that they could not afford so early in the campaign. It also left Nikolai with but twenty five hundred of his Marines on a vessel containing warriors bent on making them pay for each step they took.

They were suddenly isolated, their forces relatively pinned in what had been a gargantuan courtyard running the very edge of the Citadel. The Duine Sciath wore bulkier versions of the typical Aspect Warrior's armor. It allowed them to somewhat absorb more damage than their kin. Despite that, it was almost no use against the bolters wielded by the Space Marines. The only advantage came against surviving explosions of krak grenades or melta weapons. And their weapons spoke well for them. The bright beams were the only thing seen as the Citadel had immediately went to zero light conditions as soon as the attack had begun.

It was here, battling the wicked xenos, did a Techmarine find Nikolai and reported that Nikolai was to report to the Bucephalus immediately with a word from the Emperor himself.

914.000 M31
Ishariel System
Citadel Cúig

Samael's decision to focus on the shields of his enemy was working. However, the battle to disable the shields was not without cost. As the shields were rapidly falling, the Disruption Cannon of Cúig spoke. Instead of damaging a Gloriana this time, one of Samael's cruisers caught the blast. For a brief moment, a new star was born as the cruiser's shields were ripped away and the engines overloaded by the blast as the implosion drew the ship in. A shock wave rippled out as the cruiser was consumed, causing spatial anomalies around the resultant location of where the cruiser had been. It was enough to have earned a respite if not for the brave crew of a solitary bomber dropping it's last charges. The charges rippled across the flickering energy field, except for the last bomb. It fell on the suddenly unprotected hull of the Citadel and exploded.

914.000 M31
Ishariel System
Citadel Ceann and Adó

The Resolve of Iron and it's battlefleet attached to it was right to settle on the damaged Ceann. With only a few powerful strikes from the Shogun, the shields were down and explosions started to ripple along it's face. Meanwhile, it's own Disruption Cannon fired. Unfortunately, this beam sailed harmlessly by the Shogun. With it's shields down and it's deadliest weapon having missed the battleship, it was only a matter of time before the Citadel was rendered inoperable and a burning hulk in the void, it's complement of deadly warriors cut down to a quarter of it's original size.

Meanwhile at Adó, it quickly became a slugging match. While Adó had been in the direct line of sight to Ishariel's primary star, the Bulwark moving to engage the Onyx Citadel was enough to cause a full eclipse on Ishariel. A sign of what was to come by the Aeldari forces waiting to meet the enemy.

For the moment Adó did not fire it's Disruption Cannon. While the Bulwark was a target that could not be missed, it's shields would soak up the damage the Adó could dole out. Instead, it reverted power to it's shields to sustain the punishment it was receiving from the Bulwark and it's accompaniment of ships of the line. This did not do much to save the Onyx Citadel however. Suddenly, it's shields too flickered and then died.

As soon as it's shields went down, it's Disruption Cannon spoke once and the final time but the beam was interrupted by a powerful lance strike that had the D-Cannon exploding in a violent black sphere of destruction that consumed nearly a third of the structure before it finally abated.

[Endem]

Nikolai Szaraczkiewicz
Citadel Triúr

Before I dwell into the techmarine situation, let us rewind time a bit, to take a look at the glorious slaughter of the vile Aeldari, for, when lights went out, like they had just received an order even though all remained in silence, switched on their flashlights, the cones of light projected from them, were a affront to what light stands for.

Life, traditionally, gives hope, it guides in the dark, it has ingrained itself in the collective psyche as something beneficial, good, a thing to be trusted, light gives you vision, light gives you safety, yet here, on this citadel, this light of the marines was, perhaps sharp, as a million daggers, it stabbed by the power of the bolter round any Eldar who was foolish enough to openly stand in it, or not fast enough to escape it.

The light became, a kill zone, all life before the marines and their bolters and flashlights, was eviscerated, scattered into millions of pieces by a hail of fire, and where was Nikolai at this time, leading his troops of course, from under his bolter constantly deadly slugs, with a power that could shatter even the finest armors, he reigned his vengeance onto the Eldar, and with each shot, and each Eldar dead he felt that the vengeance was still not taken, the hunger for Eldar blood to be spilled still was there.

And thus, he fired on, and marched on, wherever he went, Eldar life vanished, one warrior did not managed to escape, a loud burst, a brief gush of fire, and like a hungry piranha, the round was flying, shattering the Eldar skull into a thousand pieces, it did not stop there, it's bloodlust not satiated, the round slammed into the chest of another Eldar warrior standing right behind the previous one, the warrior seemingly exploded into a thousand different pieces, flying all over, spilling it's liquids on the former comrades and his past enemies.

Then the techmarine came, and Nikolai needed to stop, he needed to stay behind as the line advanced, he asked the marine "Were Vox coms established with the flagship?" Nikolai subconsciously shortened communications to coms, perhaps a symptom of his laconic nature "Yes and No, the signal is there, but all messages are so garbled you barely can make out what they are saying" Nikolai sighed, knowing he will need to depart from battle, and leave his brothers-in-arms for now at least "gather my personal guard and rev up the engines of a boat, I shall follow" and thus, Nikolai would be soon departed for the Bucephalus.

[The Empire of Tau]

“May their souls rest in peace.” Samael says to himself, a cruiser exploding into a new star, radiating its energy in a wave. Another ship down the drain. Not surprising as multiple other ships, mainly screening ships, had gone down in their service today. The shields of Citadel Cúig had fallen and that provides a good time for boarding action. In the meanwhile as the boarding crews, the elite terminator squads, prep for their entry into the Citadel, even more waves of gun shells smashes into the hull of the Citadel. Samael waits before he sends his boarding team to enter, opting to wait a bit. That waiting is for his fleet to hammer the Citadel with even more guns. Wave after wave, heavy-capital ordnance roars, that is if space allowed sound to be heard, towards the wraith-armor of the Cúig Citadel - shells turned into nothing after their hit. After a bit of waiting, Samael sent in his terminator group, 400 of them split into smaller teams, to disable the fighting power of the Citadel. Easier said than done. Outfitted with a power fist and a storm bolter, the terminators had a long job ahead of them. Teleporting into Citadel Cúig, Azure Rain terminators were met with a hail of fire. Immediate action happened, the terminators quickly scanning and firing back with their own hail of fire. Samael now had to wait and see the results of his actions. The halls of Citadel Cúig would be filled with gunfire, sound that can deafen anyone from hearing it. No Eldar can handle the power of a bolter. Sadly, it is not eas to hit one either. No matter, the terminators had an easy fix for that - shoot as many bullets as you can towards their direction while moving forwards. Of course, that is a simple version of the complex task that a terminator had to do - needing to do complex calculations in their mind, aided by their targeting systems, to hit anything or one. Plus the fact that the terminators had to move in their heavy suits too, which is also another layer of complexity.

