Warhammer 40K: Socialising

Taric took his grilling in his usual Taciturn way. He had not been in this much trouble since Refusing to besmirch the honor of another chapter.. And comparing the tactic in question to the Alpha Legion that invented it. That Grilling he had been more... kowtowed. He took a small amount of satisfaction that Taarn seemed frustrated that was not his reaction now. 

Taric had stood his ground, Declaring his orders were the only available choice, any other was hidden to him given his lack of Understanding of the enemy they faced. Hopefully that would get some gears moving to amend that. There was a secret there, and it Itched at Tarics psyche. 

Lauding the Initiative of Alexandros, switching from 'Kill' to 'suppress' almost worked. Turns out 'more Firepower' was just as good. As Taric vaguely recalls, Reiner has proven that twice now. 

When Taarn interrogated Taric over the situation with Lance and the Demolitions, Taric was feeling put on the back foot. He had Lances back, flying him out of the blast zone, but they had almost lost Haket. Taric assured the Chapter Master they were looking into amending that, Taarn had left it very clear that success was in the Blood Raven's best interests. 

So it was that Taric took up the Conversation with Haket again. "Brother" He said to Durance as the War Dog leaned against the Barricade. Taric simply sat down next to him, pulled out some of the preserved Sothis bugs from a pouch at his side, offering one to the Assault Marine. 

"Your Chapter Master insists we... 'Attend to improving squad cohesion to incorporate War Dog Fury in non-suicidal squad tactics'" Taric repeated the mighty Dreadnought word for word, if with a much less venom and more comradery than the Elder warrior. "Any thoughts on a solution?" Taric bit down on one of his Candied Beetles.

Durance declined the offer of the beetles from Taric with a simple shake of his head. It seemed these bugs were some sort of delicacy, similar to the sticks that Lance was furiously smoking out near the edge of cliff. He listened to Taric's words and could tell that he had thought on what Packmaster Taarn had said earlier. He did seem to have the qualities of a sergeant that Durance knew before the Great Sleep.

"Packmaster Taarn knows my strengths, as I'm sure you do now." He turned to face Taric directly. "Consider me a blade sheathed, or a hound still chained. The moment you set me loose, I will fight until our enemies lie dead. Not a moment sooner. Remember that and I shall kill all that stands against us."

"Considering what happened and my own Packmaster's wishes, I shall attempt to refrain from being so reckless in the future. But if you ever need me to kill without restraint, utter the command 'Release the bloodhound'. Once that is said, I shall join battle with all that I am."

Taric began to chew the rejected insect, and thought for a moment on Durance's reply. 

"Whilst your rage is a strength that i envy brother, and have no doubt I would eagerly have you employ it, If there is no leash to pull you back, no command to return, then I cannot make that call." Taric took a moment to coalesce his thoughts. "It goes beyond you an i, However. Your wrath is in your geenseed. It was the fall of your Legion. It consumed them. Because it was made whole, the Butchers Nails. Have you heard of them? You must have, even if your own force narrowly escaped their implementation. We must learn from their mistake, we must travel the opposite path.

Not the uncontrolled Rage of the 'World Eaters', But it would be futile to try separate you from your wrath altogether as well. Control, Brother. A way to master your Rage, to turn it off. Not just for you, but the future of your Chapter. Else tomorrow, or a year into this war, or a century from now when the War Dog's are strong, All that remains loyal of the War Hounds will be pushed to follow the fate of the World Eaters. 

I've watched you fight Brother, Seen what you are and it is truly the Emperors Work. But I've also learned much of what happened to the Legion, and seeing you, i think i understand how they could fall. 

By warp-craft or the trickery of chaos, the primary personality of.. the legions consumed themselves. Destroyed everything else, until they were purely corrupted by that."

Taric looked Durance in the eye, betraying something. He spoke with a heavy heart of something more personal than the fate of a brother he had known for scant weeks. 

Taric lay an armored gauntlet on Durance's shoulder-guard, and his voice was dire "You Must be the Master of it, Lest it be used to Master You. Do not let history repeat itself again... Break the cycle as we did in Aurelia... You know your rage better than i can understand. It is unlike the wrath of other Astarte. Think, what is its opposite? What is there that can Calm the Ire of a War Dog?"

