NationStates Jolt Archive

Tzaanlord Helion looked out over the vastness of space. Soon, the ship would rotate around again, bringing the Forge World of Tirgrus into view. The metallic surface of the world glistened in the sunlight, its newly cleansed surface a testament to the might of Tzeentch. For centuries, it had remained in the hands of the Green Tide, its secrets squandered by the Orkish hordes. But now, Helion's men had eradicated every last trace of the Greenskins, recaptured the massive production facilities, and set the vast machines into motion again.

But it was not enough.

The Khurganate demanded more instruments of war. In an empire ruled by Change, rebellions erupted constantly, and it was Helion's duty to put them down, or at least direct their efforts to a more productive end. And he had found one. Turning, Helion marched down the bridge, his gaze falling upon the slaves, looking for weakness. He was pleased to find none.

"Shipmaster, set a course for the Ryza system. This conquest was invaluable to our cause, but the Changer of the Ways demands more. Ryza's fabled expertise in plasma technology will serve our purposes well. And put out a call to our allies. Knowledge is easily shared, and this campaign may serve to strengthen ties."

"Yes, Warmaster. Campaign, Warmaster?"

"Yes, a campaign. Ryza is just our first step in this campaign. The Forge Worlds of the Old Imperium are most valuable, and they shall be ours. All of them."

A great and terrible battleship tore free from the confines of the Immaterium; a decrepit hulk, held apart by the sheer will of its patron; fused by rot and corruption. Its stench seemed to linger, even upon the decks of the Tzeentchian vessels.

A hand, great and gauntleted; claws dripping with pus and vile ichor, clenched about the shaft of a great scythe; as the armored juggernaut rose; his long black hair, braided, spilling from the back of the all encompassing helmet; seeming lack-lustre and weak; almost like obsidian straw; as he spun his weapon; watching.

"Agents of Change; My father sends his good tidings, and his blessings. In the name of your God, he greets you. In the name of my God, I greet you as ally." He chuckled; a low throaty gurgle; that sounded as though he were choking. It did not cease for some time.

"I am Lucian; Lord of Disease. The Travelling Warrior; the seeker of Nurgle's secret wisdom, and harvester of his grandest plagues. Many are the worlds where progress ceases. Countless are the spheres which death now rule. In the name of the Destroyer; I come that we may create. For these forge worlds mean more to my Father, and the Fabricator General who holds a seat among the High Lords, than many of the unfathomed secrets of Chaos, that my brother Severino, the Tzeentchian, seeks.

Oh Gods, not him again. Damn Marcus and his loathesome sense of humor...

"We welcome you, Lucian. Your support, and that of your Father, is always appreciated. I trust you have been thoroughly breifed on the goals of this campaign? We shall be embarking soon, and it would be a shame if you were not entirely aware of our aims."

Lucian reclined into his throne; gurgling softly, chuckling obscenely; bloated with the greatest of Nurgle's gifts; invigorated in his damnation. "TzaanLord, why don't you..Enlighten me as to your goals? I would truly hate to plunge into your delicate scheming without first knowing what you have planned. I would not wish to taint your bonerattling and plotting."

tag is this just for 40k based nations or any?

"You know as well as I that much of the scientific knowledge of the Old Imperium was lost when the Forges fell. Even before the Great Fall, Forges such as Tigrus and Incaladion were lost, captured by Orks, eaten by the Great Devourer, conquered by your predicesors, the Chaos Legions. Technology such as the Vanquisher cannon and the Hunter shell was forgotten, and the Imperium was forced to deal with pale imitiations. We could, in fact, blame their downfall on this decay.

Our goal here is to recover these lost technologies. From the ruins of Tigrus, we recovered the original Vanquisher pattern, and the knowledge of the Hunter shell. With each new conquest, we shall gain new knowledge. Ryza was famed for her plasma technologies, the Leman Russ Executioner, the Stormblade, plasma weapons of every kind. Incaladion was infamous for its techno-heresies, its use of proscribed xeno-lore. Imagine what we could recover from such a blasphemous world."

tag is this just for 40k based nations or any?
OOC: Any, really. I don't really mind other tech in this.

"Thn we shall come and take of them; we shall take all that the Old Imperium has to offer; we shall remake it; reforge it to our will. For this is the way of the Chronosians; we shall rebirth the glory of the Imperium of Man; through Chaos. We shall reclaim its domains; we shall rebuild it; and the Gods shall make us glorious; no longer mortals; but terrible gods, ruling over the vast Segmentums; littered with the bones of those who would oppose us. For none who do shall survive..."

