NationStates Jolt Archive

"Checkmate" announced Julian triumphantly as he took the bishop of his adversary. With a yawn he stood from his chair and crossed the room towards fresh wine that sat on the table. Returning, he handed one cup to his opponent.

Taking a sip, Caesarius protested, "I could still castle, Julian."

"And then my rook would take yours and you'd be trapped once again. Bah, does it really even matter Caesarius? We've played eight games already, and I grow tired of it."

The Emperor's flagship, the Spartan, had been the victim of a malfunction that had cut out the hyperdrives, and now the small escort fleet that was accompagning it back to the Quangonian territories for their commander to continue his campaign was forced to stop in the empty sector of space and await the repairs to be completed.

Two massive Torrak Class Heavy Battle Cruisers, and the new Pythas Class Light Battle Cruiser all suddenly appeared a short distance away from the Spartan.

Witherby, aboard the TCHBC Hallard, had been watching the fleet with his cloak engaged. The new stealth listening beacons had worked like a charm, and gone undetected... finally. He was certain their spy had sabotaged the engines of the flagship successfully. Their second surprise would be the sudden appearance of the rebel fleet... the third...

"Interior explosion aboard the Spartan detected, Captain," Chief Engineer Poocher stated, a grin spreading across his lips. "Scans show systems fluctuating. We're in range."

"Pummel them," Witherby said quickly, in a soft whisper. It was time to drive a stake through the heart of the Republic. With the whole region thrown into chaos, the rebels would have the time they need to gather up their people, and escape the clutches of the Republic forever.

From medium range, all three of the ships began to unload their salvos at the lead ship. The TCHBC Smith moved forward, arming its potent particle accelerators, even as its mass drivers and plasma torpedos fired, heading for the crippled flagship...

Julian sputtered with rage as he entered the bridge of his ship, demanding to know what was going on. Apparently the engine troubles were the result of the Gargantuan rebels, who had also managed to sabotage the vessels shielding.

"Have our two escort destroyers move between the attacking rebel fleet and the Spartan! Fire at will, show them what it means to mess with Taledonians." he commanded as he lost his balance momentarily while another missile hit the ship.

The Alutia Light Cruiser moved between Julian's flagship, and the Hallard, it's smaller weapons used as point defense to screen fire as the larger vessel continued its bombardment.
Splitting weapon systems, the Smith launched volleys at the destroyers, while bringing online its particle accelerators, firing anti-matter pellets at the Taledonian ship.

Witherby monitored the status of his ship's plating as the Taledonians began to fire back. "Good. Initial bursts hampered their firing capabilities, and the Alutia's point defense systems are working as planned. Still..." He looked at Poocher, and the engineer nodded, arming a secondary weapon... just in case.

As the Spartan floundered under the heavy assault, a new wave came shooting forth from the Smith. Tiny interceptors darted through the diminishing volleys of fire, drawing attacks as larger transports were launched. It wasn't long before the first of the vessels latched on to the Taledonian flagship, and Republic trained soldiers swarmed into the ship, opening fire.

The Emperor's fleet was beginning to level the playing field as it recovered from the initial shock of the sabotage and the ambush. Now, as if with mind's of their own, the mighty energy cannons recoiled with tremendous force as the massive blasts of energy were released from their barrels, intent on returning the mischeif to the Gargantuan rebels. Turbo lasers lashed out, and from the hangars flew hundreds of fighters and bombers, heading menacingly towards the rebel fleet like a swarm of locusts to a field.

"Report!" yelled Captain Virnii as another hit shook the battle cruiser.

"Intruders have breached hanger twelve, sir. Auto-defences are successfully pining them down for now but we're loosing them quickly, and they'll be able to blow through the doors when nothings shooting at them."

The Emperor began walking towards the door of the bridge, signalling a troop ten honor guards to follow him. Caesarius gave a quick order to a crewmember to have a century of shocktroopers awaiting them at the hanger doors.

*****

The hanger bay was silent for the first time since the rebels had penetrated as the last of the auto-turrets had been neutralised. But it did not last as the two large doors to the hangar opened suddenly with a faint noise that was drowned out by the shouted orders of Julian as he, Caesarius, the ten honor guards and eighty shocktroopers burst into the room, weapons blazing.

"Heavy fire coming from those doors," Commander Blaize reported into his comm for the benefit of the fleet. "Defenses are down. So are our numbers. We've got a commando unit cutting through the walls, preparing to cut around and take them by surprise. We will need backup to hold them off!"
Although the twenty remaining soldiers had cover, they knew they couldn't hold off 4 to 1 odds. As one, three of the soldiers lofted grenades towards the doors, hoping to slow down the soldiers as more fighter escorted transports closed in.

* * *

Witherby monitored the hull stress readings with a frown. Smith was in trouble. Alutia's defenses were now busy guarding herself. He was alone in the Hallard now, with all personel out into the battle. "Poocher, I want us to close in on the Spartan. You heard the soldiers. They're in trouble. I want to rip apart their bridge with every particle accelerator cannon we've got!"

Poocher said, "Aye, sir," and went about his work, firing a salvo of anti-matter at the bridge of the flagship, hoping to aid the beleaguered forces inside.

In an explosion that shook the ship violently, the bridge exploded into a fiery mass only to be extinguished quickly as the air inside was used up and the area locked down. It was an odd thing, an Imperial class battle cruiser taking so much damage, but then it had been sabotaged and lost its energy shielding that made them fierce vessels.

