"You scouts, today, will prove yourselves in the glory of battle. As you may well know, we have been battling some corrupted cultists on this planet. Now the time has come for the final, glorious blow. In order for the mighty Wolf Guard to be able to teleport down into the cultists' inner sanctum, you will have to place a Teleport Homer and an Emperors relic to guide them down to the correct co-ordinate. Long Fangs can give you covering fire for as far as the monument of a million skulls. Do you accept this mission, scouts of the Wulfen?" Logan Grimnar addressed the nervous scouts in an inspiring manner- they were ready to say yes at any moment, and they did.
"We accept! For Russ! For the Emperor!" cheered the now euphoric scouts.
At that the scouts broke off and set about preparing for the test, that when complete, would mean they would join the ranks of Blood Claws.
"It lifts my weary heart to see such young blood stirred like that. Truly, Leman Russ has touched them in their souls." Spoke Ragnar, who had been standing nearby.
"Yes Ragnar. Sadly, I know however confident and however mighty their battle prowess, some will not return. For every hero, there are five who die for him. I stray from duty though. What reports does the Astropath give us?" replied Logan, looking at the sky in a whimsical manner, as if reminiscing about when he was a mere scout.
"Well sir, the Astropath had noted peculiar omen about the warp. He says it is linked to the cultists. I feel no need to worry."
"Of course not, Ragnar, since when have you worried!" Joked Logan, and the two laughed as they strode back to the camp.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Dawn had just broken, and the Chaos cultists had just awoken, fresh for an offensive on of what was left of the Adeptus Administratum forces. They had no idea that the might of the Space Wolves would descend upon them. The two scout squads had already advanced to the outer gates of the Cathedral the cultists made their home. They were surprised they had met no resistance. They stared at the Cathedral. It was smothered in debased icons of chaos, depraved carvings of slaughter and treachery. They would take pleasure in eradicating this blight from the planet, from the Imperium. The cultists had taken no care in protecting their base of operations. They could see through a hole in the door, and see the Demagogue planning the days offensive. Rubble surrounded the church, as this was were they had started the war. And this was were the scouts would end it.
The scouts began to attack. Five had planted themselves in high position to snipe at cultist guards and reinforcements. They had made a complete communication silence as not to give away their plans. The first muffled shots struck the four guards at the door to the cathedral. They fell like pillows, not even uttering a sound. Sergeant Thor was well pleased at the efficiency of the marksmen, who had distinguished themselves before, even though a wolf's true place was in the blood of combat, the scouts would have to wait.
The other scouts rushed from cover and planted explosives on the door, and sprinted back to their positions. A loud crack shattered the silence and the door fell onto it's front, exposing the innards of the Cathedral. Three scouts had worked their way to the back, and crept in through the holes that passed for windows. At the front of the long, grey stone hall, a firefight ensued between the Demagogue's guard and the scouts. Thor had to restrain his men from giving in to the wulfen urges to charge the enemy. The three remained unnoticed and planted the homer and relic. They radioed the main base announcing mission success. But this was not the end. An alarm had been sounded and bands of cultists emerged in scattered groups. Thor realised that whilst in small groups they could be taken by gunfire, the inevitable horde that would emerge would occupy a whole company, let alone a band of scouts.
Out of the blasted cathedral came thirty frenzied cultists, armed with axes and flails. They made an insane charge at the Scouts. In the midst of their charge, a loud explosion racked the high positions the marksmen scout had taken up. Two scouts plummeted from the tower, whilst one was rolling around, screaming in pain. Thor grew worried. He had effectively lost three scouts now, lowering his force to but 17 men including him. The Wolf Guard would have to arrive soon. The Cultists crashed into the scouts. As axe met flesh, the sound of rifle butts striking naked skulls filled the air. The scouts were outnumbered, but bravely fought on. Thor picked off two mad Cultists with his bolt pistol, and was then engaged himself. He quickly dispatched the cultists.
"Die, corrupt scum. Feel the Emperors wrath!!!" He yelled as he charged forward into the melee. While hacking to his left and right, he saw his men were doing well. For one casualty, roughly fifteen cultists were massacred. He strode forward, hacking madly with his chainsword, his proud gray-blue uniform splattered with the evil blood of the cultists. Soon, the cultists had been exterminated. Yet no horde rushed to attack them. He ordered all the scouts to converge on the exploded door. Once at the door, the hall was completely empty bar the Homer and Relic. Then, suddenly, an iron grille fell behind the scouts. It was a trap! They were now incarcerated in the cathedral hall. Immediately dozens of coven and champions emerged from hidden doors and holes. The Demagogue spoke; "Fools. You think you can overpower the great might of Tzeentch? We may be his servants, but I promise you his essence flows through our veins."