Durance's tone took on a very serious, almost menacing tone. "A War Dog, like the World Eaters and War Hounds before them, quench their ire in the enemies' blood. We cool our steel on the fountains that erupt from their bodies when they die. Only when we stand alone, when the enemies are driven before us and lie dead at our feet, do we calm."

Durance rose from his seated position and he looked down at Taric. "Once our hackles are raised, we cannot back down. The Butcher's Nails were told to us as a way to magnify our combat potential tenfold, if not a hundredfold. Those that I fought alongside could scarce believe that such a thing was possible, such was the power and dominance that we displayed on the battlefield. My lost Brothers fought like true warriors in battle. That is all we lived for and our rage drove us on to overcome all obstacles. We didn't retreat, we merely destroyed all before us."

"I cannot claim to know why my lost Brothers fell to treachery and dishonour. You state it was in their nature to fall, merely manipulated and controlled by sorcery. I don't believe that one bit. My Legion was and is filled with proud warriors. Saying that our rage is a weakness that was twisted by our enemies is foolhardy. You have nothing to fear from me. Alexandros has lost his rage in the Great Sleep so you have nothing to fear from him either."

Durance turned away from Taric and began to move towards the tent where he had been resting. He would wait for Apothecary Nikkos to visit to fully set his broken bones. He had walked a few steps before he turned back to glance at Taric. "My only master is Packmaster Taarn," he said to Taric. "I have mastered my blood and the rage that comes with it. My rage is my strength, use it well Brother Taric."  Durance then walked through the human soldiers' camp and retired to his tent.

Taric shook his head is disappointment as the War Dog walked away. He would need to find another way to protect the War Dog's from themselves, else he knew it would fall to him and his Chapter to put them down if they ever went feral. He would not allow that to come to fruition.

Taric swiftly formed a communique to the Tempest Apothecary. Once it was sent, he got up, and considered who to seek out. 

Alexandros seemed to fair well, His situation left his mind prepared to cope with the unusual. Taric knew that this could be a problem later, but had faith that the War Dog would be shaped and forged anew with his squad. 

The Blood Raven resolved himself to the task he had been putting off, and sought out Atash.

After sharing Lance's last two cigars and working on his firing stance, Atash finally excused himself with a nod and a quiet, sincere thanks. As nice as it was to just relax for a while in Lance's laconic company, Atash felt that shooting the occasional cultist wasn't justification enough for him to neglect his other duties any longer. Especially since said cultists were getting better at keeping their heads down, and were no longer providing as many targets.

So Atash put his helmet back on and returned to what he had been doing before - building and bolstering a series of barricades around the camp. It was a rather pleasant mental exercise for him to figure out how to build them to cater to both the regular humans and the far more sizeable Astartes - and it kept him from dwelling too much on other things.

But he didn't let his preoccupation with construction prevent him from pausing at regular intervals to warily scan the surrounding landscape. As his helmet sensors panned around, he simultaneously stretched out his mental senses, sweeping them out as far as he could comfortably reach. He could still feel the scars in reality where the daemon had ripped through into the material world, but those scars were already slowly beginning to fade.

He was in the middle of hauling more boulders into position when he noticed Taric approaching. Atash paused and nodded a greeting, then gestured to the boulder he was still holding in place with his servo arm. "Brother Taric," he started, his tone light. "Come to help me build barricades?"

Taric nodded as he approached the Atash, but when he smelled the rich narcotic aroma of the cigar lingering on his brother, he stopped short of a reply. Atash could see the cogs moving in the Blood Ravens eyes, forming an idea that was swiftly formed, processed, and sent via a communiqué. Curiously it was a text communiqué, rather than verbal, leaving no hints as to the Assault Marines thoughts.

Taric snapped back to the present, a grin that could only be described as 'smart arsed' upon his face, but the grin was for Atashes benefit and not directed at him. "Even the most lax of coincidences in this system seem to be a gift from the Emperor. I still disagree with the smoking habit, But it may have just solved a lingering problem." He said.

Taric walked over, and began to aid with the barricades.