[Revlona]

Elyrian Manuxus
Elk King of the 8th Legion
914.000 M31
Halathel System

The nearly pith black void of space above Halathel had already been torn asunder not once but thrice as the mass of Legion ships entered the system, three legions of the Imperium entered the system and now they waited, waited for the last of their comrades to arrive. Almost as if on Que, the void of space above Halathel once more split open as the Ships of the Eight Legion slipped from the warp. Leading the charge was the larger the ordinary behemoth of the Gloriana class battleship the Primo Victoria. Beside her but not as large slide a dozen battlebarges of the legion, and beside them came the dozens and dozens of combat ships of the Auxilia Calmora.

Elyrian sat upon the throne that was an ornament of the Bridge. He had gotten unlucky enough to draw a campaign with two of the siblings he had quarreled with and he didn't know whether this was by mere chance or was a cruel jape by his father. He listened carefully as the details of Halathels defenses were relayed to him. The most obvious course of action to take that would avoid damage to the fleet popped into his mind and he immediately began to relay orders.

"Move the fleet just out of the enemy defenses range, once there have 75% of the the fleets strike craft launch and form up. Upon completion of this task they are to immediately begin air raids upon the enemy orbital defenses, they are to utterly destroy the enemy positions. Fighters and interceptors are to fly in defensive patterns around the strike craft and are to intercept any opposing craft." Elyrian said swiftly and emotionlessly, the bridge had stopped to hear his words, and upon the completion of his sentence, they immediately sprang into action, each crew member knowing their job.

NO....NO...LAND IMMEDIATELY...TEAR THEM LIMB FROM LIMB....LET ME TEAR THEM LIMB FROM LIMB... The voice said, its deep and dark voice almost a whisper.

Ignoring the voice, Elyrian set his face into a grim look and relayed the orders to the other legions, suggesting that they take similar actions to avoid damage to the fleets.

"LET ME TEAR THEM!!!" The voice said, louder this time.

"Have the First and Fourth great companies assemble and make ready to drop and make a beach head, 3rd, 5th, 8th, and 11th are to stand ready for my orders. Have the 3rd Army Group of the Auxilia Calmora stand ready to land once my sons have cleared the way. Make ready my own landing craft, I shall take part today." Elyrian said, the bridge once more going silent as he spoke.

I WILL TEAR! I WILL KILL!!!" The voice screamed in his head.

[Skaldia]

913.000.M31
Halathel System

Tens of thousands of Hospitallers had gathered for this Crusade, more of their number gathered in one place than any other. Many a Brother looked forward to fighting alongside each other. Unfortunately, they could not say the same of their cousins. The Sons of Calmora were an overly proud Legion with a Primarch that had done much to sow division with his antagonism with Cyprig. It had translated to their Legionnaires. Indeed, if news of the duel atop the Primarch's' Palace had spread, the discord it could have caused between the Blades of Solus and Sons of Calmora would have been even worse.

The damage from one could not be helped. It was why the Night Haunters and Sons of Calmora would be deployed on opposite ends of the world. Halathel was tidally locked to it's sun. Temperate, warm forests and savannah marked the sunward side. The dark side was gloomy tundra and mist shrouded hills. Halathel was too close to her star to have the dark side encrusted in ice but the center of the dark side still boasted a significant ice cap covered approximately half of it's surface.

The Sons of Calmora and Hospitallers and their attached Auxilia would be assaulting the sunward side. Cyprig with the Night Haunters and Blades of Solus would assault the darkward side.

It was just as well. Of the attached Legions, it was the Sons of Calmora that worked well with the Hospitallers the most.

Despite that, Remigius held the fleet back from range of the formidable planetary defenses of Halathel. The Sons of Calmora would be the spearpoint of the assault while Remigius and the Hospitallers were the secondary force, providing flank and rear security. After their initial landings it would be the mortal servants of the Emperor to follow the might of the Legions. The Rangers and Auxilia Calmora would be vital in securing the ground gained by the Legions.

Meanwhile, Remigius deemed that the other side would be a double pronged affair. Both the Blades and Haunters would work well together, in Remigius' estimation.

As the Sons of Calmora launched their fighter craft, so too did the Hospitallers. While far fewer in number presented by the Calmorans, there were still hundreds of attack bombers that descended through the thick cloud cover obscuring the face of Halathel into the teeth of Hell. Reports came of massed waves of advanced magnetic rail flak that was unerringly accurate. Of Eldar missiles that could not be stopped with any countermeasures aboard the fighters and bombers. It was a bloody affair that would claim the lives of so many brave pilots. Despite that, the attack craft were successful. They broke through the orbital and atmospheric defenses of Halathel to rain bloody destruction on the primary defenses surrounding the ruins of the great city of Aetyser. It was here where the Legions could land their forces and cross blades with the Eldar.

The same could be said about the other side of the planet as Cyprig and Coracus led their Legions against the nightbound forces they would find waiting for them.

As reports came back from the attack crafts Remigius, surrounded by the venerable members of the Venatorum, entered the hangar bay of the great Gloriana battleship to find his Legionnaires waiting in their ranks. Waiting for them were rows of Stormraven gunships. These were the elite of the Hospitallers, terminator squads in completely black plate at the front of each formation. For thousands more, drop pods waited to fall like thunder upon the ruins of Aetyser. Remigius picked up Grace and Pardon from a floating servitor next to him and faces his men once more."Today, we fight beside the great Sons of Calmora! Today we put down scalpel in favor of Bolter! Today, we make Peace with War!"

"WAR!" Thousands of augmented voices roared back at him and he raised his weapons in salute to his own Children.

[Antimersia]

Cyprig

As the Arcana and the 20th legions vessels moved into position above the dark side of Halathel, Cyprig prepared himself for the coming battle. He readied his weapons and armor, knowing the coming battle will be difficult. The Emperors Custodes forever stood close to Cyprig. Their presence would induce claustrophobia in some. Though they are simply a nuisance for Cyprig. One that he was eager to be free of. Cyprig opened up communications with the hunter destroyers and battle barges under his command. He breathed deeply, prepared to speak to his legion.

