@DeranVendar @Vulpas @WanderingJester

If Dyzek had eyes, he'd be rolling them, as Herchel and his casual dismissal of anger in favour of happy reply would rob him of the means to keep up his facade. With both arms tensing up to aid in lifting the Terminator, Dyzek would listen to both Herchel and Kremnar provide a quick report of the situation, nodding his head at each affirmation of survival. With the news to relieve him of their lack in casualties, Dyzek would feel himself relax for a moment, while he plotted out their next move. Lifting a finger to point at Kremnar, he'd begin to speak, the earlier menace in his tone gone, replaced entirely with a formal flavor to his words.

"Alright, Kremnar, start rounding up Seventh and getting me a report on status for each member. Injury, ammunition, thoughts on the matter, I want it all to know how operational we will be in the next phase of this fight."

Turning he'd point to Herchel, before inclining his head towards the column of vehicles.

"In the meantime I need to you go and find the lieutenant. Akar will be wanting an update on our actions here no doubt, so I mean to get it to him ASAP. While you are at it, see if you can get a bead on these solar Auxilia and their numbers, we're going to need some backup for the next battle, and it'll help to know how many we can count on."

Looking down at his Crimson gauntlets, Dyzek would finish up his brief swiftly.

"I'll go link up with what's left of the Imperial Fists from our sector, and see what's what, while tracking to see if our gear and resupply is still coming in. We have little time for all this, so I expect this all to be done within ten minutes."

Without another word, Dyzek would turn and begun striding off in search of the sons of Dorn. He fully trusted his squad to get things done in his absence.​

Onwards and Upwards​

Akar and Arkon both came walking up to them, a full grown Astartes in Cataphracti armor was hard to miss. Several squads of Iron Warriors were advancing towards the multitude of lifts working non-stop to carry the returning forces up higher into the mountains where they would garrison the walls proper. Legionaries booked it past them at a healthy pace.

"Excellent job finding us Kremnar." Akar lead off and took a cursory glance over the survivors of his former squad, noting the absence of several with some concern.

"Orders are in and we are moving up to the walls. We will be reinforcing the Blood Angels garrisoned in Wall section Theta Three." Iron Warriors naturally fell in around their Captain, Seventh Squad united once more on the march to the nearest elevator. Several hours spent re-arming and loading onto elevators grinding upward would ultimately carry them from the dim interior of the Himalazias and up into the Palace once more.

Ultimatum​

Once more fire tinted sunlight washed over Forty-Fourth battalion. Exposed to the burning heavens and girded against the sundering power of orbital bombardment by some of the most powerful void shields to exist the Iron Warriors take up positions on the wall and face outwards. What greeted them was a sea of bodies stretching far as the eye could see. Drums of stretched hide thundered and bronze horns wailed, the inhuman jaws of countless nightmares brayed, and thousands of World Eaters bellowed; at their head was Angron himself standing upon the wreck of a slain Reaver Titan. Opposite of Red Angel in every way possible was the Resplendent Angel Sanguinius stationed over the gate house. Even standing miles and miles away from either commander it was plain to see their eyes were firmly fixated upon one another. Angron raised a claw and reigned in the cacophony of war hungry voices and their instruments. Battlefield became a muted place as all sounds dimmed into the background; war in the distance, last bastions among the hives being consumed and defenders slaughtered, hurried clomp of armored feet redeploying, and worst of all the constant hive-like hum of captured Ports receiving Horus' most destructive engines of war.

Monster spoke and through him Horus did too. Primarch of the World Eaters laid forth the Arch-Traitor's decrees and demand for surrender. They would surrender the walls, the palace, and of course the Emperor himself. Responses were appropriately curt, grandstanding not withstanding. Even if the loyal legions had suddenly turned the Custodes and Sisters would never surrender their Lord and Master without a fight to the very end. Such was clearly expressed towards Those who were able to look upon the Warp made manifest before them would never forget Angron's hideous smile as he ordered the siege to resume.