Julian was taken aback for a moment as the enemy began pouring in from the walls, apparently they had dug through them and around, flanking the force that was now completely surrounded within the hangar, the usual semblance of order within Taledonian ranks gone as each man took cover from the fire coming in on all sides. The initial attack had cost the lives of many as they were bottlenecked at the doorways, and the mad dash towards the first areas of cover within the empty hangar didn't help them much. Still, they had the advantage of skills, numbers, and morale as each man fought with every ounce of himself, hoping to distinguish themselves in the eyes of their Emperor. More blasts rocked the ship as the rebel reinforcements landed and began pouring in, removing one of the advantages of the defenders.

"Soldiers!" called Julian at the top of his lungs, "drop rifles, close in!"

Almost as if one the shocktroopers dropped their large blaster rifles to the ground, momentarily ending their part in the onslaught. Quickly reaching to their belts, they drew their energy swords, and thrust themselves into the fray, disregarding personal safety. They swarmed the enemy like a pack of wolves, their deadly blades cutting through man and armor alike as a hot knife through butter; the battle cries of the brave souls emerging from the full faced helmets. With them came the Emperor, parts of the blue appeared around him as the energy shield cast by the Imperial armor was hit, the mighty sword of Taledon swinging in arcs as he lunged at the enemy, followed closely by his honor guards, their dark armor hissing and glowing, and their energy halberds forcing the rebels away from their sovereign who they had sworn their lives to. And then as if sent by the Gods themselves, Taledonian reinforcements emerged from the charred doorways, the extra century replenishing the losses of the first, themselves immeadiatly dropping their blasters and drawing their energy blades to enter into the fray, not risking the chance of hitting their brothers in arms.

Caesarius retrieved his crackling blade from the body of the Gargantuan he had just slain, gazing over the carnage to attempt to find Julian so that he could remain closeby. He may have been fighting like a regular soldier, and had acted as a general and advisor to the Emperor since he was named governor of the small province so many years ago, he was still the court physician, and it was his duty to keep the consul alive if he were to be wounded, but above that it was a duty as a life-long friend to ensure that no harm came to his comrade. Spying Julian right in the midst of the fray, his guards seperated from him in the confusion and fearfully trying to locate him, Caesarius pushed his way passed friend and foe alike, taking the time to make a quick strike as he made his way towards his friend who was red faced and bellowing in rage and ecstacy, the pure shrill of battle filling his lungs as he emitted a loud warcry and cleared a space around him in which his guards filled. It was a magnificent scene, the shield keeping the blood splatters off of him alone, alowing the golden cuirass to shine unhindered by crimson splashes, making him seem like Belar, the God of War himself, descended from the heavens to strike down those traitorous slime.

"Snipers in position, sir."

Commander Blaize stood circled by soldiers who continued their heavy spray of fire into the ranks of Taledonians. "Alright, you see the leader? I want an ion burst on him, followed by head shots. I want to attempt to weaken his shielding as much as possible before making the killing shots."

"Yes, sir."

Blaize had to admit, Julian struck an imposing figure in battle. It was no wonder he inspired his men to fight on as they did. The Commander wondered how the Taledonians would fight without their Consul beside them.

The commando squad had been cut down by the fury of the Taledonians, but if the soldiers attempted to come back through the tunnels created, they would find them booby trapped with mines.

Daringly, a 2 meter long Gargantuan fighter came screaming into the hangar bay, its single blaster firing down at the ranks of Taledonians engaged in melee combat. The shots hit some Gargantuans, but they were being thinned so badly by the swords that the risk was minimal to friendly forces.

"Alright, men. I want a swath cut towards the Consul! Draw his attention, to get him in range of the ion burst! Everyone ready!"

Blaize drew out his pistol and dagger, just in case this plan didn't work.

Men flew through the air as the Gargantuan fighter risked all to enter the hangar, and was met by weapons fire as those who had cleared paths for themselves picked up their rifles once more and began firing upwards at the enemy craft. The main floor was being cleared, but the enemy had positions on the catwalks, and if the fierce Taledonian warriors could not reach them with swords they would be picked off quickly in the open

"Ten up on the catwalk! No..." yelled a centurion as he was ripped apart by enemy fire. Another warcry was emitted from the ranks as soldiers surged towards the stairs, eager to spill more blood.

Julian had calmed a bit, and had taken the opportunity to allow his guards to protect him while he took assessment of the situation. A wry smile formed on his face as he saw the enemy being slaughtered. To his right, the first of his elite honor guards fell as the shielding and armor failed, but was simply brushed aside as the demonic looking warriors closed their ranks to cover up the breach. Noticing that they were no longer surrounded, but that the rebels had only the far catwalk left, but crawling with sharshooters and troops, the bellowed out in a hoarse voice. "Fall back! Create a wall with the bodies for cover! Fall back and resume rifles!"

Caesarius notted with contempt the discipline and skills of the shocktroopers. De-activating their swords and recovering their blaster rifles from the ground where they lay, and moving backwards hastily whilst never showing their back to the enemy, but always firing upwards at the lucky bastards that had the railing as protection whereas they had none. They grabbed the bodies of the dead Gargantuans and began piling them up, creating a wall in which they could hide behind while the skirmish continued. Woe be to any who fought against such men. Setting his mind back to his friend, he saw Julian, safely surrounded by his honor guard, now if he could just make it to them. Picking up his pace, he ran through the scattered bodies that still lay uncollected on the hangar floor, yelling fierce appraise to the soldiers.

