<< How it's possible, Commissar Nelson, that tens of thousands of imperial guard march amid that jumble of demons, outcasts and cultists, under the shadow of the traitor titan legions? >> << Deceived, General Daikun. They see only their Liberator. They march bewitched, under a black spell. If we kill Him, all this mess will end. So says the Alaitoc witch. The spell will end, and the dark powers will be thrown back into the abyss who has vomited them. This will go down in history as a war of faith. On one hand we, worshipers of the God Emperor, and on the other the chaos followers. bullshit! The damned soldiers of this damned war don't pray to anyone, but I know for sure that they curse them all. >>
They are legion. They see their Liberator. They march like death shadows. The legion of the death.
OST - Bathory - Home of Once Brave
<< Drop pods sealed. Deathwinds pods launched. The Liberator? Unsheathe your swords Brothers! I will tear his heart, unscrew his skull and I go shit inside. >> Captain Ingimund "fireclaw", Captain of the VI tactical detachment, starcruiser Iarla-Banki.
A massive orbital bombardment rips the red night, and hits the coven of Khorne perched on the peak of the sector, bringing carnage and destruction of dozen cultists and two their land transporters, when a dozen drop pods dart toward the huge crater generated by the detonation of the black legion spaceship. The deathwind pods open fire, hitting repeatedly the land raiders and the last Baneblade super heavy tank perched in the ruins of the loyalist outer walls, the last one survived at the devastation of the spaceship. Just behind, from the drop pods emerges a detachment of tactical space marines, who promptly launches an assault on the enemy armoured line in from of them. A fierce battle in which falls a dreadgnought and a dozen marines, but the enemy line is overwhelmed, and from the rubble only a land raider takes refuge behind the immense shadow of Ebola, the Emperor titan, in a desperate retreat maneuver. Finally, after hours and hours of fight, the space wolves hoist the allies flag again, their own, on the loyalist outer walls. A symbolic gesture, but huge, although now the area is so disfigured that it's virtually unrecognizable. After hours of pressing, the battle for the loyalist outer gates is ended. By now.
From behind the chaos space port, the Daemon Engines of Khorne march on the road and when they turn on the main Street to the allies outer walls, assist with cruel pleasure to the devastation on the horizon. There, couldn't exist a better theater of war, and more worthy of them, there, ready to welcome over the imposing shadow of Ebola.
On the allies route, the last ordinatus enter on the battlefield. The ordinatus Mars, that with its terrible sonic weapon unleashes a firestorm against Ebola, and the few traitor rough riders remained to protect him. The riders are literally swept away, while Ebola has barely scratched.
The last thunders of an hour that shook the pillars of heaven, to the strong foundations of hell. Gargarism, arching its horrendous metal back, shoot with its terminus howitzer and the morbus cannon against the last loyalist shadowsword super heavy tank, reducing it to a steaming metal carcass along the avenue of Splendours.
The allies assault forces are all on retreat. The last two land speeder typhoons have fled on the Royal Palace, as have done the last Revenant titan. The warlord titan Ignis Divine have march inside the ruins occupied before by the Alaitoc titans, while del land raider have stop their movement and prepared an overwatch fire, along the Avenue of Splendours; but for the windriders warhost in disarray there is nothing to do. Before they can even make their retreat are achieved by the bombing of the traitor basilisks, that destroy and scatter them.
The second part of the Khorne Daemon engines army march to their spaceport, and moves for redeploy on a new assault plan, maybe for join the first khorne assault line. A Lord of Battle and a juggernauts horde.
Near the chaos plasma annihilator ground cannon, the predators prepare an overwatch fire, while the warbike march to protect Ebola, stopping at his immense foot. Pustola, the warhound titan, move and finish its movement on the access Platform of the ground cannon, to protect the next retreat of its master and lord: Ebola the damned.
The chaos outer walls are now left unattended, only four vultures and what remain of the powerful and massive coven of Nurgle, perched on a building. The entire line by now is shifted on the space port trenches.
