Savage — Roleplayer Guild

On the bridge of the Wild Blades Flagship, Orrian’s Fury all ten Company Thanes are gathered in the giant war-room, as well as another individual clad in violet armor that is a stranger to most. The room is a huge vaulted ceiling cavern, with paintings from Varnis adorning the walls, and a huge holo-table that dominates the center. The Thanes and the stranger are gathered round this table, making small talk. Two Thanes, Lovar Kine of the 6th, and Roek Ixmatl of the 2nd stand with the newcomer, both trying to outboast the other. 

“No brother Rapter, it was I that slew the greatest Ork that day!” Lovar shouts, shaking a necklace of Ork tusks in his fellows face. 

“Brother Lovar you are a shameless braggart, and clearly still drunk, for do you not remember the sheer size of the creature that was split upon my claws? He was at least…two…no THREE times the size of that puny Nob you were busy carving up. And after I had kicked his still twitching body, I managed to kill at least two more before you had even moved!” Roek shouts back, pushing Lovar on the shoulder. 

“Easy easy!” The stranger says, pushing the two Thanes apart. “Both of you fought with great valor that day…but do you forget that it was I who actually slew the greatest of the Nobz on Forridien Prime?” The man was dark haired like the others, but while their skin was bronzed his was pale, and he smiled with a friendly but darkly sinister gleam. The two boasting Thanes turned on the purple armored Legionnaire, about to begin a new round of shouting when suddenly the bass roar of Ballor Vyle called out “The Great Chief!” 

The entire room fell silent, all present snapping to attention and turning to face the doors, seeing their Primarch clad in his brilliant emerald and gold battle plate, pauldrons shining scarlet and gold with the images of all their totems. He worn a small smile on his face, as he had been outside listening to the argument. “My Thanes! There is no need to boast about past glories, for a new host of Orks even greater than those we faced before stands before us,” he says the word Orks as if it disgusts him, spitting it out with contempt, and the four veteran Captains grumble and stroke trophies of Ork tusks and ears. “I take it you all have met Void Master Gabriel, Commander of the 6th Chapter of the Void Stalkers?’ Erron gestures to the violet warrior, who gives a small bow to the Primarch in respect. “My brother Gorseval has granted Void Master Gabriel leave to join us on our invasion of Ullanor Prime, as he will be busy keeping the stars secure, but Gabriel, like all of you, hungers for the taste of Ork blood!” He shouts, smiling, punching his fist into the air. The Thanes hoot and holler, even Gabriel giving a yell, fitting in a bit more with the somewhat barbaric Xth Legion than some of his peers among the Void Stalkers. Ballor and Ragath sneer towards the warrior however, still distrusting the XXth Legion. 

“The 6th Chapter will be split among several Companies, as their combat style favors independent action. Their Stalker-Masters will obey your orders, however you will not waste their lives frivolously. I would hate to return one of my brothers favored Chapters that he entrusted to my care filled with dead Astartes,” Erron said the last bit with a hard look at all of his Captains, lingering his gaze on his 1st and 10th commanders, knowing their distaste. He did not plan on giving any of Gabriel’s Legionnaires to either of them, not for lack of trust but since their assault would be the most direct. 

“Now,” he stepped forward, placing his palm on the holo-table, and a massive map of Ullanor appears, and he zooms in to a location dominated by a huge tower. “This is the Tower of Ullanor, where the Imperio Armatus will be assaulting directly.” He paused, and the area lit with millions upon millions of green lights. “As you can see the entire fortress is surrounded by vile creatures, and despite the Emporers chosen being fully capable, even the entire might of this infestation will be too much for them to take on alone,” the lights disappeared, and he moved the map to another location, a large, war torn forested area with plenty of open terrain. “Our mission is to apply force on the flanks, to pull the Orks away from the tower and let the Armatus seize the Warboss inside without dealing with all of his lackeys.” He began to move his hands in complicated patterns, and the totem symbols of the ten Companies began appearing on the projection.  

“Ballor and Ragath will take the center, with Ragath making the first charge and Ballors 1st deploying via Drop once the Orks make contact with his lines. Ragath, you must hold your line until the 1st arrives, if you fold then the entire feint is moot.” Ragath, The Monster, growls. “Your word is my action Great Chief. You say hold, my men will hold,” he grumbles, his mechanical eye buzzing as he looks at the terrain. 

