On the Shoulder of Martyrs (Black Templars 40K Quest)

+THOUGHT FOR THE DAY+
The martyr's grave is the keystone of the Imperium.
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"Tired of being a mortal's lapdog?" Reynauld asked with a sidelong glance and a half-smile.

"You extended an invitation to me to join your crusader squad. I accept."

"Hah!" Reynauld outstretched his arms as serfs fastened his pauldrons on. "A little too late, savage Sigismund. You made your bed with the human, sleep in it."

A serf bowed respectfully as he finished putting on your armor. "I'd rather get up from that bed and do my duty."

Reynauld wore his tabard over his warplate, the Templar cross bold against his breast. "Try to keep up then."
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Crusader Squad Reynauld boasted five initiates and five neophytes, a dangerous force that any band of renegades would dread to face, but they wouldn't be given the honor of dying just yet.

The ragged masses of heretics and apostates were simply the winding body of the snake that is the Archenemy - and every snake has its head. Kill the head, the body dies soon after.

But a snake's head has fangs, and killing it would be no easy task.

Squad Reynauld now descended from orbit, their drop-pod aglow with the righteous flame of the Emperor. Alongside it flew squadrons of Militarum and Astartes aircraft, drawing fire away from the drop pods as barrage upon barrage of anti-air guns flooded the blasted sky.

Reynauld's voice crackled across the squad vox. "Remember to hold your zeal, brothers. Save it for the true target. Ignore the chaff, hard though it may be."

You sat across your mentor, recalling the years that you had had to put up with him, and the ultimatum that forced you to either suffer under him or face dishonor. You surprised yourself that you volunteered to fight alongside him, but you were done with the 'plight' of mortals.

Mankind could use a different sort of help.

"We've found one of the leaders of this pathetic insurrection," Reynauld explained as the drop-pod plummeted. "A mortal called Colonel Gor. He was a member of the Planetary Defense Force, and now he's a traitorous wretch that we'll rip apart."

In the drop pod, each neophyte sat across their initiate mentor. Your brothers' mentors had died in Squad Theobald against the berserkers, and now new ones sat across them. A fifth neophyte, Leofric, sat across Bayard's old mentor.

"Colonel Gor is, by all accounts, a master of words and war. He's turned this rabble of scum into a fighting force that's tarred the Guard for nearly a year. Long enough for traitor Astartes to join forces with him."

The drop pod landed with a world-shaking thud. Voices outside screamed dully; the drop pod had hit its target, dead center in a crowd of the foe. The pod's bolters opened fire and annihilated those unfortunate enough to survive the impact.

"Brothers," Reynauld said, eye-lenses burning with hatred. "Cut me a path to Gor."

The pod's doors slammed down, crushing living and dead heretics alike underfoot. You trained your bolt pistol into the fleeing crowd, bursting gaping wounds in the backs of the foe, the gun roaring with elation. The bark of your pistol was meek next to the thunder of Gottfried's heavy bolter. Scores of men erupted into red mist, their screams cut short, dying with them.

War's symphony raged across the military complex. Lasguns cracked and bolters boomed, the anti-air guns roared into the heavens, drop-pods and aircraft screamed as they crashed.

Astartes had few vices, but the scent of sulfur and combat-chemicals was almost intoxicating. You slashed your sword across a foolhardy heretic, ruining his chest.

"Brothers, on me. We're storming the compound."
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The military complex outside was deceptively undermanned - the true strength of the enemy had consolidated in the fortress. The squad had suffered a withering barrage the second they set foot in the compound. They dove for cover behind pillars.

"Sigismund," Reynauld called.

You ducked reflexively as a bolt detonated centimeters from your head. "Yes?"

"I'm giving you command over the other neophytes. We're splitting into fire-teams." A heavy bolter riddled holes in the pillar Reynauld hid behind. "The initiates and I will hold their attention. Find us another path. Now!"

You drew the auspex mag-locked to your thigh. Debris and shrapnel flew, the dust stinging your nose irritatingly. The auspex revealed the building's layout as best it could, and from their you devised your plan. The enemy had overwhelming numbers and firepower on their side, and while you searched for Colonel Gore you would find another advantage to level the playing field.

You:

[ ] Searched for the communications array.

The enemy was undoubtedly communicating with other traitor forces, and coordinating with their troops outside the compound. Capturing the array denied them the ability to contact aid, and leave their outside troops confused.

[ ] Searched for the armory.

A fortress this size could house a massive stockpile of weapons and ammunition. Astartes wouldn't be able to use the majority of them, but you could destroy them, leaving them weaponless and without resupply.

[ ] Searched for the promethium wells.

The compound served both as a headquarters and a resupply depot for vehicles and aircraft. There would be a vast (and volatile) deposit of promethium, the destruction of which could lead to horrific casualties among the enemies deep in the fortress.

[ ] Searched for the targeting cogitators.

Imperial might rained from the heavens, but the guns mounted on the fortress' walls was an umbrella. With the targeting cogitators destroyed, the anti-air guns would have no choice but to fire blind, and ensure your troops would land.

[ ] Searched for Colonel Gor.

If Reynauld could hold them off long enough for you to find a way to relieve him, he could hold them off for a bit longer than that. If you found and killed Gor yourself, it would be a massive honor to you and your brother neophytes.​