"Attention, Night Haunters." Cyprig began, his teeth showing as he begins to smile widely. "The Eldar are our target today. Beings of formidable power and intelligence. Or so we are told. Yet they have made a mistake only a simpleton ever could make. They attacked brave soldiers of the Imperium. They ended the lives of thousands of our species. I believe reciprocity is in order. For once our directive, and that of the Emperor's have... coalesced. We will storm this planet, obliterate the Eldar, and show these xeno bastards what it means to challenge mankind!" He roars at the end in a slightly higher pitch. His excitement building and slowing out of him as he begins to cackle uproariously.

Cyprig heads through the Arcana to the drop pod bay. He enters in the pod and the Emperor's custodes quickly force their way into the pod, surrounding Cyprig. A hundred or so more space marines funnel into other pods from the Arcana, ready to be dropped. Cyprig slides his helm onto his head and does one final weapon check. His shield, the Shield of Nuvoa, is retracted on his left arm and is fully operational. His double barreled hellgun is holsted on his right hip, connected to the power pack in his armor. And the grav-gun in his arm is fully loaded and ready. He readies himself for the drop as the Arcana gets within range. The moment it is, the pod is ejected and drops towards the city of Belatar. The pod blasts through the atmosphere and lights up the sky as it barrels down and slams into the surface of Halathel. The doors on each of the six sides open and lower down. Cyprig slowly walks out and gazes upon the ruins of Belatar. The smoldering metal and stone putting a smile on his face. His breath visibly bellows out of his helmet, as the frigid climate of the dark side of the plant is plainly noticeable upon exit of the pod. The custodes follow Cyprig out first, giving him almost no personal space. Cyprig surveys his surroundings briefly. He activates his microbead to speak with the marines on planet with him.

"Spread out and search for survivors and artifacts of knowledge." Cyprig commands. He activates his cybernetic eyes to scan for heat signatures, though the frigid cold climate interferes with his ability to scan the area. He calls up to Silas back on the Arcana, "Silas, The cold is making it difficult to properly scan the area. I will be conducting a search of the area. In precisely one hour, begin dropping the rest of the legion into the city."

"Yes sir. I understand." Silas replies. He relays the order to the strike cruisers and battle barges of the 20th legion, as they finalize their preparations to drop the full force of the Night Haunters in short order.

As Cyprig and the small company that dropped in with him search they find no signs of life remaining within the city. Although, Cyprig does happen upon a children's book in the ruins. Cyprig values such books greatly. There are few ways to understand the morality and sensibilities of a society better than reading what they teach their children.

In time, as the hour given to Silas draws to a close, hundreds of drop pods begin to fall towards the surface around the city. The pods fall, deposit their space marine cargo, then are sent back up to be able to send down the next marines. Within four hours, over one hundred thousand of the 20th leagions marines have arrived at Belatar, and stand at the ready to march on the rest of the planet. Markin Maddsla lands and immediately approaches Cyprig.

"All preparations have been completed." Markin states to Cyprig. Cyprig nods to him in understanding. "The legion awaits your command, sir."

"We hold fast. The Eldar are tricksters. We may be surrounded and not even know. Let us wait for Coracus and his legion to reach the surface. Keep the men at the ready." Cyprig replies. He looks around, continuing to survey the city and the surrounding area, perturbed that all seems calm.

[Ormata]

Primarch Igneous
II Legion
Dolgata

Igneous had gone to the palace. Outside was a panoply of Lighting Bearers arrayed in their parade, a force ill-used, and before him was the Emperor himself. He was a beacon, a shining light in the dim recesses of space and void, and his eyes were most disproving. He was unhappy with those before him, unhappy with their efforts perhaps, unhappy with their methods. He was unhappy with one thing or another for Igneous felt it so. It could not be otherwise. He was unhappy, and all that was laid out before the Molten Sons Primarch stated thusly. And yet, he had called another out, Cyprig, and he did not speak as Fathers speak, did not act as the parent acts. His was a practical anger, the toolman angry at the faulty wrench, the mechanic angry at a faulty carburetor. His was the anger when a mechanism did not act as it should and thereby required maintenance upon it. It was callous, Igneous felt, and that thought pained him. He was angry, but not by the desolation of countless worlds which could have been used otherwise, no. He was angry, but not by the experiments Cyprig's Legion had performed, no. He qas angry by the disrespect shown between Primarchs.

Igneous had been surprised, though he didn't dare give leave to his face to show it. He'd heard of Primarchs being disrespectful before. He'd dealt with them before. He'd had to chop an arm off before because one intended to kill another, the Primarch recalled, and that was over a mere game, over a mere disagreement of tactics. Coracus existed, too. It was surprising to have that, among all other reasons to scold Cyprig, among all other disrespectful Primarchs, be the reason and the person. The Emperor spoke of those things, proclaimed that Cyprig would be assigned twenty of the Custodes to watch his actions, and that further actions would mean most extensive punishments. It was, overall, a far punishment for the wrong crime.

And then he ordered a party, a celebration in the same vein as those rulers had before. Igneous narrowed his eyes, swallowing what disagreements he had over holding a fete at such a time. War was to be had, to be made, and to hold celebration was merely a waste of time, a waste of effort, and colored the crusade into the sector unfavorably. The foolish celebrated before war, made merry in their ignorance. The wise would prepare for it. Their foe was Eldar, old-blood whose way of war was unquestionably refined and distilled into a stark, naked affair, without the pomp and ceremony and parades. They would conduct their war just as brutally as they had opened it. To make merry before meeting such a foe was unwise, dis not give the proper respects. One treats a foe, in Igneous's opinion, as an equal even when they are not. When Father left and Icarion excused himself, Igneous made his own silent exit.

He lacked the time to make merry. He lacked the inclination to do so. The Emperor had said that the Primarch and one other would be present at the fete, but it was not so for the II Legion. While the others laughed away, carousing into the night, the Molten sons exited from the system as silently as they had entered. They made haste to another staging ground, one close to the first target, before waiting for information. Igneous disliked the waiting, that pause, but it was required. He was no fool to lead forces into the same trap and his Legion were no cattle fit for slaughter. He had to play the game for the campain's sake. And yet, Igneous found himself yet again standing upon the bridge of the Perpetual Discipline, standing as though the fleet was ready for departure, standing as though the reports had already been received. It had been a week, a week since the party, a week since the Emperor gave his judgement over the wrong crime.