Thor looked grimly on.
"Yet I take mercy on you, misguided fools. Join us, revel in the everlasting glory of Tzeentch!" At that, Thor spat a globule of acid across the hall, striking the Demagogue squarely in the chest.
"So be it, Imperial slaves. I will now have to kill you. Coven, att-" Suddenly, a droning noise filled the hall. Around the Homer, ten shimmering blue bubbles the size of a man appeared. The blue grew more substantial in seconds. As the Cultists looked on in sheer terror, a wide grin crossed Thor's, and the scouts faces. The bubbles were now clear to be terminators. Yet something was wrong. One of the bubbles was grotesquely deformed. As the Terminators materialised, there were only nine- one unfortunate soul had been possessed by a multitude of Pink Horrors. The bubble lifted, and a mayhem let loose. Simultaneously, every cultist bar the Demagogue leapt forward to engage the mighty Wolf Guard. Yet the terminators were concerned on eliminating the gibbering horrors that were whirling round them at breakneck speed. Storm Bolter after Storm Bolter spat out rounds of fiery death, yet for each demon hit two appeared! The scouts, crammed into a small wing, fired shot after shot from their sniper rifles. Cultist after cultist fell, yet there was no stopping the horde. Then a incredible explosion tore across the hall. A terminator deliberately detonated the Cyclone launcher on his back in a heroic effort to stop the crushing tide and kill the menacing demons. A huge swathe of cultists was instantly liquefied into a gory, bloody pulp. The Emperor was strong with the Wolf Guard, all the terminators bar the detonator survived. The whirling horrors were reduced to only three, but this was three too many. The horrors span onto a terminator and pulled him down and tore his armour off, and feasted on his flesh. The terminator captain, Dorthak, brought his power sword and quartered a blue horror. As it was minced, it vanished.
Amongst the loud cries of war, evil chants and screams of death, a slight whirring was very noticed by the scouts. Within seconds, the Assault Cannon had roared into action and cut down the cultists and demons like wheat to the scythe. Then 12 loud clicks filled the hall as the cannon jammed from the incredible rate of fire and exploded. The terminators arm was blown off, and blood poured out the gaping hole in his armour. He let out with his power fist in one last, glorious charge into a sea of cultists. The situation was desperate for the scouts, they were down to eight men including Thor. They were being slowly crushed to death by the overwhelming tide of coven. The end looked near, for even the terminators couldn't take such a sustained beating. The ages old armour was beginning to give in. Then suddenly part of the cathedral wall caved in onto a mass of cultists. As the dust settled, a huge lumbering figure of Bjorn the Fell Handed emerged. Reinforcements had arrived. Rhinos parked outside disgorged squad after squad of Grey Hunters and Blood Claws. The scouts and terminators fought with renewed vigour, eager to assist in the final victory. The end was near. Even the colossal numbers of the cultists were beginning to thin now flamer and bolter licked the hall. Blood Claws fell like hounds upon the coven and showed no mercy to the traitor cultists. Within five short, grim minutes, a mountain of bodies was piled in the hall knee high. The Wolves were victorious. At a loss of fifteen Scouts, four Terminators, five Blood Claws and eight Grey Hunters, over ten thousand cultists had been slain. Just as they were about to rejoice, grave news arrived. Suddenly, all the eyes in the hall turned to the wheezing of a hunched man who limped his way through the entrance. He carried troubling news.
Through his ruined throat announced "Men, prepare yourselves for an enemy far more savage and brutal than these scum. Ahriman and the Black Legion have landed on this planet, and have attacked us already. They followed the psychic signal relayed by the cultists. Imperial Guard forces are being dispatched and chapter reinforcements are on their way. We've been told to get back to camp and link up with the Adeptus Administratum forces."
In a solitary corner of the huge hall, Thor, standing by himself, his proud armour covered in blood and guts, thought to himself "By Russ, we are undefeated now, and once we cleanse the remaining evil of Prospero we still shall be."
THE END
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