But with his brothers, he would find his way in whether the enemy wished it or not. But their forces were being decimated with a terrifying efficiency. They would pluck the rotten meat from the golden receptacle and offer up his corpse to the Chaos Gods as a promise fullfilled. Headed for their fathers repose, they would penetrate the palace, they would fight their way through to the throne room itself. Around him those Primarchs that remained, Perturabo, Mortarion and Fulgrim formed an impenetrable battle phalanx. ![]() He started to force his way forwards as he saw a Bloodthirster gain the walls, but then one of the Atlan Titans grabbed it by its cloven feet and began to bash it against the ground back and forth until it was a discontiguous mass of impossible matter evaporating back into the Empyrean. It took but one look beyond the walls to realise the folly of his questions though, the Death had been crippled beyond ability to assist, and the Wrath could not support them on Terra without causing more damage than they could afford for this to work. Not even the mightiest daemons seemed to survive such weapons, and he wondered to himself if the potency of their weapons rendered the grand finale irrelevant. They were now using what seemed to be assault cannons on their shoulder mounts, and they had all developed a taste for spear, sword and axe, weapons whose blades were made of glowing, almost blinding energy. One would step back and its loadout would change. It was spun from the walls and he studied his Ionian allies with caution, the face of daemons were. Bolts discharged as the Bloodletter clambered over the walls. And yet, the entire time the music played by the Ionians buoyed and carried them through. Nor could he remember the last time he'd ever fought for so long and so hard. He could not remember the last time they tired. Close to a thousand 'low yield quantum torpedoes' had turned the grounds in front of the Palace walls into a stark shadow play, the previous inhabitants turned into little more than images to remind the enemies of the Ionians the price of failure. The missiles launched before plunged and he felt his helm sensors blind him for a moment as an alarum alerted the Auxilia to cover their eyes.Īnd as the optical filters retreated. Each shot fired by the Ionians from their shoulder-mounted BFG's blasted entire swathes of the enemy to ash and death. The sheer audacity and grand ego involved in the plan burned at his soul. The battle was enjoined now as the millions of traitor Astartes who were reaching their landing zones, and billions of cultists were dropped even as surface to orbit defences continued to fire. The Atlan titans raised spears with glowing heads of energy as the cannons on their backs lowered and began to fire, joined by Terra's own Titan Legios. Gregor, once more, was taken aback to find that his own Storm Bolter had joined in on the fusillades of fire down from the wall. Every single pair of weapons unleashing fire into the city below. The air hissed out of his lungs for a moment of overpressure. He could hear the sound of something charging just beneath the music. ![]() The skies turned green as weapons lit up with an emerald glow. Weapons cracked down into a firing position. Missiles rippled into the skies from behind them, from launchers Gregor would not turn to see. Massive cannons forming over their shoulders, so large that he felt that they quite resembled Tau railguns for a moment. Gregor was shocked to discover his own voice among them. The voices of a billion defenders began to call out Thunder in time with the music. Gregor prayed to Dorn's memory as he saw the effects of it ripple down. Across the entire length of the walls the sound systems that the Ionians had been installing began to play. And not a single Ion Legionnaire lifted their weapons. He studied the enemy as they landed, those few World Eaters that had landed, their primarch already gone, their sanity burned out by the trauma of it hurtling themselves against the walls had not even lasted minutes. He could hear the vox channels crackling across the length of the wall as the defenders watched in mute. He didn't move, instead giving orders to the Devastator Squads on that section of the wall. Once more the forces of the archenemy were settling down on it their forces descending towards the hives of Terra. His power fist crackled with power as he looked over the shoulders of the valiant defenders and saw the Lions Gate Spaceport. Seeing the Ion Legionnaires and Adeptus Custodes with the Sisters of Silence. Chapter Master Gregor Dessian of the Imperial Fists stood on the walls.
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