A week since fools fought over a pride which weighed nothing, cost nothing to disperse, since fools fought over a cheap pride. He'd gotten a report from Dolgata, a report over the palace incident, and it was still a fresh annoyance whenever he brought it to the mind's forefront. Cyprig given judgement and Elyrian giving chase, a noble hunter with glee in his eyes at the wounded prey, foolish and foolhardy, before the unexpected came about. They were both fools in Igneous's eyes, Icarion a fool as well, Oberon one as well, Remigius too. None had halted the duel of idiots, who had given pause to think that themselves, titans striding above men as the brothers thought of themselves, should act thusly, should act with a measure of dignity. They scoffed and hated Coracus when he acted the fool before donning the same mask of that jester. They were fools, acting foolishly, wasting their time and spirit and energy.

If any Molten Son acted so, Igneous would disapprove. They were not meant to be petty, the Legionaries, nor were the Primarchs. Many saw them as beacons for the Emperor's will, for his work was continued through them. They should be above such petty disputes and it saddened the II Primarch to feel so. He'd kept such news quiet, however. It did no good for others to know their gods fought in the heavens over mere stupidity.

He stood upon the bridge of the Perpetual Discipline, and those about him gave some effort to pay little heed to the giant among them. Igneous wore his armor, helmet in the crook of his arm, staring out into that endless void, staring out into that nebula of thought and emotion which swirled about him. It was a prickly cloak, that nebula, one which comforted and concerned in equal measure, yet that cloak was one Igneous was used to. It was mankind. The crew minced about, moving to their various duties, and the footsteps of one drew the Primarch attention. They were measured, collected, and most importantly walking directly towards him. Interesting. The scent of lilac and garlic. The brief, intermittent scratching of untreated, honest-to-saints leather. He turned his head ever so slightly, catching in the corner of his eye a distinct, navy blue uniform and gold bars about the collar, the crop of midnight black hair in a brief little ponytail. His Fleet Admiral.

"Sir, we've received reports from forward units. V Legion has also forwarded their recon."

They held much. His Raiders did not disappoint and they held much. Reports were made on enemy numbers, defensive postures, apparent supply methods. They held massive star fortresses, weapons above specific planetoids and capitals, weapons for which none could elaborate on precise capabilities. These were marked for destruction, per the expectation. Those reports by the Sun Angels did not add much, though their accuracy corroborated with what his Raiders stated. That was enough. Briefly thanking and dismissing the Fleet Admiral, the giant gave that order "Ready the fleet," and left that bridge. And yet, following a brief war council with his Chapter Commanders, the decision on how the II Legion would strike was decided.

Their warp drives engaged.

Primarch Igneous
II Legion
Perpetual Discipline, Ishariel System

The fleet of the II exited from the Warp late. It was not uncommon, though the Navigator had screamed of the broiling warp and the tempestuous winds and even the Primarch gave aid to the safe passage of his vessel. To have anything less was not an option. They tore out of the warp, out into the Ishariel System, taking up a rapid formation to guard against Eldar trickery and ambush, and found before them a wrought system. Two fortresses already laid in ruin, two more under assault by the Azure Rain and Iron Sentinels, all while two remaining citadels laid bare and untouched. The Wardens looked to have borne the brunt of the initial attack, all while the Emperor himself and his flagship stayed in reserve. Those citadels which were destroyed lingered there, some pieces already meteors against the planet below, their frames slowly buckling apart, their clouds of debris obscuring any attempt to scry the area there. Igneous would have given account towards enemy forces there, but surely the debris would be dangerous to any Eldar craft attempting to hide, those small enough crushed and too large giving their position by such debris making unnatural movement. Alarms aboard every vessel began to sound, General Quarters called, and from the belly of the Perpetual Discipline her retinue gave way. Just as the fleet came into formation, fighters and strike craft maneuvered into their own wings and flights and formations, taking up that escort role with ease.

"Bring the fleet into firing range of the nearest citadel. All ahead flank."

"Sir," was the only response from the Fleet Admiral, her voice and manner terse, her posture taut as the woman stood next to her chair. "Order fleet course 215, 025, speed 90. One minute standby."

"Fleet course 215, 025, speed 90, one mike standby aye, ma'am," was the vox operator's only reply before placing both headphones on and setting about his own task in relaying such an order to the fleet, of ensuring that every vessel acknowledged the order and set about at it. It was by no means an easy task, his hand rapid in the operation of various controls before him while the other applied pressure to one headphone in a minor effort to hear the assorted fleet more clearly. The helm, for their part, confirmed the order and set about readying the ship to bring her about, their own task comparatively simple

"Weps, a firing solution on that citadel."

"Calculating now, ma'am."

"Mister Ivac, launch alpha strike."

"Aye ma'am," replied the Flight Officer, leaning down over the console and one of the seated crewmen to speak to him. That vox operator moved far more sardonically, lacking that rapid operation of knobs. His system was already attuned. No, he merely had to relay that order to the assorted fighters and strike craft, those serried thousands of assorted strike craft which the II Legion had launched. The swarm of lights, the engine glow the only visible signature for that formation, began to thust away at the enemy station, closing that wide void.

"Thirty seconds standby on course change 215, 025, speed 90."

The lights continued to close that gap, many keeping their formations loose and nearly unorganized. One clean v's turned ragged, ready to receive the foe before them and whatever ordinace they launched. Explosives were one things, but such a thing which may take a whole, clean v could not do the same to the ragged lines the II presented. It was a massive, expansive strike, a maneuvering nebula to the eldritch enemy. Igneous stood still, however, as he did not expect them to completely obliterate the enemy.

"Fifteen seconds standby."

The station began to open fire, her shots cutting clean through the ragged lines. There wasn't even an array of little stars, puffs of debris, nothing of that sort. One moment, a fighter or bomber was there, a shot ran through, and suddenly the craft was gone. They were simply gone, not even the holo-lith before Igneous registering a blast. Evasive maneuvers began, the strike craft dodging and weaving in about as good a random pattern as they might without destroying the formation, destroying their speed. Nevertheless, magnetic rail tore through the formation and the citadel began to launch her missiles. Fighters placed themselves between the shooter and target, their cannon fire a flak cloud nearly most potent. Some would explode before the target. Many would not. Yet, the angry nebula continued to thrust onwards.

"Five…"

He could see them. He could see all of them. He saw their faces under the mask, their anger and concentration and professional fury. He saw their hands at the controls, their prayers on their lips. He felt the hot and heavy expanse of the flight suit, the itch against the neck, the tight collar and the helmet about the head, a cheap furnace for another life. He felt nothing. He felt so many nothings, so many dead, so many gone. Snuffed out like just another candle.

