Posted on behalf of Chris
--Approximately 6 weeks after the first battle of Delteron IV; Forward deployment base for Salamander forces--
Things had been suspiciously quiet for weeks now. The expected retributive strike from the Eldar raiding force had failed to materialize, which both relieved and worried Pyrus in equal measure. He had not been idle though, or squandering the time he had. He had busily been setting up a series of small strong points in the sector near the shrine ruins. Once completed, this network of outposts was meant to defend the site while the Forgefather himself came to investigate some inscriptions in the stonework. It was said that as soon as picts of the inscriptions made it to orbit, data analysis servitors triggered an urgent priority summons to Vulkan He'stan directly. Pyrus' orders at that point became more complex; he was to both defend the planet per his original orders, as well as secure the shrine ruins for study.
He was busily directing installation of defenses when the field auspexes warbled an alarm - an unidentified surge of energy had been detected nearby. Examining the signature of the energy, Pyrus could only draw the conclusion that his reprieve had ended.
"Brothers! To arms! The cowardly Xenos finally show themselves. Fire up the Rhinos, and let us get some eyes forward to evaluate the threat." Even as he spoke, Pyrus keyed in his personal access code on the armory locker, and reverently withdrew the ornate and finely machined bolter, Vulkan's Ire. He didn't have time to swap from his servo harness to devastating conversion beamer, so he charged out to join the rest of his forces.
As the Salamanders formed up and prepared to repel the Eldar, one of the sentries spotted the first of the enemy forces emerging from a fading webway portal. "Sir, enemy spotted. It's a... squig, sir," came the someone confused contact report. It was quickly followed by another report, from another scout. "Large Ork party moving in from the west. Estimate strength at approximately 60 bodies, plus vehicular support. Orders, sir?"
"Do not engage. You are too far out and unsupported. We will anvil... Brother Ba'rakus and a squad of assault terminators shall be our hammer. Make your best speed to try to catch up with the engaging force ONLY after there is no chance you will be detected," Pyrus ordered over the vox, even as he gave hand signals for the deployment of his forces at the firebase. A hyperactive streak caught his eye, the squig seemed almost manic in its need to throw itself against the walls of the fortification. Eyes narrowed behind his visor, Pyrus sighted in on the creature just as it leapt for the wall and unleashed a torrent of bolts from the relic bolter he held. Even as he loosed the shots, he realized that the animal was strapped with some sort of Eldar treachery... then it exploded in a shining blast. Luckily, the fortifications held, and none of his forces were harmed. Unluckily, though, was the apparition looming over the edge of the battlefield... a massive Ork war machine stomping along behind a screaming horde of greenskins.
Lascannon fire flashed through the air, but with the distance and the shifting stride of the machine, the shots went wide. It returned fire, guns blazing all over the towering form, showering the Salamanders in Ork lead. Even with the fortifications, brothers fell under the onslaught. As the Orks charged closer, the Rhinos moved forward to provide cover and to position themselves to intercept the rushing horde. Mighty Ba'rakus stomped forward, into some rough, uncleared terrain that would be the future location of a air-defense gun, ready to slam into the flank of one prong or the other of the Ork assault.
Pyrus leapt across the fortification lines, landing with a bone-jarring thud due to the weight of his armor and augmentations. He had keyed in the coordinates he needed his reinforcements to arrive at, and was making haste to that location to join up with them when the teleportation equipment did it's sacred duty.
He had given up on the hammer-and-anvil strategy upon seeing the numbers of the greenskins... he'd need everything he could get to blunt the initial assault. He would hold the position until orbital support was in range, even if it meant facing down a thousand of the filthy Xenos by himself.
As the forces closed on each other, the volume of fire increased... bolter shells layed down a thick blanket across the battlefield, and the return fire from the Orks, though somewhat... wilder... also left it's mark.