Loosing his balance for a time as he tripped over something strewn on the battleground, he looked up, attempting once agian to lock on to his friend. Then, a face of horror forming on his blood stained face, he saw an ion beam rip through the chest of one of the honor guards, sending the poor man to his knees before collapsing on the ground. Julian looked down at the man and then traced the shot to the snipers that sat away from the rest of their forces.

His attention was then drawn away as an explosion from an energy grenade had loosed the catwalk and sent it hurtling to the ground, but it would be no surprise if most of the rebels had survived the fall, and indeed it wasn't as they quickly recovered from the tumble and continued to rain fire on the beleaguered Taledonians. Without even being ordered, the warriors once again dropped their rifles and drew their swords, the problem of elevation no longer in their path as they charged once again at the enemy ranks, the hangar filling with the loud yells they emmited at the pure joy of the slaughter. Julian himself ran ahead of his men, the blue shielding showing ever more frequently as it was hit again and again but miraculously still holding, his guards racing after him to assure his safety, but their attempts were fruitless as the Emperor thrust himself to middle of the enemy, blocking himself from any aid. But the blades of the Taledonians worked fast and they cut down the enemy, driving them back.

At the hight of it all, screaming in ecstacy as he sliced cleanly through the torso of a man, Julian's shielding finally wore off and gave way for a rebel soldier, whose lucky fortune it was to see this, to fire and hit the Emperor in the chest before being cutdown himself. Julian stood there, no war cry emmited from his dry lips, his arm to swinging the great sword, he stood there, dumbstruck. None of the soldiers seemed to have noticed, but instead charged on ahead of their commander, jubilent at the enemy who had begun to turn tail and run as their numbers dwindled. But they had nowhere to run, and were being cut down mercilessly.

Only Caesarius, who had stayed back attempting to find his friend in the chaos, saw Julian fall to the ground. Throwing down his blade he ran to his side and let his true nature reign over the soldier persona he had taken on in the battle. The honor guards swarmed over him, looking down at their downed sovereign. "He's unconscious," Caesarius announced to them, "Form up around him so that no stragglers can get another shot in on him, or so that our men don't see their general fallen. You, give me a hand in taking him to the nearest medical bay."

*****


"Sir," a lone trooper reported to the acting officer at the medical bay who blocked his path, attempting to give no sight of the fallen Emperor to the young trooper, "The enemy has been repusled from our vessel, and their fleet is retreating."

"Very good, trooper. Dismissed." With that the officer closed the door and returned to the group that stood around the operating table where Caesarius was working.

Carefully removing the golden cuirass that had served the Kellerman's forever faithfully until now, and cutting open the tunic underneath, he examined the wound.

"Sir?" one of the honor guards enquired.

Annoyed at the interruption, Caesarius turned and looked at the man. "That damn rebel couldn't of had more luck, he made a blind shot and managed to hit a main artery. The floodflow from the heart to the head has been severed and he's bleeding badly. Doctor! Get me some regenerative equipment!"

It was a strange night in Taledon. For once there was no storm that blew, and hardly any wind at all. The night sky was clear, revealing the brightly shinning stars, and the meteor shower that was passing the planet, as if a sign that the Gods themselves were watching the events with tristess.

The forum was full of citizens, not just from the city, not just from the Empire, but from the entire Republic as well. On the curia steps, a great funeral pyre had been constructed of wood, and behind them, a table of the finest oak had been stationed, ontop of it lay the body of the dead Emperor, covered by the flag of Taledonia. Behind that still, Caesarius stood in ceremonial armor, the eulogy he was giving with such fervor and emotion being drowned out by the wailing of the crowd before him. Finishing his inaudible address, he turned slighty and pointed to the band of military men. Four tubas, three cornicerns and two drummers, who began to play the Taledonian anthem, which was as well drowned out by the sounds of the crowd. Then, moving to the body, Caesarius undrapped the head to view his old friend, and again spoke something to the crowd before covering it back up and signalling for the six Praetorians who stood close by.

Carefully picking up the stretcher from the table, they moved the body down the stairs towards the altar of wood, and laid it ontop. Stepping away and retrieving torches, they shoved them into the belly of the pyre and once again stepped back as the altar erupted into flames. Then with a shrill cry from the crowd, the shocked Praetorians moved back up the steps and away from the fire as the mob surged forward, throwing valued items of wood onto the fire, adding to the wood of the pyre and increasing the hight of the flames. Wardrobes, tables, chairs, even the pourest citizens simply throwing on logs to add their piece to the altar, ensuring that their Emperor who was looking down on them from the heavens saw how much they loved him, and making sure that he did not leave this planet pourly.

*****

The Senate chamber was cool that morning as the Republican Senate took their seats on the hard marble benches, those lucky enough to find themselves in positions where the rays of the sun hit them basking gleefully in its warmth.

Varus stood dumbstruck at the front of the curia, trying to find the best words. "Senators of the Republic," he started, "As you all know, our consul Julian has been struck down in battle with Gargantuan rebels. Directly afterwards, the Taledonian Senate declared that all the Kellermans in the history of both the Republic and the Empire will be forgotten, struck out of that very history. The late emperor's body was cremated last night to erase his existance, and the Taledonian Senate declared that a new God, Kellerman, a combination of every leader who has carried that name, has been created. The direct son of Talean. And now, we seek the blessing of the Senate and People of the Republic to further erase the memory of the men, by destroying all the gold Julians in circulation, and declaring the god Kellerman patron of the Republic. When this has happened, a great statue of marble shall be erected on the Senate steps overlooking the forum, in the likeness of the late Julian. Let us honor our great founders with this deification, for truly they were Gods walking amongst men."

