Getting back to his feet and hefting his storm shield, a small pang of regret and frustration was felt as the sudden 'flash' from the HUD and a flatline; he gave a light shake of his head and rolled his pauldron-less shoulder. A glance over at the scene at hand gave him little comfort; the barrage was a little too close for comfort, but...

Marcus looked over the enemies, seeing the scattered Death Guard, and the blight drones. That monstrous scum that had killed his ally, and...
The beast.

He hadn't too much confidence thus far in his allies, ironically - of all times when it was important, now they ignore the priority targets-- well... Admittedly, the Apothecary was hardpressed to remember when they did focus priority targets that weren't foes with really big weapons.

"Nice to see I have to do this on my damned own." He growled through the Vox, rushing forward now with his storm shield in hand. He wasn't leaving anything to chance as he made his way towards the Festering Father, now bringing all his focus into his weapon.

The power field humming and crackling, he stabbed forward and brought himself into mighty arcs and slashes, trying to deal as much damage to the beast as he could; these fumes and diseases were coming from it especially; surely destroying it would be the best option.


OOC: all out attack with power sword on Festering Father​

@DeranVendar @Vlayden

As the barrage from traitor heavy guns finishes it's rain of steel and munitions down on the engaged forces of Seventh Squad and the Death Guard, Orghast might notice that though the artillery is silent, one final shadow descends upon him. Through the grit and the mist of kicked up dust and festering filth, Dyzek dives down at his foe, both claws singing as they cut through the air, heralding his arrival. Touching down, the marine wastes little time in moving onward against his much slower enemy, kicking off to lunge into an assault, his energized blades slicing towards the plague marine. So engulfed in it's diseased and corrupted state, muscle and flesh rotted by the touch of the Immaterium's malice, the Death Guard could never hope to keep up with the Iron Tempest. Let this filth speak bravado on it's own endurance and incapability to feel pain, Dyzek would tear him apart bit by bit until only a shredded pile remained. And if Orghast wished to persist even then, then Dyzek would be all to willing to further eviscerate him.

Despite the anger in his heart, the Blackshield came on with no words or shouts, cries demanding blood or vengeance. There would be no declarations to the traitors, or threats of them perishing in battle, for Dyzek did not have such things on the mind. His movements would bear no hint of strife or fury, his battle stance as calm and collected as ever, focused to a razor's edge. The sergeant would ignore all save two things in this moment, for they mattered little to him. The attacks of the remaining foe would not draw his attention, blight drones and plague marines forgotten. The passive disrespect coming from his comrade's lips, while it would be normally met with anger, would be cast aside, as would be the struggle of his ally attempting to free himself from the parasites upon his plate. Truthfully, even though the battle at large raged around him, a single instance of a war that shook the very foundations of Terra itself, though it registered, and marine moved with precision in this storm, he cared little for it's howling.

No, in his mind, only two things would matter to Dyzek. The first would be the sound of silence that resonated with a chilling presence through Idomeneus' vox channel. He'd seen the red flaring of runes, he'd heard the wet parting of flesh and the snap of bone, and had witnessed the soldier fall. Despite it all, Dyzek still held onto some hope that his brother would rise, defying the grip of death that threatened to engulf all those who faced Mortarion's sons, yet to no avail. After everything that had occurred, from a simple exchange of words, to a fateful choice towards redemption, the Blackshield would only hope his brother had found a measure of peace before the end, for he could not deny facts any longer. Idomeneus was dead, his body limp, and his spirit gone, and there was nothing Dyzek could do about it, save for one simple action.

Orghast was the second focus of Dyzek's mind, as he fully perceived his foe, willing his mind to graft this image of the craven traitor into his consciousness forever. He felt anger, not the burning, volcanic wrath the Soul Smith was notable for, no, but a chilled fury. Idomeneus was dead, a being Dyzek had viewed as more then friend, but as a symbol of repentance, of growth, of their future, and now he fixed a cold gaze upon Orghast...

Which would completely contrast with the inferno he'd unleash upon him entirely.
​

OOC: All-Out Attack on Orghast, One with Lightning Claws, One with Flamer.
Using Trait: Like The Wind to provide Re-Roll on Lightning Claw

Kremnar Eranite focused on the fight in front of him, the power scythe in his hand drawing back and slicing forward over and over again. In his mind, he registered that much had happened, between the reinforcements for both sides and as well as the enemy sergeant wreaking havoc on their ranks with his inhuman powers. However, only when the Blackshield's, formerly known as Idomeneus, life rune flickered out at the battery barrage did the sternguard veteran actually took a moment to observe his surroundings truly. As he thought of another death taht needed avenging, he saw the sanguinary guard above continuing his efforts against the plague drones and the festering father, though he could also tell the attrition had been wearing down on him; he saw his brothers, the last of the IV legion, fight desperately even as the cloud of biting insects engulfed them, trying to crawl their way, however they could. into their armor and flesh. With all the fighting though, even Kremnar had lost sight of what went on with their terminator brothers across the gap.