OOC: Anyone mind me getting in here? For 40K Rp's, I have to use my Black Angels Chapter, simply because they rock... anyway, we shall see.

OOC: well, as Khurgan said, its any tech really; its just the fact we're taking Canon 40k worlds :D

OOC: Well... the Imperium of Man may have other ideas. You might not be the only ones trying to take these worlds... should prove mightily interesting

OOC: And which Imperium of Man do you speak of? Giving its true and former glory is dead ;) See RP: The Fall of Man.

"Then we shall come and take of them; we shall take all that the Old Imperium has to offer; we shall remake it; reforge it to our will. For this is the way of the Chronosians; we shall rebirth the glory of the Imperium of Man; through Chaos. We shall reclaim its domains; we shall rebuild it; and the Gods shall make us glorious; no longer mortals; but terrible gods, ruling over the vast Segmentums; littered with the bones of those who would oppose us. For none who do shall survive..."
"Precisely my point, my dear Lucian. As soon as our fleets have been assembled, the Legions mustered, we shall descend upon Ryza to claim what is ours."

Turning to a misshapen techno-heretic, the Lord Helion inquired as to the status of his forces.

"M'lord, the Legions have been loaded into their transports, and are ready for transit, as is ninety percent of the armada. We estimate that we will be able to depart in two hours, assuming the Chronosians are ready?"

"We are ready to proceed when you are; my Tech-Priests ensure me that a fleet is ready to follow this ship once we send the engramatic patterns of destination" He let his gauntlet hover over the armrest of his throne, tapping softly, before turning back to the Khurganate.

"Lead the way; and the glory of the PlagueLord shall aid you in your endeavor. This is but the beginning; for my father craves more of what is rightfully ours; we; the Lords of Chaos. We the Heirs of the Imperium."

OOC: And which Imperium of Man do you speak of? Giving its true and former glory is dead ;) See RP: The Fall of Man.

OOC: Fine, be like that :( it means I can't compete, as the Black Angels are my 40K persona, only used in 40K RP's. And of course, being a loyalist chapter, they follow the Immortal Emperor

OOC: Fine, be like that :( it means I can't compete, as the Black Angels are my 40K persona, only used in 40K RP's. And of course, being a loyalist chapter, they follow the Immortal Emperor
Oh, you can still join in. It just means that you're one of the numerous followers of various false emperors and such. Or you're not aware of the fall of humanity. Or, by a trick of the Warp, you happen to be somewhat mixed up in time. Remember, time in the Warp is not linear. It really can help with a lot of RPs.

Hmm. Can I be Dark Eldar? I may not be able to participate constantly but I do have a fairly in depth knowledge of the game. I used to play it when I was younger and I can remember at least 60 percent of most of it I'd say. Heh I would certainly like to relive the glory days.

Hmm. Can I be Dark Eldar? I may not be able to participate constantly but I do have a fairly in depth knowledge of the game. I used to play it when I was younger and I can remember at least 60 percent of most of it I'd say. Heh I would certainly like to relive the glory days.

OOC: Feel free. I suppose a Forge or two could be "held" by the Dark Eldar, as much as the Dark Eldar can hold anything, what with them only leaving Commoraugh for slaves.

Oh, you can still join in. It just means that you're one of the numerous followers of various false emperors and such. Or you're not aware of the fall of humanity. Or, by a trick of the Warp, you happen to be somewhat mixed up in time. Remember, time in the Warp is not linear. It really can help with a lot of RPs.
OOC: I love how you guys claim to have written the history books... and if humanity has fallen, how is my nation, a nation of humans, still standing? I wonder...

OOC: Someone had to do it :) And not humanity; just the Imperium of Man :P Man was scattered, and rebuilt. Now, can we stop with the OOC and get on with RP? Or maybe start an OOC thread?

OOC Thread (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=9667940#post9667940)

Now lets get on with the IC stuff here, shall we?

"Exiting warp in five. Four. Three. Two. One."

The massive, exquisitley designed battlecruiser shuddered, it's smooth form sliding effortlessly into the warmth of real-space.

The translation was almost perect.

Almost.

The thrall sank slowly to the floor, as Daethos slid his blade deeper, relishing the agony on the miserable creature's face. A twist, just so, and the thrall's eyes went blank.

Imperfection was not to be tolerated, in any form.

Sheathing his blade, Daethos stepped to the astropath's sepulchre.