"Four…"

The cannon above that citadel was turning, the silhouette shifting. It began to aim against them. Still, the strike moved forwards. Still, they would engage the enemy. The various hulks adrift attested to the lethality of the massive cannon, the capabilities of such a weapon clearing requiring a silence before it could be allowed to fire. It needed to be stopped. Igneous narrowed his eyes, knowing that was true.

"Firing solution acquired. Nova ready to fire. Citadel is targetting...us ma'am." The Weapons Officer's tone was restrained only by a margin, only by that professional leash and nothing else, though the man kept it level. The countdown continued just beyond the thoughts and ears of that man, of the Fleet Admiral, the more important matters coming to the forefront even as the fleet made the turn, continued on that speed.

"Fire when ready. Brace for impact, sound collision alarm!" Her tone was calm, cold, clammy.

"Sound collision alarm, aye!" The internal comms operator clicked that alarm, the frantic klaxon filling the corridors of the ship, before giving that message to brace, brace, brace. Those crew on the bridge stood from their stations, leaning against their consoles, mouths slack to prevent themselves from biting their tongues. Weapons stayed on his circuit, though, the man turned away from his console to watch the holo-lith. The fighters had broken over the citadel, swarming over it to reform in their lines, while the bombers made their final approaches. The graphical reading turned fuzzy about the foe before thousands more contacts began to show about their bombers. They had released that first strike against the station, many veering away before thrusting away at full power. Not one desired to get caught in the blast, whatever it may be, and even if there was no effect not one wanted to stick around. Weapons Officer watched, pausing with a headset about his balding head, staring a hole through that holo-lith. They connected, the citadel eating the missiles easily before then...then something occurred. It turned fuzzy again before registering correctly, the citadel turning into several massive pieces. The bombers had launched a variety of payloads, many armor piercing in nature, others high explosive, and a minority being vortex in nature. It was hard to shrug off a vortex missile punching into a D cannon. It was harder to shrug off a dozen. The pilots had seen that big gun, knew it was the first thing that needed to go. It went.

"Relax brace."

They began to seat themselves about their consoles, the flight returning, and the klaxons ceased their clamor, and Igneous still stood there watching the nebula come about and return, watching the citadel break apart slowly. Invisible hands wrought against it and, in his satisfaction, Igneous gave a signal nod.

"Bring the fleet about to give distance between ourselves and the planet. Calculate a firing position for the Nova cannons from that point."

"Aye, sir."

[Kyavan]

Primarch Oberon Gothicus
IX Legion "Fallen Angels"

916.000.M31, Oelil

Sirens roared on every Imperial Ship in Oelil as massive entity transited out of the warp and the great fleet of the Fallen arrived on the battlefield. At its head stood the monolithic warship Repentia; adorned with beautiful golden crosses and inscriptions across its hull, the warship was the embodiment of the IX's zeal. The great fleet slid into position at the center of the flotilla and began arming its weapons.

Oberon Gothicus, clad in the same jet black and gold armor his father had gifted him all those years ago. Admiral Trajan, the augmented but mortal commander of the Repentia approached the Emperor's Despair with a transmission from Zephr's Might. He kneels before the primarch and relays the message,

"The Zephr says the Eldar are waiting my lord." He rasped through his rebreather.

Oberon angled his head down at his old friend, ruby eyes of his helmet boring into the other man's soul. He nodded for a moment and then turned his gaze to the viewport of the command deck. Standing to his full height and leaving his throne, he strode towards the door.

"Trajan, tell my brothers I wish to speak with them. I will take their calls on the Holodeck." He boomed.

"Lord, Merchaeka’s forces have not yet arrived."

Oberon stopped and stiffened for a moment, his fists clenched and unclenched for a moment. He turned towards Trajan, radiating anger. Before turning back around and storming out. His sons parted for him to pass as they scrambled around the ship readying themselves for the coming battle. All bore the cross of the IX, for a second Oberon felt something other than fear when looking at his sons. He felt pride, pride in what they'd become, how they persevered, and how their reputation has grown over centuries.

"Merchaeka isn't here yet, that is bad news. Perhaps we can finish this without him. How costly would that be!" He muttered to himself as he moved through the bowels of the Repentia.

Arriving at the holodeck, Oberon took a seat in the great stone throne directly facing the projector. Hailing the flagship of the Obsidian Warriors, he waited. Their Primarch was one Oberon didn't hate, but not one he liked either. Regardless, he was anxious to discover what they'd found in the nebula, if anything.

[Ameriganastan]

Cyprig

As the Arcana and the 20th legions vessels moved into position above the dark side of Halathel, Cyprig gathered his personal guard, the Aldrazzi, and prepared them for the coming battle. They readied their psy-cannons, knowing their anti-psyker capabilities will likely be invalubale against the scourge that is the Eldar. The Emperors Custodes forever stood close to Cyprig. Their presence would induce claustrophobia in some. Though they are simply a nuisance for Cyprig. Once that he was eager to be free of. Cyprig opened up communications with the hunter destroyers and battle barges under his command. He breathed deeply, prepared to speak to his legion.

"Attention, Night Haunters." Cyprig began, his teeth showing as he begins to smile widely. "The Eldar are our target today. Beings of formidable power and intelligence. Or so we are told. Yet they have made a mistake only a simpleton ever could make. They attacked brave soldiers of the Imperium. They ended the lives of thousands of our species. I believe reciprocity is in order. For once our directive, and that of the Emperor's have... coalesced. We will storm this planet, obliterate the Eldar, and show these xeno bastards what it means to challenge mankind!" He roars at the end in a slightly higher pitch. His excitement building and slowing out of him as he begins to cackle uproariously.

Cyprig heads through the Arcana to the drop pod bay. He enters in the pod and the Aldrazzi begin to funnel in beside him as they always have. Only to be pushed aside by the Emperor's custodes as they force their way into the pod, surrounding Cyprig. The Aldrazzi and a hundred or so more space marines funnel into other pods from the Arcana, ready to be dropped. Cyprig slides his helm onto his head and does one final weapon check. His shield, the Shield of Nuvoa, is retracted on his left arm and is fully operational. His double barreled hellgun is holsted on his right hip, connected to the power pack in his armor. And the grav-gun in his arm is fully loaded and ready. He readies himself for the drop as the Arcana gets within range. The moment it is, the pod is ejected and drops towards the city of Belatar. The pod blasts through the atmosphere and lights up the sky as it barrels down and slams into the surface of Halathel. The doors on each of the six sides open and lower down. Cyprig slowly walks out and gazes upon the ruins of Belatar. The smoldering metal and stone putting a smile on his face. His breath visibly bellows out of his helmet, as the frigid climate of the dark side of the plant is plainly noticeable upon exit of the pod. The custodes follow Cyprig out first, giving him almost no personal space. The Aldrazzi follow closely behind. Cyprig surveys his surroundings briefly. He activates his microbead to speak with the marines on planet with him.