Kremnar turned his attention back on the plague marine as he came forward with the diseased knife again, glimpsing something falling from the sky around them. It seemed that the Sanguinary Guard had split one of his opponents in flight, and from its body fell these supposed fragments around the troops below. Still, the more immediate threat came first. As his enemy rushed forward, the power scythe came around once more, the blade slicing into the extended arm holding the weapon, impaling it midair. It spoke well of the resilience of the Death Guard and his patron that the weapon did not carved the limb clean off of the body, and that the limb actually halted the weapon's attack.

Still, Kremnar had managed to place his opponent at an optimal distance from him, and their brother apothecary had managed to say something over the vox channel. The lack of tactical information didn't register with his mind, and so he moved into position and launched a hard front kick directly into the small of the enemy's back, after he had managed to maneuver around his target. The blow connected, sending the Son of Mortarion precariously close to the edge of the wall. Only now did the sternguard veteran notice a massive wiggling thing attempting to burrow itself into his leg. Feeling the pain to register the threat, he calmly placed his power scythe into one hand, standing it up, and with the other, whipped out his combat knife and quickly dug the parasite out. Instantly the oversized maggot launched itself at his neck, attempting to go for a major artery. It found only cold steel as Kremnar impaled it on his knife the size of a human shortsword, before he turned back to the plague marine.

Close to the edge now, and barely holding onto the merlon, the Death Guard could only watch as the Blackshield advance with his power scythe. The irony of the moment had not been lost on Kremnar, and it almost made him crack a wise comment at the situation. Still, the iron within him forced his mind to focus upon his opponent, and not to underestimate even one that he had put on his heels. The iron without gripped the weapon, before lifting it high over the sternguard veteran's head. Internally, he wondered how many enemies of the Death Guards saw what this plague marine was seeing right before they died. Even if this blow managed kill this one enemy, there awaited another thousand. Thus Kremnar brought the weapon down quickly, aiming for his enemy's torso and arms, so if he could not kill the Death Guard with the blow itself, he would simply fall over the edge of the abyss, down onto his own brethern's ranks and to Death's embrace.


OOC: Half action removing the maggot from Kremnar's leg, attack on plague marine 1.

It sees.

It sees all.

It sees the way the deamons’ shape shimmers and fades as they scale the crumbling wall, with their sea of razor sharp claws and teeth much too real for comfort. It sees one such foul beast sprinting to join the fight, jaw wrenched open in brutal ecstasy with a howling bay for blood, and it turns to face its foe.

The whistling of air against its metal wings are welcoming.

It feels the way the daemon’s scaly skin gives way under its claw, steel biting through flesh and membrane instantly, and it rises a second later, just as the woman had taught it to do. It danced easily away from the daemon’s rabid strikes, baiting the warpspawn’s ruined eyes higher. Higher. Higher. It only returns to the bleeding earth as the woman’s bolts cut the beast down in a spray of blood. Fluid and ichor coats its gleaming body as it grazes the falling body and glides towards the woman, beckoned by a command and the object in her hand.

A familiar object, one that fits snugly in its talon as the command was given the earth rushed away once more. An intricate oblong orb covered in runic scrawls. A gift for the hellhound. It soared through the sky, merely a shadow whispering over the chaos below, as the target was found and the payload delivered. It watches grenade dropped, a tiny scrap of metal through the haze of warfare, an unlikely attack aimed directly at the base of the hellhound’s necks.

It sees.

It sees all.

OOC: all out attack on Karanak

"Stand strong brothers, dawn is near! Fight on and don't waver, for the Emperor is watching over us!" Soul Smith roared as his golden corona was washed with daemonic ichor. He saw that Nathiel suffered a grevious wound but he also knew his brother would keep on fighting, just like every other loyal Iron Warrior on this wall. Keeping up with the pressure, Seth followed Hound's bloody trail and went after it from behind, swinging his axes at its tail to try and further wound it now when its attention was placed elsewhere.

OOC Balanced attack against Karanak, defense on myself

Herchel growled in his armor as he saw one of his squad mates fall along with that nathienl becoming injured. "Brothers keep it up lets pay this hound back for each life its taken as we send it howling back to hell!!" Herchel yelled out His thunder hammer crackling as he kept in formation ready to strike the hound if it got near his brothers his brothers or him and if it did not he knew unleashing his culvan on it was still affective.