"However neither this nor that is why I'm hear brother" Taric began, glancing sideways at his Brother Marine. "How do you fair? Your mood has been.. Laconic. I worry there may have been more severe side effects from the warp exposure to you than the rest of us. We have all suffered to some degree, but the Emperor designed us strong. With help we will survive, and the guardsmen fled fast enough it seems."

Taric placed his boulder in a firing step large enough for a guardsman to crouch upon, or a marine to step. "But you are more sensitive to these things than us. Was there any Backlash?"

Banner Master Scarab was making his way through the camp to talk with this... so called Warrior Psyker named Atash.
He had in mind to query this young Astartes until his questions regarding the warp were sated.

He was denied this opportunity by the equally young zealot Brother Taric, who had apparently arrived first. "Fine then." he muttered. Scarab gaze swept across the camp site, and settled on the tent of Brother Haket, who was visible beyond the dust flaps. He smirked to himself and changed target.

"Brother Haket!" Scarab boomed from outside the tent. "Make good use of your downtime until Nikkos tends your injuries" Scarab tossed a dataslate and quill into the lap of the slightly startled looking Wardog.
"Review these applicants, and consider their merits. We have potential initiates to our chapter, and would have you familiar with them." There were literally hundreds of names and medi-reports in the slate. "I would have you highlight your chosen three score."

Scarab crouched down into view of the tent. "And as a future Packleader Diciplina yourself, you need to lift your sights beyond mere war, and to the requiem of command." His glare softened, and his voice dropped. "Lord Taarn does not discipline from hate, or spite, or pride. But from fear of loosing your considerable potential." He even managed a smile. "Our Packmaster would simply cut us loose to glorious death had he no need for us."

The glare then returned like a flame. "Now do as commanded."

And with that the formidable Banner Master left his young charge to his tasks. Stopping only to accept a proffered canteen from a rather star-struck young medial staffer.

"Problem?" Atash tilted his head slightly to one side as he regarded Taric curiously. "Is this something I should know about?" He then shrugged, his tone going rueful. "I'm not entirely a fan of the smoking thing either, but Lance can be very insistent, and I saw no real harm in indulging just this once."

As Taric moved to aid with the barricades, Atash returned his attention to the boulder he'd been holding, and carefully shifted it into a better position. He remained silent as Taric voiced his concerns, his helmet hiding his expression and giving away nothing of his mood. Once the boulder was in position, Atash used his servo arm to break off chunks of the rock and shape it into a more suitable form.

"I fare well enough, given the circumstances," Atash replied finally, dropping a smaller chunk of rock to the ground and shoving it into a gap with his armoured boot. "At least this time I wasn't the direct cause of the incursion," he deadpanned with a touch of morbid humour, before his tone sobered again. "Backlash-wise, there are scars on reality left from where the beast tore through, but they are already beginning to slowly heal."

Atash began jigsawing other rock chunks into gaps to further bolster the barricade. "I apologise if my mood has caused you concern, brother - I have merely had much to think about in the aftermath." He hesitated for a moment, then added more quietly, "I checked the dates - it has been exactly a year since the... previous incident... and I cannot tell if this is merely coincidence, or cause for concern."

"At once, Banner Master," Durance responded to the order with no further elaboration. Banner Master Scarab was not one to tolerate any hint of indignation. He merely told you what to do and you were to do your duty without complaint. As it should be.

Scarab's words about Packmaster Taarn and his own future had caught him off-guard. Durance knew that one day he would lead the future War Dogs and train them in the proper ways of combat. He had thought that time would be far off but it seemed Scarab and Lord Taarn had taken a liking to these human warriors and were pressing ahead. The compliment was not unwelcome either. Durance had a duty to survive so that the future War Dogs would fight as his brothers had before the Great Sleep. He knew this. He would not die so long as the War Dogs needed him. So he would not die, ever.

Where to begin though, Durance thought to himself as he began to look at the details of the warriors, the men of the Imperial Guard that had found themselves on Kiln. He had no real sense of what made a warrior a good candidate and the medical information was not enough to judge their character. Thankfully there were some notes of service appended to each name and Durance took the time to read them carefully. He made a note of each man that had stood fast against danger and protected his comrades in the thick of the fiercest fighting. Brother Alexandros would be well suited to commanding these men, provided they survived the trials.