Seth stood on the battlements and snarled. Armored in his black Cataphracti Terminator armor, the darker shade than the rest of his brothers who just recently had to paint their armor black, and hefting two giant axes on his own he would be a remarkable sight but out here, he was just a small brick in a giant wall. Space Marines in their tens of thousands defended the bastions and Traitor Marines in their hundreds of thousands attacked them and they did so relentlessly.

There was little time to rest between the attacks and even less to get familiar with the warriors around you, which was also a futile task. Soul Smith met a Blood Angels Chaplain who rallied the sons of Sanguinius just couple of rows to his left, attracted by his zealous speeches Seth listened to them and made sure to congratulate his fellow colleague on his words. They shared battlefield only once after that and briefly, after the short assault of the World Eaters that they successfully repelled bombarding from his old brothers of the IV commenced again and the Blood Angel and his retinue were erased from the face of Terra after an unlucky shell detonated right in the middle of their formation. It was useless to find friends after that. All of them were same here, just more bodies thrown into the meat grinder. Thankfully, that is where Seth and the rest of his brothers excelled at fighting.

"With each breath that we draw we defy the traitors and prove our worth to ourselves, our fellow legionaries and the Emperor of Mankind," he spoke to whoever wanted to listen, using the open channel that the nearby forces had access to. "We have come from different places, different blood flows through our veins and different tradition marks our history. But we share one thing, the future we fight for will be the same for all of us."

"Enemy brought nine whole legions to fight against us, they made pacts with terrible things to help them with this battle, they have the greatest armada this galaxy has ever seen and still they cannot crack the bastions defended by warriors of pure heart and iron spirit. We have shown that we don't sell our loyalty for a grain of power nor do we piss on the promises given at the dawn of the Imperium. And now, standing on this blessed soil, we are stronger than ever. We are backed not by the greatest of guns or the tallest of walls, but by the might of our brotherhood. Brotherhood born on the walls of Terra will never be forgotten, not by us nor by those that will come after us. We will win this day and the history will speak of the mighty heroes of old that faced the ever-reaching darkness and stood defiant, stood strong!"

"When they come again give it all you got, kill them, break them, purge them from this holy place and even if you fall do so with a smile and know that your names shall be remembered forever as the Emperor's finest!"

@Vulpas @WanderingJester @RuinaImperii @BruticusTheGoreHound @Redthirst @Vlayden @matt23 @DeranVendar

Hearing Lieutenant Akar's words, Kremnar Eranite smirked behind his dirtied white helmet. "Quick! Someone get Brother Apothecary Marcus! I think the Lieutenant just gave me a compliment!" Chuckling as he fell into formation with the rest of the blackshields, he marched quickly on to the elevator, now noticing that even the members missed by the lieutenant had rejoined them, and a gladness filled his heart in seeing that all of the Seventh had made it out of the first wave of meat grinders out in their vehicles. Impressively, the large elevator had been utilized as, either originally or recently transformed into, an armory. The platform, large enough to hold an entire company of astartes comfortably, had begun to move upwards even as those on it quickly went to each of the crates around, rearming themselves with whatever needed even as thuds and tremors reverberated through the walls from the siege outside.

Grabbing whatever they needed, Kremnar stuffed another ration pack full of Soylens Viridians into his mouth after checking all of his equipment for the fourth time. While the elevator didn't move slow by any means, it stood as a testament to the size and scale of the Imperial Palace as it took them most of a day just to get to the top of the walls where they were needed. Many had taken this time to find some solace in the downtime, aiming to recuperate their mental facilities before they descend into the hell that was the battle outside. Some of the bolder (or more stupid) human auxiliaries even slept a bit, ignoring the constant thuds coming through the walls around them that served as a reminder of the maelstrom that awaited them at the top. Finally, a light outside of the electric lanterns on the platform and walls greeted them, and the sounds of fighting grew louder and louder. Before the sternguard veteran knew it, they had arrived.

By the time the platform stopped, several astartes had already hopped out and into the midst of Red Angels around. Kremnar pulled out both of his bolters before moving forward, giving a quick nod to any and all of the Seventh's members that he could see. He had already replaced his helmet at this point, so the sight of the endless sea of enemies, stretching all the way to the horizon, made him scowl. Target rich environment indeed. Looking over at Chaplain Seth as he gave the benediction before the battle, the sternguard veteran flicked the safeties off of his weapons, before heading forward into the fray, shooting two assault marines out of the air as they tried to land on the wall themselves. At least they wouldn't run out of targets anytime soon.