OOC Balanced attack One defence on herchel one attack on Karanak

Night Fall​

Centurion Thrafstis guided the massive melta-cutter armed Borer forward with a wave then turned palm toward it ushering in a total halt. The sappers under his command backed away from the earthen walls that surrounded them and jogged behind the vehicle. Centurion draws his entrenching tool and scrapes the dust from a solid beam of adamantium. An Aquila revealed itself beneath the particles, even down so low the False Imperium and her slaver Emperor needed their presence known; despite only Mother Nature herself being the only witness, until now anyways. Iron Warrior checked the chrono and found his team was three seconds ahead of schedule, something worthy of pride were it not for the fact that Lieutenant Groldis already marked he and his team as being in position precisely four seconds earlier. Remaining teams sounded off and Thrafstis swung a clenched fist forward, causing Borer to surge forward and weapons array to banish all moisture from the air. Centurion's lenses darkened as melta units unleashed blinding light into the tunnel and began peeling away what had been sunken into the bed rock.

"This is Sapper Team Thirty-Four. Phase One initiated."

On the surface the subterranean activity remained cloaked by the immediately visible and pressing issue of non-stop combat before the great wall encircling the Emperor's palace. Void shields flickered and rippled as more titans strode through the barrier. Loyal legios met them head on, driving spears of plasma the size of tank regiments into the traitors along with solid shot capable of making even the goliath chariots soaring over Terra quake and bleed. Among those firing on the thrice-cursed traitors was the Pretium Fidei and its monstrously powerful Hellstorm Cannon. Ripples of excited vox traffic spread like wild fire among both sides as opposing the loyal Imperator was a turn coat reviled as the Warmaster himself among the God-Machines of Mars: Dies Irae.

Orghast chuckled at the news and thought fondly of the death awaiting them all. Mere moments from now oblivion would come to the wall and all upon it. Soulless as the Iron Warriors were he had to admire the zeal with which they persecuted this war on every level. Looking high one of the unmarked guardians fell towards him with murderous purpose, Death Guard bellow and prepped his fist. Not far away Krem whirled into another kick that sent Plague Marine flying from wall's surface, banishing him from the Emperor's domain.

Across the jagged gash left by Kumethok the Slaughter King Warsmith Orion lead the Iron Warriors against daemonic onslaught. Karanak smashed all three heads into Talus, Dreadnought wrapping arms around two necks and holding them fast. Seth's axes bit into right most throat once more, widening gash and earning the beast's ire. Nathiel and Herchel stormed forth, two thunder hammers batting away snapping jaws and protecting the Chaplain as he went about his gory work. A Flesh Hound hopped onto Alpha's back and sprinted along greater fiend's spine before pouncing towards Apothecary currently using the distraction to tend the wounds of Squad Herchel. Brumdar chucked another daemon with a snapped neck straight into the creature. Amidst all this chaos none save Vera saw the grenade flying towards Karanak's back. Whatever opportunity explosive was destined to create would be forever lost to that created by the Warmaster's titans.

Stone split miles down either side of the wall. Bricks bearing the names of countless heroes of Mankind fell away from one another. Shearing winds of heat and dust roared outwards from tumbling bastions. Ground floor itself gave away and dumped countless legionnaires and auxilia into the oblivion writ by the Iron Warriors and the Legio Mortis.

"The wall is breached! The wall is breached!" Orion's voice did not even register for those without helmets. Destruction of the wall, so distant as it was, still deafened those without the noise dampening confines of a full suit of armor. Worse still the Imperator with the Hellstorm was firing straight overhead at the retreating Legio Mortis. Another Imperator was struck, Princeps Control tower obliterated and face turning into a veil of melted metal drooling off of the gargantuan construct's front. Construct teetered back and through the void shields a moment, threatening to collapse on top of its own allies. One could only imagine the Dies Irae snorting as it contemptuously raised a flat foot and kicked over headless corpse; sending dead titan falling straight towards the intact wall section manned by the fighting Forty-Fourth of the Emperor's loyal Fourth legion.