"Absurd," mocked Iirich, "few civilisations in this age retain the archaic idea of a 'God'. Consul Julian was a man, and an able commander of great honour in battle. To suggest this dishonours his achievements, and those of his ancestors."

Varus spoke again, attempting to pass along more information to better explain the position of the Empire. "It is not simply Julian, but all Kellermans. Since the founding of our great city, Taledon, they have been at the head, and have ruled with honor, dignity and success. This is truly the work of a God, not men. And while we wish the God Kellerman to be accepted by the entirety of the Republic, we do not in any way wish to force those who wish not to worship to partake in any events that go with Kellerman, but merely to accept that he is a God."

Hallard stood, bowing his head. "The fact that a runaway segment of my population has done such a vile act towards the Republic saddens me a great deal. As the new Pontifex Maximus, I cannot think of a more fitting honour for one such as Julian. For the short time I knew him, I could tell that he was of heroic quality, and shone with the brilliance of all the Republic. Should people want to worship such a hero, I could not fault them."

"Thank you, Pontifex Maximus, for your official seal and decree on this religious matter." replied Varus, content that the Republic had accepted the God Kellerman.

"But who, Senators, shall take up the Imperial crown of laurel?" asked Octavian as he stood dressed in the ceremonial robes of the Senate.

Directly after the Republican Senate had adjurned, the Taledonian one had met within the curia, the issue of who wold become the new Emperor and Consul of the Republic now that Kellerman had returned to the heavens. Murmuring commenced within the ranks of men as they discussed amongst themselves their thoughts before having the courage to say something on the delicate matter. The resounding beats of the praetorians' spears as they beat them on the ground to bring the Senate back to order.

The ancient master of debate, who could not even rise from his stool at the front of the curia anymore without help, gave his instructions with a low, wheezing voice. "The Senate recognises Flavius Cassius Aetius to speak."

One of the younger Senators stood, the white toga rimmed with purple embroidery depicting that he already helf a magistracy. He had a head of kept brown hair, and a clean shaven face. "With no one left with the blood of Kellerman in them, the Senate should vote in a new leader before civil war erupts!" More murmuring rose within the Senate as each man tried to make things easier for himself.

"And with the passing of an Emperor came the passing of an Age, and in place of a ruler, there was a god." Remiel chuckled, casting a handful of glimmering dust into a brazier, watching the flames dance in lunatic whorls of color. "Let them have their God Kellerman. Let them acknowledge the power that runs in these veins, the blood of Kellerman, the blood of the De Drakan line...As one. For long ago pacts still bind true, still speak as truly as this blood."

A blade passes across his palm, a smile gracing his features as he lets it run into the flames. He can taste his own wanton lustings as he indulges the ritual. "Let all who come before me know the power of this sanguine bond. Let all who fear the hand of doom know me as its avatar, for this blood is sworn to Slaanesh, and devoted to desire." He thrusts the pale flesh of his hand into the fire, letting the pain color him, fill him with need, want, desire taking hold. "I shall rise, and all before me shall pale...I shall leave the ashes of Empires in my wake....Let them know my might!" His devotion done, he pulls his hand back, his flesh alive with foul consecration.

"There is work to be done..."

2000 ships readied for departure, 2000 ships containing in their entirety two legions. One, the Nero Angelus, the other the Blood Furies. Together they would travel and enforce the will of the one true Emperor, Lord Remiel De Drakan, but they would be forewarned by a simple message. A single sentence, its meaning manifest across the void, screaming forth to Taledonian ears, came thick and fast.

I come to claim what is mine; what is the Imperiums.

"Begging your pardon, Senators" came the voice of Captain Dracma as he entered the Senate chamber, "But we've just received a transmission that I believe should be brought to your attention straight way." Making his way towards the front of the room, he handed a scroll to Varus who unwrapped it and began reading.

It was but one sentence, but it would prove to be more powerful than an entire book. His face contorting into a grimace as he read it over and over, lolling each word in his mind, and then he looked up.

"Intelligence indicates that they have mobolised, sir." added Dracma.

Dismissing the soldier with a glance, Varus turned to the awaiting Senate. Their gazes peerced through him, beckoning him to reveal what was said, what was it that made his shutter so visibly, yet he could not say it. The words died in his throat everytime he tried. Finally, the Senate had had enough, leaving his bench and moving to Varus, Aetius snatched the parchement away from his collegue and read it for himself, and like his counterpart, his face too showed grief and fear.

"The Chronosian Imperium, led by their emperor Remiel de Draken, has mobolised. The daemon emperor sends this: "I come to claim what is mine; what is the Imperiums."

The Senate erupted into chatter once again, this time nobody having the will to bring them to order, as they sat dumbstruck themselves. It would appear that once again, the Republic would meet with the Imperium, and the heavens would burn.

Hours bled into days, and it was with such intense trepidation and such longing for its presence that a single ship tore into space on the edge of the Taledon system. A single ship that bore a power beyond imagining, barely able to register on the Taledonian's comprehension. Remiel de Drakan sat, lounging upon his throne, fingers teasing over the twin daemonic runeblades that sat at his sides. Both had killed his father, one had even belonged to him, and since then they had taken souls the length and breadth of the galaxy in the name of Chaos.