To patrol the allies plasma annihilator ground cannon, a windriders warhost, the ordinatus Golgotha, now emptied of all its missiles, and what remain of a guardian warhost. The other forces, wait to regroup and prepare a new invasion battle plan.
For the dark reapers, on the Royal Palace battlements, the sight is hellish. In front of them, and under their eyes, the battle has upset the Sector.
They are coming. The devastation and carnage has reached dangerous heights, and the powers of the Immaterium, like leeches that feed of entropy, are getting stronger, closer and closer. The allies are oblivious, or maybe just the Alaitoc princess knows. She knows, but she say nothing. A red moon will rise, the day when the big hunt will move from somewhere on the eye of terror to the battlefield of Ivanor. Unaware, devastating, Ignorant.
TURN 16 - OBJECTIVES
ALLIES Stronghold:allies hand ALLIES HQ's Huge Gates:allies hand ALLIES Space port:allies hand - 1st turn.
CHAOS Stronghold:chaos hand CHAOS HQ's Huge Gates:chaos hand CHAOS Space port:chaos hand - 2nd turn - reinf: 9 doomwing + 1 firelord
Missiles Silos area:DESTROYED Heavy Ground cannon:DESTROYED Ground Plasma Annihilator - size chaos:chaos hand - overwatch Ground Plasma Annihilator - size allies:allies hand - overwatch Psychic tower:DESTROYED
VICTORY CONDITION: not achieved (check from turn 25 on)
"Repeat a lie a thousand times and it becomes the truth." Ministry of liberation propaganda. Foundation year for solemn will of Field Marshal Alexander Ross, Liberator of the new Aquilonia.
<< Like the great storm of the Horus Heresy, the forces of the True Gods will descend upon the Emperor's minions. The stars will tremble at their passage and the mighty armadas of the Warmaster Abaddon will bring annihilation to a hundred worlds. Know this, for these things will come to pass. >> Constanze the Prophetess, burned as a Heretic 687.M38.
<< Everyone pulls the prophecies to his mill. They are definitely a tendentious source, written by hands too confident, my Nameless ally. >> The Liberator.
OST - Killing Joke - Invocation
Unmentionable presences scratch, beat, whisper, whine at the door of the Materium, crawl, swarm, crowd in search of a breach that hour after hour is getting bigger. They want to enter; and if victory will not come quickly, they will.
Fire and cannon! Thunder and storm! Lightning, thunderbolt, leap and assault. Allies and traitors fight incessantly, absorbed souls and bodies in a relentless devastation, while the materium and the world around them begins to fade, to become more vacuous, crumble under the terrifying blows of the entropy of dark gods. The battle now justifies itself. There is only action, the tomorrow, for them, is dead. is Death, and will never be. Fire and cannon! Thunder and storm! Lightning, thunderbolt, leap and assault.
The great battle for the loyalist outer walls is ended. Ended with the collapse and explosion of an immense space ship of the black legion. An apocalypse of fire that have upset the entire district, creating an immense crater and huge hills of debris. A devastation that has disfigured the face of the sector. But among all this mess, miraculously a huge poster depicting the God Emperor is still standing, untouched, in the midst of so much Death and destruction: The Emperor protects, says the inscription.
The flames that rise from the Great Gargant light, together with those of the destroyed Banelord titan, the devastated area. The insane and crushed head of Rattling Gangsta, that was its name, smiles puffing flames to the scrap of the reaver titan of Nurgle, destroyed in front of it, while from the belly of the banelord, from its plasma reactor in flames, a chain reaction out of control continues to devour its carcass and set fire to what remains of the outer walls and the near buildings. Two fiery torches that illuminate a desolation of scrap. Scrap of tanks, scrap of warbikes, vindicators, predators, scorchers, buggies, battlewagons, land raiders, rhinos, whirlwinds, chimeras, baneblades, an ork battlefortress and so on. An unrecognizable heap of charred bodies of imperial guard soldiers, blood axes orks, mechanicus servitors, zombies, space marines, raptors, horses and again metal scrap of robots, dreadnoughts, and some among them still barely distinguishable. An holocaust.