For any future assault-oriented War Dogs, Durance was disappointed to find that but for a few soldiers which had been labelled 'Crazy', not one of these human soldiers were well experienced in melee combat. The names that Durance was able to scrounge together numbered no more than five, however that would have to be enough. The War Dogs would have to search elsewhere to find more bloodhounds while Brother Alexandros would have many new shepherds and terriers with which to train in the more reserved ways of war.

Taric was given pause at the mention of the date. "One standard Terran, Correct. But it is out of my own field of knowledge to guess as such things. You should consult with the Sister, she is a Witch Hunter, so such knowledge may be within her domain, or else she will know where to look for Illumination. At any rate, the day is passed. And we yet live." 

Taric sat down, back against the makeshift parapet. "As for the problem?" Taric Sighed deeply "Where do we start... It would seem that Alexandros is the only one who came away from that fight untouched, and I still await the boot to drop on that one. 

Lance has been more Melancholic than usual. It was eating at him, which i fear to be in line with a Theory i have. I've talked to him. He is well for now, but we will need to keep an eye on him.

Reiner is a different issue. I am unsure if he is normal, or spiraling. He is... Modifying himself, cutting away the weakness that he felt made him vulnerable to the psychic attack. He is a Techmarine however, so it might be normal. I would appreciate if you kept an eye on him, as a fellow acolyte of the Mechanicus, you can better tell where the line of normal sane practice lies. 

Haket is the 'problem' i was referring too however. I had thought him mostly unaffected by the exposure to the warp, and the preditations of the sorcerer beast. His inability to reason whilst enraged was the issue i sought to amend. He nearly got himself blown up.. there would not have even been any geenseed to collect. I do not think he yet realizes how precious it is. I spoke to him and he was.. Irritable. He refuses to even try master his rage, he feels that only when his enemy lies dead before him should he calm... Makes the concept of 'support Artilery' a pipe dream.'

As Taric seated himself and began talking, Atash listened carefully while still working on the barricades. He nodded at Taric's suggestion of speaking with the Sister of Battle, but made no further comment on that subject.

He let out a thoughtful hum at Taric's mention of Lance. "Brother Lance seemed in well enough spirits while I was with him just before," Atash commented. "I do not believe you'll need to worry overmuch about him... though I am curious about this theory of yours. As for Rainer..."

Atash shrugged. "From what I have seen and learned so far, it is not all that unusual for those of the Mechanicus to work towards replacing flesh with machine. But nonetheless, I will keep an eye on him," he promised with a nod. "If he seems to be getting too... excessive... with it, I will let you know."

Taric's description of his problem with Haket made Atash roll his eyes, grateful that his helmet hid his expression. "Given his primarch, I cannot say that I am surprised at this particular problem," he said dryly. "I can understand why he would be reluctant to try and leash his rage though - it is what makes him the fighter that he is, and most likely what kept him safe from the warp beast's predations. When the rage is upon him, there is no room for anything else - including outside influences, or logic, or sense - in his mind." He sighed. "We will just have to figure out a way to work around it as best we can."

Atash took a moment to shift another boulder into place before speaking again. "So... if you say Alexandros is the only one who came away untouched... then what of you, Brother?" He paused in his work and turned to regard Taric intently, the green eye lenses of his helmet unblinking. "After all that has happened, how are you faring?"

Taric eyed off one of the Vultures circling high above, pointing to it with his bolt pistol, and tracking the bird. "The birds mock me, and everything aches with a burning pain, especially my head. But the migraine passes slowly. The physical is a side effect of fending off the sorcery. It is akin to the pain a day after grueling exercise. I fought off the warp-flames with every fiber of my being, and now i pay for it. But it is no great matter. The birds however..."

Taric tracked the vulture for a while, then holstered his pistol. "They haunt me because they share the same form as the beast i could not simply kill. The similarity bothers me, and there are so many of the carrion birds. But as far as anyone can tell, that is all they are. None the less, once the stocks of las munitions are recharged i shall charge the guardsmen with some target practice."

The Blood Raven looked up at the working Shadowed Son "I know well enough to check myself first Brother, i appreciate the concern however."

