Siege of Thrax – Phase 1, Week 1 – Nurgle Chaos Marines vs. Imperial Guard

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    Smoking hulks of tanks and transports littered the battlefield. The immobilized and wrecked Rhino hulls billowed smoke from heavy artillery damage of the Imperial Guard. Leman Russ and Chimera hulls some 500 meters away lay in twisted ruin. To the south charred bodies of the Father’s Blessed cultist regiment lay twisted where they fell, victim of the Hellhound’s indiscriminate and incandescent fury. Amidst the Chimera and Russ hulls, a burning Heldrake wreck smoldered, brought down hours before by concentrated melta fire. There wasn’t much left to that wreckage, thought the Land Raider pilot, as he steered his rusting, lumbering behemoth Savage Pestilence towards the epicenter of the battlefield.

    As the Savage Pestilence came to the crashed ruin of the flying daemon engine, he reduced speed and slowly came to a crunching halt on the charred, gravelly landscape. The terrain belied the cold in the air, as the spot fires of spilled fuel, wreckage, or the occasional still-burning corpse filled the slow-approaching dusk brought bright warm points to this now cold place of death.

    Sub-Commander Dericius popped the top hatch of the Land Raider and raised his viewfinder to his corroded ocular lenses implanted over his now rotting eye sockets on his helmetless head. He slowly twisted his torso in a arc to survey the landscape with his (minimally) augmented sight. The landscape was still. The sensors did not lie – this area was largely decmiated with the clash of the two forward deployed forces. The Imperials must have gotten wind of their deployment; either that or their commander must have been brilliant or had the benefit of clairvoyance – his Master’s plan could not have been so easily detected or brought low. However, through the smoke and the now approaching darkness, he could make out 3 figures slowly approaching. Lascannons and heavy bolters trained on the looming figures until it was apparent that they were brother Death Guard, making their way from their reconnaisance of the post-battle landscape after they heard the Savage Pestilence approaching. Odd their vox channels were not picking up their pings as they approached. Perhaps faulty equipment, or warp interference?

    No matter. The battle brothers would soon join the fray. Off to the right something stirred; not Death Guard like before. Some low wailing was heard, a pathetic cry for help of a man near death. The heavy bolters retrained and opened fire, tearing the target apart with several rounds. Dericius panned his viewfinder to the location of the shots to find a smoking corpse where a survivor had been moments before. Finding nothing further of interest there in the Emperor’s misguided lapdog finding the last of his moments, he trained his vision on more important things.

    “Scanners and visual report no hostiles within range, three friendly surviors from the battle inbound with us, on foot, intercept in zero-four-seven.” Dericius reported into his crackling vox receiver.

    And with that, he slapped his armored open-palm hand three times on the top hull of the Land Raider as if to signal the all-clear.

    The front hatches on the Savage Pestilence yawned open with a screech of unlubricated steel and ceremite against rust and grit, and slowly opened to let forth a spill of a sickly yellow-green light of the transport bay of the hulking Land Raider. Heavy footfalls clanked across the deck and out stepped four massive, hulking terminator-armor-clad Death Guard, each carrying profoundly terrible weapons and sickly rusted power weapons, crackling with a putrescent glow of power. The squad of terminator Death Guard was lead by a particularly hulking monster, who carried only single massive scythe in his right hand.

    The terminators crunched forth through the landscape, surveying the damage, with weapons trained as they tracked from left to right. Their progress was slow and deliberate as they surveyed and made their way towards the incoming Plague Marines, on an intercept course. As the three survivors made their approach within meters of the terminator squad, they slowed, and then each dropped to one knee and lowered their heads in supplication.

    “Report”, rasped the hulking Nurgle lord.

    “My Lord,” one of them gurgled in reply. “The forces of the Imperium lie in wait for us. The battle was hard won.”

    “At what cost?” the Nurgle lord intoned. There was no answer. It was clear that these marines were not responsible for the devastating losses. And it was clear that the Imperial Guard and their tanks in open warfare were generally going to be more than a match for most Space Marine forces, particularly in open battle. However he had hoped for a more decisive victory.

    “Are there any other survivors?”

    “Yes Lord, they are forming at the North perimeter and are awaiting your orders. Per your standing orders, all enemy survivors have been summarily executed.”