The ruins of the immense metal gate, a huge twisted sheet, rises from the central crater, among the remains of the walls, barely distinguishable. Among the ruins, the survivors of the VI tactical detachment stand proud, their flag hoisted. In front of them, the immense shadow of Ebola. A shadow that doesn't frighten them. They don't know, the fear. They can hear the roar of the few black legion warbikes arrived to protect him, or it. Ebola. Their eyes look forward, fearless. The are the sons of Odin. They are the sons of Russ. They are born for the Ragnarok, all of them. They are born for the twilight of the Gods. They are the space wolves.
Ebola, the tyrant, with huge steps, and as quickly as possible, starts to retreat on the road towards the immense ruins created, hours ago, by the two impressive plasma annihilator ground cannon's shots. Ebola, the seventy seven times damned, falls back, while in front of him waving the standard of the space wolves.
The VI tactical detachment of the V great company retreats it too, escaping from the old front line and the range of fire of the basilisks. The new front line is redefined: the second trench of their space port.
The magical and infernal flying machines of Tzeentch. A view now terribly common, once again pierce the red sky of Ivanor, between bluish lightning and scarlet thunders, chased by the legendary four ork stukas, the destroyers of the missiles silos. The four ork heroes shoot down a doomwing each, while the rest of the evil storm rails on the plasma annihilator ground cannon on the allies front, knocking down three void shields. A first attack, spurred by the cannonade of Gargarism, who with its Morbus Cannon breaks down the last void shields of the immense cannon, now naked in front of the vortex missile that lifts off, the last traitor vortex missile. A parable of death. The vortex missile impacts against the cannon, destroying it in a triumph of flames and hurling whole sections in the warp. Under the Alaitoc dismayed eyes the great allies cannon burning of immense flames.
The liberator. Before his fall, he was and still is considered one of the talented Imperial Guard General of the Galaxy. A fieldmarshal of unheard cunning, and with dismay the allies generals see open with this peremptory and misleading attack a new front, kept at bay for hours up to here, by the immense ground cannon. It was not a retreat, but a change of front. The battle is about to return: angry, cruel, bestial.
The juggernauts march past the space port, and reach the crossroads. The allies manticores try to stop their wild and unstoppable charge, as insatiable beasts they run, and it's now only a matter of time before these monsters will rush against the Allies lines. Their way: the city high.
<< But who started this war, Commissar Nelson? A dense fog obscures my mind, confuses me, it was the Eldar? The orks? I don't remember, I can't remember well. >> << Maybe the Orks, on Fungus, I think... then the eldar on Abeldar. Or... we are falling into the hands of a black wind, General Daikun. Our thoughts fade, we must act quickly. We must triumph, but triumph soon! >>
The armies of the liberator move.
Like a snake writhing before to pounce again on its prey, so the armies of the Liberator, faithful and responsive to the orders that come from the legend in the Astra Militarum stronghold, move and reorganize according to the new guidelines. Beyond the gates of the Astra Militarum falls the warhound titan Pustola, while flying inside the traitor vultures.
On the top of the hill, it's now called the destroyd Sector of the intercontinental missiles silos being the dominant part of the entire war theater, the Khorne coven and the last terminators prepare an overwatch fire, ready for the arrive of the space wolves incoming battlebarge.
The cultists horde raise to the sky screams of joy and fury, when they see rise, from the crossroads, the terrifying war engines of Khorne. Two lords of battle and an army of daemons engines. Axes are raised to the sky, a sky already painted red, a blood red sky. Blood for the Blood God!
On the chaos plasma annihilator ground cannon, a forlorn hope, scout detachment is firmly in overwatch, and the area is patrolled by a Deathwheel. Around the Platform, the chaos warbikes, returned from the front, are ready, together with a predators company, to patrol and protect the district.
The allies have redefined a new front line, to avoid the enemy barrage, on the last trench line of their space port, and in this line, the devastator company is ready in overwatch, while the ork tankaz advance, to protect with their flak tanks the ordinatus mars; ordinatus that stays it too firmly in overwatch.
