Lord Sharr received the final calls from his warriors. All prepared and ready for the coming slaughter. His Vox link reached to his champions. "All forces move into designated positions. Alexander deploy your forces and await my command to commence the attack."

With the order given, the strike forces began moving out.

The night was growing old. The forces of Chaos marched in silent formations. Icons depicting the Gods of Chaos adorned the transports and cult gangs as they moved through the streets. Crazed cultists snuck into a few civilian Habs to the North and South, killing the civilians that slept in blissful ignorance to the invasion.
Patrols of Praetorian Guards were quickly and quietly dealt with my the Astarties. Checkpoints were soon over run by the Raptor packs who worked like vicious predators in the gloom.
Transports and war tanks moved through the roads, their lights cutting through the veil.

Ramiel and his forces were set and ready for the coming ambush. Like hunters they waited in the shadows and dark corners. Their eyes gleaming like fire in the night. Like gargoyles they perched atop the towering structures.

Forfoz and his column of corrupt war engines deployed and waited outside the the Manufactorium's main gate.

Alexander and his blood berserkers readied their chain blades for the coming slaughter. The Raven Guard, statue still, waited for the signal as he towered over the Cultgangs and traitor guards.

The cult gangs were scattered about, hiding behind buildings and the assault tanks like scavengers waiting for their chance to feast. The Traitor Guards, more organized and disciplined that the Cultists, moved in formation. Taking positions behind cover and establishing firing positions and heavy weapon emplacements.

Lord Sharr and his convoy stayed behind the main force, a reserve group awaiting the all clear to begin the assault against the Southern Barracks and the Bastion within. He felt the Daemon of Gore Fiend seethe at his hip and Daemonette Sing in her leather sheath.

THe daemon eye of his augment turned to Alexander's forces and his Vox activated. "Attack."

OOC: have the raven guard shown up yet?

ooc: yeah he's part of Alexander's attack force. He can post in when he is able and do what he wants. Until then, just have some fun.

OOC: i mean the actual raven guard force

(OOC: Will I have to do the tank attack? Or will you?)

ooc: @ Alexander - The Raven Guard force hasn't Officially arrived yet. So for now it's just the ONE.
@ Wincent - You can do the attack with the tanks at anytime.

OOC: its late, ill make my attack post when i wake up

*Alexander banged his fist on the hull of the land raider* "driver, move!"

*he then opened a vox link to the rest of the force* "WE MOVE BROTHERS! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SHOW THESE CORPSE WORSHIPERS THE MIGHT OF THE TRUE GODS!"

*the land raiders simply drove straight through the gate, smashing it down, their array of bolters sowing havoc among the defenders, and the transport ramps opened, the Brotherhood and the assorted Chaos marines and cultists spewed out from the land raiders, Alexander calmly walked out of the land raider, and stood for a second, watching the chaos and frenzy of the battle, and began laughing, then drawing his axes, he charged into battle*

The Nobel roads were as splendorous as the towers, monuments to the achievements of brought by humanity. They would sing upon the bathing warmth of the Rorke sun, shunning the lesser homes in pity that they could not be as magnificent as they. Now even at night their beauty was revealed in the cacophony of battle. Power blades from Praetorian Officers lit the night like torches, leading the Guard against the Cultists and Traitor Guards. Heavy Bolters and Auto Cannon rounds flew as orbs of gold across the streets before detonating into the flood.
Officers and Troopers shouted orders and warnings across the den as Auto Guns and Las Guns joined in the shower.
“Keep firing lads, we got the bastards on the ropes!” The Officer was soon caught in fear as the moment of triumph was shattered by the cold murderous stare of a bloodied monster. Astarties, clad in crimson red wielding chain axes the height of men charged away from the volley fire of the heavy weapons. They leaped at impossible distance, closing into the first machine gun nests and hacked the roaring chain blades into the soft meat of the Praetorians.
One of the warriors bore a helmet crafted into a skull, crowned with axe blades, brought his chain axe into the officer. “Blood!” the voice was deep and distorted by the helmet Vox. Then the Heavy Bolter operator was bisected, “Blood!” Then the ammo carrier, “Blood!” The thirst was stronger now as a third fell, “BLOOD!” The berserker continued his slaughter. “BLOOD FOR KHORNE!” Another kill by decapitation. “BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!” A downward chop. “MORE BLOOD!” A fast upward swipe into another one. The gauntlet clutched around the head of a Praetorian Conscripted and crushed it, “GIVE IT TO KHORNE!”
Kaldraun, a veteran of the Great Crusade and son of Angron, now fighting along side the Bearers of the Word, he bore the skulls of slain Heroes and Champions across his chest and was happy to add more. His blood drunk rage was all he had now and it was his undoing as the Auto Cannon from the Heavy Weapon nest tore into his chest piece, his abdomen, his thigh and his twin hearts. He fell to the streets, blood pooling around him, his final gift to the Blood God.