Cataclysm​

Glints of light and fragmented memories of combat best described the Seventh's thoughts before the nameless God-Machine crashed down upon them. Dyzek had been locked claw to fist with Orghast, nails penetrating the fingers of power fist while the gluttonous maw set into the mutant's stomach gnawed into Sergeant's leg. Vilhelm only recalled the blasted shell of their Goliath turret's housing surrounding him like a shell during his flight from the impact. Kremnar fell after his friend in the Death Guard, seeing only a lake of enemy heads looking on in awe at the destruction before he landed among them. Herchel and Nathiel glimpsed a moment of Karanak's eyes widening, Seth's vision consumed entirely in red as Gorehowl and Warsong at last felled the trunk of right neck and sent it flopping to the ground. Vera and Kahrnak had stood watching the falling titan, Sister stolen away by her own squad and hawk as they drug her towards a nearby stairwell. Bereft of agility thanks to his heavy plate Kahrnak, along with the other Terminators, were stuck playing the waiting game until annihilation hit...

Marcus lifted his head from beneath a mound of powdered stone. Arm slipped out from beneath a pile of rubble, fingers still locked around his power sword, its blade now snapped down to half its length. Everything was grey. Clouds, the earth, his armor, nothing went without a fine dusting of ash. Squinting his eyes he could just barely make out the distant torch light of burning fires and cooking bodies. More concerning were the figures moving into his area: a mess of debris and dust so thick he could not even make out the walls. Autosenses were being bleached by the energies leaking from downed titan leaving him blind beyond twenty feet. Growls and grunts caught his attention and Apothecary moved in. One of the Plague Marines drug himself towards the palace, completely bereft of legs and seemingly animated only by the unholy forces that had twisted his body so.

Kremnar got up onto his knees, power scythe used as a brace for his upper body. Everything ached and throbbed, communications had gone silent, and last he recalled the warrior was sitting smack dab in the center of a new highway into their fortifications. Already he could hear movement on all sides: Foot steps to the fore and back, crumbling stone to his left, groaning metal from the settling remains of the titan to his right. Ahead of him lights attached to the fronts of boltguns flicked on and in the new light he could see the greys and yellow chevrons of Perturabo's soldiers surging forward.

The robed Apothecary gave little more than a grumble as he clawed his way out, irritably 'swatting' rubble aside and yanking himself out, the cloth trailing behind him torn and ragged. His hood slid off of the angular helm as he looked around, the teal lenses dazedly scanning the area.

Marcus' entire body was sore under his artificer armour, a hand reaching up and rubbing at his breast - halfheartedly making him realize his storm shield was gone; blast - and looking to the shortened weapon that was his sword.

A glance around gave Marcus a fair view at least; it was quite dusty. In fact, that was all he saw, so perhaps he realized it wasn't quite a fair view. Still, the sudden sounds nearby caused him to bring up the blade in a reverse-grip, its shortened size making it better as a dagger than a proper sword.

Seeing the Plague marine however, he almost felt pity; here was his foe yet again. Had the situations been reversed he may have been tormented and turned into a puppet, but here he sees a corpse. A bloated, mutilated corpse who's owner perhaps is not there anymore, controlled by powers out of sight. A nauseous sight at that, one that caused him to reach for his bolt pistol and give a double-tap at his head for good measure.

That would have gotten their attention, he thought to himself, giving off an almost casual sigh and reaching up to pull the hood back over his helm. He'd make the best of the situation, his illusion of being one of The Lion's Angels was a blessing in disguise at least. Not having to worry about being seen as a 'traitor' as he would had he kept his iron plating and black-yellow stripes.

No. Instead, the 'Dark Angel' reached at his foreleg and pulled out his combat knife, now wielding a weapon in both hands; Marcus had no real hope of seeing any others. He knew that his companions and he had survived many unlikely events. Being charged by a squiggoth being the one that popped most to mind; but he had no hopes in hell that anyone had survived having a titan fall on them. Such beasts like these... 'Plague marines', were monsters made of this Warp.

He saw it as mere luck and fortune he himself survived.

Still; Marcus didn't see about shying away from sight, instead remaining as he was, ready to fight anything else that came his way. The blasted fools would know better than to take a warrior made of Iron.​

Kharnak got up with difficulty. The wall had just fallen on them, and his vision was blurry, but they were alive. Debris clouds covered almost everything. As soon as his eyes opened, he saw it. A monstrous sized Imperator Titan, the size of a small city. The steel gargantuan had taked the wall down, and that meant that the heretics were inside the Imperial palace. As fast as his legs left him, started looking for their brothers in the rubble. He found them half buried. Then, Kharnak started looking for his weapons and he found them near where he landed, the Auto cannons along with his Power Axe just a few steps away.

The autocannon was in good shape, but the Power Axe was malfunctioning, the power went randomly on and off. He probabily landed on it in the fall. Once ready, Kharnak stood up and started looking around, trying to get himself oriented.