In the Royal Palace, the last revenant titan patrols the courtyard, while all the troops inside are ready in overwatch.
The ordinatus Golgotha, now only an huge and empty war engine, doesn't move and stays in position, along with the guardian warhost and the jetbikes, to see what will be the next enemy moves. Their big cannon to protect has been destroyed, their mission has now changed; and they are now in what will be a new front line. The information on what took place on the front line of their space port have come down to them. Terrifying news.
Ignis Divine doesn't move, and the same does the leman russ company. From the hill will go down the armies of Khorne. Another front created before their eyes.
To spoil the enemy advance are sent the survivors of the rough riders platoon, and the last two land speeders typhoon. A desperate maneuver. The assigned commissar at the rough riders took a personal initiative, and the space wolves land speeders rushed in protection. Among the imperial forces not everyone can withstand the impact and stress of this apocalyptic clash, and doesn't matter that the commissar was shot by the platoon sergeant: now they are the first front line on the central sector.
Not everyone can hold, the human mind is not made for such a hell. Because there is only one word for all this: hell.
TURN 17 - OBJECTIVES
ALLIES Stronghold:allies hand ALLIES HQ's Huge Gates:allies hand ALLIES Space port:allies hand - 2nd turn - reinf: 9 ork stukas
CHAOS Stronghold:chaos hand CHAOS HQ's Huge Gates:chaos hand CHAOS Space port:chaos hand - 1st turn
<< For foreign people and distant Aquilonian, Their big city near the river in strong torment: Daughter without powers will have too different tomorrow, Chief taken, for not adequately armouring. >> Constanze the Prophetess, burned as a Heretic 687.M38.
<< Between Armageddon and Istanor VII today there isn't so much difference! Field Marshal Ross, la bataille impervious in space according to da' plan along all dà green rivà, je attends da' news of the fall of the capital Ivanor to end hostilities and divide up with you all the Minos kingdom. >> NapoleOrk. Supreme Warlord and maximum beauty of Orkonia Kingdom.
OST - Damask Rose (10) - Blade Runner Soundtrack
<< You wondered what was my plan, Nameless, to bring me all the neutral generals of the Twelfth Army and the admirals of the imperial navy? The war. Nameless. The war. A common enemy is a gift from hell. All the planets in the star system will swear loyalty to me, as well as the general of the imperial guard. I, their only salvation against the barbarian ork invader from east, when we'll push back the Napoleork's fleet. The endless war. An endless war is the key to our victory. >> << The crown of Istanor is well placed. Alexander Ross died. From his mortal remains was born The Liberator, Daemon Prince of Slaanesh, and his name is already a legend in all the galaxy. At the Empire of the oligarchs of TERRA we will replace the empire of chaos. No dispatch from the Royal Palace? Everything is silent? >> << Genocide always starts from silence. And in the silence of the righteous the dark powers of chaos bloom. Let's move, however, to win this war now, because I'm still a king without a crown. If it's true that history is written by the winners, let's win. As if I'll fall, tomorrow billion people will curse me. >>
Oh, what a great leader, fine strategist, illuminated general. He, mind at the head of half a billion soldiers, the first of the shields that had to stand up for the defense of the star sector of Istanor VII°, the first and greatest, of the traitors: Aleksander Ross.
The soldiers and troops in the field live for hours with the nose upturned, that red, pregnant hellish sky pours by hours death and destruction from its belly; but this time, the sky is torn and with amazement Damat sees its Millennium falkork, now property of the blood axes orks, renovated and changed into an ork super heavy bomber. The Falkork along with half a dozen fighta bommas rushes swooping on the coven of Khorne, spreading death and destruction among the followers of the death and destruction.
Ebola, the damned, ends its march inside a ruin, protected and partially hidden in the bowels of a huge building destroyed hours ago by their plasma annihilator ground cannon. Its front is no longer a priority.
