Aetheris Orbital Defence Emplacement Crossfire
The Salamanders advanced through the dimly lit outskirts of the defence emplacement, away from the thundering violence between the Necrons and the Gungir Collective. Captain Ishval'phor led his squad of Infernos marines, clad in their signature dragon-scaled armor, while their armoured detachment—consisting of a Predator and an Impulsor—trundled behind them. He knew despite his men’s prowess, that they were little match for the larger forces the Necrons and Squats had brought to bear on one another. Stealth was the better option today. If they could gain control of the control centre then numbers would be irrelevant.
The sound of metal feet scraping across the floor grated across the outskirts. The thunder and hiss of Kindred and Necron weaponry covering the inadvertent sound as their owners stalked the Salamanders like phantoms.
Captain Ishval'phor felt the sting of metal claws biting into his shoulder before he had a chance to react. He swung his power sword in a wide arc, cleaving through the cloaked form of a Ruststalker, its mechanical limbs twitching in its death throes. But it was only a momentary victory. Another Ruststalker leapt from a nearby building, knocking the captain’s helm askew, and forcing him to one knee. The assassin's limbs moved faster than any organic creature could, blades and claws slicing through his armor. Blood flowed freely from a deep wound in his side.
The Ruststalkers moved with lethal efficiency, their cloaked figures barely visible in the darkness. The Salamanders were momentarily taken aback by the swiftness of the ambush. They had expected the Necrons technological perversion but the Ruststalkers were simmulatneuosly familiar and unexpected. They saw the Captain go down and a primal fire was kindled in their hearts. The Infernos Marines roared in company with their weaponry as they unleashed their fiery fury upon the Ruststalkers. The glowing flames cast long shadows as they engulfed the cyborgs, turning them into twisted silhouettes writhing in the flames before bolter fire ended their misery.
“Burn them all!” shouted Sergeant Haktor, his flamer spewing a torrent of burning promethium into the twisting forms of the enemy.
For every Salamander who fell, three of the Ruststalkers were immolated in the cleansing fires. The Ruststalkers' fluid, mechanical movements were no match for the Salamanders’ relentless and brutal retribution. In moments, the tide turned. The marines closed in, brutally smashing through the Mechanicus forces, tearing apart servitors and destroying skitarii in a storm of bolter fire and fists.
Captain Ishval'phor, though grievously wounded, managed to rise to his feet, deflecting the final blow of a Ruststalker with his broken pauldron before driving his power sword through its chest. The creature convulsed and collapsed in a heap of scrap and leaking oil.
But despite the victory, Ishval’phor could no longer stand. Blood stained the green armour of his lower abdomen where the claws had pierced deepest. “Captain down!” bellowed Haktor. Without hesitation, the remaining Salamanders formed a perimeter around him while the Impulsor provided cover with its twin fragstorm grenade launchers, blanketing the battlefield in explosives. Two marines lifted their captain’s limp form, quickly hauling him back towards the Impulsor.
“Get him to the Apothecary,” Haktor ordered. “We finish this without him.”
As Ishval’phor was evacuated, the remaining Salamanders felt the fire in their veins burning hotter. The Salamanders regrouped, moving deeper into the outskirts of the Defence Emplacement. Were they the dragons whose scales they wore, they would have been spitting flame in their anger at the attack. Their skirmish with the Ruststalkers had taken its toll, but there was no time to reflect. The mission was still in progress, and the Aetheris Orbital Defence Emplacement was still contested.
A Salamander scout spotted movement and engaged. The first shot fired from the scout's bolter ripped through the sensor head of a nearby Skitarii Ranger, and all hell broke loose.
Cohort Ursa Aeris, consisting of Skitarii and their battle-ready troop transports, moved in like a precision-engineered war machine. The Impulsor’s shields flared as it absorbed incoming fire, while the Predator's autocannon began to bark, cutting down Skitarii as they advanced.
"What in the Emperor's name are they doing here?" Sergeant Haktor muttered under his breath. “And why are they attacking us?” he spat as a irradiated round glanced off his pauldron.
