Fog of War
A deep, oppressive mist hung over the battlefield outside the eastern wall of the 401st Barracks, smothering the landscape in an eerie silence. The thick fog was unnatural, a manifestation of the anomaly's interference that also crippled both sides' sensor arrays. This unseen force played havoc with the Angels Forlorn's advanced equipment and dulled the crude optics of the Pit Rats. All that remained was the cold, damp air and the tension building between the two forces.
Captain Akhos of the Angels Forlorn surveyed the scene through the hazy gloom, his enhanced vision barely piercing the mist. His target was clear: a series of hidden tunnels beneath the barracks that would grant his forces access to the installation. The Pit Rats, a savage band of renegades and looters, had the same objective, though their approach was far less tactical. Both sides knew the tunnels would give the victor an undeniable advantage.
"This fog isn't natural," Akhos muttered through his helmet vox. "We cannot rely on our sensors. Hold formation, stay sharp."
To his left, a glint of movement caught his attention. A looted Leman Russ tank rumbled into view, its dilapidated frame belching smoke as it clanked into position. The Pit Rats had found a weakness in the Angels' left flank and were preparing to exploit it. Akhos cursed under his breath. "Squad Phoris, shift left to support! Aggressors, neutralize that tank!"
The Leman Russ's main cannon roared, its shell screaming through the fog and exploding a section of the Angels' defensive line. The Pit Rats, smelling blood, pushed a detachment of infantry forward to capitalize on the chaos. But Akhos' veterans were already moving to counter.
Sergeant Phoris led a squad of infiltrators through the mist, ghosting past the wreckage of the battlefield. The Pit Rat infantry, cocky in their advance, never saw them coming. Like wraiths, the Space Marines descended on their position, bolters firing in tight, controlled bursts. The renegades were slaughtered before they could even raise their weapons in defense.
Meanwhile, the Aggressor squad advanced on the Leman Russ, their heavy boltstorm gauntlets lighting up the mist as they moved with grim precision. The tank’s hull was peppered with rounds, but the real damage came from the flamestorm gauntlet that ignited the tank’s exposed fuel tanks. The Leman Russ exploded in a shower of fire and shrapnel, lighting the battlefield for a brief, flickering moment before the fog swallowed the light once again.
Before the Angels could solidify their position, the shriek of incoming shells filled the air. Pit Rat artillery had zeroed in on the area. Akhos barked into his vox. "Fall back! Artillery incoming!"
The ground trembled as shells detonated around the Angels Forlorn's positions. Shrapnel and debris tore through the mist, forcing Akhos’ forces to retreat under the barrage. They had neutralized the threat on the left flank, but the Pit Rats had no intention of letting them rest.
On the right flank, Serok the Exile, a towering figure of madness and bloodlust, led a small band of his personal enforcers. Clad in ragged armor and fueled by a fury that defied reason, Serok was a terrifying figure, even among the Pit Rats. His blood-mad troops followed him without hesitation, their eyes wild with fanaticism. Explosions tore at the ground around them as landmines detonated. The traitors were too frenzied to notice.
A scout sentinel moved alongside Serok’s force, its lascannon scanning the fog for targets. They spotted a squad of Intercessors moving through the mist, unaware of the ambush stalking them. With a bloodcurdling roar, Serok and his enforcers charged.
The Intercessors reacted too late. The sentinel opened fire, its lascannon carving through the fog and wounding two of the Angels Forlorn but it had drawn to close. The sentinel was a light vehicle and the Astartes savaged it's legs, crippling the walker and casting it to the ground in retribution. The Intercessors, repositioned turning bolters upon the charging infantry. Before the Marines could return fire, Serok's men were upon them. The blood-mad enforcers overwhelmed them, their savage strikes bypassing the Space Marines’ defenses with sheer ferocity. One by one, the Intercessors fell under the relentless assault.
Serok stood atop the last of the fallen Angels, his chest heaving with exertion, blood dripping from his weapons. He raised his head to the sky and howled, his voice echoing through the mist. His eyes burned with an unholy fire as he reveled in the slaughter.
"Captain Akhos, Serok's forces are flanking us!" a voice crackled over the vox.
Akhos swore under his breath. Serok was a rabid dog, dangerous and unpredictable. He needed to be put down before his madness could spiral further. "Eliminators, this is Akhos. Serok must die. Target him."
