Rosetta - A Warhammer 40,000 Story

Part XV

"The Imperium of man has had enough... I... Have had enough!" Barked Theodosius as he blasted his voice over the vox. Listening to him, the ears of thousands of Mordians. Gleaming with pride and eager for battle they all stood in their places and stared at the hell they will soon be charging into.

"I have had enough of the lies, the conspiracies and the dishonour!" Theodosius continued.

He paused as the audible detonation of warheads and rattle of gunfire echoed across what was once a forest. Days of battle and wildfire had reduced both building and tree alike to smouldering rubble and all that remained were the crumbling ramparts of Wyvern's Citadel.

"Too long has my authority been usurped. Too long have these heretics dabbled in ancient powers beyond their petty understanding. Hubris blinds them and ambition bates them. This power has no allegiance. It must be destroyed! In his holy name crush everything into dust!"

As one the horns of the army blew a single blaring tune and both man and tank marched forth as one onto the ashen wastes. Tanks rolled at a uniformed pace, in between infantry lines, keeping up with their marching pace.

The Infantry themselves marched in perfect formations three ranks deep and a hundred men wide. Every formation was part of a larger block three formations deep and two formations wide. They moved with no regard to themselves.

Every step, every movement, every swing of an arm, it was performed perfectly to the ceaseless rhythm of the fife and drums. Every footman, utterly silent as the army marched across the flattened field.

Rosetta, powerless against the ways of the world, watched from her place, far behind the frontline. All the while Mimir stared into the distance at some unknown object of obsession. Now he seemed more akin to a statue than a man.

It was not long before the enemy opened fire. Cultists from on high sprayed lasfire and heavy bolter fire into the massed ranks of the Iron Guard. The Imperium's retaliation, the might of hundreds of tank guns.

In an overwhelming show of force, a tremendous firestorm swept over the land. Scores of shells were lobbed into the enemy entrenchments and bathed the land in the glow of a hundred suns. Yet, like rabid madmen, the enemy doggedly fought back.

They sprayed into the Mordian lines with all manner of weapons. Rockets would fly into tanks and dissipate in great fireballs upon the tough armour. Muskets and cannon would crackle and pop in the distance, leaving behind plumes of smoke.

Cannonballs would plough into the Mordian lines taking limbs and lives as they drove through body after body. Some would ricochet off of the tanks and into the infantry. Heavy bolters and lasguns, stolen from other forces spat fire and scorching light into the Imperial Guard.

Through the bloody mess, the Iron Guard trudged on. Until they were within close range and halted with the silence of their music. Then a new tune was played and they formed into new lines, reserves filling in the gaps left behind by the dead and the front rank knelt as arms were raised at the enemy.

"Front rank! Fire!" Barked an officer.

As one the front rank let fly light and death upon the enemy.

"Second rank! Fire!" The order was barked.

Like the first, the second open fire. Thus began the relentless grind of the Mordian Iron Guard. Blooded and dirtied suits of gold and blue standing tall and triumphant as hell was unleashed from their very guns.

-//-

It was not long before the relentless grind ate its way to Wyvern's Citadel. There they came upon a hail of overlapping arches of precise bolter fire. Out of the forest poured the rear guard of Arcanus' forces.