"Lord Helion. The forces of Slaanesh are willing to lend their aid to your cause."

Helion smiled. Daethos was never late...

"Lord Daethos, your timing is impecable, as always. We were just about to set out. If you would be so kind to join us?"

With that, every Warp Engine in the assembled armadas ignited. Within seconds, the fleet had translated entirely into the Warp, beginning the journey to Ryza.

Lucian's plagueship slipped like a knife through butter into the warp; rending asunder the folds of the physical universe; as he felt the warm embrace of the Immaterium; rising, that servitors could drape his writhing flesh cloak across his shoulders; that they could offer their skin to his glorious touch; corruption permeating them as they passed. He felt the thrum of the hive within his armor; upon his flesh. He chuckled softly; gazing out into the warp.

"Soon..." He hissed; and the parasitic power obeyed, waxing and waning; hungry. He shifted slightly. He too hungered; waiting for his mission to be complete; his appetite sated on those who would oppose them.

It was only a matter of time.

Ryza had fallen down a long and slippery path, For a long time, its factories had remained dormant as the orks had ravaged its former inhabitants, turning them to bone and dust, littering the factories that had, long ago, produced weapons for the imperium of old, with the Orkish onslaught, its factories were now destined to produce crude mechanizations, manufactured by the slave labour the orks always seemed to pull from the underworld of the Hives.

That had changed, yet again, The Aistaesor Vaederdos had dispatched 3 full legions to the world to cleanse it of the foul Orkish presence, The fledgling elven state knew nothing of the worlds past, untill recently, but there were no concerns for new threats coming whilst the ground war swung back and forth, What factories remained still produced what they could, but the forge world was a battlefield.

The Orkish Warlord Egagzkul, had lost his fleet to the elegant white ships of the Swan Navy in the first engagement, but even with space superiority and the accurate orbital strikes it provided didnt seem to dislodge the Orkish mobs, as they used their crudely constructed weapons in a never ending battle for control of Ryza.

Praetor Naíthus was not a praetor of great fame, but he had earned enough to be deployed here, in control of the Nazán, Kyláth and Élaru Legions, it numbered up to 300,000 collective personell, when their support echelons were included, Naíthus had not even seen a deployment this big in the 300 years he had so far lived, Although his appearance was fair, his body young, he was still getting old.

But, unfortunately, the Orks had completely locked down his sector, Legion Kyláth had been beaten back 4 sectors overnight, and now a former hangar and large tenement were ripped apart by the artillery bombardment that had ensued to keep the orks from completely destroying the retreating elements of the Legion, the front was now reaching 10km, and three legions had to hold out against what was though to now be, around 3 million Orks.

Naíthus muttered something under his breath as a enemy shell landed squarely in a formation of troops just outside, the orks had finally gotten the artillery they had captured working, men flew in all directions, along with body part and organ, such was war against such a savage opponent.

"Nazán Legion, Third Coloumn reports sector 34-Alpha secured, will assist Kyláth ASAP.." came a report over the communications channel. Nothing fantastic, but better than nothing, Élaru had reported in earlier, their front had been abandoned, they were moving to clear out any remaning opposition before supporting Kyláth, but it seemed the Orks were putting everything into a stretch of the front 3km across, and it looked like they were winning.

Naíthus approached the door, This tower was one of the few that was not a complete ruin, So he needed some fresh air, if you could call the acrid air fresh. This saved his life, as he left the tower and paced, a shell landed in its uppermost innards, ripping it apart.

"By the Evenstar.." Naíthus shouted, as his face was sprayed with blood, dust and god knows what else.

"Praetor! Thank The Swan your alive! But.. The Orks are assaulting our positions, forward outpost has been massacred!" Came the hurried babbling of an officer, Officer Valan to be more precise.

"Valan, order all troops into defensive formation, we have to hold untill fleet is in position and Élaru can move to flank the enemy, theres a lot of them, so lets do our best.." Naíthus said, regaining his composure, He drew his blade, picked up a discarded shield, and moved forward into the front lines.

-=-=-=-

"Move up qwik den boyz, letz be finishing dez ere elves"

"Yez, we be Shootz em up real good!"

The Orks let out a battlecry into the air, and rushed forward into a hail of enemy fire, but these were orks, Hundreds of them fell, whilst hundreds more threw themselves into the line of shields and powerswords.