“Splendid!” Erron exclaims enthusiastically, “Ballor will crush their charge, making them check their aggression. The 3rd, 4th, and 5th will deploy by Stormbird on bikes to the northern flank,” He highlights the totems, signaling their approach. “Your job between the three of you is to cut deep into the Ork flanks, and utilize your speed to outmaneuver them and avoid getting your men bogged down in too many dead Greenskins,” He then highlights the southern three totems, “6th, 7th, and 8th will do the same in the south, mobilizing at exactly the same time. All 6 of your Companies will deploy just short of Ragath. I want them to think that they are only facing one Company and make their charge reckless and wild. Then they will be too deep and too far from the Tower to retreat once they realize an entire Legion is at their front. Roek,” he turns to his Thane of the 2nd, “Your Avaroks will fly in to their rear, cutting off their retreat. Use your Fire Raptors to strafe their back lines and keep pushing them forward into Ragath and Ballor. You are the hammer, they the anvil.” Roek smiles and nods, his fingers twirling his hooked knife. 

“Sir,” Torga Tredt speaks up, “and what of the 9th?” Erron smiles, “Well you get to sit this one out old friend, keep the beer cold for us one the way back yes?” He pauses, seeing the crestfallen look on his Thanes face before bursting out laughing, a big booming sound that echoes in the hall, and claps the warrior on his armored shoulder. “I only jest Torga, your men will share in the glory today. No Wild Blade stands back while Orks are in need of killing.” He wipes a small tear from his eye, still chuckling at the look of Torgas face, "Torga, how many Legionnaires can a Scimitar and Javelin carry in addition to the crew?” Torga screws up his face, thinking, but being the armored expert of the group it takes him but a moment. “Well Chief we’ve carried a at least three on a Scimitar, the driver and two on each side, and a Javelin can carry more, though it won’t be a comfortable ride.” Erron waves his hand, “They won’t have to hold for long, just enough to get us to the fight.” 

“Us Chief?” Torga looks at his Primarch questioningly. “Yes Torga, I will be accompanying the 9th this time.” Erron smiles, and Torga beams proudly as his Company is gifted the honor of the Primarch. “Mount your whole Company on as many Scimitars and Javelins as you need, we will assemble behind this hill,” highlighting a piece of high ground on the map, “and when the Orks are surrounded by the 2nd we will fly in, dropping your Marines directly into the center after you make a gap for us with the heavy weapons.” The Thanes grumble and nod, looking over the plan, picking out their individual strategies for their Companies. “We will tear them apart from the inside out, everywhere one of the Greenskin bastards look there will be a Wild Blade bellowing for his blood.” Erron says with deadly seriousness, then turning to Gabriel. 

"Void Master Gabriel I want you to divide your men as you see fit among the two flanking elements. I’ve seen your boys fight; I know your style. I won’t command you into an open engagement. You will be tasked with striking from the wooded positions here, here, and here,” he points at the hologram, the war blasted forested areas blinking. “Use your surprise to turn the Orks in a new direction every time a Bike squadron passes, as when their backs are turned the Bikers are vulnerable. You will save a lot of Wild Blade lives if you can distract their fire and make them turn on your Legionnaires and allow my men to come about and make another pass. Use your snipers to target their leaders, sow chaos, and generally do all the nasty things you Void Stalkers like to do.” He grins at the pale Astartes, seeing the man nod and smile, knowing that he has placed a lot of responsibility and a great deal of individual authority over him. Ragath and Ballor have a sour look on their faces, not wanting the lives of their comrades to be entrusted to one of the XXth.  “Questions?” Erron looks around at the assembled Thanes, all shaking their heads, “good, see to your Companies.” 

The assorted leaders snap to attention, shouting, “Glory the Tenth!” and Erron smiles and replies, “Glory the Emperor,” as is customary, and then adds a bit quieter, “Fight well my sons, do not let vengeance cloud your judgement.”