"Spread out and search for survivors and artifacts of knowledge." Cyprig commands. He activates his cybernetic eyes to scan for heat signatures, though the frigid cold climate interferes with his ability to scan the area. He calls up to Silas back on the Arcana, "Silas, The cold is making it difficult to properly scan the area. I will be conducting a search of the area. In precisely one hour, begin dropping the rest of the legion into the city."

"Yes sir. I understand." Silas replies. He relays the order to the strike cruisers and battle barges of the 20th legion, as they finalize their preparations to drop the full force of the Night Haunters in short order.

As Cyprig and the small company that dropped in with him search they find no signs of life remaining within the city. Although, Cyprig does happen upon a children's book in the ruins. Cyprig values such books greatly. There are few ways to understand the morality and sensibilities of a society better than reading what they teach their children.

In time, as the hour given to Silas draws to a close, hundreds of drop pods begin to fall towards the surface around the city. The pods fall, deposit their space marine cargo, then are sent back up to be able to send down the next marines. Within four hours, over one hundred thousand of the 20th leagions marines have arrived at Belatar, and stand at the ready to march on the rest of the planet. Markin Maddsla lands and immediately approaches Cyprig.

"All preparations have been completed." Markin states to Cyprig. Cyprig nods to him in understanding. "The legion awaits your command, sir."

"We hold fast. The Eldar are tricksters. We may be surrounded and not even know. Let us wait for Coracus and his legion to reach the surface. Keep the men at the ready." Cyprig replies. He looks around, continuing to survey the city and the surrounding area, perturbed that all seems calm.

Oh, he was on the surface. A fact that became obvious when a loud rumble came over the horizon. A smart leader would make a tactical entrance, properly survey the area, check for traps. Coracus wasn't that smart. No, he just had to make an entrance. An entrance heralded by a legion of Rhino transports, the Primarch of the Blades Of Solus standing atop the lead one...singing.

Frim shu kusurs wu cimu si slauejhsur.
Ninu shaull serzozu, lu shuw sin ir kauejhsur.

Oer llaukus auru shorssw, ier unumous wuaur.
Wu cimu frim shu saunks si cell shu muur.

Sins if Siles, sikauw wu fojhs.
Fuaur ier zunjuauncu, phrauosu ier mojhs.

Thu Emphurir's chisun, ninu shaull serzozu.
Oer himu si laurrun wus wu shrozu.

Sins if shu swi sens, wu hauzu aurrozuk.
Qeauru, ciwur, fir wie win's serzozu!

A Necro Solian war chant, sung by he and all those following behind him.

"Drive faster you pansies! My sword is thirsty and my patience is short!"

[Northern Poland]

Mercaekha Taristus
916.000.M31
Oelil System

The Gloriana Class Battleship, Caburus Eternum came out of the warp, followed by the Night Stalkers fleet. "All ships, form up." Mercaekha said from his command seat, with Cruisers forming on the sides of the Gloriana class battleship, with destroyers and frigates forming a defensive screen at the head of the fleet. The Auxilia formed up around the Battlefleet, preparing for the battle ahead. Crewman sat, legs shaking with either excitement or dread. Other crewmen ran to Battlestations, and enginseers blessing the large cannons of the Great warships, pleasing the machine-spirits.

Armsmen prepared defenses in the bowls of the ship, ready for boarding parties if they occurred. Heavy weapons emplacements sat behind barricades, accompanied by battle servitors. The large fleet advanced to join forces with the other legions, as they had arrived last. The many regiments and companies began to muster in the transport ships, preparing for the landing soon to come. The machines of war were stirring and were ready to crush the Eldari threat. At least. they thought they were, none had dealt with the Xenos, many remained ignorant to strategies employed by this race, and this could create a very large issue.


The Captain of the Caburus Eternum looked up from his console, "My lord, the Primarch of the 9th Legion is sending a holo-message."


Mercaekha looked up, "Well then, Captain Gabriel, put the message on the Holo table." Mercaekha said from his throne in the bridge.

"Of course, my Lord." The Captain said, pressing a button on his console.


The Primarch of the IX legion appeared, Mercaekha standing from his chair, speaking "Greetings brother, what is it you request to discuss?"

[Theyra]

(Image)
Primarch Oberon Gothicus
IX Legion "Fallen Angels"

916.000.M31, Oelil

Sirens roared on every Imperial Ship in Oelil as massive entity transited out of the warp and the great fleet of the Fallen arrived on the battlefield. At its head stood the monolithic warship Repentia; adorned with beautiful golden crosses and inscriptions across its hull, the warship was the embodiment of the IX's zeal. The great fleet slid into position at the center of the flotilla and began arming its weapons.

Oberon Gothicus, clad in the same jet black and gold armor his father had gifted him all those years ago. Admiral Trajan, the augmented but mortal commander of the Repentia approached the Emperor's Despair with a transmission from Zephr's Might. He kneels before the primarch and relays the message,

"The Zephr says the Eldar are waiting my lord." He rasped through his rebreather.

Oberon angled his head down at his old friend, ruby eyes of his helmet boring into the other man's soul. He nodded for a moment and then turned his gaze to the viewport of the command deck. Standing to his full height and leaving his throne, he strode towards the door.

"Trajan, tell my brothers I wish to speak with them. I will take their calls on the Holodeck." He boomed.

"Lord, Merchaeka’s forces have not yet arrived."

Oberon stopped and stiffened for a moment, his fists clenched and unclenched for a moment. He turned towards Trajan, radiating anger. Before turning back around and storming out. His sons parted for him to pass as they scrambled around the ship readying themselves for the coming battle. All bore the cross of the IX, for a second Oberon felt something other than fear when looking at his sons. He felt pride, pride in what they'd become, how they persevered, and how their reputation has grown over centuries.

"Merchaeka isn't here yet, that is bad news. Perhaps we can finish this without him. How costly would that be!" He muttered to himself as he moved through the bowels of the Repentia.

Arriving at the holodeck, Oberon took a seat in the great stone throne directly facing the projector. Hailing the flagship of the Obsidian Warriors, he waited. Their Primarch was one Oberon didn't hate, but not one he liked either. Regardless, he was anxious to discover what they'd found in the nebula, if anything.