Remiel was a being of brilliant, almost impossible beauty, gifted to him by Slaanesh. His death and rebirth had only heightened his alluring aura of power, his first acts, bathed in the blood of a mother whose body had been usurped to give rise to the black prince, had been to set an entire world to burning slaughter with little more than a word, a gesture...A system had followed in its death, another victim in his blazing wake.

Now that being came forth to claim a throne, that may as well already have been his, rightly, by way of blood.

An impressive display for your Emperor. I am Remiel De Drakan, Lord of the Imperium and Master of Taledon by right of blood brotherhood. Too long has a dilute bloodline held sway over you and your people. I ask now; will you accept strength and honor? Will you bow to a throne of Blood and Thunder? I am the hand of Chaos, I am its scion. I am the scything blow that broke you at Kosse. I am the whisper that brought legions vast to your very doorstep and drove you from this universe.

I am the anti-life, the consumer of all who would stand against me.

And I am your hope.

It had come quick and hard, like a hammer striking a nail, yet it was only a single vessel. But Aetius knew all too well the power such starships possessed, having been victim to the demonic forces during the Republican Wars that had led to his quick advancement in rank, and was also the reason why the Senate had appointed him commander of the Republican legions. He knew how these Chronosians worked, how they lived for not but slaughter and pain. He was there when Kellerman had formed the blood pact that was the cause for all this; he was there when he had accepted the ancient tablet filled with runes speaking of chaos, that the greatest minds of the Empire still could not decipher; he had even been there when the legions pulled out of Kosse, leaving the poor inhabitants to the mercy of these devils. And now he sat there, facing them once again, at the head of the largest force he had ever commanded, a veritable armada hanging over the jewel that was the planet Taledonia.

"Captain Weever," he finally spoke after reviewing the recent transmission from the Imperium vessel, "Send this. The Empire nor the Republic would ever stand for chaos on the throne of its people, nor a daemon as its consul. While you have the blood of our God Emperor running through your veins, you are not him, in any way, and therefore have no claim to our lands. Never shall the crown of laurel touch your unholy head. This battle fleet that stands here before you is testament to our decision, turn back now, or we shall remove you from our territory."

A little bold, he knew, but he also felt confident in the men and ships he commanded, and knew they would not let him down. Three hundred Imperial class battle cruisers spread throughout the great expanse, acting as the command ships of the legions, another three hundred Protectorate class battle cruisers accompagning them; two hundred Typhoon class destroyers, sitting with another two hundred of each Covenant cruisers, Zarithian Superiorships, and Mandalorian star destroyers of all their makes; five hundred frigates of all kinds from all the nations of the Republic, and that many again as support vessels, medical ships and supplies carriers, positioned strategically throughout the fleet.

Yes, he did have the advantage. Even a daemon couldn't hope to beat a fleet of 2400 starships, when he had but one...

Tag for viewing purposes. (right now at least)

Remiel gestured, a mere flick of his wrist, and it began, it began with an earnest that no amount of planning or preperation could have readied their foes for. Did they think him a fool to come before them with a single ship inviting dark whispers of conquest? Did they think him a fool to come and curry their distrust with but a single fragment of his power? No, he was no fool. He was Chaos itself, and with the power of the Warp he would rend a mighty harvest from the weakling flesh of the Taledonian heart.

The warp seemed to explode into reality around the singular ship, weapons fire hurtling from the smaller Infidel raiders that surged forth from the Immaterium, flocks of fighters, swarming like insects about the hulks that came forth. 2000 ships, from the smallest Infidel to the largest of the Defiler Battlecruisers came forth in all the horror and righteous fury of Chaos. Runes burned upon the hulls, banners of flesh trailed in burning fragments from the metal skin of the ship. Remiel smirked as the more potent guns of the larger vessels tore into glorious, blasphemous life, hurling their molten vengence forth against Taledonia.

Missles cut across the void like knives, surgign arcs of warp energy twisted the very fabric of existence, lance batteries unleashed their full fury against the enemy vessels. They had fought for countless generations, millenia of conflict ingrained upon man and ship, neither quite as they had once been. And through the tumult and damned fray, Remiel's voice cut deeper than any incoming blow.

It's treason then...

The command ship shook as it took a mighty blow from the fast appearing Chronosian ships. It was like seeing the gates of hell itself open and spew out monsters that the Gods themselves would be offended by. Would it be another Kosse? A massive fleet simply appearing and dealing out death, or would a greater resistance be put up for the capitol? Only Fate knew the outcome of what would be a historical battle.

With a nod, Aetius gave the order to return fire. Turbo lasers lashed out without mercy, and the great energy cannons recoiled as massive energy bursts were released. Plasma tore through the nothingness towards the Chronosian husks as their Covenant crews were finally allowed to satiate their bloodlust. Torpedoes shot straight out, menacing and swift. And unleashing their own swarm of locusts, thousands of fighters and other small craft raced from the Republican armada, nimbly dancing with the opposing minows of the battle.

The Chronosians were fierce, but the Republic had the advantage of both numbers and of being on home turf, and the mighty weapons stations that hung in orbit around Taledonia opened up as well, adding to the chaos that the daemon must be enjoying. No, this wasn't Kosse.