Naíthus was out there in the thick of it, like a real Praetor should, with shield in hand and powersword in other, he hacked and slashed along side the Legionnaires, as ork after ork was cut apart by blade, but numbers had their advantages,and before long, Elf and Ork were fighting in the horrendous conditions of the trenches, made foul by the month of war and death on this world, attack and counter attack.

Elf powersword and Orkish blade met each other, limbs were torn, shields cracked by the ferocious strength of the orks, and blood shed in vast quantities. Naíthus had lost one power sword already, rammed into the neck of a rather unfortunate Ork, but he found another, regretably it had not served its first master well enough.

"Fleet Support Now Ready, Commencing Bombardment, recommend legion withdrawl." Came the words Naíthus had been wishing for, signalling, what remained of this portion of the front fled, over shell hole and dead comrade, they fled out of range.

"Those Elves thinkz dayz so big! we be beating demz!" Said an ork, shortly before him, and most of the orks around him were vapourized by an intense orbital bombardment, illuminating the darkening battlefield in light of death time and time again.

It finished, eventually, around 120,000 Orks were now dead, at the cost of around 40,000 Elves, half of the Kyláth Legion.

"Terrible Losses, but this foul taint must be purged." Naíthus said, mostly to himself as he heard the reports flooding into his comlink. He bowed his head for a moment, raising it and brandishing his sword, in the distance, the Élaru legion came into view.

"Counter Attack - Authorized" Came the report, and with that, the legions powered forward, the legions prowess would be tested again.

Ryza was to be clean once more.

The assorted vessels, each dedicated to their own patron God, dropped form the Warp, their weapons already online, charged to defeat any orbiting foes.

"Shipmaster, auspex report."

"M'lord, there is currently a battle raging on the surface. Auspex indicates that one side is Orks, the other combatants are currently unidentified. Your orders?"

"Make contact with the second party, see what we can find out. Also, find a safe spot, and land our forces. I want all forces on the ground within a day. Send Tzaangard down first via teleporter arrays, have them clear the landing zone."

"Aye aye, m'lord."

Wind Of Faláe, Orynthé class Battleship, Flagship of 9th Taskforce, Maintaining Geo-Synchronous Orbit Above "Ryza".

"Adjutant Admiral, Unidentified Contacts on scope" Came a shout.

"On Screen" The Adjutant Admiral, a Lord Áthan, replied.

The large viewscreen occupying the large central space of the spacious, clean, and sparkling white bridge of the Wind Of Faláe switched to a rather, unsavoury view of the Chaos ships moving closer to Ryza, a rather distressing sight in any situation, even a mere look at the ships made Áthan slightly nauseous.

"Definately not Orks, or Orcs, Intention?" Áthan questioned

"They are currently transporting troops to the surface, unknown intention, Ah, sir, they just sent a general hail towards our fleet, They want to know who we are." The Officer responded.

"Quite, Well, Transmit the following." Áthan responded, a slight tone of superiority becoming evident in his voice.

"This is Adjutant Admiral Áthan of the 9th Taskforce of the White Swan Fleet of The Aistaesor Vaederdos, We are currently engaged in conflict with Orkish forces, Three Full Legions have been battling on this planet for the pastmonth, we are The Aistaesor Vaederdos, the Orkish taint will be purged, this planet will be cleansed, There will be no dark, Interference is unwelcome" Áthan finished.

"Transmitted sir, Notifying Command now" The Officer said...

"Very Good, lets see what their next move is, Inform Taskforce to arm defensive sheidling and charge void engines, keep all transports on the surface and locked onto our men, if we have to get out, lets try and do it quickly." Áthan ordered. His face turned back to the screen... Disgusting, indeed.

OOC: Going to bed now, sorry.

The Mighty flagship of Lucian, the Pestilant Pleasure slid forth from the warp; idly hovering in the void, observing the Xenos above Ryza; these trifling beings that sought to defy the will of the Gods themselves. A foul laughter, that gurgling choking cackle; echoed across the communications arrays; even as Lucian listened to their message. With clawed gauntlet, he lifted his hand, and slid the helmet from his head. "Open communications" He snarled, standing before the viewscreens, that they would see his dark glory.

"I am Lord Lucian of the Chronosian Imperium; by right of inheritence from the Imperium of Man, we claim these worlds in the name of the Four Powers of Chaos. We care not for your triflings with the Orkish Tide. We command you to abandon these Forge Worlds of the Imperium. Do so; or face the wrath of Chaos."

Áthan raised an eyebrow, seemed Orks were not the greatest taint this planet attracted.