_______________________


Kremnar watched as another wave of enemies got pushed back, sustaining too many losses in the attempt to storm the walls once more. The once gleaming bulwark that stood in defiance and glory to the darkness of the galaxy shone no more, as the gold statues of heroes and eagles either found themselves as newly created rubble, covered in another coat of blood or both. Bodies from both sides had to be cleared periodically, to allow the surviving defenders to continue fighting. While some got carried away for honors, much more simply got pushed over the side, down onto the teeming and never ending masses of enemies below. It had been three days of nearly continuous fighting, and while those formerly from the IV legion had long been accustomed to such monotonies and bloodied warfare, the sternguard veteran could see it wearing down their allies around them.

The Blood Angels who made up the core of the defenders of around them had long given up their flair in fighting, and though they still waged war with ferocity to match any from the former XII legion, Kremnar could see the wariness amongst their lines. The Sons of Sanguinius were not used to being tossed into stagnate hell that was siege warfare, and he guessed that only by their primarch's presence were they holding on to formation and the energy needed to maintain discipline and the rage to fight against the enemy, and for the first time in a long time, the sternguard veteran thanked the Emperor for putting him in the IV legion and the world where months of death and fighting over a minuscule piece of land formed the norm.

Their human allies fared even worse: the constant warfare had broken the minds of many, not even counting those that simply died from the fighting. Not a day ago, Kremnar spotted a soldier simply laid down with his head tucked between his legs, even as the blackshield shot over the trembling man into another traitor legionnaire. After the immediate area had been secured, he turned to see the man dead, having shoved his own las pistol into his mouth before pulling the trigger. The sternguard veteran merely shook his head slightly, before tucking his weapons away and helping those still alive clear the wounded and the dead before the next wave came.

Now, Kremnar stood by the Seventh's Sergeant and some of the others again, looking over the shifting tides of bodies arrayed against them. They had fought off another wave of attackers moments before, and a few moments later they would have to do it again. However, in the down time, he allowed himself some rest, at least mentally, before asking Dyzek for an answer he knew really didn't matter in the long run, outside of satisfying his curiosity. "So, you think anyone's coming for us Sarge? Or are we all going to fight here until we run out of weapons, and have to send all of these whoresons back to hell with our hands?"


@BruticusTheGoreHound

As they made their way up onto the walls, their apothecary wouldn't waste much time in parting from the rest of Seventh in search for someone; it would only be a few minutes before he found who it was, the crimson Astartes now gaining a robed brother beside him.

Marcus - the 'Dark Angel' - stood alongside his new companion Artrax, his hood pulled over his helm once more and his gaze turning down below the walls. As he saw the monsters for what they were, his back stiffened and straightened, a hand resting down against his blade's handle.

"Who'd have thought, to see such a mighty schism amongst our kind?" He asked quietly - uncaring who heard him, but meaning it more rhetorically than to be any genuine question. A small sigh came through the vox-grills, his hand letting go and reaching up to pat Artrax's pauldron whilst he continued to stare out across the fields, fully ready to continue on this fight.

"Might be their jealousy on how wonderful we are." The Blood Angel joked, eliciting a few quiet chuckles around him and from Marcus as well, before getting a nudge from the robed Astartes at his ribs.

The mighty shield that he carried on one arm was a large one, a heater shield that could cover his entire torso; large wings ran along either side of that lead into the Aquila, its head in the centre of the shield with its body at the bottom. He kept it close almost habitually, even as he trusted his life to the men that surrounded him.

"You think we should send the rest of us off to help the Imperial Fists?" Marcus asked 'jokingly', glancing over to the angels at either side of him. "I feel as though they may need reminding that it's time to defend, not to raise the defenses a bit more; and even so, I'm sure just a handful of us would deal with these curs."
The 'boasting' that Marcus did helped raise the spirits of the defenders a bit, the chatter quieting down briefly as they waited for what was to come.