******

For weeks the two consular legions that were the sole protectors(besides the Praetorians) of the capitol had fortified the city. Places in the ancient stone walls that were crumbling had been rebuild, and a ditch dug facing the only way to the city by land. A kilometer beyond that, a trench had been constructed, the first line against a possible attack on the city. The land had been fortified and would hold out it was hoped. Whilst on the opposite end of the city, the side facing the sea, the ancient sea navy sat ready and menacing. It was a forgotten style of war, but the government had kept it adequatly funded, and it would provide a mean defence if they decided to come in from behind. In the city itself, the deadly planetary guns had been activated and were ready incase they decided to just come straight down. Every precaution had been taken to assure the city was protected.

Remiel's flagship shook lightly as impacts spattered across the shields, while other ships continued their assaults, their own shields flaring into crackling, assaulted life under the Taledonian assault. Some felt the greater shudder of their hulls tearing, flames and pain staining the metallic sheen of the corrupt vessels, along with the hissed sigh of escaping atmosphere. It would appear that the Taledonians had spirit yet, spirit Remiel had thought dead with the true Kellerman. It mattered not...They would know the might of Imperial War once again. They would taste the dark honor of Imperial Astartes.

"Focus fire on the stations and the larger vessels. We need to distract them if we're to get close enough. Launch Assault Pods if possible. We can turn whatever guns we garner upon their own." Remiel commanded with the authority and skill of a veteran commander, a disciple of the arts of war and a practitioner down the long years of near-constant warfare. Now he had brought a new, glorious war to hated Taledon, and the filth who dwelt there.

Warp cannons fired like the very tongues of the gods, alive with warp-fire, as though faces danced within the undulating energy. Missles began their steady streams of bombardment against the hated enemy, targetting multiples, aiming for the middle of the enemy swarm as they themselves spread out, sighting targets, assigning priorities.

The first wave of Drop-Pods surged amongst the chaos of orbital combat, elite warriors of the Astartes ready to infiltrate either vessels or stations, intent on taking them, or bringing them down...

Remiel had assumed that the fleet in defence of Taledon would make rather a large impression once brought down against the harsh anvil of the planet.

Energy of all kinds surged between the opposing fleets, dotted heavily by the swift moving fighters and bombers, and the newly launched assault pods of the Imperium which carried thirsty warriors who, if allowed to breach the ships or stations, would likely cause as much problems as the enemy fleet itself. Luckily, the lighter weapons of the fleet were designed to take out small craft that menaced them, as using the heavy weapons used for taking on ships was as fruitless as trying to shoot a fly with a rocket launcher.

It would take the man that sculpted the statue of Kellerman on the steps of the Senate to see that the fierce commander that dished out orders so confidently to see that it was indeed not the newly appointed god. He was in a flurry at the front of the bridge, moving back and fourth between the observation windows and the displays that showed all the ships, and detailed information about them. "Get the Einhanders out there, priority on the Pods, do not let them get to their destinations!" he yelled to the stoic crew that simply saluted and relayed his orders, happy that they were under the command of someone with the determination and, so far, the command skills of the young Julian.

Forth from the ships, the deadly heavy fighters built by the Taledonians was unleashed. They were larger than normal fighters, but with all the speed and twice the power. A single "arm" extended from the bottom, and hoisted it's own energy cannon, turbo laser, or other great weapon reserved from the starships. They moved with efficiency to intercept the pods of the Imperium, and stop the chaos soldiers from ever being unleashed themselves.

Let children play at being Gods. Let them idolatrise and sin, they would be slain in their turn. Remiel let a playful smirk cross his features, like a cat toying with his prey. He watched the battle unfolding, his first wave of assault pods cut from the sky by the scything arcs of Taledonian fire. A gesture brought forth holographic maps of the situation. Each Taledonian vessel represented, even the ponderous bulk of the defence stations.

“There” He barked his orders with the zeal and fury of a Daemon Prince, yet he was still a Man. A Primarch, deified and mighty. His orders would sunder worlds, his words would bring entire populations to their knees. He turned, indicating the stations. “Focus our fire, the resulting explosions will set our enemies to disarray, allowing us to progress far closer to the planet.”

Countless fighters filled the void, weapons roaring even as the mighty vessels reinforced their tiny brethren with scathing waves of raw power and numberless projectile weapons. Even as the hull and armour of one was sundered by Taledonian attack, flaming plasma rushing up from its belly, howling in primal, ecstatic agony as the explosion decimated it, its innards and flaming plasma blood spurting out across the stars.

Remiel’s fleet turned, almost as a singular thing, focussing their power, focussing their might against the immense defence stations. He watched, singularly fascinated as the assault began, so much energy focussed against their foes, so much power expended for the ultimate glory of Chaos.

It would be a glorious victory indeed.

Aetius watched with a stony face as the shields of the main orbital station failed, leaving only seconds before it was destroyed, ripped apart by the fury of chaos. The explosion would definitly do damage to the closer vessels and the other stations, and if they kept destroying the stations to cause explosions, then it wouldn't matter that they weren't firing on the fleet anymore.

"Captain, we need to neutralise some of their vessels, stop them from concentrating on the stations. Have all Mandalorian vessels to the front, tell them to fire their ion cannons and disable the enemy vessels. Have the bombers and einhanders ready to strike once their shields are down, and the rest of the fleet ready to concentrate fire on them."

It didn't take long for the mighty ships of the Mandalorians to take the front ranks of the Republican armada. It was their turn, and they relished their chance. Unleashing across the mealstorm of the constant fire that came from both sides, the large blue beams shot across, aiming for the bridge of each chronosian husk, where the ion burst would go farthest in disabling the vessels.