The loyalist rough riders, now alone on the high street of the city, realize too late their fate. Alone and without any kind of support they are swept away by the fierce fire of the engines of Khorne, that advance angry puffing fire and destruction on the square below, a firestorm increased by the last traitor bombard near Gargarism, that destroys one of the two land speeders typhoon, forcing the last to flee inside the Royal Palace. A pointless and gratuitous debacle for forces already seriously affected by the battle.
However, from the loyalist backline advances Emundans, an assault warlord titan of the Legio Metalica, assigned to the same battlegroup of Ignis Divine, who is its leader, while a warhound titan of the same battlegroup, Ardens Rapax, advances in the courtyard of the Hellenic Royal Palace, reaching the last Revenant titan, as reinforcement. Emundans opens fire to the engines of Khorne, destroying with its volcano cannon a warengine, reducing it to a pile of sheets angrily destroyed.
OST - Terminator 2 soundtrack11 I ll Be Back
<< Solaris-46-Gamma reporting. Intercontinental missile silos area in line of sight, the city high is undercover. May the ruin falls upon you, Dark Mechanicus, and your evil and unclean warengines, which existence is already a blasphemy. The Omnissiah's law is upon you. >> Solaris-46-Gamma data transmission to the Allies HQ.
One of the three, the Armageddon, is now a wreck, forever lost to mankind. Irreparable, a heritage, a destroyed relic. The second, the Golgotha, prototype became legend in the squats chronicles, is an unarmed giant, now devoid of all its warheads. The last, the third, is the one and the only one still able to bring the will and the blind anger of the God Machine against the enemies of the Imperium. The ordinatus Mars, bears the name of the red planet, the sacred soil of Marte, technological artifact whose sonic cannon can bring destruction without equal on the battlefield. The ordinatus Mars advances and turns forty degrees to "the hill". On its line of fire the terminators and khorne warengines are at the edge of the devastated silos area: the hill. With a roar and a terrible shock wave, the sonic cannon unleashes the hell, an immense shock wave that sweeps away all the first enemy line, fighting back of tens meters the engines and the powerful terminators, as if they were twigs in a storm.
The hill is now the allies primary target. Hovering in the air the manticores missiles, whizzing and land disastrously between the lines of the khorne coven, killing some cultists and destroying some land transporters. The terminators, already in retreat, are swept away by the bombardment. A preliminary bombardment followed by the bombing of the legendary four stukas: "da' destroya of worldz!". The forces of Khorne are under a massive attack. An attack so intensive that now reveals the ally plan.
The massive orbital cannon of the Astra Militarum Stronghold opens fire to the sky, a massive bluish cannon shot that pierces the red night and impacts, miles high above the stratosphere hitting the incoming space wolves battlebarge. A mighty blow but doesn't stop the space ship to move in orbit according to its coordinates, albeit damaged.
OST - Bathory - Nordland
A massive orbital barrage devastates the already devastated silos area. Tens of cultists are charred under the massive bombing, many land transporters shrivel like crushed by a giant flaming fist, a blaze of flames and destruction from which the cultists were fleeing on their vehicles, taking refuge behind the massive incoming engines of khorne.
Moments later, a rain of drop pods lands on the hill, hitting with their deathwinds repeatedly the retreating engines of khorne, but the steel giants endure the fire. Another tactical detachment disembarks from the pods.
A Thunderhawk flies over the Royal Palace, a Thunderhawk full of tarantulas light artillery, a support company embarked on it hours ago. The gunboat lands on the hill, and engage the engines of Khorne with the support fire of the tactical detachment. A terrible firefight. A firestorm of bolters, lascannons, and twin-lascannons. The tarantulas unleash a massive firepower. The engines of Khorne are trapped, and are all destroyed. Only a tarantula is destroyed in the operation. The hill is conquered. For Russ and for the Emperor!
However, the retaliation comes inexorable. Gargarism, firm in the ruins near its space port, opens fire with its fearsome morbus cannon and terminus howitzer, ravaging and destroying the landed thunderhawk and a couple of tarantulas, that hold their position patrolling the access ramp to "the hill".
