The revving of chainswords fell silent. Sergeant Arteros and his squad had barely finished hacking apart the traitor cultists when brother Faustian stepped through the arch of the munitorum building. "Sergeant, I've found the sorcerer as instructed. He has 5 of the foul automaton marines with him. They seem to be excavating the center of the manufactorum square a few miles south. I took the liberty of deploying trip mines."
Arteros rallyed his men. "Master Seth has sent us to spread terror into the heretic lines, that is exactly what we will do. We must sow confusion and destruction until the 2nd company reinforces our position. The Thousand Sons are few in number, but have hundreds of thousands of mortal servants. Let us litter the ground with heretic astartes corpses, then the traitor guardsmen and the cultists will fall into disarray. They will be ripe for slaughter."
The last of his slaves had been expended, but the effort bore fruit. Amon's daemons had whispered of traps in the ruins. The slaves had all been force marched into the them, after a few spectacular explosions the manufactorum square was now clear for excavator engines to be brought in. Soon he would have his prize and could join his thrallband in the sacking of the capital.
His daemons whispered again, "the tearers have come, they seek terror and destruction."
Amon smiled and thought to himself... "then they have found it."
Arteros heard explosions, Faustian's trip mines. The Sergeant clicked to his unit's vox channel, "Brothers the time is now! Dontaelus take a fortified position and provide coverfire, Brother Faustian flank to the west. Brother Raelyn and Rafael advance and take firing positions. The rest of you with me! We hunt!
Brother Dontaelus was the first to find glorious combat. His plasma gun launching white hot bolts into the ruins the traitors used as cover. The return fire was fast and the warp infused bolts that hit the walls surrounding Dontaelus sent sparks and iridescent flames flying.
Brother Faustian saw the three legionnaires who weren't shooting at Dontaelus move through the ruins ahead of him. They had foreseen his flank and countered it in kind. Before he could take cover behind the rockcrete pdf barricades on his side of the street a bolt of psychic warpfire tore through the building infront of him shattering the stained glass windows. The bolt struck him in the shoulder. It melted through ceremite and flesh alike. Faustian's arm wracked with unnatural pain.
Sergeant Arteros moved at speed. the 2 marines who followed him fired from the hip as they moved. Arteros' plasma pistol wouldn't have the ranged needed at this distance. Using his powerfist the Flesh Tearers sergeant ripped the door off a building that would provide cover most of the way to the heretic ruin. He wanted to get in close and kill the sorcerer himself.
Amon psychically ordered his warriors to turn with the loyalist flank. This would lure out these pitful shadows of his own former glory. He'd use their famed bloodlust against them and lure them across open ground. His foes had landed many bolter rounds into his rubricae, it was with great satisfaction Amon watched them bounce off of their warp infused wards. Even a plasma round had found its mark with nothing to show for it. But as a precaution Amon ordered his fireteam within the ruins to focus their attention on the plasma gun until his trap was sprung.
Brother Faustian was crouched low next to the rockcrete barricades. The enemy warriors seemed to only fire at him when he exposed himself. There was no attempt to suppress him. With that in mind Faustian threw a frag grenade into the enemy ruins and decided to give up his flank. Charging through the street he dove into a massive crater in the center of the square. He subvocalized into the unit vox "Sergeant they predicted our maneuver. Orders?" Arteros clicked back, "Brothers, advance all positions. We will engage at close range then we will push through southward and rally at LZ114 a storm raven will be waiting."
It was then that brother Rafael took a bolt round to his neck. The pink flames engulfed his helmet. He took a few steps then crumpled over in the street. Brother Raelyn dove through the hail of bolter fire and joined Faustian in the crater. "Faustian, we must advance!"
The marines rose as one. They advanced on the traitor positions. The fusillade of their bolter fire was fearsome. For a few terrifying moments the air in the courtyard was filled with .75 calibre explosive bolts. For every loyalist round that barked so too did a traitor's.
"The trap is sprung." Amon thought to himself then reached out with his will and had his two rubricae holding the west flank advance. This would pin these Flesh Tearers in place. All that remained was the plasma gunner who refused to give up his position. He turned his attentions towards the east. Seeing the Flesh Tearer sergeant crossing a barricade in the street while his marines fought the rubricae in the court yard. Amon focused his will and summoned forth another psybolt. Amon watched with malace as flame engulfed the sergeant. It was going as he had foreseen, surely a sign of his patron's favor. Amon beneath his ornate helmet smiled.
Bolt rounds bounced off of the traitor marines, they had become so emboldened that they advanced from their positions to flank Arteros and his squad. Brother Faustian looked back to see Dontaelus blast one of the heretics with two plasma bolts at optimal range, yet still they did not falter. Slowly they advanced and blasted Dontaelus' cover from around him. Then he was gone, engulfed by the witchfire their bolters produced. Turning his attention back Faustian saw brother Raelyn break through the traitor line. He destroyed some of the heretic's cover with a krak grenade before making his way towards the storm raven landing zone.
An alert chime rang out in is helmet auspex. The sergent was engulfed in warpfire. Faustian's hearts filled with rage and blood lust. He and another brother charged into the ruins to confront the heretics in close combat. He could no longer contain his blood lust, his brother's were dying, he flung himself at the advancing traitors. It was then he realized that it was a trap. They had been waiting.
The air seethed. Everything burned. Arteros could smell his own flesh. The red thirst overtook him, the freedom and strength of the thirst dulled all pain. Arteros briefly saw brother Faustian and another battle brother blasted apart by sorcererous bolter fire at point blank range. Their ferocious charge cut short. He screamed so loud his external vox gave out under the inhuman warcry. Arteros slammed through the side wall of the ruined manufactorum. The sorcerer stood exposed.
Finally, he'd found his quarry. Ripping his helmet off and bearing his fangs he screamed "Death to the traitors!" He charged and slammed his power fist into the wretched sorcerer. If the force of the attack hadn't killed the sorcerer outright Arteros couldn't tell. His vision swam, all that mattered was the blood. So Arteros kept swinging and didn't stop until his fist was just blasting apart chunks of bloody mud.
He missed it at first but then realized Raelyn was yelling at him. Another battle brother came and laid his hand on Arteros' shoulder. "Sergeant we must make the LZ, these automata are too strong. We cannot hold!" Arteros gave the order, although later, struggle as he might he could not remember having given it.
Without their sorcerer the rubricae held defensive postitions in the square. They snapped shots at the withdrawing Flesh Tearers but without sorcerous direction they could not pursue.
A phyrric Thousand Sons Victory!
Edited by Xenoscry, 21 December 2018 - 11:20 PM.