Taric pondered for a while, as was his want, before continuing. "My theory has been forming since i was but a recruit. I had been charged with studying Astarte history. I would later learn that the intent was for me to research the differences between Traitor and loyal Astarte, How one formed to the other. By learning how the forces of Chaos warped the mind's of Loyal Marines, it is hoped that a defense or better forms of identifying troubled marines could be established. Save the soul's of marines before they turn. I expect that is why i was sent to Sothis." 

Taric let that hang for a moment, as he formed the concepts of his theory into words and sentences. "I have researched much of modern Traitors, focusing on the group we encountered on Sothis, as-well as the World Eaters. I've since been able to compare the surviving 'Wardogs' to accounts of World Eaters, both written and first hand from my chapters Dreadnaughts. Marines are made of tougher stuff, we were meant to resist chaos from the beginning, i believe. However where it could not twist us as they do mortals, a way was found. In almost all of the traitor Legions, the primary facet of their character, the psychological or genetic legacy of their fathers, grew to overshadow all other facets of their being until it was all that remained. The same has been witnessed in other occurrences throughout history. 

We could not be corrupted to be overcome, so It found a way to have us overcome ourselves. For the World Eaters, it was their Rage. It could overcome the survivors still, even without the legacy of the 'Butchers Nails' that doomed their forefathers. Even generations from now, it could be a risk. However you are also accurate that it is their greatest strength, as each Legions primary characteristic was to them. 

To abandon it would be to neuter the War Dogs. They would be left a weak and out of balance force, and would die off in defeat, after a time. So they must find mastery over their wrath else it will be used to gain mastery over them. 

The same is true of every chapter, every Space Marine. We must be vigilant, To use our strength but not let it become us."

Taric's monologue was interrupted when the Squad Asteroza coms channel crackled to life. It was Lance.

"On yer feet and grab your gear." He snarled. "Power armor sighted. No id on colors or heraldry, but it was most definitely vintage. Point check the land-bridge, Haket keep him company. Alexandros inform the Banner Master. Books try a scan."

Lance then switched to the Commissar's channel and soon the camp was rushing to guns.

Atash looked up at the vulture that Taric aimed at, and frowned beneath his helmet. He had paid scant attention to the birds before this, but now his body settled into stillness as he stretched his mental senses upwards and outwards. However, all the vultures within Atash's range seemed perfectly normal and not particularly noteworthy in any way. His scan only took a few seconds, and he let out a long, quiet breath as he resumed working on the barricade.

As he worked, he listened intently to his battle-brother's words, considering them and fitting them in alongside his own knowledge and ideas. "Your theory has a lot of merit," he commented thoughtfully. "I would like to compare--"

Then the crackle of the comms channel coming to life interrupted, and Lance's voice growled out. Atash swiftly slammed one final keystone into place in the barricade, then hunkered down behind its solid shelter. "Acknowledged," he sent briefly over the comm, before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly to ground and centre himself.

That done, he once again stretched out his mental senses, carefully scanning around the camp while remaining wary of anyone - or anything - that might try to block him or retaliate.

Taric's reaction was a moment behind Atash, as he established the squad com's network into cohesion. "All units, defensive stance, confirm target. Assume its a trap, someone get an Auspex reading, confirm it's real!"

His speed however, was much faster. Awaiting further reports from the squad, Taric bolted to the Storm-raven, Plasma pistol in hand, and went to equip his assault pack.

Durance jumped up from the mat that he had been resting on and ripped off the sling that had supported his broken right arm. He flexed his fingers and tested the tenderness of the still-mending bone. It would have to do, he thought to himself. He knelt down and carefully began fitting his gauntlet and armour plates to his arm. Once that was done, he attached his jump pack to his shoulders with a satisfying clunk. His chain axe, Warden, took pride of place on his right hip while his bolter occupied the left. The colours of the new War Dogs still didn't seem quite right to him and the red dirt and dust of this planet wouldn't provide nearly as much camouflage as the rain-sodden forests of Sothis. Still, battle was upon them.

Durance ducked out of his tent and saw the human army in a scramble. He looked over to the land bridge and saw Brother Atash peering out over the makeshift barricade of stones, boulders, and plasteel crates. Durance ran forward to the firing line and took position alongside Atash. Brother Taric was already here, swiftly scanning the horizon and searching for targets while still shouting orders.