"Lord Miztli, the Fallen Angel fleet has arrived and and they are hailing us". Ohyotl turned to face Miztli, "My lord, Primarch Oberon wishes to speak to you via holo".

"Holo.. fine, put the message through to the holodeck and keep me informed when the Night Stalkers have arrived or if the Eldar makes moves against us".

"Will do... wait we got a incoming. Its the Night Stalker fleet, they have arrived my lord".

"Hmmm" Miztli had a susprised look on his face, "that is convenient, still keep watch for any Eldar and keep me informed". Without another word Miztli made his way to the holodeck while the rest of the Obsidian Warrior fleet prepares itself for battle. Manning their stations, preping boarding pods and other things once battle was joined.

This is good, Miztli thought, now that all of the fleets have arrived they can now begin operations and face the Eldar. He did not have much personal experience with dealing with either Oberon or Mercaekha. Miztli did not have anything to say bad about them but, nothing good either. Then again he did not have close relations or had strong feelings with any of his sibilings and it showed. The closest example he had of a good relationship is that he respects Remigius. Perhaps it will be good to fight alongside his brothers and maybe see a chance to build trust with them. If things go that way that is.

Finally he made it to the holodeck and stood firmly on the holochamber and pressed a button. He appeared holographic to his brothers, "Hello my brothers glad you two have finally arrived and Oberon what is it that you wish to discuss?

[Skaldia]

912.000.M31
Mirienh System

Travel through the Warp was dangerous at the best of times. For Zahariel and the Penitent Sons, it would prove disastrous. Instead of translating in system near the forces of the Emperor’s Talons and Lightning Bearers, the gellar field of The Fortress of Penitence had failed while in transit when the Navigator assigned to the battleship was killed. Who killed the Navigator and why it caused the gellar field to fail was unclear. But the results were the same. Denizens of the Warp were soon crawling through the entire battleship. It was only through the efforts of Librarian Xarsex of the Penitent Sons that saved the ship from it’s fate. Using up his entire lifeforce, the Librarian pulled the ship out of the Warp just before the Gloriana battleship tore into reality.

Unlike the rest of Task Force Anvil, the Penitent Sons and their fleet assets translated a system away around a red star approaching supernova within a few hundred thousand years. The Fortress of Penitence was almost indistinguishable from what it originally looked like. Instead of the great, soaring strength of the Gloriana, it was a diseased, rotted thing that lumbered through the void of space like a dying thing. Of the people that had been assigned to her, nearly half of them were dead. Of the Space Marines, nearly a quarter had been turned into bloated monsters that had had to be put down mercifully by their brothers. Zahariel had held the bridge with his elites against gibbering, bloated monsters that wore the faces of his friends and acquaintances.

The rest of the Penitent Sons’ fleet circled around the battleship, a flurry of activity as men and materiel rushed to the Gloriana to aid in repairing and searching the ship for more of the zombies that had appeared. Even now, a battle raged in the depths of the colossal ship as zombies were found and exterminated. Needless to say, the Penitent Sons’ role in taking Mirienh would be drastically reduced.

Sentinel Susanoo read the communique recently brought to him by the Ship’s Astropath upon the condition of the Penitent Sons and cursed. This was not what they needed but it was only to expected. Almost every Legion that had sought to bring war to this Sector had suffered in some way and no it was the turn of the Penitent Sons. No doubt the Emperor’s Talons’ Primarch would be reading the same report as him. Despite the Penitent Sons being unable to assist in the invasion of Mirienh, Task Force Anvil still possessed the might of nearly a million Space Marines and more than twenty million men and women of the Imperialis Auxilia. They had more than enough to take Mirienh.

Susanoo turned away from the hololith field observing the system and to his terminator elite, the Volta.”What has our scrying told us, Fushina?”

“Leadership seems to be broken across the entire surface of the world. Although the light of something shines most brightly in the Eastern hemisphere of this world. We are unsure what it is.” The blind Space Marine stated reluctantly. No one enjoyed showing the limit of their knowledge, leastways the powerful Volta Terminator elite of the Lightning Bearers.

“What of our auspex scans, Captain Teneal?” The Captain of the Bridge stepped forward and brought up an image of the world of Mirienh on the hololith.

“The Eastern Hemisphere is where most of the world’s water is located.” He muttered a litany to the machine god as he brought the Eastern Hemisphere into focus.”Despite that, the islands in the ocean remain as mountainous as the rest of the world. Except.. here,” he situated on a large island at the center of the world and pointed to it.”This island is relatively flat, comparatively speaking. It also appears to be the site of a major complex.”

“That is where we make our landing. Inform Napoli.”

913.000.M31
Halathel System

Coracus’ singing was interrupted by a needle round from a Long Las punching through the eye lens of his helmet and drilling through his eye. With a curse, the Primarch fell back into his Rhino while his Space Marines collected around him. They did not have time to see to their Primarch though before a wave of Eldar Phoenixes swooped in from hidden locations and riddled the rhino formations of the Blades of Solus with heavy ordinance. Explosions suddenly broke the dark, frozen night. Meanwhile, on the edges of Belatar, Support Weapon Batteries would be opening up on the gathered forces of the Night Haunters and Blades of Solus in coruscating concussions of fire. The Rhinos of the Blades of Solus turned their tracks to face outward as Eldar Hornets swooped in on the rear towards the Night Haunters.

The Aeldari of Halathel had prepared the ruins of Belatar and Aetyser well. They would prove to be traps that both forces on Halathel would need to break out of, all the while dealing with ambushes and assassination attempts on their officers. Indeed, as all this was going on, Rangers were steadily picking off targets of opportunity, the bright heraldry of Space Marine leaders making it all the more easy for the Rangers and Pathfinders to locate and eliminate them from the field.

It would be the Auxilia of the Tupelov Lancers that gave the Space Marines in Belatar a break, gunships of the Imperial Auxilia raining fire down on the Support Batteries and thousands of boots hitting the ground. But the trap would be broken finally with Scorched light armor landing outside Belatar and crushing a squadron of Eldar Hornets between them and the Blade of Solus’ Rhinos. Coracus had rose from the command rhino, his face a bloody ruin. No longer singing, his face a mask of blood, he roared for the death of the Aeldari.