The insidious Orkish war-walker in particular exacted a heavy toll, it's massive rotary cannon picking out brothers behind even thick duracrete walls. Pyrus braced himself as the tide drew ever closer. His firepower was not reducing their numbers nearly enough. The savages were going to get within clawing distance, where the advantages he held were minimized. One bright spot was a concentrated volley of fire destroying an Ork transport vehicle bearing down on him, just as the air around him began to crackle and hiss. With a bright flash, and brief wave of heat, a squad of five grim assault terminators appeared in a charred circle on the ground. Immediately, Pyrus joined them, with a call of "To me, Fire Drakes. We are the weathered stone upon which the tide is about to break!"
Things went to hell right about then. A lot of things began happening at once. A mob of Orks charged with surprising zeal, catching a Rhino driver by surprise. The horde crawled all over the vehicle, and with crude explosives and sheer brute strength, managed to disable the transport. While they were distracted, the five-man squad within escaped, turned their guns on the horde, and then charged back in while the brutes were disorganized, trying to gain whatever advantage they could. Ba'rakus burst from the concealing foliage and practically tackled the Ork walker, attempting to shore up the crumbling southern flank, the titanic struggle between the two war machines ringing like thunder across the battle, and forcing the Lascannoneers to choose different targets for their so-far largely ineffective salvos.
On the western front, the tide finally got within range of Pyrus and the squad of terminators, bearing down on them with frightening force. Overwatch fire barely dented the horde. It was a long, bloody struggle. Though outnumbered almost four to one, the space marines held. At first. Even with their mighty thunder hammers and storm shields, attrition took its toll. One by one they fell, even Pyrus taking nigh-incapacitating wounds. As his brothers fell around him, and across the battlefield, Pyrus was conscious of the countdown ticking in the corner of his visor... long minutes until the Immolator was in position in the skies above to offer support. Seeing his fellow Marines cut down by such filthy creatures caused the stubborn rage of Vulkan himself to boil up in Pyrus' augmented hearts. With a savage, eerie roar, he thrashed, mangled, and pulped Orks even as the last of the terminators were overcome. Even as wounds that would have felled even a mighty Astartes began to mount up, his righteous fury simply would not allow him to give ground in the face of the abominations. He fought on almost mindlessly, beyond tactical thought and rationality.
On the southern front, things were also dire. Though he savaged the Ork walker, Ba'rakus had been swept aside by the much larger construct. He had left it nearly unable to move under it's own power, though, so it was not able to maneuver itself into a more deadly position. The five marines were butchered by the Orks, buying time for the Rhino that had been patrolling the western front to push down to offer support, as the horde began to rush the Space Marine base itself. They were able to overrun the walls, but were cut down by the reinforcing squad and their Rhino as they tried to rush the remaining defenders in the walls. The Ork stragglers pulled back to regroup to their Warboss, who emerged from the belly of the immobilized Ork walker. By this time, both sides were severely depleted, only a handful of stalward Salamanders were still on their feet, but the Ork horde had also been severely depleted... More so as the stragglers rushing to their warboss' side were cut down by bolter fire, leaving the brute exposed and alone. With a savage roar of challenge, the massive scarred greenskin rushed the handful of defenders, but was pushed back and heavily wounded by overwatch fire. He managed to make it back to the Ork machine, which by this time had regained some of its mobility.
Pyrus broke free from the mob he had been engaged with, winning through despite the odds against him. Without even pausing for breath he stalked towards the next group of Ork forces to catch his attention... a late-arriving mob of small, twisted Orks... Gretchin. They fired enthusiastically in his direction at the prodding of a large Ork amonst them, though even as their shells glanced off his armor, sparking and making that particular 'twang' of metal on ceramite, he did not flinch. He brought his flamer and bolter to the ready, and with fire from the remaining defenders, eradicated the stragglers. This, unfortunately, gave the Warboss time to make his escape... and Pyrus considered the odd action. Perhaps this Ork was smarter than most. He must have been tracking the Immolator's progress as well, and knew not to press an attack when his chips were down.
There would be time for reflection later, though. For now, there were critically wounded, and even dead, Marines to attend to while awaiting reinforcements. He had no way of knowing that the first battle of what some would come to call, inexplicably, "Filbert's Waugh" had just drawn to it's conclusion.
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