All the same; Marcus knew he was ready to fight, and he would do so amongst those he trusted.​

War Without End​

Armored forms in white, red, black, and yellow were sprinkled among the heaping piles of traitor dead slowly creating siege ramps up towards the scarred walls of the Palace; something that might of been entirely intentional considering whom oversaw the actual siege work. Courtyards and massive bridges within the walls and battle field beyond had become a boneyard of dead gods: the gargantuan wrecks of defeated Titans littering the world. Again and again the hordes and legions of soldiers loyal to the Warmaster and Dark Gods streamed around their burning shells and towards the walls in great tides that drug more and more of the Emperor's sons and daughters out into the seas of oblivion. Without a doubt it was one of the largest battle fields seen since the likes of Ullanor; only this time it could not be allowed to end in triumph for Horus.

Seventh Squad and most of Forty-Fourth Battalion had spent ten days fighting in the shadow of a Goliath class quad-linked Destroyer Laser turret. Disguised Iron Warriors had been task to make sure that nothing shut down the gun, be it daemon, Astartes, or titan and they had seen it through thus far. No berzerker charge could break their lines, steely discipline and fusillades of bolter fire washing World Eaters from the walls. When the powers that be marched their soldiers upon them straight out of the Warp heavy armor and the Sisters of Silence defied them, tanks holding firm where even transhuman minds might fail. Forces of Chaos broke upon them like water on a rock, eroding their lines corpse by corpse, brother by brothers, and brick by brick. The death throes of a Bloodthirster had carved a chunk from the wall itself, a ragged mess of axe and claw marks separating loyal forces into two sides near the central lead up to the turret housing.

Eleventh night dawned on them, at least it was night according to the chronos: anything resembling natural day and night cycles had been banished by the discharge of titanic weapons and plethora of powerful lights deployed on either side to prevent night fighting from plunging the despotic combat into further madness. Seventh Squad was overdue for a re-stocking by approximately two hours now. Ammunition was low and their supply of explosives came purely from their fallen brethren. Above the fighting Forty-Fourths' heads artificial daylight became brighter than the real thing: a Warlord titan firing over the wall with a plasma gun that could of swept an entire armored regiment from the board in one go; in this case God-Machine had gutted a pair of Warhounds prowling too near to the walls.

"Look alive Squad Petroski, XIVth air assets approaching the wall." That was fast, considering that their supporting Skyfire battery had been annihilated to the man less than thirty seconds ago. Dark shapes flew through the lingering haze of heat left in the wake of Warlord's discharge, air around them was shaded darker than the rest of smoke choked skies. A wave of pestilence struck the walls and washed over the Iron Warriors entrenched on the left side of the scar on Palace walls, insects slapping into their armor and buzzing off to finder the sweeter exposed meats on their auxilia allies. To those stationed across the way on opposite side of the scar vermin swarm gave them a wide berth. A winged figure emerged from behind a fallen Imperator in the distance, cracked lips parting to blow through a hunting horn carved from the ivory tusks a terrible Warp Leviathan. Wailing sound resonated in the hearts of predators all around, instilling fresh vigor and blood-hunger in their hearts.

"Cry havoc! Let slip the hounds of Khorne! Karanak, Hound of Vengeance, FEAST!"
​

Bloodthirster flew forth and in his shadow trailed a pack of Flesh Hounds. Creatures sprinted across the field, following Huntsmaster and their Alpha: so-called Karanak, a behemoth of crimson scale, frilled spines, and lead by three slavering heads. Greater Daemon was no less fearsome a sight, large as any other of his damned kin and adorned with wings armored in serrated brass and wielding great axe in one hand, and tightly wound whip of crimson leather in the other.

A Pox Upon Them​

Indefatigable Death Guard and merciless hunters of Khorne bore down upon the wall and the wayward sons entrusted with its protection. Sons of Mortarion sprayed them with missiles, many shot down before coming within spitting distance by interceptor systems built into the face of the wall, some still shooting past and seeding clouds of toxic miasma on the wall's head. Transports dared not linger long, hovering or skimming close to deposit troops right into their midst while Iron Warriors reformed in response to the sudden prevalence of contaminated zones. Guns roared, chain engine growled, and power weapons hissed as the corrupted Death Guard came forth. The legion that they had last faced above Istvaan was no more, scions of Nurgle the Plague God now.