    “Excellent”, said the Nurgle lord. “When did you complete your executions, battle brother?” he inquired.

    “Several hours ago, just after the last surviving tank pulled out.”

    That was all he needed to hear. The timing was perfect. The rest of his forces were not too far behind and would be rendezvous with his Savage Pestilence just in time for his new reinforcements. His terminator guard looked at him as he stepped away from the group and a few footsteps closer to the slaughtered Imperial Guard squad that littered the hill to the north of him.

    For a moment he looked as if he were frozen, but he was only lost in thought, communing with Father and his mind partially connected to the Warp. Several moments passed, and he shifted his massive power scythe to his left hand and hefted it to stand upright against the ground. Lord Typhus then raised his right hand in the direction of the bodies some few hundred yards before him, and said “Rise….”

    A few moments later, the dead began to stir….



    +++ Date: 3.752.999/M41

    +++ Ref: ARM/71103491/CTC

    +++ By: Scibe Churll; 9th Company Adjunct

    +++ To: Lord Commander Husk, Hephaiston 66th Urban Warfare Regiment

    +++ Re: Message Intercept; Crewmember Smit; Telin Fields; Thrax

    [The following is a partial transcript of a vox intercept from comm officer Smit, crewmember of the Hellhound “Dragon’s Breath” recovered following the engagement with unknown hostiles at Telin Fields, Thrax]

    08:40: “In position at 43.15. Awaiting orders”

    08:44: “Roger. Engaging enemy on the right flank. Visual on enemy armor at 42.17. Appears to be an Astartes make. Markings unrecognizable.”

    08:45: “Lt. Marr, be aware enemy armor moving towards your position. Appears to be a transport, occupants unknown.”

    08:46: “Roger. Double time to 44.20. Priming fuel lines and reciting rites of purification.”

    08:49: “Visual on target in ruins at 42.23. Fifteen to twenty tangoes, lightly armored. Moving to position.”

    08.51: “Command, we’re reading an Incoming bogie on pict scan. At 44.92…68…51. Bogie is fekking hot…

    08:52: [Loud explosion. Incomprehensible shouting.]

    08:52: “We’ve been hit… [static]…air support. [static]…unknown make. Systems nor…[static]. …ease advise. Repeat, [static] …tem normal, no major damage.”

    08:52: “What the fekk …[static]”

    08:53: “Roger, command. Staying with primary target. Firing in 30.”

    08:53: “First salvo fired, half a dozen casualties. Target disengaging towards 39.19.”

    08:53: “Roger. In pursuit.”

    08:55: “Combat speed in pursuit. Salvo two away.”

    08:55:”Hit! At least a dozen tangos down. Enemy breaking away, their running. Shall we pursue?”

    08:56: “Roger, acquiring new target at 41.18. On target in 45. ”

    08:57: “Salvo 3 away. Target obscured by the building. Casualties unknown.”

    08:58: “Awaiting priority, Colonel?”

    08:58: “Colonel?”

    08:58: “Lost communication with Colonel Talbot. Lt. Marr, please advise.”

    08:59: “Roger. Prepping salvo 4.”

    09:01: “Shots away. Target still obscured, building on fire.”

    09:02: [Explosion. Shouting. Static]

    09:02: “We’re taking [static]. …rce unknown… [static] … now scanning.”

    09:02: “[Shouting] Primary system down, repeat primary down. Cycling the cog unit. Reinitializing targeting array. Tanis, prayer of purity”

    09:03: “Target acquired at 45.25. On foot, heavily armored. Permission to fire.”

    09:03: “Lt. Tanis? Permission to fire.”

    09:03: “We’ve lost contact with Lt. Tanis. Fire on the target.”

    09:04: “We’ve got a hit. Target down. Repeat target down.”

    09:04: “Emperor’s Touch, do you copy?”

    09:04: “Devil’s Hand, do you copy?”

    09:05: “Lynch, Giles, do you copy?”

    09:05: “3rd platoon, do you copy?”

    09:05: “No response from command. No response from 3rd platoon. No response from primary armor. Withdrawing to RZ at Delta 88.34.”

    [End Transcript]

    +++ Thought of the Day: If a thousand must die to kill one heretic, it is a glorious victory.

    • This reply was modified 8 years, 9 months ago by  kiritz.
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