"You may claim and demand all you like, Good sir, But this fleet and our great warriors on the field will not be removed untill the objectives are completed, or Command orders me to do so, Or, of course, you so choose to start an armed conflict." Áthan said, smiling a little.

Their fleet structure is divided, their all different, prone to turning on each other when the going gets tough, it seems.. Although.. I could be wrong, its a thing to keep in mind

"The Surface will be purged, now, or in a hundred years, it makes no difference to me, I have many more years to live." The Lord Said, standing up and brushing his robes.

"Surely you dont want to fight through us just to kill some orks, I mean, i think were doing a fairly good job of it ourselves." Áthan said.

he had neglected to mention that the final stage of purging involved razing the entire surface, but, they appeared to want the planet, and such a comment may not of gone well.

Their name. A dialect of Eldar?

"Your purging of the Greenskins is admirable, Eldar-kin. However, this planet is ours, and we shall allow no trespass upon our soil. You will leave this place, and return to whence you came. Fear not, we shall complete this purge, for we have no more love of the Orks than you. Of course, if you choose to stay, you shall all perish, your souls feeding our Gods. The choice is yours."


____________



On the surface, the interior of a factory block filled with the mutating fires of Tzeentch. From the inferno came creatures from nightmare. Firewyrms, covered with tentacles and scythe arms, belching flames. Horrors, gibbering and screeching profanities in the name of Change. And amongst them, leaders amongst Daemons, the Tzaangard, huge, brutal men, garbed in ornate terminator armor, their long claws glowing with power. Storm bolters at the ready, the Tzaangard cleared the interior of the wierdly unscathed Manufactorums, passing charred outlines of what had formerly been Orks, moving to the roof to signal for the Legions to land.

Ah, does it really take two different commanders to converse with my race?

"I regretfully fail to acknowledge your authority over this world untill its purging has been complete, And please, we are Elves, nothing more, and nothing less, pet names are not necessary. Threaten if you must, act if you want to plunge this world into years of fighting." Áthan Responded.

"Arm all weapons and defences, alert ground forces and command" The Lord said, seating himself again.

"Aye Sir" The Officer he had ordered, responded.

A flash of energy marred the surface of the world as the Teleporter arrays activated and Lucian appeared amongst the common flock of Orks; flanked by Terminator and Obliterator entourage. With a bellow of Warp spawned rage; he plunges against the Orks, as lascannon and autocannon fire fills the air with the noises of slaughter; the thud of metal boots; the screaching of the Daemon Scythe; dark power defiling flesh, tearing at the Orks with undisguised loathing and fury.

The piles of Orkish bodies swells, corpulent with the destroyer hive and the ichors of disease blossoming from their dead flesh; morphing, moulding, as a Great Unclean One tears itself from the fetid mass; roaring in charnel birth; as nurglings seethe forth into reality; pooling about their feet; seething against the Orks, as Lucian watches; bellowing in laughter as Death comes to claim yet another world...

The Black Angels. The Adeptus Astartes' dark little secret. Forged on Terra itself, they were the attempt of the Space Marines to reclaim what some saw as their former glory, before the traitor Legions had escaped from the righteous fury of the Immortal Emperor. The death of his beloved son, Sanguinius, had driven the Blood Angels, previously the most pure of all the Legions, into near insanity. This was only one of the defects that was aimed to be hammered out with the formation of the Black Angels.

Over the centuries, the Adeptus Mechanius had tried, largely in vain, to create a functioning geneseed, combining all the best traits from the highest Chapters of the Adeptus Astartes. The fierce loyalty and devotion of the Ultramarines, the close combat fury of the Blood Angels and Space Wolves, the seige wars of the Imperial Fists, the tenacity of the Dark Angels, the speed of the Raven Claws... the list went on and on. After centuries, a stable batch was finally created. All it needed was a batch of willing subjects...

And they found them. A Chapter, built from scratch, in greatest secrecy. Some whispered that the Emperor himself did not know of their existence. Eventually, a Chapter of one thousand strong stood before the first Chapter Master of the Black Angels. Their armour was jet-black, the shoulder plates of the power armour rimmed with the blue of the Ultramarines. Emblazoned upon each was his squad markings, and also the mark of the Black Angels. An inverted Omega sign, coupled with the winged tear of blood seen on the Blood Angels. Upon his chest, each bore the Imperial Eagle in the starkest white. The eye sockets of their helmets were a deep crimson. The Chapter was ready for war. Fully equipped and trained, they were sent first to the Eastern Fringe, where they won some renown fighting the Tyranid hordes. Next, they were re-located closer to the Eye of Terror, a force to fight Chaos. They participated heavily in repelling Abaddon's 13th Black Crusade, holding up his forces long enough for the attack upon the Cadian Gate to falter, and then eliminated piecemeal.

