Author Notes:
With any luck, things should be getting back on track now... Sorry again for the late upload once again.
I am just so tired even with all the recaf I keep downing on, and on, and on...
Random Ein Pic 1: https://postimg.cc/z3QbHZVC
Random Ein Pic 2: https://postimg.cc/MXLMf2vm
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The tainted structural supports of the cultists' headquarters quake and groan as the assembled melta charges explode. Due to the shoddy construction work and the passage of time, dust and loose debris fall from the ceiling, along with other assorted unholy items that mar our detachment's path forward.
"Recon unit," The Vox crackles the ever-familiar tone of my adopted mother. "The main force has engaged the enemy's defense line. Resistance, as expected, is much fiercer than before. We were wise to heed the words of caution."
Then comes Chapter Master Tu'shan's interjection. "Recon unit, use this opportunity to survey the enemy's backline while we attract their attention. Engage targets of opportunity at your discretion."
"Understood," Comes the reply of Sergeant Tu'rok, who is walking with armored, yet deft steps next to me. "Recon unit will proceed ahead. We shall see if we can pave the way forward for the main force."
The inter-force Vox link then falls silent once more.
It hasn't been that long since we separated from the main force, ten minutes at most. Taking a winding path that the cultists used to harass us for some time, we clear out a few small attack waves as we navigate the twisting terrains, leaving behind a trail of executed traitors to mankind. Thanks to my enhanced sensory capability, there's little risk of us being lost in a twisted maze, something that these blue-peaked cultists would love to do if given the opportunity. When I asked, I explained that it 'just feels right'. Unironically, everyone in the Recon formation accepts my simple explanation at face value.
Funny how I am so trusted by not just an Order of Adepta Sororitas but also an Astartes Chapter despite being a mere mortal Corporal. Usually, it would require a Veteran Guard Sergeant, at least, to be capable of commanding such respect.
Regardless, using the lull in our exploration, I spread my senses to where our main force is, and indeed, the fighting is fierce there. The cultists have built a multi-level, multi-layer defense line, equipped with weapons such as Heavy Bolters, Autocannons, and even a few Lascannons with overlapping fields of fire. It's a kill zone back there, and if not for our officers' decision to place the most durable of the Salamanders up front, I can imagine anybody else would have been torn to shreds. And even then, I can feel some fluctuating life force in the lines of Astartes. The Salamanders, with their Terminator Armors and Storm Shields in abundance, have found themselves incurring casualties, a direct result of weathering concentrated frontal anti-armor firepower to protect those with ranged weapons behind them. Yet, even when injured and their armor breached, the wall of shield-bearing Assault Terminators never once breaks their line abreast formation. Their resilience allows for the other Terminators and Sternguards, those with deadly suppression weapons and accuracy, to dispense hails of withering return fire. As for the two Dreadnoughts that have led the way... Well, I think they're having fun clearing the rows of cultists and entrenched positions nearest to the breach. The heavy platings of the Dreadnought chassis allow these two venerable combatants to ignore even Lascannon shots, or at least a few of them, and focus more on throwing punches and purging the heretics. It's thanks to the combined efforts of both the hammer and the anvil of the main force that a major gap is revealed in the cultists' defense line, allowing our force commanders to deploy more and more firepower to further worsen the traitors' conundrum.
However, the main force's steady progress is soon brought down a peg by the sudden counterattack of the enemy. Chaos beastmen, Tzaangor with their trademarked blue skin, daemonic hooves, and avian heads, charge out in droves with flashing blades and rudimentary shields. Their sudden appearance carried with it the taint of the Warp, emboldening the mad cultists around them, even if some of them aren't the followers of the Lord of Lies. Although nothing more than a bunch of sword-wielding combatants, Tzaangor are not to be dismissed, as their sheer numbers and innate dark sorcery can overwhelm even a singled-out Astartes. As such, Tu'rok and Mama Elyzabeth have no choice but to slow down their advance, using dense volume of fire to keep both the Tzaangor at bay and to eliminate the cultists taking potshots at the formation from behind. Evidently, the Dreadnoughts' Flamers work perfectly in dense, close encounters like this one.
