"Commence Orbital Drops," K-529 said, watching impassively as the large asteroids towed to Magdab from its orbital ring began to slowly, excruciatingly slowly, accelerate toward the planet below, crude anti-space rokkits racing to meet the Ork's stony doom. K-529 almost scoffed as all those rokkits exploded well before their targets, the Thules getting in some pleasant target training. At the same time, the Orks below only emptied their magazines on targets, which would only get more lethal if shattered, not less. A similar scene was currently happening over Grubbub, and soon Smug too, large asteroids singled out and directed toward a path of fire and doom, diving to exterminate what will not be missed by anything.
Slowly, lethargically, the asteroids descended and vanished from the view of the bridge screens, with K-529 not bothering to use the zoom to see their descent. 'The bigger picture was a far better sight,' he thought, watching nothing at first and then...lights blooming below. Like neat circles, the lights expanded, and soon, those few shots were joined by a scatterblast of planetary stone thrown into the atmosphere before falling, cascading the destruction magnificently.
"Good riddance to bad thrash. Set course for Gnatiila; we have a world to cut our troops and officers on."
Lights flickered in the sanctum aboard the Taurus-01-B with the beat of hearts, the salts strewn in circles burned a pleasing black, while the paint forming holy symbols atop sanctified parchments writhed invisibly with power instilled into them before the ritual, their unheard screaming keeping away the grasping fingers of daemons and worse from the five kneeling in the five-pointed star drawn across the flood, one in each spike, eyes closed and one hand placed firmly onto the floor.
Mumbling for hours, their prayers burned through the powers that resisted them, faith in something greater than themselves guarding vulnerable souls as their union of five worked as one to find those they sought here and now; a bell struck within the Warp, and the return of its call was awaited with eager breath.
Five eyes opened.
Hands moved away from the ground, bloody imprints left behind, a testament to those who lived and died.
Five mouths spoke as one as they faced a hidden bunker through the thick walls of the ship and the void of space, staring beyond sight.
"I am here."
Tears streamed down his face.
Jinna held both her hands to her mouth as she began to kneel, muttering prayers even she could not understand.
His hands moved on their own, and the broadcast was routed from their external system into the bunker itself, the last survivors of Luteus Prism' stopping in their age-old routines that held no meaning, wondering what the occasion was.
"THIS IS CHAPTER MASTER CHYRON," an inhuman voice, distorted by their aging vox systems and laud hailers as much as by the existing electronic tint within, proudly declared. "OF THE LAMENTERS SPACE MARINE CHAPTER," it continued, and things began to clatter onto the floor, minds reeling with shock as some tried to hide behind denial. This surely must be a trick by the Orks, right? "REJOICE! THE EMPEROR'S ANGELS HAVE ARRIVED! YOU WILL NO LONGER BE KEPT BENEATH THE SKIN OF YOUR WORLD BY THE VILE XENOS THAT INFEST IT!" People fell to their knees to pray as others began to race this way and that, trying to reach other people, some important, others not, both personally and for the bunker itself. "THEIR EXISTENCE WILL NO LONGER BE TOLERATED BY HUMANITY! I REPEAT: THIS IS CHAPTER MASTER CHYRON..."
The skies glowed, not with the dakka of the Orks, but with lances of holy fire reaching from the heavens to smite the Xenos dwelling beneath its furious embrace.
The heavens broiled, dark specks racing down against the ground as specks of black raced up, before the latter was swallowed by red blooming flowers and the first spread out.
The horizons burned, large shapes flying in formation releasing an endless stream of black upon the ground where yellow suns began to ignite before burning higher in their explosive glory, leaving behind naught but molten metals and smoldering ash.
The ground trembled, as massive ships descended upon the ground, thick legs and ramps descending before marching regiments blocked them from any view.
The people of Luteus Prism' kneeled in supplication, an aging priestess weeping tears held back for generations, as a Lamenter kneeled to raise her up once more, armor dented and damaged, but eyes holding nothing but empathy and respect for those who held out beyond hope.
The war for the planet had just begun, but 527 souls had already been saved. That alone was worth the struggles to come; that alone was worth the blood which would be spilled.
If it wasn't for the Relic clutched by the bunker behind the praying souls.
But...what was it?
(6-Hour Moratorium)
[] The Catechisms of Prophetess Ma'ahra
A holy book containing wisdom few hold in this age. "There is no mercy to be found amongst the stars, for there are none strong enough to give it. There is no joy found amongst the stars, for there are none who defend it. There is no hope among the stars, for we must create it within ourselves..."
(Gain: ???)
[] An Unknown STC
"It reeks of death and destruction, vengeance and blood, howling packs and roaming fights. It demands to hear the scream of its chainsword once more, to tear with claws against its foes. It weeps to bring justice to those denied the same. It yearns for a cause righteous and fair. It begs for redemption after failing its people."
-Hymnal Yettin before the sanctification of the STC.
(Gain: ???)
[] A Lantern.
That which will be hung beside the door to a better world.
(Gain: ???)
AN: No Chaos-corruption is offered here.