Ships as ancient as the Imperium itself shook with the impacts of the Taledonian weapons, some rendered impotent by the trickery of Warp Cannons. The Flagship, the Sword of Arioch remained. Untouched, unharmed by the new assault, it readied its mighty weapons, and sent arcs of seething power for the heart of the Taledonian fleet. Each Chronosian vessel still able turned its weaponry against the heretics, the vicious spiteful man-things who dared to oppose the will of the True Gods. They were arrogant and obstinate, but that would be their downfall.

“Trickery worthy of the blood of Kellerman” Remiel let his statement drip forth, sarcastically cast off from his lips. “I want the fleet to maintain primary fire. Hold the attention of the enemy ships, I think its time to play our hand.”

“Thy will be done, Divine One” A hissing servitor-thing scuttled away, its orders booming over vox systems, the word spreading throughout the ship and then the fleet.

“These whelps have frustrated us long enough…Push the attack, my brothers! Force the dogs back till we meet them upon their own decrepit soil! We are Chronosians! The Gods stand with us, and we shall not falter!” Remiel cackled at his own thirst for carnage, one matched only by the being who led the other thousand from his flagship, the Soulflayer. “Let me speak with my brother, Hakar.”

Hakar stood upon the bridge of the mighty flagship, regarding the battle with a cool, aloof indifference. The war that Remiel’s forces fought was not the same war that he would fight. He knew his role perfectly. He let his artful fingers caress the cold black and red of his armour, adorned with scarlet saltires. He let the great wings at his back unfurl, feathers, white and black adorned the great pinions, yet were stained red, eternally dripping blood. Servitors scratched and followed at his heels, cups collecting the potent vitae.

They would need it for the rites to come.

His sons waited upon these ships. Each one of his sons an army of one, forged in heated conflict. Though one of the youngest of the Primarch, Hakar was heir to an ancient legacy. To the blood of Sanguinius. He had infused his sons with his sacred blood, and they would sup upon it before the battle. He grasped a waiting slave-form, pulling her into his ravenous embrace, fangs tearing flesh as he indulged the red thirst. Blood pooled over his lips and he drank with a hiss of satisfaction. Each of his sons would embrace the Red Thirst and the Black Rage at his very willing…

He would turn Taledon into a killing field befitting of Khorne himself!

Hakar, my dear brother

Emperor…

The time has come, Hakar. Ready your men. The signs are in alignment. We shall distract the Taledonian whelps while you hammer them from the flank and smash your way to the surface. Khorne goes with you brother. Khorne shall light the way for our victory.

As you wish, my Brother. I shall not let you down

Hakar had moved below, surveying each of his sons, Battle-Brothers of the Blood Furies. He let his hands touch the heads lowered in dark reverence, let his eyes scan the sons of the Blood.

“Drink” He had whispered as the cups were passed about, the greatest of them filled from his own bleeding wrists. Before each battle this blasphemous rite was observed, a mockery of the Blood Angels, offered only to Khorne.

“Now…We strike” Hakar whispered, his voice wry with dark satisfaction as he felt the ship shift.

The swift ships of the Blood Furies manoeuvred themselves so as to strike at the Taledonian flank, swift volleys of missiles and lance fire tore at the enemy as they plunged like gleaming red knives through flesh, intent upon the planet. With well-practiced ease they began to pummel the world below with countless drop pods and thunderhawks, taking the Legions might down while the ships held firm against enemy attack…

Soon the Taledonians would know the wrath of the Imperium, and they would find themselves drowning on the stench of their own blood.

The right flank of the armada began taking a beating, the additional Chronosian force had served its purpose. But the battle was not over yet, and the formation was altered to protect the two besieged sides of the battle group. With a sneer, Aetius began making his way towards the blast doors.

"Admiral, I relinquish command of the fleet to you. The Chronosians have sent down their legions, and our troops on the surface will need me. Don't fail, Admiral, we can't risk giving them air superiority."

"Yes, Consul."


The skies were dark as space, the harsh rain pummeling the soldiers who stood stoically within the trench, the first line of defence for the city. The Taledonian troops, all alike in their grey battle armor, battle hardened veterans of the legion Primigenia. Their comrades in arms, the compliment of the other Consular legion, zealous Covenant troops, restlessly awaiting the resolution of the battle for the heavens, partly hoping that the Republic would loose so that they could see action and bask in the blood of their enemies.

As lightning streaked across the sky, a mighty roar was let loose, deafening thunder that made the storm seem even more fierce than the norm for the rainy planet. Then, raining from the sky, deadlier than the freezing rain, came the pods of the Chronosians, crashing menacingly into the ground roughly a hundred yards from the bunker. The Covenant warriors grunted something in their native tongue, most likely a thanks to the "Forerunners" for sending them prey to slaughter. Without even being ordered, all the troops moved to the parapet, taking cover behind the defences and fixing weapons on the landing pods. As soon as they opened to reveal their demons, they would wish they had stayed in their own hell instead of coming to this foreign one.

The doors of each of the pods blew off, opening to reveal the warriors of the Blood Furies. Each was clad in black armour, ridged with red, each covered with red saltires. They formed ranks, each readying their bolters and chainswords, each ready to kill for the Primarch, to kill for the Emperor. They readied even as the great shape of the Primarch moved before them, haloed by the great wings. He let a feral smirk cross his features, his face contorting in animal rage. He felt the great fury of the gene-curse surge through him, felt it ripple through his brood. He growled, bearing his fangs in an animal rage that rose as a terrible howl of madness.