An Line squad bore down upon Dyzek and his brothers. A Sergeant with a power fist bloating up one hand and a bolter leaking repugnant fluids from its barrel lead them, body a twisted mass of decaying flesh and stomach split to reveal a grinning maw of elongated teeth and freely hanging intestinal tubing. Moving in with him were warriors no less grotesque or corrupt, abominations given fully to the Warp and Plague God's blessings.

"Brothers! I come with great tidings and congratulations. The deaths our two sides have caused greatly pleases Grandfather Nurgle-"

A flamer sent boiling clouds of promethium rushing through the diseased murk ahead of them. One of the Death Guard tumbled from the wall. Orghast muscled forward and marched on Iron Warrior wielding the special weapon. Loyal son held his ground and kept firing until power fist hooked out of the stream and knocked head straight into the air. A layer of cooked pus flaked off the warrior, revealing the Sergeant to be un-harmed. Bloated lips parted in a genuine smile.

"We have come to spread his joy. May death and decay come swiftly." Chuckling boisterously Sergeant and his fellow mutants engaged with both gun and blade.

Iron Warriors:
Vilhelm: 25 Marcus: 20 Dyzek: 20 Kremnar: 20 Idomeneus: 18
Conditions: The Pestilent Cloud will cause equipment to deteriorate and damage the Iron Warriors for 1 damage each turn.

Death Guard:
Sergeant Orghast: 20 Plague Marines: 15/15/15/15
Conditions: The Pestilent Cloud provides Orghast and his Plague Marines with a free defensive roll against ranged attacks.

Hell Hound​

Seth stepped ahead of his entrenched brothers, raising both axes in challenge to the fiends. The boldest among them, former Penitents, stood at his side with their own weapons drawn. Guns of all shapes and sorts were aimed straight down the walls and at the fiendish hounds now clawing their way up to them. Bloodthirster descended toward the Soul Smith. An arm thicker than the main gun on Gangaresh flexed and musculature they could only dream of having through biological grafts rippled delivering whip across the wall. Masonry erupted before them, Seth's lighter brethren flew back, smacking off barricades or bowling over his flock; Chaplain, and similarly heavily armored ilk held. Powdered stone whipped past Seth and Bloodthirster barked with laughter to find the skull helmed warrior still stood tall. A heavy paw clapped down before him and Soul Smith brought himself back as Karanak crested lip of the wall with his pack. Huntsmaster landed at the three headed daemon mutt's side, bricks cracking around each hoof. Not for the first time since the siege the sky began weeping blood.

Nathiel and Herchel, or to be exact Sergeant Herchel, stepped up to join the one who had been with him since they were Neophytes in the century past. Similarly bold Terminators joined the warrior, his own squad as entrusted to him by Warsmith Orion himself in the wake of Veteran Sergeant Vic'Imon's passing four days prior; slain at the hands of a Red Butcher that wrenched last beating heart from the Blackshield's chest with bare teeth after having lost both arms to Brumdar. They were joined by the likes of Vera and her fellow Pursuers, Null Maidens mere presence causing the smaller Flesh Hounds clawing onto the wall to shirk away and growl defensively. Neither Karanak nor the Huntsmaster were amused. Loose armored sections rattled as none other than Har and Talus joined them, swatting aside those hounds that had already begun attacking the defenders. Karanak raised all three heads and roared before leaping into the fray, Huntsmaster hunching into the first swing of his great axe and joining the battle proper at last.

Iron Warriors:
Herchel: 25 Squad Herchel: 50 Kahrnak: 25 Vera:20 Nathiel:25 Seth:25 Chief Apothecary Gloran:25 Har: 10 Talus: 10
Conditions:

Huntsmaster and his Pack:
Huntsmaster Thorogoth: 200 Karanak the Hound of Vengeance: 150
Conditions:

The Sisters’ days grew busier as the siege’s intensity grew with each passing moment. Few as they were, the Order had proved themselves an essential part of the front line as waves upon waves of warpbeasts threw themselves against the unbreakble wall formed by Humanity’s defenders, painting the vast battlefield in a bloody sheen of gore and viscera.