But times had changed. They had come under investigation from the Inquistion for their methodolgy at times, and some even said that they were redeemed Chaos Marines, possibly some of the Fallen. As the Imperium of Man burned in ashes, the remaining Space Marine Chapters had regrouped, out of range of Chaos attacks. Despite the loss of the Emperor, all of them settled upon one thing: War.

And so it was that, once more, the Black Angels marched to war. Their fleets progressed deeper into Chaos space, inflicting Exterminus upon those worlds so tainted that they could not be saved. Word eventually reached them of the attacks upon the fabled lost Forge Worlds, and so they turned towards them, hoping to hope that their allies had also heard the word. The STC data could be there... it would help to rebuild the Imperium of Man, restore it to it's former glory. And wipe Chaos filth from the galaxy for ever. The sound of one thousand Marines chanting the same thing reverberated through space,"NO FATE BUT WHAT WE MAKE!"

****************************************************************

The strike cruiser Guiding Light translated from the Warp, and Chaplin Hanst breathed a sigh of relief as he saw normal space once more. The voyage had been long, and the advance guard was coming through. Less than a moment later, another five strike cruisers and three battlebarges, led by the The Wings of Guilliman translated from the Warp. Almost two full Companies of Marines, an advance guard. The Black Angels were here. A Battle-Brother approached Hanst,"Brother-Chaplin, the helm reports Chaos heretics in the region"

H -- "How many, Brother-Trooper?"

T -- "Unknown numbers, sir"

Hanst grinned wickedly, and gripped his crozius,"Then let us prepare to fight"

"Lord Helion, multiple Warp translations detected. Scanning... Space Marine vessels. Several strike cruisers and three battle barges. Data consistent with a force of two companies. Your orders, sir?"

"Scramble fighters to protect the transports, all vessels fire on the battle barges. Strike Cruisers are secondary targets, engage if the opportunity presents itself. And I still want those men on the ground!"

"Yes sir. Two transports have already landed and are releasing their units. Commands have been relayed to other vessels, firing in three, two, one..."

With that, the massive roar of the Changer of Way's torpedoes sounded, along with the faint whoosh of lance batteries firing at their appointed targets. Across the fleet, hundreds of torpedoes were launched, thousands of lance batteries opened fire. The foolish servants of the Corpse God would not escape this system alive.

"Brother-Chaplin, torpedos incoming!"

"All units, evasive maneuvures, and fire back!"

The ships twisted, trying to avoid much of the incoming fire. A fair number of the weapons hit their marks, but the damage was light enough to not deter the Marines,"All ships, reform in Delta pattern, and attack the enemy fleet. We must take them now!"

The ships glided round, and moved gracefully towards the enemy fleet. As they moved, a Mars Class cruiser emerged from the warp, lending the power of the Inferno Cannon to the Space Marine fleet. They had been forced to utilise every ship they could find, but this was one their prize catches. Five of them had been found and restored, and even now, the Inferno Cannon was firing into the midst of the Chaos fleet, providing cover fire whilst the Battlebarges took advantage of their overwhelming broadside firepower

OOC: Everyone knows that in BF:G, Battlebarges rock worlds because of this simple fact.

The brooding plague hulk of the Pestilant Pleasure turned to face this new threat; torpedoes and boarding pods hurtled forth through the dim void, as the lances crackled and fired; warp cannons opened in intense and prolonged bombardment. Mines and missles, torpedoes and boarding pods; assault craft, bombers and fighters surged forth; even as the inbound reinforcements tore free from the warp; wretched plague hulks; defiled Despoiler and Desolator class battleships. At least 6 of each had slipped free from the confines of the Immaterium; While almost a dozen Infidel and Idolator Raiders slipped forth, their weapons primed and firing, as the insidious hordes of Chaos slunk onwards.

"Recieving transmission, my Lord." A booming Terminator turned to Lucian, who acknowledge him with a nod, diverting communications to the speakers within his helmet.

"Speak" His plague choked hiss came from fetid lips.

"My Lord; we have engaged an enemy fleet above the planet. By the Four Powers, they are Astartes."

