Imperial Fists defeat Thousand Sons

+++DATA BURST INITIATED+++

+++THOUSAND SONS ARMY DEFEATED AT COTÁN SPACEPORT+++

+++MAJOR ENGAGEMENT+++

+++IMPERIAL FISTS VICTORIOUS+++

+++HEAVY LOSSES INFLICTED ON THE ENEMY+++

Thousand Sons vs Imperial Fists – The Stone Gauntlet prevails 

Ahriman stared into the holotable, the buzz of the ship’s crew surrounded him as they went about their business on the bridge of The Sehkemra, a frigate void ship and the second of its name.

The frigate seemed to defy the laws of nature as it hovered in the atmosphere above the Drada outpost. Lightning arced from the exhausts of its massive void engines and the air around it hummed with energy. The Xiphon pattern fighters it carried had fought hard against the loyalist interceptors to open a window for their mother ship to descent down towards the surface, a hazardous but necessary manoeuvre. Point defence guns across the surface of the Sehkmera clattered away at the few fighters that breached the perimeter, ending their attempts at glory with bursts of autocannon fire and globes of flame. 

Back at the holotable Ahriman took notice of the situation. He absorbed the data at a rate that would give most men a severe headache. He took a sharp breath in; things were not going well.  

“There seems to be a pattern forming with this campaign” he thought to himself bitterly, “We had planned this so well”. 

He made a mental note to bring up the idea of virus bombardment when he next spoke with his Sire, Magnus. With a campaign of this scale going this badly at such an early stage perhaps such a drastic measure would need to be taken. 

Just minutes prior, while still in orbit he had seen a slate with several data bursts from his forces across the planet and their words painted a grim picture. He had seen his fellow officers, Magistus Amon of the Thousand Sons, Marek Seth of the Word Bearers and Eidolon of the Emperor’s Children all shatter when faced with the Imperial lines. While they claimed to have inflicted massive casualties on the loyalists this mattered little, Loyalist Astartes could still be dropped from orbit and Magnus himself told his inner circle of his visions of another legion arriving, soon to enter the fray. 

Amon entered the bridge behind Ahriman, the huge blast doors sliding open silently on well oiled rails. Amon looked resplendent in his crimson armour, the blue gemstones set into the plates glowed in the twilight of the bridge at combat stations, the noise of his armour clad feet impacting the deck drew Ahriman’s attention. 

“I presume we are needed” said Amon as if he already knew the answer “Captain Tolbek is struggling”.

While the great ocean had clouded the foresight of the Corvidae Cult from just before the Razing of Prospero, the storm was now waning, and the future was once again becoming readable. The latest attack on the Armorium at Drada had stalled. Earlier battles there had resulted in a clear advantage for the Imperial Fists, who had already begun to fortify their gains. 

“indeed” replied Ahriman, turning on his heel and beckoning Amon to follow him. the door swung open once again and in the corridor were the Scarab Occult, clad in their crimson red Cataphractii pattern terminator armour standing unflinching as the two captains strode past. The Guard turned and followed. The group snaked their way through the cavernous halls of the Sehkmera before they arrived in the Teleportarium. Quick weapons checks followed as the capacitors finished charging before they materialised in the salty mist at Drada. 

Two Sehkmet of Amon’s group fell immediately, their kine-shields ripped apart by two beams from the Imperial Fist lascannons squad in a building to their left. The advanced technology in their Augry scanners had allowed the Fists to predict the location where the Sehkmet would arrive and they had been anticipated their arrival. As the first two fell another pair were struck by autocannon shells from a pair of Imperial fist dreadnaughts that had turned to face these new arrivals. 

On the other side of the battlefield Ahriman looked around, their arrival had been more of a surprise and they had already gunned down a squad of Imperial Fist seekers. In the far corner he saw a squad of 9th Fellowship Recon marines being cut down by a giant of an Astartes in golden armour. He had seen this figure once before during the triumph at Ullanor. It was none other than Rogal Dorn. 

A quad beam laser Destroyer shot out from a smoking Vindicator in the back lines aimed at Dorn. It impacted a wall next to the Primarch who barely flinched as he cut down another two of the recon marines before looking over and motioning for his squad to advance. 

Ahriman looked over to the Fist’s lascannons as they charged for another volley into Amon’s Sehkmet. In their focus they had failed to notice a team of XVth Veterans pile out of their transport until they were amongst them. These veterans were adepts of the Pavoni Cult, Biomancers. Loyalist marines were butchered as they struggled to turn their bulky weapons to face this new threat, several dropped to their knees as their bones were shattered and blood boiled by the sorcerers of the XVth legion. The Fists tried their best to put up a resistance but it mattered little as the remainder of the squad were cut down by the force axes of the veterans. 

Simultaneously the twin dreadnaughts had made it into combat with Amon and his men. Ceramite cracked beneath the blows of the Leviathan’s Siege Drill and the Kheres autocannon of the Contemptor spat death into the Honour Guard. As more of his men fell a fog seemed to build until nothing save the muzzle flashes of bolters and shards of armour and limbs could be seen. As Dorn and his Breachers assaulted the Vindicator the fog dispersed in an instant. All that remained were the scattered bodies of the Sehkmet and the two bemused dreadnaughts looking round for more opponents. In the confusion Amon had utterly vanished. Ahriman allowed himself a smile at this realisation. Amon was old but one did not survive that long without knowing a few tricks. 

A deafening roar drowned out the sounds of battle as Astartes from both sides looked to the heavens. A flight of several loyalist strike craft and their smaller escorts had flown overhead, their wings heavy with their payload. They flew over the battlefield and began their climb up towards the Sehkmera, the craft hanging low in the sky. Missiles shot out from the Marauder bombers of the Loyalist Navy. Black smoke trailed behind them as they streaked across the sky. Several were intercepted by the point defence turrets of the Sehkmera and they detonated early with several blinding flashes of light as their nuclear warheads exploded. The point defence was not enough however and several warheads struck home. Their ceramite capped tips piercing the void hardened hull of the frigate before detonating inside. Spouts of flame lept from the frigate as it was wracked by internal explosions, turrets flew from their housings as the overpressure burst them from their mounts. Debris rained down across the battlefield impacting around the shocked Astartes. The Raptora cult sorcerors among them raised kineshields which crackled and spat as they diverted the falling material away from the XVth Positions. Meanwhile the Fists hunkered down in their fortifications, confident their ferrocrete coverings would protect them. 

The Sehkmera had been severely crippled but had not been downed, its propulsion roared and the giant ship started to limp back up to orbit and the relative safety of space. Flights of XVth legion fighters streaked in from other ships in higher orbits and the Imperial Marauder bombers were downed in short order. 

This had been a gamble and again it had not paid off. The thousand sons had taken heavy losses for very little gain. They had come no closer to securing the access points to the caverns beneath their feet and a frigate had been crippled. The idea of Virus Bombardment returned to Ahriman’s mind.

“Maybe…” he though.