Perched in hidden positions, the Eliminator squad took aim at Serok through the mist. But the anomaly played tricks with their sensors, and the thick fog obscured their line of sight. Worse, Serok's troops were scattered among the field, making a clear shot near impossible without risking fratricide.
"Negative, Captain," came the vox reply. "Too much interference."
Before they could reassess, Serok spotted them. With a roar of fury, he charged toward the Eliminators, heedless of the danger. A round from a bolt sniper rifle tore through his shoulder, but the wound only seemed to fuel his rage. Whatever dark power possessed him granted him unnatural resilience. He crashed into the Eliminators' position, his enforcers close behind. The Eliminators fought valiantly, but Serok’s raw fury was too much to contain. His blood-mad warriors tore through their ranks, leaving only carnage in their wake.
Meanwhile, Akhos and his remaining forces had located the hidden tunnel entrance beneath the eastern wall. Their primary objective was within reach. But Serok and his men were still a threat, and the Pit Rats' artillery fire made holding ground impossible.
"Fall back into the tunnels!" Akhos ordered, his voice calm despite the chaos. "We have what we came for."
Reluctantly, the Angels Forlorn retreated into the hidden tunnels, sealing the entrance behind them. Victory was theirs, though the cost had been high. Akhos knew more blood would be spilled before this war was over.
Outside, Serok roared in frustration, his bloodlust unfulfilled. He wanted to pursue, to chase the Space Marines into the dark and rip them apart. But a shadow fell over him as a figure approached from the mist.
The Architect, a calculating and cold figure within the Pit Rats, laid a hand on Serok’s shoulder, his voice a whisper of reason amid the madness. "If you follow, you will die. They want you to pursue. This is a trap."
Serok's wild eyes flickered with rage, but slowly, the blood frenzy faded. He growled, but stepped back, his muscles trembling with restraint. He eyed the Architect with unveiled suspicion. The figure had not been amongst his forces when they arrived on the battlefield. How then had he ambled through the carnage to reach him without molestation by either side. He relished the opportunity to cast the man and his agents into the pits, to prove the worth of him. But something held him back. An uneasy feeling that whispered such ideas were folly and he would not like what he discovered. Reluctantly, Serok ordered the withdrawal, their chance at victory lost. For now.
As the mist thickened once more, the battlefield grew silent. Both sides had retreated, but the war for the 401st Barracks was far from over. The tunnels had been claimed by the Angels Forlorn, but the Pit Rats were not finished. They would return, and next time, there would be no retreat.
The air in the command center of the 401st Barracks was thick with tension, illuminated only by the dim glow of flickering hololiths and cogitator screens. The Angels Forlorn had regrouped, their armor still bearing the marks of recent battle, their faces stern and grim beneath their helms. Captain Akhos stood at the center of the room, his pale blue eyes fixed on the primary display as it pulsed with life. His fellow battle-brothers of the Angels Forlorn, stood in silence, watching as the cogitator arrays began feeding them data from the surrounding airspace.
"Systems online, Captain," Brother Thanar reported from his station. His gauntleted fingers moved swiftly over the controls, coaxing the machine spirits to reveal their secrets. "Most of the defenses remain intact. Sensor arrays are operational, and… we are detecting something."
Akhos stepped closer, his face cast in shadow as he observed the pulsing signal on the screen. An object was descending through the planet’s atmosphere, slow but steady.
"Transponder reading Imperial," Thanar continued, his brow furrowed. "But the code... there are irregularities in its identification. It does not match any known vessels or records in the system."
The command center hummed with machine chatter, relaying the signal from the descending voidcraft to various other facilities across the planet's surface. Data streams poured in, but every reading deepened the mystery. The ship was marked Imperial but had a twisted, unfamiliar signature, as though tampered with or incomplete.
Captain Akhos' jaw tightened, his mind already working through the possibilities. He had fought traitors and heretics mere hours ago; the stench of their corruption still hung in the air. Could this ship be more of the same? An Imperial vessel in name only, serving some twisted purpose? Hesitation could allow the enemy to gain a foothold.
Thanar’s voice cut through the silence. “It could be a trap, Captain. The irregularities in the transponder’s coding are too precise, too calculated. Something is wrong.”
