A unit of Grey Knights embark on a mission to stop a world from falling to Chaos. |
Prelude to Carnage 1 A set of dark eyes peered through the gun slot. They darted scared from one place to the other, scanning the barren landscape between his bunker and the next. This was a way out, although not the way he had hoped. He turned his gaze inwards, to his fellow inmates, all brandishing old beaten up lasguns. They all had been given the same choice; face execution at the prison, or guard this piece of land. Guard it from whom they did not know, but it seemed an easy job, their planet was one of the safest in the sector. Apart from the fact that this little piece of scorched earth was a training area for the Grey Knights… Normally it would have started with a deafening bombardment, unleashed from the mighty battle barge in orbit, but firing a lance into a friendly planet was usually frowned upon, and they wanted to use this facility again, it didn’t. Instead the defenders got no warning at all. The first three squads beamed in at the same time, delivered by the ship parked in low orbit, making loud pops as they displace the air they were now suddenly occupying. The pops where soon replaced by even louder bangs as they opened up with their wrist mounted stormbolters. The groups steadily started to move, each targeting a different bunker, their silver armor reflecting brightly in the sunlight. Their bolter where raised, spitting fire and death, the immense recoil of the dual barrels absorbed partly by the built-in dampeners, partly by the immense strength of its wielder. It took a while before the defenders reacted, so overwhelmed by the sudden death unleashed upon them. Piecemeal lasfire started to come from the small openings in the bunkers. Barely any of the shots hit, aiming made nearly impossible by the intense light reflected of the armor, partly because of the Knights psychic shrouding, obscuring them from view. They moved like radiant ghosts in the kicked up dust. The outer ring of bunkers never stood a chance. Within minutes the teams had ventured close enough to unleash their terrifying incinerators. The defenders inside where reduced to ashes by the blue hot flames licking in, leaving nothing else behind than sooth on the cracked up stone walls. The inner fortifications however had managed to organize a bit and had some advance warning as the Knights set the place afire. As the glinting warriors started their trek towards the main fortifications the defenders where laughing, for surely even these super warriors could not survive the mass barrage of lasfire the fifty remaining inmates would unleash upon them. They were so confident they even lined up some men outside, so more could shoot. Their laughing however was soon drowned out by the scream of engines and the bangs of supersonic speeds as a thunderhawk came hurtling down from above, still trailing vapor of what little cloud cover it had come through on its way down, the underside glowing of the friction heat generated by orbital entry. As it slowed down the massive front hatch opened. When the thunderhawk reached an altitude of about 25 meters the first dreadnought jumped out. The massive machine seemed to hang in the air for a moment before it dropped and landed on top of some of the man lined up outside, making a sickly sound of crushed bones, staining the sands red. The other two dreadnoughts quickly followed, similarly pulverizing some of the defenders. Their large multi-meltas spat out miniature suns, atomizing everything in their path, their stormbolters boomed as the large caliber slugs exploded head and torso’s. So violent was the carnage unleashed the kicked up dust started to mix with the spray of blood in the air, coloring the yellow sand crimson. The light colored the scene red. Distracted and dismayed the defenders had not managed to shoot at the approaching Knight squads at all, and they were now free to add their strength to the fight. Their quarterstaffs made elegant lines through the air, before slicing through flesh and bone like butter with their energized and shimmering blades. The defenders in the main structure had seen enough and decided to flee through the back door, only to be met by another squad of Grey Knights, this one armed with a psycannon. The large caliber slugs ripped through the fleeing men, the psychic energy the bolts where charged with exploding their victims. With their backs to the wall the remainder had no choice but to fight or die and there were enough of them left to pose a threat to the lone squadron. They were, however, no threat to what was unleashed against them next. Sand particles and small rocks drifted up into the air as the targeting systems of the battlebarge targeted the ground and activated the powerful transporters. Five giants of man materialized in a double semicircle, the front three on their knees, stormbolters raised, the back row holding their weapons over the heads of the first row. The terminators shot several volleys of bolter fire into the defenders before the leader lashed out with his mind, throwing some of the men into the air with a ball of psychic energy. Even before the burned corpses had landed on the now frosted soil the terminators where moving, slicing up men with blades longer than most of the defenders where. The defenders never had a chance and it did not take long for the noise to die down. The stoic Knights did not give the battlefield another glance before boarding the now landed thunderhawk which would carry them back to their ship. 2 Leo Nuriel let the taste of his drink flow through his mouth for a moment before swallowing. He placed the glass of Vitrian Brandy back onto his desk and continued watching the video of this morning’s exercise. His servo skull familiar was attached to the holographic projector, a host of cables running from it to the machine. His weathered face cracked a smile as he neared the end, he felt it was privilege to be witnessing a near perfect beam assault. The only fault he could find with it was the ‘unlucky’ placement