"Where did you see them, Packleader?" Durance asked through their internal communications. "Land bridge is clear." He drew Warden in his left hand and waited for whatever was coming. Ancient power armour; it could only be the traitors. Durance grinned as he held his chain axe close to him and promised that it would taste the blood of forsaken warriors, those that had spat on their oaths of honour to the Emperor. Vengeance would be had today and Durance would deliver it through the teeth of the Warden.

The Chryos Guardsmen were moving with practiced speed and efficiency. The coms officer called out across the camp
"AUSPEX CONFIRMS POWERED SIGNATURE! SINGLE TARGET, MOVING AMONG THE CAVE ENTRANCE. GRID 122, 43."
The Commissar took it up from there.
"Autocannons and plasma lads! Rockets and high-pack mortars! Anything to keep their attention while the Emperor's Own plan their doom!"

"Chaos bastards!" spat an old Sergeant near Haket. "We'll keep em' busy for you M'Lords, they won't notice you until it's far too late." While he was saying this an autocannon was being set, and a discussion on armored weak points was being held as clips of AP ammo were distributed among the autoguns.
A much younger guardsman medic handed both Taric and Haket a pair of saline solution packs. She told them it was designed to feed up under a helmet, and would work perfectly well with Astartes armor.

Over the private coms, Lance's voice came in heavy with danger.

"Brother Atash... belay that scan order. In fact, guard your mind. Word Bearers iconography confirmed..."

The servos in Taric's armor whined as the enemy identity was confirmed. Muscle fibres bunched in preparation of assault, and it took a considerable effort of will to drive down his primal hatred of that particular Legion. Taric knew he needed a clear mind against this foe.

"Target status" he voxed, even as his auto senses swept the indicated zone. "Do not let him speak brothers. Heed not his lies."

"Brother Lance. Have the Sniper teams identify likely nests in the surrounding terrane. Pack mortars with incendiary or high explosive and target accordantly. I doubt the foe is alone, or that our spotting him was an accident on his behalf"

Atash's mental senses were still carefully reaching out when Lance's order came through his private comms. He immediately pulled back and reinforced the mental wards he already had in place, sending a blink-click of acknowledgement over the comms even as he felt his temper flare bright-hot at the mention of Word Bearers.

He had been very young, only five or six years old, when the Aten had first come under fire from the Word Bearers expedition it had been accompanying. Though at the time he couldn't fully understand what was going on, Atash still remembered the feeling of confusion and betrayal that had permeated the ship and its crew as the Aten fled the guns of the Word Bearers ships - their allies, their battle-brothers - and retreated into the Warp. He had grown up with that feeling of betrayal, which had become dark and bitter over the years as he learned more about what had happened. Then that betrayal had morphed into hatred and fury when the Aten had finally rejoined the Imperium and those aboard it learned of all that had transpired over the past ten thousand years.

Atash swiftly drew his bolter and readied it, only then noticing Haket at his side. He gave the young War Dog a brief nod of acknowledgement, then turned his attention to the given coordinates, even as he muttered the lower enumerations to himself to keep his flaring temper at bay.

Durance took the saline pack from the young Army medic and thanked her for her assistance. He bowed slightly in acknowledgement and watched her retreat to the medical tents. The human soldiers would have need of her before long if it was going to be another such battle as before.

A confusing jumble of vox rebounded inside his head, Taric's words barking out after Lance's more quiet growl about the danger of the Word Bearers. Word Bearers, thought Durance. He tried to think back to what his old brothers had said of them in the Crusade but he couldn't remember who they were. Then Taric's and Atash's lessons over the past week washed through his mind and he remembered them now. Heralds of Truth, now Advocates of Hate. The Archtraitors. Taric's words reminded him of their foul role in the Heresy and the Great Betrayal. He gritted his teeth and would have spat in disgust were it not for his helmet.

Durance glanced around and noticed that Taric and Atash had assumed new stances, crouching low to the ground and ready to pounce. The first blood of traitors that he would taste would be that of the most foul of them all. The bloodhound was ready to hunt.