On the killing fields of Ullanor Prime

“Now Torga! The Orks are surrounded,” Erron called into the vox in his winged helmet. Shortly after the order was given, the steady *whhhooooommmmm* of hundreds of Scimitar Jetbikes and Javelin Attack Speeders powering their engines and anti-gravitation plates filled the air, and the entirety of the Urmatoks took off in several V shaped formations. Each Jetbike was laden with a driver and two Astartes on either side of him, clinging to the frame of the vehicle, and each Javelin had Astartes hugging as many hand holds as they could find. The sight was probably comical, as Erron looked back over his shoulder, hanging onto the Scimitar Jetbike he was riding, his head next to the of the driver. Near invisible trails of heat made the air around the Company ripple and wave as the formation gained altitude, not as high as they could with their increased carrying load. Erron knew he was stretching the capacity of the engines. 

Just long enough to get us to the fight, he told himself, gritting his teeth as the wind tugged on his armor, and they crested the rise of the hill and he saw his Legion surrounding the green tide. Ragath, true to his word, had held. His Kravators had charged on foot, bellowing like beasts at the massive Ork horde sprinting to meet their assault. Their blades flashed, and the sickening crunch of their formations colliding had been heard for miles. But he had held. As soon as contact was made Erron gave the order, and Ballor’s Gorgoths filled with sky with fire and exploded into the fight, Terminators cleaving with massive warblades and automatic fire from devastating Stormbolters. The Dreadnoughts of the Wild Blades honored their name, fearing nothing as they carved bloody swathes through the ranks of teeming Orks with great sweeps of claws and blades. The Orks, too lost in their rage to pay attention to the rest of the fight, were unaware of the Avaroks cutting off their retreat as they dropped from Stormbirds, their wings gliding them to the rear and beginning to hack at the backsides of Orks. His 6 other Companies overpowered the din of close combat as thousands of Outrider Bike engines roared, his Thanes leading their formations in massive passes of strafing bolter fire and blood soaked swords. He looked on with satisfaction as he watched shadowy figures disappearing and reappearing from concealed positions, their bolters barking and dropping Orks like flies as the Greenskin brutes turned their weapons on the passing bikes, only to have their flanks ripped apart from the 6th Chapter of the Void Stalkers. 

The formation of Jetbikes and Attack Speeders grew closer, and Erron heard Torga bark an order over vox, and a massive volley of plasma cannons, heavy bolters, and missiles shot out from the descending 9th, blasting huge craters in the center of the Ork formation. Still, there were so many of them, and the tide seemed to never stop. Despite the heavy enemy casualties, Wild Blades were dying, crushed by massive axes and blown apart by rockets and heavy weapons. Erron drew his sword, the forked tip glittering, and he wore a sneer under his helm as the formation flew over the Orks. 

Like a rain of green death, the Marines of the 9th jumped from their vehicles and free-fell the remaining distance, crashing into the ground or on top of Orks with armored boots, entering the melee with a fresh frenzy. The Apexa Preadatoris fell with Erron, landing close by, their two handed swords leaving bloody trails and they clove through several Orks at a time. 

“Tear them apart!” Erron roared with a feral snarl, his men barking and howling. He drew his knife, the Sisters beginning their dance as he moved like a mist through the horde, cutting throats and eyes and hacking limbs from any Ork that dared stray too close to the fury of a Primarch. He fought with the fury of thousands, the memories of dead Astartes behind his eyes as he drove his blades into xenos flesh, ripping, gouging, no mercy for the vile infection that stood before him. 

Blood splattered his plates, turning his green armor red, his massive form on the battlefield like an avatar of war brought upon his enemies. Seeing their Primarch with them, the Marines of the Gorgoths and Kravators bellowed and pushed back with renewed vigor in order to reach their leader. Discarding empty bolters and drawing their swords, the Marines of the Wild Blades charged into the fray, stepping over the bodies of fallen brothers and butchered Orks. Torga quickly organized his men into a circle, their backs to each other, pushing outwards in order to reach the lines of their fellows. Their mission was truly the most dangerous, for they had no room for error, no line of retreat. Surrounded on all sides, they were to be the sawblade that eviscerated the Ork formation from within, but that came with a grave cost of being trampled should their formation falter. 

So far, they were holding, but when one Ork fell, there were always three more to take its place.
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