Suddenly each of them were plunged into a war that had ended countless millennia ago, forced into the consciousness of one long dead. They were Sanguinius, warped through a traitors eyes. They were brothers to Horus himself! They felt phantom wings force against their back, and as they raised their eyes to the rain streaked walls of Taledon, they saw only the ancient walls of Terra’s Imperial Palace. Each felt madness taint them, felt saliva coat their gleaming white fangs. They would cleanse their enemies with righteous devotion, by the will of the Reborn Angel, their Dark Seraph. The Thunderhawks unloaded more engines of their destruction.

Predators opened fire with their wailing lascannons, Whirlwind artillery hammered forth at the enemy with barrages of missiles, Dreadnoughts fired with autocannon and lascannon while Basilisk artillery hammered towards the walls and the trenches that lay before it.

“Forward brothers! Claim the walls! The False Emperor shall not hold sway long! Onwards! On against Dorn! On against Gulliman! We shall claim the walls! We shall lay low our foe!”

Hakar snarled, reining in his anger, taming his hatred, focussing it like a red-hot blade of malice and rage. He tamed the hold of the Thirst upon him, raising the black edge of his spear high above the masses of his army. It glimmered for a moment with a crackle of warp energy and he bellowed in raw emotion, forcing his will forward

“Come, my sons! We shall lay low these Taledonian dogs! By Black Rage and Red Thirst we shall cleanse them!” Another flash of gleaming white enamel, stained with bloody saliva, hunger welling up within him. “For the Dark Gods! For KHORNE!”

Bolter fire began to ring out as the artillery continued to pound at the enemy as the Marines advanced, a zealous wave of pulsing fury, like a black wave of hatred cresting towards the walls of Taledon.

(OOC: Um...Chron, I could be mistaken of what you meant but, you do know that your not near the walls of the city yet right? Your outside my first trench, which is a kilometer from the city walls. But I didn't know if when you said you had to take the walls if you meant the weak little makeshift wall of the trench. If not, then at least I cought you in time to correct you, but your post will work either way.)

IC:

When the doors of the transports opened, and the hellish warriors stepped out, led by a winged demon of death, the brave defenders blocked out any thought of pain and suffering, and remained stoically at the trench wall, weapons at the ready. The one thing that coursed through their minds besides what was needed to aim, was the question of why the order to fire wasn't given yet. And then it came. As the beastly Primarch of the Chronosian legion bellowed his ferocious war-cry, the Legate's voice sounded in all the battle helmets and communicators of the Republican forces, causing the brave soldiers to open up.

A lightshow of red, blue and green surged forth from the Republican bunker, closing in on the exposed followers of chaos. Gaps within the rounds were home to hundreds of missiles and grenades of tremendous power. Well enough to counter the threat of the incoming marines who had began their own assault, casuing legionaries to duck behind the trench walls momentarily to avoid being hit. However the enemy had set up artillery, and that gave them a momentary advantage.


The sea at the back of Taledon sat full of warships. Ancient craft, of course, but still good for fighting. Many within the Senate had called for the decomissioning of these obsolete vessels, but today their worth would be proven.

"Admiral Forns," a voice spoke over the communicator, "This is Legate Maximian at the first line. Enemy forces engaged, repeat, enemy forces engaged. Requesting fire on forward position to counter hostile artillery and slow advance."

An aging veteran nodded as he took in the message, scratched his head, and then turned and walked over to weapons control. "Lieutenant, order the fleet to barrage forward position. Fire at will."

With a rather annoying noise, the mighty energy cannons turned to face in the direction of the battle, and aimed skywards. It took only seconds for the cannons to charge, and then behemoth spheres of energy were sent arching into the air, hundreds of them at a time, followed quickly by another wave. They took a long flight, only to come crashing destructively onto the battleground, the blast radius of some remaining only yards from the allied bunker.

OOC: Artillery is firing at the walls. Or at least in their general direction

(OOC: Ah, ok. Well then your bombarding my walls, long ways away, and I'm bombarding your troops and artillery. Yay for everything being straightened out in a minimum of OOC posts.)

"DOWN!" He bellowed, throwing himself down, as each of his men did the same, fire erupting around them in a a massive cacophany of fetid smoke and searing heat. Hakar forced himself through the maelstrom and snarled, spitting blood from his mouth, his armoured figure tearing through the heat, resplendant and blazing with molten hatred. Those Marines that survived forced themselves forward, the artillery that had avoided the destructive blasts firing once more.

"FORWARD! They won't fire upon their own walls!" Hakar growled, forcing himself forward across the scorched land, his feet crunching down upon ash and debris. These fools thought they could hold against the Imperium's finest? They thought they could stand against the might of the Blood Furies and the other Legios Astartes?

He would educate them as to the folly of their enterprise.

Ships that had remained in orbit, holding against the Taledonian ships turned their guns upon the sea-based fleets of the Empire, sending flaming slag and lance blasts down against their hated foes. There was no punishment too extreme as could be levied against the Taledonian Dogs, and the Emperor had demanded nothing short of their annihilation. The flaming weapons fire hurtled forth against planet and ship were a testament of the Chronosian might, the power levied against them and all their kind.

Now was the hour of judgement, the hour of their demise.