<< King Minos, We must attack, and attack now with all our tankaz! Mine left and yours, with da' zupport of da titan legion! >> << And with what forces? General Von Grinda, We have to wait for further reinforcements. Damn, General Daikun. Is it really necessary to smoke in this obscene manner? I can't distinguish the movements of our and enemy troops in the holographic device for this sticky fog! >> << I smoke Forty cigars a day to be wide awake and think, think, think about how to fight the tyrants and the fools. But don't bother, King Minos, you don't belong to the second category. Taking a strategic overview, our opponent has definitely hit harder, Desert Fox, and he has reserves, far, far more important than our current forces. We must use sparingly of what we have left. >> << If we fall into discord, our enemy will have already won. >> << Right, Alaitoc princess. Calm Gentlemen! Keep calm and carry on to our plan. We are near, Generals and Noble King and Princess. One last effort, and as soon as the head of the Liberator will roll in the pigsty, we will have won. You have my word, the word of the king of Fenris. >>
Discord, like two rabid dogs who grind with one another their anger, showing their teeth, hungry. Discord, like a slimy snake crawling between the folds of time, biting the hearts of the allies with fear and ire, an evil black wind thrown from the darkest spells of Nameless tightens like a clenched fist the Royal Palace, harder, even stronger, besieging the defenders both with guns, that with the darkest magic spells. However, the arcane spells of the Eldar still hold up, to defend and shield the handful of brave, epic defender against the overwhelming impalpable evil forces from the shapeless Immaterium.
From the chaos space port, behind the ruins of their outer walls, a whole army of Slaanesh erupts in the battlefield. A horde of Slaanesh riding beasts, careless riding in the wake of a mechanized coven. Among them, four knights and a Subjugator titan occupy the ruins along with the cultists of the young god of chaos. A horde, an army advances in the shadow of Rex Foetidum, the second warlord titan of the Legio Cariosus. An army ready to march forward towards the new front.
For a moment, in the Royal Palace, some of the strategic advisors believed that the hill was conquered, that it was now only the time to consolidate a position, but in the eyes of the King of Fenris the position is far from won. The traitor basilisks company opens fire against the tarantulas, throwing them into disarray, while the second Lord of Battle move fast and exceeded the ramp reaches the hill, opening fire on the tarantulas, who still resist.
In the ally Headquarters is ordered the march of the leman russ and warlord titan Ignis Divine to the city high. Direction: the hill. The great battle for the top of the Royal Sector is about to take place.
An army is arrived in reinforcement near the traitor ruined outer walls, an army ready to start its invasion march. Is this the tactic of the Liberator, engage the allies on the hill, keeping busy the bulk of their forces, and encircle them from below on the left flank? Along the way now freed from the fire cover of the allies plasma annihilator ground cannon? There are many doubts, few certainties.
The warhound titan, the vultures and the stormtroopers along with the raptor cult don't move, and stay ready to counterattack if the allies will be so brave, or fool, to try to take the spaceport, or their plasma annihilator ground cannon.
On the ruins of their, for the allies, ground cannon, the defense forces confirm their overwatch and hold position. Behind them, on the Royal Palace, the two land speeders company are ready to jump out to the next huge battle for the hill, and so the last revenant titan. The allies can still count on a space wolves landing vessel full of a devastators company and two land raiders, and a thunderhawk with what remains of two different skyclaws detachments, the veterans who reconquered the loyalist outer walls and defended the ordinatus armageddon hours ago. Little, compared to the enemy hordes.
The allies space port front is a steaming tomb. A radioactive pit of fire and destruction.
The battle for Ivanor. A neverending battle in a neverending night.
TURN 18 - OBJECTIVES
ALLIES Stronghold:allies hand ALLIES HQ's Huge Gates:allies hand ALLIES Space port:allies hand - 1st turn
CHAOS Stronghold:chaos hand CHAOS HQ's Huge Gates:chaos hand CHAOS Space port:chaos hand - 2nd turn - reinforcement: 9 doomwing + 1 firelord
"No battle plan ever survives contact with the enemy." Helmuth Von Moltke. 891.M2.Holy-Terra.