Vera felt alive.

There was something deeply personal about hearing a warpbeast’s scream in her ear, something that made her feel real. To feel the spray of ichor across her plate, drawn by her own blade, to see the flesh severed by her hand–the Warp was there. She may not be able to feel it, but she could fight it. She could stand in its path as a child of the Emperor all the same. Chaos be damned.

The pounding of wardrums had become as natural as her own heartbeat as she marched the wall and watched he carnage below. The clash of the heavens was here, and both sides bled oceans. Limbs and bodies laid scattered about the earth, broken and forgotten. It was never quiet. There was the constant bark of thousands of bolters and autocannons, the soft click of the grenade’s pin being pulled growing into a roar across the globe by the power of sheer magnitude. The air boiled with debris, shrapnel, and flesh. Smoke and fury covered the entire battlefield like a cloud, choking the pawns battling across the chessboard.

Still, the War trudged on.

The grand machination of war’s thousand feet marched to the beat of the cannons’ bellows, its treads sank firmly in the bloody mud of the battlefield and grinding the bones of those who perished to a fine sand, ready to be scattered to the winds of time. Men, Machine, and Astartes alike fell like animals, only for two of their peers to take their place. Furies and daemons raked the skies, claws, teeth, and beaks sinking into whatever flesh or ceremite they could reach and making their mark upon the battle in the form of scratches and gashes, twisted metal and marred carrion.

The Null Maidens upon the wall would focus their efforts upon these fowl warpspawn, holding the line with steel, bone, and presence. The Pursuers of the Silent Sisterhood would be charged with being the backbone of communication, both internally as well as with their Astartes brethren, as they dashed about the wall. Their swiftness would also lend itself nicely to their role as first responders as they jumped to support any position under intense, as the locals seem to call it, warp fuckery.

The Dog most definitely counted.

Within moments of the beast’s emergence, a fit of Orskode had torn Vera away from the minor daemon she’d been taking potshots at as it grappled an annoyed Blood Angel and towards the breach along with several other Pursuers. The sister would skid to a stop a good distance away from the pair of vermin and take up cover behind a pile of rubble, preferring to keep the terminators well between the beasts and herself as the check in began, affirming that they had a good number of Sisters on target. Only a few responded, but more were reportedly en route as a short, almost unintelligible prayer flashed in Vera’s mind the instant before she drew bead on the hellhound and pulled the trigger of her crossbow.

OOC: Balanced attack on the Hound

Kremnar Eranite reloaded with a new clip into his double bolters as the last of the World Eaters fell off the wall, as dead as any and all that came before them. Ten days of fighting, on and off for their Auxilia units, almost no rest for the astartes on the wall. He never did get an answer from Sarge about reinforcements, and that was what he expected. For all the sternguard veteran's knew, the likes of Russ, Guilliman, and the Lion had fallen beyond the void, either physically or turned their backs on Terra as well. Vulkan and Corax both likely laid dead on the killing fields of Istvaan, as dead as Ferrus Manus was. If respite came for the blackshields and the other defenders of the Imperial Palace, it would not concern them at the near future.

The blackshields had fought every sort of monsters and proven that every sort can die. The last one, one of the large, bestial winged red daemons, had cut a gorge separating the heavier units from the rest. For ten days the quad-linked Destroyer Laser turret fired nonstop, and by their blood, it would fire for a bit longer. The enemy dead had mounted to the point where it created a ramp that even neared the top of the massive walls of the fortress, and now another attack came from the organic ramp. Yet another one of the winged daemons came, along with massive a three headed red dog at its side, and moved to engage their heavier armed comrades across from them in the gash. However, Kremnar had to focus on their own position.