914.000.M31
Ishariel System

Nikolai and Nikolai alone made his way back to the assault boat while his men fought and died. Extricating the assault boat from the Citadel was no small thing but the pilot managed it well. Flying through the debris field that was quickly expanding, Nikolai was half way to the Bucephalus when the 2nd Legion’s attack on one of the last remaining Citadels was successful. With the destruction of it’s D-Cannon by bombers, it was left to the mercy of the guns of the 2nd Legion which soon reduced the Citadel to a burning wreck. It was a sobering moment for the Aeldari, to see such massive firepower brought to bear against them. In such a short time, three of their Citadels were destroyed and another two boarded.

But vengeance would be theirs.

Nikolai was escorted on to the Bucephalus by a pair of Custodes. As Nikolai and his escort marched through the ship everywhere was proof of the people getting ready for the ground war that would commence as soon as the Citadels and planetary defenses disabled. The Emperor was found in his personal viewing quarters, a corridor stretching nearly a hundred meters long, one side clear plasteel so that the Emperor might view the battlefield. He did not turn from his observation of the space battle as Nikolai was left by the Pair of Custodes.

Nikolai had but a moment to step up before a bright explosion rocked the ship as one of the Citadel’s violently combusted. It also happened to be the same Citadel where just a moment ago the Iron Sentinels had been assaulting. The Command Exarch of the Citadel, upon hearing that a Primarch was aboard his vessel, had chose to try and take out the Citadel and kill a Primarch at the same time. Instead, the Primarch had been spirited away by the Emperor just in time. The same could not be said for the more than two thousand Iron Sentinels aboard her.

Meanwhile, across the depths of space, the Molten Sons’ fleet fired an astounding five nova cannons at the remaining Citadel. Four missed entirely but one did not. The one that hit punched through the shields like a hot knife through butter and hit the central spire of the Citadel. It was powerful enough to sever the central spire from the Citadel, the command tower of the Citadel gone with a single shot. It also destroyed the chances of the Citadel using it’s D-Cannon. Despite the loss of the tower though, the Citadel remained operational, it’s pulse cannons sparking light.

Nor did things go entirely the way of the Molten Sons. One of the Nova Cannons that had fired and missed suddenly exploded, engulfing nearly a third of the ship it was attached to in a violent web of annihilation. It was a reminder of the dangers of the Nova Cannon, not least to those who faced down the barrel but by those who were in charge of maintaining the mighty weapons.

The Brotherhood had their opportunity. Boiling out of the cover provided by the asteroid belt in the system, the Aeldari ships sped forward, firing as they went. Soon, the rear of the Imperial forces were suffering the brute attack, several ships struck down in moments as Calthanir from the bridge of the Void Stalker led his forces in a brilliant maneuver that separated the Imperial forces in two. It was a characteristic becoming despairingly common of the Corsair Prince as he led his forces. However, it was not a pitched battle. As soon as he had achieved his goals, Calthanir was one more withdrawing from the field, the remaining ships he had fleeing to the edge of the system in the hopes of drawing some of the Imperial forces to him.

He was also more than 50,000 Aeldari lighter.

For as soon as he had darted in, the Duine Sciath, each led by incredibly powerful Void Dreamers, teleported through the Warp to target directly those Primarchs engaged in invading Ishariel. Each of the Duine Sciath knew their chances of success were almost negligible. Each one of them had donned their black Exarch armor knowing it would be the last time they did so. Likewise, for their leaders, they too began the rituals that would see them dead by the end of the day. So much had been lost already. The vaunted Duine Sciath, whose ancestors had fought in the War in Heaven, now brought low by monkeys from a backwater world. It was a shame only their death could wipe clean.

For the Azure Rain, thousands of Aeldari warriors would suddenly materialize in the engine bays of the flagship of Samael’s Fleet. Lord Qaras led these forces. Not knowing precisely where he was aboard the mighty ship, he began attacking targets of opportunity while hundreds of ship menials were gunned down like so much chaff.

The Imperial Wardens would not be so lucky. Hundreds of Aspect Warriors appeared near the Bridge. Lord Scalari knew where he was. Cutting down an Imperial Warden, he led his warriors on a charge of the Bridge and directly towards Titus. Scalari might be cut down by the powerful Primarch but he had hundreds of Aeldari to throw at the fight. Meanwhile, more than eighteen thousand Eldar had teleported scattered throughout the Bulwark. While they couldn't make it to the Bridge to fight Titus, they were determined to destroy as much of the Bulwark as possible.

Nikolai was not to he spared his pain. Still suffering from the loss of so many of his children, he would now have to fight beside the Emperor had thousands of Aeldari warriors teleported aboard the Bucephalus itself. Lord Geria had not expected to be fighting the Emperor but she welcomed the opportunity to kill the Master of Mankind himself. Aboard the Bucephalus a bloody battle between Custodes and Aspect Warriors broke out.

Igneous was not left out of the machinations of Aeldari. He also received the smallest concentration of remaining Duine Sciath. One thousand Aspect Warriors teleported aboard the Perpetual Discipline, except here they arrived in the hangar bays. Lord Harark knew enough to know his chances of crossing blades with Primarch Igneous were low. Instead, he set about to destroying as many of the attack craft and their crew as possible.

[Endem]

Nikolai Szaraczkiewicz
Bucephalus

Nikolai let out a powerful cry as the mere sight of so many of his closest of friends, his soldiers, brothers, and at the same time sons, blown away, reduced to nothing but space dust, he collapsed to his knees, and could not muster the strength to climb onto them again, like a giant boulder placed directly on his shoulders, Nikolai had the weight of his actions pin him down.

And he would probably be there unless he would be disturbed if not for a blaring sound of alarm and a brief communication "Eldar boarde-" it was cut short, Nikolai got up, breathing heavily, the vile Eldar, had not only the audacity to kill so many of his own, but they had the insolence to also board the Bucephalus.

He got up from his knees and reloaded his bolter, his father seemingly ignored what his son what went through, Nikolai meanwhile made his way to the largest of engagements between the Eldar and the Custodes, he took out his sword, and let out a warcry that sounded more like a feral beast spotting its prey and getting ready to rip it's throat out.

He plunged directly into combat, in a maddened rage only those most wronged knew he had not been a living being, but a tornado of filter rounds, sword slashes and gore, the Eldar would know no forgiveness, and Nikolai would not forgive them until the day their whole race will die, and he channeled all of the raw fury into his bullets, into the steel of his sword, which resulted in tens of Eldar being slashed in half, their body parts exploding after a bolter round impact, their body parts flying all over the corridors of Bucephalus, Nikolai's pristine silver armor was painted bright red with Eldar blood as he left only a trail of mangled corpses, broken bones, and chopped of limb.