The Barbed Hook

hullo

OOC well there's either the forward LZ where the wolves n salamanders are, or the command post

the quartermaster isnt far, in the same building

"Right"
*Cue him searching again*

OOC that wasnt someone talking
that was just context

Oh, he did ask the guards where the quartermaster was

OOC oh, missed that
say it was dialog then
IC he finds the quartermaster. a thorakite soldier, in heavier armour, a servo arm and backpack on his back

"Quartermaster?"

"Hm? what is it...and who are you"

OOC for future reference I might show up here due to an earlier suggestion of sorts

*ten salamanders walk over to pyriel, and accompany him as he follows the tracks, these are the 'first company' of the decimated salamanders force, all carrying exotic weapons, and wearing the very best Armour available*

"Lucius Greyden, mercenary. I was ordered to talk to you about payment for my services"

OOC firedrakes?
IC the footprints are clearly not human, but also not astartes

Quartermaster: oh yea, lord tarkin called ahead about that. what are you after then?

All is quiet on a fortified front, bar the distant rumble of ordnance and the creaking of discarded vehicle wrecks.
There is movement out in no man's land, a crimson giant running over a crest of the far off hills, now nothing more than churned mud, pocked with craters and razor wire.
As one, a roar of pure rage emanates from the distance, the defenders feeling a slight shuddering in the ground.
More crimson giants appear, brandishing blades as they charge full pelt towards the trenches. gaining speed as their superhuman bodies pound over mud and shattered ferrocrete.

taken by surprise, the thorakite troops try form up, launching inaccurate volleys of lasfire into the charginng foe

Lasfire bounces harmlessly off the warriors armour, Praetor Manson leads from the front. The ground now violently shaking as Astartes hurl themselves into the trenches, landing on soldiers like they were children and crushing their bodies, sending gore and entrails to explode over their enemies and themselves.
Blades begin to hack and swing through bodies, pure unfettered rage coursing through the sons of Sanguinius.

here and there the thorakite hold, with last minute blast-charge lasrifle volleys holding the astartes at bay. everywhere else, the lines start to collapse

"Brothers, Do not show them mercy! They deserve none! Cut down the traitors where they stand!" Manson roars as he draws his own blade, a huge weapon that no mortal man could wield, its surface becoming heated as he swings it through a Thorakites neck, searing flesh as blood sprays through the air.
Everywhere, bodies lay dismembered and broken, Blood angels tearing through still living men with their bare hands, screaming intermingling with furious bellows.

the thorakite fall back or are slaughtered as a couple of teams of Velitarius armed with power axes attempt to slow the angels down

*The salamanders, seeing this charge, leap from their fortifications and advance, putting down a volume of fire as they advance, volkite weapons, meltas and bolters flaring. Pyriel himself, lacking effective long range firepower, charges forth, ahead of his men* (Some are pyroclasts gor, but since the salamanders took such a kicking at istavaan they're a mismatch of units) "INTO THE FIRES OF BATTLE! ONTO THE ANVIL OF WAR"

"Figured Id have a little look around, tell me do you any sniper rifles?"

*Pyriel draws level with the fighting blood angels, joining the slaughter, as his men take up positions, cutting down the fleeing men with precise volleys of bolter fire*

"What sort of sniper rifle? anything specific?"

The astartes take a moment, reforming to face the new threat.
Manson walks out amongst the astartes, stepping upon the other side of the trench, his sword now a searing white, the air around it hissing as he holds it ahead, facing the velitaris.

A Blood angel runs toward Pyriel, his helm a moulded golden mask, anointed with sculpted gems and blood.
"Brother salamander, I am Sergeant Aloysius. It is good to see you in these bleak times"

"It is good to see you also brother, I am Captain Pyriel, hm, bleak times indeed." *Pyriel's armour is blackened and damaged, intersperced with new pieces where plates had completely cracked under the heat from the traitor bombardment at istavvan*

"Anything special or unique? Failing that I'll take a Volkite Caliver"

"Well.....there is this." *gets out what looks like a strange, heavily modified stalker bolter* "Dunno what its called. pried it from the corpse of an alpha legion infiltrator. Dunno if he was after any of our guys but cant take your chances with alpharius' lot eh?"