Akhos nodded, his mind weighing the decision before him. Every instinct told him this was a threat, and the Angels Forlorn had no tolerance for corruption. He could not risk the infection spreading any further. His chapter had been forged in relentless battles against the forces of darkness, and they had learned the hard lesson that hesitation breeds disaster.
"Prepare the defense systems," Akhos commanded, his voice cold and resolute. “If this vessel is a threat, we cannot allow it to reach the surface."
Thanar hesitated for a brief moment, then relayed the order. The whir of servos filled the room as the automated turrets and missile batteries around the 401st Barracks powered up, targeting solutions locking onto the descending ship.
The vox crackled to life.
“Captain!” Brother Thanar called out, his voice edged with surprise. “We’re receiving a transmission!”
Akhos turned sharply, his gaze fixed on the console. The interference was strong, distorted by atmospheric conditions and the barrage of signals cluttering the area. Yet, beneath the static, words emerged—broken, faint, but unmistakable.
"...the Emperor’s Justice…"
Akhos’ eyes narrowed. The Emperor’s Justice? His mind raced. A name like that could not be taken lightly. But could it be a deception? Something intended to make them hesitate?
The decision came swiftly. "Engage the defenses."
The automated systems obeyed his command without question, missile batteries roaring to life as they launched their payload toward the descending craft. A series of bright flashes lit the mist-shrouded sky as the ordnance streaked upward. There was no turning back now.
Through the grainy hololith, the Angels Forlorn watched as the voidcraft was struck mid-descent. The initial impact sent it into a violent spin, the vessel careening off course, trailing debris and fire. The ship disappeared from the sensors, lost somewhere in the vast landscape, its final destination unknown.
"Scan for a crash site," Akhos ordered, his voice tense. Thanar’s fingers danced over the cogitator, but the readouts were inconclusive.
“Sensors are too damaged, Captain. The systems cannot determine where it fell. We lost the signal.”
Akhos cursed under his breath, his mind already moving to the next course of action. Whatever was aboard that ship, they had to assume the worst. But they couldn’t linger here any longer. They had secured the barracks, and it had served its purpose. They needed to move before their enemies regrouped.
"Shut it all down," Akhos said finally. "We can't leave this facility intact for our enemies. Purge the systems and disable the defenses. If anyone tries to take control after us, they'll find nothing but a shell."
The whirr of servos died as the systems began their shutdown protocols, one by one. The room dimmed further as the lights blinked out, leaving only the hollow glow of emergency lumens to guide the Astartes.
Suddenly, the cold, emotionless voice of a servitor broke the silence. “Data match—30%. Vessel identity tagged—Navy, special assignment.” The servitor lurched as it tried to repeat the statement, however the power systems that had supported it had already been cut. It slumped forward, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Akhos contemplated the servitor. Thirty percent? Special assignment? His brow furrowed as he processed the information. It was a Navy vessel, after all. But only partially. What mission could have brought it here? And why were they not aware of it?
Thanar looked up from his console, awaiting orders. The Captain’s expression was unreadable beneath his helm, but his decision had already been made. Whatever that ship was, it had been marked by the taint of uncertainty, and in the Emperor’s service, no such uncertainty could be allowed to exist.
“We stay the course,” Akhos growled. “We’ve done what we had to do. Now we move.”
The Angels Forlorn departed the command center, their boots echoing through the empty corridors as they moved to scour the barracks for anything of use. They moved with purpose, taking what they needed from the installation, weapons, supplies, and relics of a forgotten age.
As they prepared to leave, Akhos took one last look at the lifeless command center. The facility was dead now, its systems erased, its defenses silent. Whatever had come for them—be it an Imperial ship or some twisted echo of one—would have to be dealt with later. For now, they had other battles to fight.
The Conflict
Outcome
Angels Folorn secured the barraks, scavenging what they could from the ruins.
Aftermath
The Angels Folorn dismanteld the Command Centres infrastructure rendering the site inoperable. Whilst still a valid defensive position the automated systems that made the fortress so daunting now lay useless.
Conflict Type
Battle
Battlefield Type
Land
Conflict Result
Angels Forlorn Secured the Barracks,
Belligerents
Strength
Casualties
Objectives
Seize the Barraks to continue the search for their missing battle brothers.
Strength
Casualties
Objectives
Seize the Barraks to continue the search for their missing battle brothers.
Strength
Casualties
Objectives
Take the Barraks for his own purpose to rebuild his army's strength and act as a base of operations.
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