The Marauder's Campaign
There was a heated debate aboard the Merlin, as the elysian battleship came close to their destination. The crew of the ship, a few dozen mages, prepared for planetfall, and the deployment of portals so that their main forces could join the fight.
The angels on board studied the map of the coming battle. They had identified large movements of Chaos in the region, and their scouts had brought back plenty of information on them. The Children of the Emperor were an odd bunch, to say the least. Addicted to all sorts of sensations and vices, they ravaged the galaxy for ever more intense experiences. Pure hedonism, armed and ready to fight for just one more fix, until the end of times.
The Marauders were sent to fight them head on, and push the incredible variety of enemy forces in the sector back to the Warp, the Void, their tombs or wherever else they were coming from. The sheer range of enemies around the Tallarn Rift to the Siren’s Storm warpgates was astounding. Their plan was one of simple priority. Chaos was most eager, and directed in their approach, as nonsensical as that often came to pass. The Necrons were patient and precise. They had time, after all. They could wait things out. The orks were simple, and easily misdirected, while the Tyranids would march on at the same pace, like a locust swarm. Predictable.
Lily had a few ideas brewing in her cauldrons for the orks and tyranids, but that would have to wait. First on their list was that kink-fest gone bad of a Chaos marine legion they were about to engage. “Sirius, are you quite done, yet?” she shouted across the bridge, to where Sirius held council with some souls he had conjured.
“What is he doing?” James complained. “We’re on a schedule.”
“He mentioned something about ‘making an entrance’. He has been gone since then.” Remus said, not even looking up from the battlemaps.
Sirius stood off to the side, his wings spread out to cover it from sight. Before him stood seven souls, directly summoned from the Beyond, needed for his plan.
“Look, all I need you to do, is to time the song right, okay?” Sirius begged them.
“Alright, buddy, I get you’re a big fan, but you send us back to rest right after this, deal?”
“Yes! Deal,” he cheered, turned around to the rest of the Marauders and gave them a thumbs up. “I’m ready! Let's get this show on the road!”
Lieutenant Arai Ko'than watched as the last thunderhawk closed its loading bay, where the thankful, frightened eyes of the Wagrasian people kept staring at him as long as they could.
“Were these all the civilians, brother?” a sergeant, asked him.
“Yes. Now we may focus on the enemy, and give them the warm welcome they deserve.” Arai gave each of his flamers, attached to his bracers, a once over. The right one had been damaged, almost torn apart by the hands of the archenemy. He would use the right hand to hold the standard, then.
“We shall make our stand here.” he declared. “If we can hold them for long enough, the Guard militia has time to move in position to meet the enemy.” Arai rammed the standard into the dust. Dry soil, bereft of life by the weeks of fighting, sprayed around him.
He could hear them in the distance. Their diabolic noise that threatened to tear apart his skull from within was always heard before they saw them. The stink of their heretical debauchery had never left the battlefield. Children of the Emperor they called themselves, to mock those still standing true and loyal. They could even weaponize their unworthiness to anger him.
“Brothers,” he began, addressing the last of his company, after weeks of battle. True warriors of the Emperor they were. True sons of Vulkan. “Brace yourselves, for the archenemy will try to bring us to our knees once more. Steel your resolve in the eyes of their heresy. We are the sons of Vulkan. Harder than our steel is only the courage in our hearts. INTO THE FIRE!”
“ONTO THE ANVIL!” his brothers roared, just as the vile army of Slaneesh’s servants rolled over the hills. Their wretched weapons, bolters reduced to daemonic instruments, were fired wildly. They intermixed with daemonettes, who rode alongside them on their bikes, like a monstrous cheering audience. Great battle beasts carried vox grills the size of houses with them, with the corpses of innocents hanging from them as decor, as they played noises so abysmal that the mere sound turned his insides. The flayed bodies of the marines were patched with the skin of their victims, flowing into vulgar displays of every vice imaginable.
“Right now! Form lines and meet them with the fury of dragons! Let none stand! For the Emperor!”
“For the Emperor!”
Those who carried them began to meet the archenemy with raging bolters, chewing through their ammunition like hungry wolves through meat. Their salvos slayed a great number of the traitors, yet more and more came over the hill, howling and cheering for the ecstasy of battle.