The firs line of defense at the Noble's Gate was breached. The second line began firing into the mob of cultists, heretics, astarties and Praetorians. Nested between the gate and the center crossing they kept the line going.
Infantry fired carefully into their targets from the safety of the bunkers, sandbags and Nobel houses.

Lieutenant Tennant, watched the fighting from the safety of a Nobel’s home. Clocked and ready from the lining windows, snipers watched the roads and waited targets. Through his Binoculars, the Lieutenant could see the mob of cultists advancing up the road. They were nearly at the central crossing of the Nobel District where the snipers and platoons of elite Praetorians waited.
Lieutenant Tennant turned to his Vox Operator, “Tell Colonel Rion’s to bring in his forces. I don’t want a single one of those bastards to get at the crossing.”

Unlike the Nobel Towers, who sang in the sun, their distant cousins to the south were more brute and tactics. The fortifications were made to train and prepare citizens of Rorke for life in the Praetorian Guard in service to the Emperor. Men and women were drilled, punished and pushed to their limits in the confines of the fortress. Though many refer to it as The Jail House, for once you went past those gates you weren’t allowed out without permission. Walls loomed over all like watchful guardians and executions. The atmosphere stank of sweat, tears, blood and machines.
Now, platoons of Praetorian Conscripts, Troopers, Chimera transports, Sentinel Walkers, Horse Riders and Lemun Russ war tanks amassed in formation. They watched in awe as the titanic metal gates opened like a pair of hands welcoming them to the world beyond the walls.
At the rear, watching from his command tank was Colonel Rion. A veteran who lived through the founding of Rorke Primarus and survived the raid parties of the Dark Eldar and the Waagh of the Orks now waited for his next encounter with the forces of Chaos. He lit the Ihlo stick between his teeth. This victory was assured, even if he wouldn’t live to see it, it was going to happen. He could feel it in his bones. Turning to his second in command he gave the order and the Conscripts were the first to march out in formation.
Their movements were in sync and resounded like thunder.

Like a warrior king, Sharr sat in the chair of the Land Raider with his entourage. His arms crossed over his barreled chest, his face set in a stone scowl as he listened intently to the chatter over the Vox.
Cultists and Traitor Guard howled and barked like dogs, nothing more than white noise. His Host was more experienced in situations such as this. The Khornate warriors already rushing through the buildings and out of the heavy weapons sight.
His daemon eye turned around in the socket, as if it were looking inside his own head, "Alexander, a few of the Noble lords and ladies still cower in their homes. Many of them are part of this planet's military. Admirals, Generals, Heads of Office others are simply the common rabble. Kill the officers, bring me their heads. Do what you want with the rest."

Forfoz looks at the massive gate to the Manufactiorium. He shakes his head slighlty
"A disgusting work, it is an abomination, standing there and suffering in the hands of corpse-belivers."
He aktivates some commands in the tank. The tanks main cannon slowly aims up towards the massive gate. With a weird sound a glowing green shell shoots out from the cannon. It crashes into the gate, but instead of exploding it evaporates and gives out a gascloud. the gas turns the massive steel gate into green sludge, slowly but surely.
Forfoz chuckles insanely. The sargeant who followed him into the tank shodders slighlty, as the demonic enregies insidethe tank is disturbing. the techpriest slowly pets the control board.
"A masterpiece. the finger of nurgle.. a one machine army. It carries plauges and vents gasses that turns mortals into the waste they are..."
He chuckles maddingly again


Tirana looks at Sharr, she can't help but admire his authority and cunning. She don't think she has met someone with that kind of "aura" before. But she don't trust him. She slowly returns to finxing with ehr claws, using a small tool to keep them sharp.