"Cleanse the Loyalist Dogs" Lucian sneered "Let them experience the death of Terra; let us be their Abaddon..."

The Humanis Invictus swung around, bringing it's nova cannons to bear on this new foe, launching waves of Star Eagle fighter-bombers and torpedoes at the Asartes vessels.

__________

On the planet, in what remained of the human hab quarters, a thick, musky mist began to form. Lithe shapes darted in and out, gracing the few remaining humans and orks with an exquisitley agonizing demise.

The blast from the Nova cannon rocked the Grey Fire, Warp shields absorbing much of the blast, venting it into the Immaterium, but the hull buckled in places, venting atmosphere and servitors. Automatic systems quickly locked off the affected sectors, the servitors who had managed to grab hold of something continuing to work the mechanisms and man their lances, their vacuum seals would keep them alive for at least until the emergency void shields managed to seal the oxygen leak.

The broadsides from the Battle Barges stabbed throughout the fleet, scarring the sides of the massive vessels. Yet the massive vessels kept firing, launching more gargantuan torpedoes, lance batteries slashing at the enemy targets. Even the oversized Nova Cannon of the Changer of the Ways opened fire, targeting its counterpart, the Mars Cruiser.

OOC: *sarcastic*Wow, what a fair fight. The DE are also fighting me, what fun for me... can't you guys actually try and kick the living crap out of each other as well?

IC: Hanst smiled, this was working perfectly. Just at the last moment, the Space Marine fleet turned tail, and seemed to run away, but the plan was in motion. So intent on detroying the enemy, the heretics had been drawn into the trap of being on either side of the Astartes force. When they turned tail, covered by the Nova Cannon of the Mars cruiser, which had been struck once by the Changer of Ways, but it's void shields had held, the fire of both fleets rained down onto their allies.

"Sir?" An Officer questioned.

"I am aware of the situation.. Recall the Majority of our ground forces, leave a small force behind with their transport, Order the transports to fold ASAP, All Fleet Vessels, Move in behind enemy vessels, open fire with All Batteries, full broadside from the Battleship please, theres only a few of us, but I have seen that those who came first deserve to be purged." Áthan said.

"Very Good, Sir" Came the reply.

The Fleet slowly but surely formed up, before unleashing lancer blade's (Fancyish Ion Cannon things :)) and laser batteries into what should be the rear of the enemy, The Fleet was prepared for the return of fire, with tri-shields at the ready.

OOC:

20 Ships in the fleet, 3 Battleships, 4 Cruisers, 5 Destroyers, 5 Frigates, 1 Carrier, 2 Escort Destroyers. In the spirit of things, and to make this a little more strategic/tactical, lets just say each class compares to its equivalent in your fleet.

Helion scowled. The Asartes thought to lure him into a trap, did they? And the Eldar-kin thought to close around the Chaos fleet. How bothersome...

"Shipmaster, bring the fleet about. Lay down broadsides on both the Elves and the Asartes. Torpedo batteries open fire on the Marine vessels. Try to cripple them, and recall the Tzaangard, Terminators first. Begin boarding actions as each Maniple arrives in full."

"Yessir. Orders have been relayed, sir. Readings indicate that all Legionaires have exited the transports. Your orders?"

"Recall the fighters to run interference and remove the transports to the far side of the planet. They'll be safe there. Once the battle has been won, bring them back around, their light arms will be useful for planetary bombardment when we finish rooting out the Orks."

"Yessir. Orders have been relayed."

With that, the fleet rotated, bringing each broadside around to face a target. Each broadside opened fire, hellish lance-blasts into the enemy fleets. Against the elves, fire was concentrated heavily on the battleships. Against the Asartes, pinpoint fire from the highly focused lances was focused on the Mars cruiser and strike cruisers, along with massive torpedo bombardment against both opponents.

*bump*

The Entire Fleet shook under the return barrage, The Battleships were hit hard, but were largely intact, for now.

"All Ships Unleash Forward Lances and couple with Torpedo Barrages, I want them dead, now!"

The large white beams lanced from the front of the larger vessels, striking the enemy, cutting and smashing shields, reaching to cut and maim the hull, if they could, As Torpedoes moved in fast to follow up with an explosive punch.

The Carrier, Galadhon had awoken its bays, and around 80 Fighter-Bomber craft poured out, white specks amongst the stars, cannons and missiles, bristling and ready to attack.

The Fighter-Bomber swarm closed, and set to work tearing apart any subsystems and exposed weapons systems it could, whilst ready to fend off a similar launch of enemy fighters.