"Recon unit, be advised." Mama's voice can be heard at the Vox crackles to life once more. "We have engaged with Chaos beastmen. A minor Warp incursion into the Materium is probable. Proceed with caution."
Mama closes the Vox communication as swiftly as she arrives. Her warning, however, is heeded loud and clear by all of us.
"Keep your eyes peeled, people, and employ maximum force against anything that even breathes wrongly in our direction." Sergeant Johnson reminds us all, as my Platoon members silently flick the power setting of their Lasrifles to High. "We all know how annoyingly persistent these Bird-heads can be."
It's well-known that any true followers of the blue Chaos God have a certain degree of sorcerous protection against ranged attack, becoming annoying damage sponges when they really shouldn't be. As such, the sincere recommendation in handling these blue freaks is coordinated and concentrated volley fire, just as the founding fathers intended.
The Recon formation advances as the floor and wall sometimes quake from the battle behind us. We don't stop to wonder about the progress of the main force, nor do we stop to delve into the reasoning behind some of the more egregious and foul decorations the traitors raised for their dark idols. We step forward, and only forward, with Magos Hedagine constantly keeping an eye out for the power conduits that will no doubt lead us to the point of interest.
"For now, we are running parallel to the main force's attack route." The Magos reminds. "But up ahead, there will be an intersection that will either lead us to or away from the defense line that is slowing down the main attack group."
Tu'rok offers a nod and a hum of acknowledgement. "Then we shall debate our options later, because right now..."
Sister Tsavorae plants her feet protectively just slightly ahead of me. "We have company."
"And it's a lot." I add, sensing the rushing presences traversing down the adjacent corridors.
"Platoon halt!" Sergeant Johnson shouts.
Not even needing a reminder, we Guards disperse to take cover behind the various rusted furniture that are used to populate the serpentine hallway we are in. Bearing my shield, I crouch and plant it next to Sister Tsavorae and a pair of Celestians who are taking the front right side of the formation. The pair of Veteran Sisters of Battle regard me with a nod, with Tsavorae patting me reassuringly on the shoulder. Tu'rok and two of his Squad members position themselves to the left of us to lock down the set of avenues left of the hallway. I am then joined by Weiss, who braces her Lasrifle on a collapsed, iron pillar next to me. Scorpin hoists a Heavy Stubber and plops it down right beside Weiss, where there's a good field of fire, while her two girlfriends carry with them additional ammo belts for the heavy lead dispenser. Sergeant Johnson, the rest of our Platoon, and the remainder of Tsavorae's Celestian Squad, shore of our rear. It takes only a few seconds to set up a full, flexible 360-degree protective circle, just in time for the first sign of blue to start swarming out of the side corridors, rooms, and alleys in front of us. We would have been ambushed had we not detected their movements by Auspex and instinct.
"That's a whole other Company!" Scorpin shouts, half in amazement, half in anticipation.
"They must have been trying to flank the main force once again!" Weiss adds.
"Less talking, and start shooting, people!" I interject, raising my Laspistol to the front. I don't even need to aim properly due to how all the cultists are packed and lined up.
"Fire!" Tu'rok gives the command, and soon enough, our weapon starts spitting righteous judgment at the stunned cultists, clearly not expecting our Recon unit to use their flanking route against them.
Due to my keen eyes, I can see that these failed humans are not already ready to be engaged right at the start of their charge. Huhm, don't tell me that they truly don't notice us killing our way here? Is there a possibility of this being a trap to lower our sense of security, or is this really just a case of a bad chain of command and an underperforming battlefield intelligence system on the cultists' end? If it really is the latter, then how could they organize the layered defense line to counter the main force back there so well? Really, there are a lot of questions to be asked, but now is really not the time for that.