of the dreadnoughts, but as per his assessment that was mostly due to an unforeseen strong wind blowing in from the sea, pushing the thunderhawk of course. It wasn’t like it mattered, landing on top of the opposition was unplanned, but the end result was the same, and more spectacularly so. He chuckled, remembering a particularly violent death, before shutting the projector of and walking out into the room next door. The planning room aboard the battlebarge Angelus Talio was already filled with people, his own staff and all the Grey Knight squad leaders from this days exercise, plus the Brother Captain himself. As he silently stepped in he surveyed the scene. His Kasrkin guard stood loosely a few meters away from the central holographic planning table, which cast a blue greenish tint on the persons arrayed close to it. Nezra Saran’s helmet was held casually under her arm, her Cadian violet eyes ever vigilant and piercing, even here among friends. The short black hair didn’t suit her, but wearing long hair under a helmet just wasn’t practical. Further outward Nuriel’s two mystics, Sophia and Jacob, stood fidgeting. Brother and sister and both as ugly as they where potent in sensing disturbances in the warp. Working together they seemed to amplify each other’s powers, making for a powerful pair. Close to the table stood Nuriel’s acolyte and apprentice, the interrogator level inquisitor Eron Zemmal, overlooked by their sage Adrian Instebel. Eron was softly discussing tactics with the marines. He was dwarfed by them in their power armor, but showed no sign of intimidation. His face looked grim, and a quick glance at the map being shown told Nuriel why. The map was blurry and unspecific, which meant only one thing: bad intel. Nuriel joined the men at the table and nodded a friendly greeting at Brother Captain Azrael who in his tactical dreadnought armor, more commonly known as terminator armor, dwarfed even Nuriel who was clad in his own bulky suit of power armor. The stalwart inquisitor took up a position at the head of the table, the dark blue of his cloak accentuating the white and blue of his ornamental armored suit, his badge of office clearly visible. The was no question, here stood a powerful inquisitor of the Ordo Malleus, a puritan bent on the expunction of the daemons poised to deliver mans demise. The room fell silent as they noticed him and waited for him to address them. “Gentleman,” he started grimly in a deep baritone voice. “We have before us a mission of the utmost importance and danger. But what else is new?” Nuriel waited a few seconds for the laughter to die down before continuing. “What is slightly unusual is the complexity of the tasks at hand. Reports have it we will be facing no less than three different forces, on both offence and defense, two of those are of Imperial origin. The battles fought will be highly mobile, with large troop concentrations being deployed by orbital and sub-orbital transports, and will revolve around static fortified defensive positions which are vital to the outcome of the campaign.” He let the information sink in before he went on, “Now, here is the bad news. We will have little to no support. The loyalty of imperial forces already on the planet is unknown, as is the loyalty of newly arriving forces. We do know certain elements have seemed to gone rogue. Our supporting fleet is weeks out, this is important, we can’t rely on Battlefleet Preator and the Castelium Regiments it is transporting to help us out in time,” Nuriel pounded his fist to emphasize his words. They had to be smart about this. They were vastly outnumbered and would be fighting a prolonged defensive fight at times, a task ill equipped for the Grey Knights. “Now for the opposing forces,” he finally resumed after he had made sure everyone had understood. “As I said earlier, there will be at least three different armies. First of are elements of the Imperial Guard. It is unknown at this time if it is only the leadership that is tainted, entire companies or at worst several regiments. Research has suggested that the corruption was introduce b a powerful Witch, one that corrupts with seduction and manipulation, which is why the second Imperial element is there; the sister Sororitas.” The people gathered around the table barely managed to contain their surprise. Their sister chapter, primarily used by the Ordo Hereticus was on a similar level as their own chapter. Nuriel spotted the unasked question but waited a moment for the murmur to die down. “I do not believe they have been tainted, but their intel is likely flawed, as they have been forewarned of our mission by someone, and have been informed we are the tainted ones. Apparently they believe their source, because they intend to engage us.” He looked over at the grim set faces before him, and knew what they were thinking, the odds where certainly stacking up against them, which was why he was most hesitant to deliver the news about the last army. “Now, most puzzling of all is the presence of the Xeno species known as the Tyranids,” he held up a hand to forestall any questions. “We are not detecting any Tyranid hive fleet presence, but with the warp wake they cause we cannot be sure of anything. As of yet however we suspect there is only a limited infestation, but as we all know, Tyranid are extremely good at evading our surveillance.” He had given them the opposition and the battlefield, now it was time to explain to them the stakes. “The reason why we will be putting our lives at risk is the possible involvement of a powerful daemon. If this driving force managed to unite the armies and break into the hivemind link of the Tyranid swarm the whole subsector might be at risk. The daemon however is apt at staying out of sight, so we can’t find it. So instead of cutting of the head of the snake, we must incinerate the body to ashes and scatter them in the wind.” With the briefing clearly over the people scattered, making ready for the coming carnage. Preparing themselves and their fellow soldiers for either death or glory, or both. |