In the light of the warlord titan gutting two enemy warhound titans across the wall came several kinds of transport, the markings vaguely resembling the Death Guards. Several got shot down on the way to the wall, but, in true Death Guard fashion, they pressed on despite their casualties. When the surviving crafts dropped off their packages, Kremnar noticed a cloud of bothersome insects attempting to enter their armor, and causing quite a havoc amongst their mortal allies. The figures from the transport approached them and appeared as what Kremnar would describe as walking bags of diseases in old astartes armor. The leader spoke before getting interrupted by a flamer, yet instantly got shielded by a covering of pus. Gathering the intelligence into his head about their defenses, the sternguard veteran paid little attention to his actual words, and mag locked his bolters onto his belt.

Kremnar had his reservations about the new pattern of bolt pistol he had gotten from his new brothers, in the beginning, unsure of what to think about what looked like another barrel and set of chambers slapped onto the original design of the weapon. However, he couldn't deny the effectiveness of adding a kraken round behind the regular bolter round on target. Now, as the sternguard veteran pulled out both his plasma pistol and the Zeussar Pattern bolt pistol, he focused upon one of the tainted abomination behind the enemy sergeant, trusting Sarge to go after their leader, and, without a word, fired off a few quick shots of plasma, kraken and bolt shots at him, aiming to not only damage the enemy but also throw them off balance at first.


OOC: Balance attack on Plague Marine 1 with the dual pistols, defense on self.

""So it has come to this. Night falls upon the last bastion of humanity and as the shads of destruction arrive to feast upon the living, warriors new and old shall be reforged in the cauldron of battle. They will either burn in it, morsels for the laughing gods, or they will emerge from it, stronger than anything in this universe," Seth spoke aloud, words coming to him freely now that he faced rage incarnate.

Flying monster dwarfed him easily, its every breath spoke with echoes of countless burning souls needed to feed the forge of its anger. Seth felt the pull of the red oblivion rising in his gut but he also knew it would be worthless to try and compete with this thing and fight it the way it fights. No, this clash required sharp mind, pure heart and precise hand, everything else was worthless.

Brandishing his twin Excoriators, Soul Smith took a step towards the Bloodthirster, rising weapons in a warrior's salute. "Come daemon. I have fought alongside the one you now call master, I have witnessed the rage born of malign influence of Khorne himself, I have threaded the path towards oblivion and I have denied it all. I have looked upon the abyss and I have crushed its eyes with my mailed gauntlet. You have no power here, servant of the Blood God, and when we cut your wings, break your axe and crush your neck under our threads, you will return to the thing that spawned you and you will tell him that it were last remaining true Iron Warriors that sent you there."

With a heavy step, Seth advanced on the Huntmaster, both of his weapons swinging at the monster in unison, ready to spill its corrupted blood. Only one thing was certain, before the day was over this creature will learn what pain truly felt like.

OOC All out attack on the Huntmaster, using both axes. Lets goooooo

Nathiel felt the rage within the air around him. It seeped into every pore and found its way through every gap within his armor. It was if the air that entered his lungs was ablaze with the hatred born from the depths of Khrone's domain. However, iron was forged within the bowels of the furnace and tempered in the heat. No amount of rage or anger would cause the Iron Will instilled within Nathiel to bend or break. The time had come for the Iron to plunge back into the furnace, and the call would be answered without hesitation.

Hearing Seth's challenge ring out towards the incarnation of rage, Nathiel felt a sudden rush of enthusiasm he had not felt since his time his time as a scout. Stepping forward, fighting the madness and rage that tried to pierce his mind with every inch he drew closer, he joined his brother, Seth's side. "This shall be our finest hour, brother. We shall throw back the creatures spit forth by these so called gods. They shall learn that the Will of Iron can not be broken. They shall send all they have and watch as their spawns break upon these walls. The last stand upon the last bastion has begun, and my last breath will see the banner of the Imperium stand upon Terra," he said as he raised his hammer up towards the daemon before him.

Seeing Seth take the first initiative on the large foe they now found themselves facing, Nathiel would waste little time making his own move. Moving to the opposite flank that Seth would attack, Nathiel would use his hammer to attack the hopefully distracted terror.

OOC: All out attack with Thunder hammer against Huntmaster.