“Brother Erroen, concentrate your efforts on the northern flank.” he commanded the heavily damaged dreadnought next to him. He could no longer stand, nor walk. Yet, the spirit of his ancient brother burnt hotter than ever. His mighty cannon, even stationary, found bountiful targets as it unleashed onto a wave of daemons and traitor marines.
“Rejoice, brother. We die as we lived, tempered and empowered by the fires of war.” the dreadnought cheered from his metal coffin. “May their sins be never forgotten. May my rage never die. Destroy them, brothers!”
Arai tightened his grip on the standard, watching the waves upon waves of Chaos roll towards them. They would not survive this. His only hope was that the Guard would have their weaponry in place soon enough. He allowed himself to close his eyes for just a moment, and find the strength within that would allow him to win this day, regardless of his life.
“Lieutenant, behind us!”
Arai whirled around, following where his brother pointed him to. He saw what he could only identify as an odd mix of the decor of a paradise world, and seafaring ships he knew from a feudal world he had once been on. Crystals of gigantic size shaping the large surfaces of the ship reflected light in every colour imaginable. Solar sails that should fold once such a ship was within atmosphere, still looked like they were perfectly in the winds of sunflares, shining in pearlescent glory.
“Is it more of them?” his brother asked.
“No,” Arai didn’t know. However, he knew to trust his instincts. This structure was far removed from the vulgarity of the Children of the Emperor. It was truly magnificent. As a Salamander, trained in the Arts of the forge, he found the metalwork breathtaking, and no matter who this was, he was glad to have seen it before the end. “Do not get distracted! Fight them with all you have, brothers!” he shouted once more, hoping to steel their resolves to hold the line.
“For the glory of the Salamanders! Let them feel yo-” he stopped, just now realizing that the horrid wailing of the archenemy had ceased. Their hordes were still rolling towards them, yet the only sounds he heard was the roar of their bolters and commands yelled between his company. He looked up once more. Was this blessed silence coming from this ship?
He couldn’t even finish the thought when every sensor of his battle armour was shaken with the sound of a voice that carried over the entire battlefield, maybe even this world as a whole. Oddly ancient sounding music came from the ship in a volume that even drowned out the dreadnought next to him.
Beams of light flashed from the crystals of the ship, painting the dour landscape in a kaleidoscopic array of colours and forms, with one massive spotlight covering the entirety of the enemy forces. Bolters fired truer, for they could perceive the enemy with deadly precision, now. For all the show, eerily reminding him of the advancing archenemy, Arais was sure now: Whoever this was on the ship, they were here to help. He would not turn it away.
“GOOD EVENING, GENTLEMEN OF THE GLORIOUS SALAMANDER CHAPTER!”
Disks of light shot from the ship with incredible speed. Their quicksilver surfaces, as thin as the tip of his knife’s blade, slammed into the earth with enough impact to shake the ground beneath his feet. Symbols lit up on the edges of the disks, calming the liquid seeming surface until it was a perfect mirror. In the blink of an eye, the surface vanished, and Arais saw into what must have been a great stone hall, filled from wall to wall with warriors of a kind he had never seen. Humans, mostly.
“FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION TONIGHT, THE VENERATED MOONY, BLATTSCHUSS, PADFOOT AND PRONGS, PURVEYORS OF AID AND MISCHIEF, PROUDLY PRESENT,”
The warriors behind the disks edge split their formation in half, letting through a behemoth of what Arais could best identify as an Ogryn. However, this one was as large as a hill, armoured in metal as thick as a tank’s, swinging a silver shining warhammer the length of a Thunderhawk. It wore a helmet of the same metal, adorned with fabric and bone.
“THE DAWN OF THE LIBERATION OF MANKIND!”
Each of the disks gave way to one such creature, and Arais revoked his comparison with an Ogryn. When the giants looked at him, even from so far away, it was with an intelligent gaze, focusing on him with the eyes of one warrior acknowledging the other. The first one nodded towards him, raised his warhammer and shouted with a voice as powerful as a hundred Astartes. “INTO THE FIRE!”