Aloysius power sword is coated with slick gore, his arm also. giving his crimson armour a glossy sheen as he turns to mount the trench, leaping its height with ease.
"Come, the battle has only just begun, we must face the puppeteers of these filthy traitors" He says with confidence.

"They refuse to make their fuckin mind up, thanks"

*He takes the weapon and begins to search for the appropriate ammumition*

the thorakite have started to bring up re-enforcements, as leman russ incinerators launch searing beams of heat at the astartes, and a squad of charonate ogryns lumber towards the imperial forces

Quartermaster: ammo's in that crate

"Thank you again"
*He begins loading several magazine with bolts*

"What else?"

*Pyriel's power claw crackles with power once again, and he leaps out of the trench to stand by aloysius.* "Onwards to glory brother, Into the fires of battle." *he turns to his men, and they yell in unison* "ONTO THE ANVIL OF WAR!"

*A fellblade lumbers op the embankment behind the salamanders, twin accelerator cannons pointing at the first leman russ.* "Ah, our support has arrived"

the russes begin a fighting retreat, not willing to risk themselves against such a warmachine

The blood angels charge in unison, drawing their bolt pistols and firing into the ogryns, their anger giving them strength as they charge head first into the brutish warriors.
These are no newbreed astartes, forged from the siege of terra, and the great wars prior to that, their skill is second to none. These veterans who stood alongside their Primarch and Emperor to the very end, facing innumerable odds.
"Salamander! order your men to attack the tank! bring it down!" roars Manson as he swings past a power axe and cleaves a man from pelvis to cranium, his innards spilling to the floor as he counters a axe swing with a swift kick, breaking the mans leg like a twig.

"This is payment enough for the moment"

*He begins eyeing a rather ornate looking Laslock*

the charonite squad charges into the blood angels with thunderous force, their sheer bulk proving highly useful in the narrow trenches, their claws cleaving through even power armour

Quartermaster: if you're sure.

"Affirmative!" *Pyriel charges one of the russes, digging his claw into its side armour, and tearing a hole in its side, then lifting his flamer up to the hole, and releasing a gout of flame into the crew compartment.*

*the fellblade opens fire on the second leman russ, the super sonic high density shell passing completely through, and impacting the ground behind it. after a split second the russ explodes, jetting flame as fuel and ammunition ignites*

Blood angels are thrown to the side, some losing limbs in the confusion, but many combat blades hit their mark, going for power cabling and exposed cloth; blades sinking into flesh.
"For Sanguinius!" roars Azkeroth, second in command to Manson, wielding a golden blade as he leaps down into the combat, piercing a brutes cranium as it runs through his mouth. Puncturing through his chin.

the giant falls from the blow, as the other 2 continue to flail mindlessly with their claws

the tanks continue slowly retreating, their constant bombardment unrelenting

The Blood angels take advantage of their opponents clumsiness and slow attacks, darting under and around their swings, opening up with their bolt pistols, explosive bolts blowing great chunks of gristle and blood from the ogryns huge frames.

"What does it take to bring these things down!" Azkeroth murmers under his breath as he blocks a mindless swing from the beast, sparks of pure force catching the blades as he is forced back through the mud.

the thorakite are in full retreat now, volleys of disciplinned lasfire covering their retreat

*the fellblade guns the retreating russes down, both accelerator cannons flashing* "CHARGE BROTHERS" *Pyriel leaps into the trench, crushing men underfoot, lashing around him with his powerclaw and firing his flamer into the mass of men*

the astartes hear a faint whistling in the distance, getting slowly louder

"GET DOWN MEN, ARTILLERY" *Pyriel and the salamanders slam their shoulders into the trench walls, and covering their neck joints with their forearms*

a basilisk shell impacts close to the salamander captain, leaving him unharmed but sprawling on the floor, dirt flying in all directions

"Might take the Laslock too, y'know just to cover any costs"

he nods and hands it over

The blood angels do likewise, crouching against the trench walls.