Until the enemy could be seen though, he waited. Taric was right; this was too convenient. And he would not disappoint Packmaster Taarn again with his recklessness. Today, he would be victorious and the traitor scoured from this world.

Taric switched from the command channel to inter squad vox, adding Taarn, the sister and Scarab to the chanel.

"There were Word Bearers in your expedition fleet. If sure some of you have read the reports of our mission along side the orks. They are the Elite Corrupters of the Arch Enemy..." Taric paused as he locked eyes with Haket in particular. "It is only a theory.. But I believe they had something to do with your downfall. All the traitor legions purged their own ranks of those who would not turn on the Emperor. That is what I think happened in this sector. Knowledge is power, and so I do not believe Intel as poor as what you had on the orks to be an accident. You should know that, coming to face this particular foe. They may yet try to turn you. Whilst I have absolute faith in all of you... I have been proven wrong before where this particular foe is concerned. They are a shrewd and cunning foe, so girt yourselves in the armor of contempt."

"Sister, protect the Souls of the Guardsmen. The Commissar will not be enough alone."

The deep, resonant, voice of Lord Taarn spoke next.
"Understood, Brother Taric. But we shall not be swayed by words this day. We have been forewarned, and as such well armed." There was a short pause "Wardogs, do not assume the enemy weak, as they assume us brash. We shall strike with all we have when the opportunity presents, but until then let us confound their assumptions with a steel resolve. Let their impatience provide us providence."

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Ten minutes later, Lance came over the closed coms again.
"Bastard keeps standing half seen, as if a challenge. To taunt us. To bait us." Lance smirked. "He wishes to bait Astartes into a charge does he? Lets see how he likes baiting the Chryos 13th/10th then."

The next vox orders that went out were for all guardsmen to stand down and let the Astartes deal with this. As Lance and the Commissar made this very clear, guard runners were spreading alternative, actual orders. Brothers Haket and Taric saw the hand written orders as they arrived at the squad nearest to them.

Co-ordinates of cave openings, mortar clusterings, ordnance load-outs, heavy weapon fire zones, and kill boxes. Incendiary rounds fire last for effect, to close off exits and capitalize on any armor breaches. A nasty afterthought.
No more than 5 minutes later, the Chryos 13th regiment, 10th recon force was prepared to deliver hell.

"You're a devious bastard, Packleader Lance." Scarab's voice came over the coms. "This is what we keep you around for? Spoiling the fights while handing these guard the glory?."

"Nice to be noticed, Banner Master" growled Lance "But do not worry Brothers. I do not throw away the chance at glory or vengeance, but simply capitalize on enemy hubris."
Lance was walking the line, directing guardsmen and sighting the tunnels.
"Often do the thrice-damned traitors underestimate mortals, and this should remind them not to. Besides, if the traitors do have any further sorcerous protection,
a full mortar barrage should trigger it for analysis."

Lance stopped and laughed.
"Not that Books and I need reminding how effective a Chryos defensive line can be."

Atash remained silent for the most part as the others talked, most of his attention focused less in the physical and more in the realm of the psychic. He maintained his own mental barriers, holding them strong and steady, and kept a keen watch for even the slightest hint of enemy sorcery.

Lance's laughing comment did, however, make Atash let out a wryly amused snort of his own. "I have nothing but the utmost respect for Chryos defensive lines," he added in a solemn deadpan. "I am merely grateful that I am not in the line of fire this time."

Still, he did not let the moment of levity distract him from his watchfulness.

Durance witnessed Packleader Lance's skills at coordinating the Imperial Guardsman, marveling at the brute efficiency that was on display. Lance was right of course; as strong as the Astartes were physically, mortal warriors were just as strong in their capacity for greatness. That was what Lance had in store for the traitors and Durance admired the firepower that was being prepared.

While he waited for the Guard's preparations, Durance thought quietly to himself. The rest of the squad, Brothers Taric, Atash, Rainer, and Alexandros, stood waiting for the order to attack. When the enemy, the true enemy, presented themselves, they would be ready. Until then though...

Durance opened a new, private vox channel with his Chapter and spoke in a low voice so as to not alert Taric or Atash. "War Dogs, we fight as one for the first time in this new age. None shall fall here and all show know our strength. For the future of the Pack!"