The Salamanders pressed forward with typical ferocity, but there was confusion in their ranks. Why was a Mechanicus force present? Wasn't their mission to support the same Imperial cause? Regardless, the adrenaline of battle overtook the need for questions. Infernus Marines barreled forward, unleashing flame and molten death into the ranks of the Skitarii.
A trooper transport, modified and brimming with cogitators and machine-spirits, advanced on the Salamanders' left flank. The Infernos squad responded with brutal efficiency, surrounding the transport and reducing it to a burning wreck in seconds, their meltaguns turning its reinforced hull into molten slag. Skitarii charged into the flames to avenge their lost comrades, but the Salamanders were too powerful, too resolute. Every warrior fought with the knowledge that their captain had fallen earlier, their vengeance for him fueling their every strike.
A volley of transmission signals from both sides interrupted the firefight. Orders crackled through the vox-net. The Salamanders halted, confused expressions visible even beneath their helms. The Skitarii likewise paused, unsure of how to proceed.
“What madness is this?” Haktor growled.
The Cohort's Skitarii regrouped, scanning the immediate area, their sensors feeding them fragmented data. Both sides stared at each other through the haze of smoke and fire, trying to process their newly received orders. Who was Inquisitor Rynhart and how in Thrones name had he just breached their Vox network? For a brief moment, there was silence.
"They were never supposed to be here..." one of the Infernos Marines grumbled, echoing the growing confusion. "Mechanicus should be working with us."
The standoff did not last long. Reports of Necron forces on the approach crackled in the ears of Astartes and Skitari alike. There was no more time for posturing or confusion. The Necron forces had gained the upper hand against the Kin and were sweeping through the area.
"Fall back!" Haktor ordered. The Salamanders had done what they could, but the weight of the enemy forces pressing in from all sides made it clear that the mission was no longer feasible. The Salamanders had battered Cohort Ursa Aeris and had held their ground, but to remain would mean certain death as the kin were driven towards them by the strange necron constructs.
Cohort Ursa Aeris, for their part, also retreated, wary of the advancing Necrons. While neither side had expected the other to be present in the station, both were smart enough to know that further fighting between them would only weaken their chances of surviving the larger threat.
As the Salamanders withdrew towards the outskirts of the city, Sergeant Haktor cast one final glance at the distant windows of the command centre. The Necron forces were seizing control of the Aetheris Orbital Defence Emplacement. What had once been a covert mission to claim the station had devolved into a series of bloody, unintended engagements. Their primary objective had failed.
When they finally reached their extraction point, the Infernus Marines grimly secured the perimeter. Captain Ishval'phor, his armor still scorched and bloodied from the earlier encounter, sat propped up against a wall as the Apothecary tended to his wounds. Despite his injuries, he managed a weak grimmace when he saw Haktor.
"Did you... finish it?" Ishval'phor asked through gritted teeth.
"We drove them back, but it was all for naught. The Gungir have control of the station," Haktor replied, his voice hard with frustration. "We weren't the only ones operating in the shadows. The Mechanicus was here."
"Who commands them?" Ishval'phor asked, his voice cold despite his pain.
"Unknown, Sir."
"Get me the Throne cursed Tech Priest who pulls their strings. I have words for him." He paused as a scowl knit his heavy brows. “And find me this Inquisitor. I would know who he is.”
The Conflict
Outcome
Although the Heralds of Nocturn were victorius, their victory was ultimately shortlived due to the Necron ultimate victory in the area.
Included under Conflict
Conflict Type
Skirmish
Battlefield Type
Urban
Conflict Result
Heralds of Nocturn Victory
Belligerents
Strength
Casualties
Objectives
Conduct covert insertion to seize Control of the Installation
Strength
Casualties
Objectives
Conduct covert insertion to seize Control of the Installation
Strength
Casualties
Objectives
Seize control of the installation via stealth to bypass the larger forces of Necron and Kindred battleing nearby.
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