“ONTO THE ANVIL!” thousands of these strangers roared, before they ran with reckless abandon onto the battlefield. On and on they spilled out of the gate; the portal, Aries could not say.
He cared not either way. He had a battle to fight. This was their chance. Their defeat was put into question. This could still be victory. “CHARGE!” he roared his command. “To victory, brothers!”
“Welcome to the jungle, we got fun and games…”
Arais sprinted alongside his brothers towards the enemy, standard held high, and a battlecry on his lips. He heard the cries of disappointment from Erroen; the dreadnought unable to follow into battle. Alas, he would have to survive to win glory another day.
“We got everything you want, honey, we know the names…”
The first of the new forces rode ahead - beastmen from the looks of it. Their upper body was human, yet the lower that of a steed. They held bows made from gold, with no strings to them. When they drew them, arrows appeared, glowing like lightning.
We are the people that can find whatever you may need…
Their first salvo disintegrated the lesser daemons, and left the traitor marines behind in the stench of burnt meat. They rode, further and faster than even bikes would, propelled by a force he could not understand. Their bows became lances in their hands, and with a mighty warcry, they crashed into the flank of the Children of the Emperor, splitting their forces in two in a perfectly executed cavalry charge. It was followed by devastating blows of some form of energy weapon, shot from warriors riding brooms. Brooms?
If you got the money, honey, we got your disease…
The giants swung their hammers, meeting the flesh of the great daemon with the impact of an artillery shell. The hit sent out a shockwave through the air, sending a cloud of dust across the battlefield, and leaving a hole in the daemon.
Arais sprinted further, small daemons not even slowing him down. His flames engulfed him, as he ran into battle. By the dozens did the daemons fall by the might of his flamer, and yet he felt it pale against the sheer glory of what he now beheld.
The winged beast, a reptile of immense size with one singular rider on it, raised its head. Its neck began to glow white-hot. The air around it began to blur with heat, before it breathed a pillar of raging fire onto the unsuspecting traitor legion. The heretics burnt in the flames, and none could withstand.
“A dragon,” he breathed out, following its flight. Its head was as if copied from their symbol. Dragon Warrior. Salamander. This was their creed, given form.
He saw it land behind Erroen. The rider leaned down, and seemed to have quick words with the dreadnought. Just as quickly, the dragon grappled the large warmachine, and lifted it up with powerful swings of its wings, forward towards battle.
He could hear the dreadnought laughing beyond the capacity of his vox, as he rained down bolts, alongside the flaming breath of the dragon.
Arais was rammed down onto the ground. Blast it, the dragon had distracted him. He had missed the large daemon coming from behind him. He pulled his knife, but he couldn’t move his arm enough to hit the damned abomination. Struggling with all his might, he still could only try and dodge the claws of the beast.
It came crashing down, right onto his visor. This was surely his last breath. He forced himself to look at it. Look death right in the eye. But the claw never reached it, for far larger ones tore the daemon into ribbons right in front of his eyes.
He turned, and looked upon an even greater beast. Black fur, towering over him as large as the giants, was a wolf-headed monstrum. Black eyes stared at him, and instead of slicing him up, it reached out a claw to him, gently, offering him help to get up.
“Everything alright, Astarte?” His mind began to whirl. Dragons, man-wolves, giants, and now a winged woman, black of hair and fair as the morning sun, landed next to him.
“I remain unharmed, stranger.” he answered. His company had already reached the hill. Their defense was as quick as their feet could carry them, and the archnemesis on the run. “You are unknown to me, and by all I see, you are not of the Imperium. Yet, I thank you. We have thought ourselves as good as defeated, and here we are, winning the day.”
“The day, yes. We intend to win much more. First things first, tough, may I introduce myself. I am the aforementioned Blattschuss, also known as the twelfth Archangel of Elysium, Lily Potter.” she pointed up to the giant man-wolf. “This is Moony, the fourth archangel of Elysium, Remus Lupin.”
“Lily Potter. Remus Lupin. I am Lieutenant Arai Ko’than, of the Salamanders. I must admit, I know not of this Elysium you hail from. No matter. In dire moments, I cherish alliance wherever I can find it.”
“So do we. We need to speak to your Captain, and eventually your Chapter Master. We believe that you Salamanders are the most likely to listen to us.”