Sectors I-z1354 through I-z1361 found a brief respite as the waves of enemies slacked. No explanation was immediately visible, and unless there had been communications within the Space Wolves and Skitarri, one might have thought the moon was running out of enemies to throw at them. The Relictors had been the cause, of course, their lust for battle equal to their lust for redemption. The way they had positioned themselves, in the center of the gorge between mountains of ruined mech, had put them in the middle of a wedge of sorts, funneling a great majority of enemies down upon them.
The glut was oppressive however, and even the Relictors were fighting under duress. Even with a number of daemon weapons, the battle was real, and any mistake could very well end in any one of them being mowed down. Each of them were fighting second by second, moment to moment, maintaining their focus and awareness constantly, and it wasn't easy.
Reports from the orbiting ships informed the captain that the battle was far from over. Thousands upon thousands of enemies remained to throw themselves against 92 grey warriors... 91.
"No..." Leal said the word in his mind as he heard a man was down. Vengefully, he turned his head in the direction of the event, narrowing his eyes, as if he could kill the enemy offender with his gaze, but he couldn't. There was no time for deliberation as the fighting was growing more intense.
"Captain!" Garwyn shouted into his vox on their private channel, even though shouting was unnecessary, to grab his attention.
Leal quickly swung his relicblade in one direction as Garwyn simultaneously covered him with his bolter in another. It had been a simultaneous attack from two sides. Leal swore an oath. He couldn't afford to let his attention slip like that again. Dissatisfaction lashed him like a whip, driving him to focus harder, to obey more effectively, and he returned to standing his ground.
"Where are those damn Space Wolves?" Garwyn announced, unable to disguise the irritation in his voice. "Sir, we're going to be overwhelmed at this location. We must pull back to Manufactorum Prime!"
"Mutants and traitors." Leal had so judged them all. The blade in his grasp urged him to keep fighting, to keep cutting them down, but then he remembered, he was a captain. More than that, Leal Lattore was the Relictor chapter master. Thus, he had another duty, and that was to protect. ...how familiar that sounded.
Stepping back and letting his lieutenant hold the line, Leal quickly surveyed his fellows in the immediate area. Nothing bespoke the tide of battle more than the vigor of the combatants themselves. He saw that they were animals, no, they were righteous zelots. With what little psychic persuasion Leal had, he could feel the sublime satisfaction that flowed through his brothers. Battle at last! It was early yet, but none wanted to yield an inch of ground. However, Leal did see that the enemy was beginning to come also from behind them, and a restructuring of their formation was in order if they weren't going to be pinched in a vice.
Leal lifted his white daemonblade high above him and let it cast a brilliant radiance, a beacon to all his brethren that could be seen for miles. "Relictors! Rally on your captain. Unbroken ring!" He called their trained ultimate-defensive formation, and his chapter pulled together without hesitation. He followed with a battlecry he himself had heard so many times before to hearten his men. "Power prevails!"
With just enough space between each other and with the ranged weapons on the inside, the remaining Relictors formed a circle, heavier on the one side that needed it. They would hold this location, using the highwalled cliffs of rubble on their flanks as buffers to stem the rain of enemies to two primary sides. They weren't going to retreat. The mutants and cultists and hereteks and demons would all slay themselves upon the ring as they tried in vain to break through. As with any astartes force, even the best of the best, this valiant defense would eventually come down against a truly endless assault, but Captain Lattore had faith in the Relictors' endurance and an eventual end to the enemy's numbers. Whether or not reinforcements were coming, they would prove their loyalty and unique strength here, and either win, or go down as martyred heroes.