My Laspistol beams out red, melting shots, easily cutting down cultists and their shoddy combat gear alike. Once more, I prioritize the destruction of the enemy with the higher threat levels. My reflexes and keen sight allow me to pick out those wielding Heavy Stubbers or the rarer Plasma Guns among the enemy's chaotic battleline. I note how these cultists are better equipped than those we killed earlier, with a higher percentage of Special Weapons in their midst. It could have ended badly for us if the cultists had the time to set them all up. Unfortunately for them, my precision shots disable, if not destroy these precious weapons, and the dense gunfire from Scorpin's Heavy Stubber and our unit's Bolt Rifles prevent anything still useable from being deployed against us in an impactful way. This motley group of cultists only manages to scream scared battle cries and unleash utterly ineffective return fire in our direction before being scattered by our entrenched firepower. What remains of their charge is only the scent of gunpowder and blood.
"Cease fire!" Tu'rok says in a measured tone. "Check your ammo!"
One by one, we all report our munition level as we survey the carnage ahead. However, my prickling sense goes off, making me warn.
"Hold up, we got incoming, and fast... They're all around us!"
"Well then, I guess we can find some actions at last!" Johnson barks a brave laugh. "Prepare for danger close! Fix bayonet!"
Not a moment too soon, avian heads and flailing blades jump out from the dark in mad dashes toward us.
"Tzaangor!" A Celestian warns. "And a lot of the heretics for us to judge!"
Tu'rok let out a grunt of acknowledgement before seriously speaking into the Vox.
"Chapter Master, we are engaging a large group of Tzaangor and cultists. Possibly trying to encircle the main force. We will destroy them first."
The terse Vox communication is ended by the burst of Tu'rok's Bolt Rifle firing, signalling for the rest of us to engage as well.
"Holdfast! Aim!" Johnson shouts behind us. He and the rest of our Platoon level their guns at the Tzaangor closing in.
Much like Johnson, the Celestian Superior near him commands her Celestian sisters to brace their weapons in the direction of the beastmen. It's only when the officers see clearly the Warp-tainted eyes of the Tzaangor do they bark the joint command.
"Fire!"
Our rear line shines bright, literally, as consecutive, controlled volleys of las shots, bolt rounds, and melta beams overwhelm and cut down lines of Tzaangor. Some may survive a few direct Las shot hits, but they will never withstand our combined firepower, wield with discipline and belief in abundance. Their fates, as part of the disposable force of the Lord of Lies, are to be unravelled by steel and faith.
Quite poetic, don't you think?
And it's not just Johnson's group who are having the time of their lives holding down the trigger. The rest of the Recon unit and I, who are in the front, also have no other recourse but to employ a prodigious amount of firepower. Even Magos Hedagine, a Tech-priest but not unarmed, pitches in with a combination of Plasma Gun and a Lasgun, both modified to be mounted on her multiple arms Mechadendrite. Unlike traditional Lasguns we Cadians are using, the plasma bolt and bolt rounds employed by the Magos and other power armor wearing individuals in our formation prove to be more than sufficient to one-shot a Tzaangor and then some. Only Scorpin's Heavy Stubber, which uses a 14.5 x 115 mm cartridge, can manage to reliably deal a massive amount of damage to the charging beastmen and cultists behind them. In between Scorpin's reload on her 80-round ammo boxes, however, one of her girlfriends would employ the underslung 40 mm grenade launcher beneath her Lasrifle to compensate for the lack of suppressive fire from our machine gunner. The blast of the 40 mm high-explosive dual-purpose grenade may not be enough to kill a mass of Tzaangor outright, but it's more than capable of knocking them off their feet with varying degrees of sequelae.
Warp-tainted and sorcerous-imbued as these beastmen may be, a certain degree of physical laws must be heeded in the material world still, it would seem. Unfortunately, our firepower is not infinite, yet the number of these beastmen and cultists seemingly is. This grimdark universe is not a shoot 'em up game, and the Imperium is riddled with nightmarish logistics still. As such, for the stretch to come, we must reduce our munition consumption now. So, what would the Recon unit do if we can't use our guns?
Heh, Johnson already said it earlier.
Fix bayonets!