The point defense guns of the Khurganate fleet roared to life, bursts of flak and lasfire slashing at the incoming torpedoes. Still, lances and torpedoes impacted, rending shields and hull alike, especially of the already damaged Grey Fire.

Sitting on his throne, Helion was smiling. Yes, his fleet was damaged. Yes, he was surrounded, and his enemy was putting up a fight. But his trap was almost sprung...

Now.

With that, thousands of his fighters poured from the planet, some moving to intercept those fielded by the Elves, the rest moving in to attack the Elven fleet. Torpedoes were armed, and launched, as the Fighters strafed the Elven ships, firing lascannons, flinging melta-bombs, and riddling the hulls with their assault cannons.

Meanwhile, the Tzaangard had arrived back on the Changer in large numbers, and a full five hundred had been teleported onto one of the enemy Battle Barges. Screaming cries of devotion to the Great Plotter, the Tzaangard charged their foes, eager to taste their blood.

The Galadhon moved slowly but surely, towards the new threat, a swarm of fighters, The Galadhon disgorged its remaining 120 Fighters, a few specks of light amongst a swarm of darkness. The Galadhon was also bristiling with Point Defence systems, and whilst ships across the fleet lost weapon ports to the strikes of the enemy, the Galadhon came ever closer, and began to pick off what it could.

However, in a rather dramatic turn, A enemy fighter sqaudron had managed to damage a critical engine stabiliser and the engines themselves on a Frigate, now unable to control its engines and listing wildly, it turnt, and vomiting escape pods, crushed violently into the centre of a battleship, fire and plasma spewed forth into the void, as the Frigate exploded, leaving a large hole through half of the Battleship.

Rather by luck, the Battleship still managed to move, and fire, as escape pods blinked out of existence into fold space behind it, The Battleship was now gravely wounded, and as escape pods too vomited forth from it, they too blinking out of existence, The battleship came up to full throttle, It was likely that enemy fighters were now finding themselves turning and smashing into the now accelerating Battleship, Aelanór, as it sped towards the largest enemy ship.

Its battered prow crumpled as enemy impacts began to smash into it, attempting to deter it from its Target.

But, now, nothing would stop it wrenching out the Heart of the enemy Khurgan fleet.

"Tzaanlord, enemy vessel is on a collision course for the Changer!"

"Then get us the hell out of the way!"

"No time, sir!"

"Damn! Maneuver the Changer so that our flank takes the impact. Fire all lance batteries at the batteship, cut it down to size before it hits. And for the love of Tzeentch, brace for impact!"

"Yessir. Orders relayed, my lord."

Firing all its guns, the Changer began to whittle the Aelanor down, but nothing would stop the incoming hulk. Slamming into the sloped side of the Changer, the Elven vessel scoured a deep gash in the side of the Khurgan flagship, before ricocheting upwards into space, taking off a series of lance turrets from the deck of the Changer as it went. Inside the Khurganate vessel, anyone not strapped down was thrown into bulkheads, snapping bones and crushing skulls.

OOC: More later, need to head to class. Darn Business Ethics...

Pulling himself free from his crash harness, Helion snarled his disgust.

"I want a damage report and I want it now!"

"Tzaanlord, five decks along the impact zone have been sealed off. Eight of the ultra-heavy lance turrets have been destroyed, along with significant portions of the lance batteries along a kilometer wide strech where the enemy vessel impacted. No combat personnel were aboard the area hit, all casualties were expendable. Power systems are damaged, but largely intact."

"Dammit! Bring all available turrets to bear on the remnants of the Elvish fleet. I want them destroyed! All vessels, destroy that fleet!"

Thousands of lance beams rended space, dashing towards their victims. A trio of Nova Cannon shells were launched, set to detonate amid the enemy ships, to tear the belly from the Elvish fleet.

Chronosian ships rocked with impacts from the enemy; lashing out with returning fire; lances and torpedoes burning the void; warp cannons howling in the audient abyss; power absolute channeled forth from the Warp; dark promise all about as they lashed at at Elves and Astartes alike.

"Forward brothers! FORWARD!" Lucian bellowed into the comms; while reaping a foul harvest of Orks on the world below; his mighty laughter echoing across this first in the Reclamation "Crush all before us! We shall triumph! We shall have power and glory absolute! FOR THE EMPEROR!"

OOC: Bump?

I can only assume theres more worlds for us to take ;)

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