OST - Enemy at the gates, scene of the general shooting
OST - Two Steps From Hell - Protectors of the Earth
The imperative in the capital is one: resist. Resist, at any cost. By any means. After all, in their hearts, all the soldiers of the capital and the regiments of Daikun trust in the intelligence of their leaders, a legendary group of Lords never seen like now in the city. Resist, resist the regiments at the Solemn western Ivanor gates, under the severe gaze of the imperial stone colossus.
Resist the regiments on the city's walls still defended by sieges and bombings. Resist the space wolves in the Thermopylae sector, spoiling with raids and ambushes the enemy supply lines that bring reinforcements in the Royal Sector, while the mercenary armies of the blood axes lead sudden and devastating assaults on the whole front line of the eastern collapsed front, aided by subtle sabotage conducted incessantly by the Alaitoc eldar forces. Resist, folks. Resist.
++ Ivanor. Thermopylae sector ++
++ Ivanor. New Roosvelt district sector ++
++ Ivanor. Avenue of Splendours mile 1917. Red square and tractors-trains industrial sector ++
++ Ivanor. Royal sector ++
Hope or despair. What does it matter now? Each of them have mothers, fathers, daughters, wives. They, and they only, are the ultimate shield. There is no step back, when the abyss blows behind their ears the promise of extinction.
<< And now, General? What next? >> << King Minos. The advance of the leman russ and Ignis Divine was a feint to curb the hordes of Khorne, now it's time to fold neatly. >> << Nein! Nein! Nein! General Daikun! Wolf Lord! We must attack, push, force, overwhelm! >> << All in good time, Desert Fox. We must bring our enemy exactly where we want him to be, if we do his game, we will be defeated. We can't face an attrition war against the Khorne or Slaanesh army under the fire range of their whole artillery: the basilisks, defilers and Ebola. >>
The tactical detachment, landed from the drop pods half an hour ago, leaves its position and with a fast move conquer the building in the square below, opening fire against the Lord of Battle on the hilltop. The order is arrived to all divisions, began the retreat.
The hordes of Khorne, seeing their opponents surrender the hill, go wild in shouts of triumph and easy massacre. From the shoulders of the Lord of Battle the horde of juggernaugts burst onto the hill and throws themselves on the few remaining tarantulas, which are overwhelmed. The marines of the mortars unsheathing their chainswords rush into close combat, and before falling a couple of beasts fall murdered to the ground.
The tarantulas marines were sacrificed to allow at the company of Leman Russ and the warlord titan Ignis Divine to complete their retreat maneuver. In the same time, an eldar windriders warhost advances to face the incoming slaanesh army, to prepare a first defensive line but are intercepted by the terrible Tzeentch aviation.
The magic engines of arcane power prey on the Alaitoc jetbikes, a firestorm that leaves only a pile of smoldering wreckage. All devoured by the magic flames of the Lord of magic.
Emundans, the assult warlord titan march on the Avenue of Splendours, and it leads to the side of his leader. Like two steel guardian angels, the two warlord titans are now at the gates of the royal palace, last, ultimate defense between triumph and downfall.
Far, far away, on another front, Ebola, the seventy seven times damned, is ready to pour out a fiery apocalypse of fire to those who were foolish enough to face it, protected by the black legion warbikes survived from the beginning of the battle, that patrol the ruins.
The battle, however, it's still on the hill. In retaliation, and groped to stem the easy reconquest of the hill, the legendary four stukas bombard the juggernaugts, knocking down many hell beasts and a couple of juggernaugts, but it's not enough. With the arrival of the second company of Khorne daemon engines the hill falls again into enemy hands, while the second Lord of Battle and the coven of Khorne confirm the overwatch, consolidating their position in the square below.
But a new front was open. The army of Slaanesh, hissing and quick, jumps over the ruins of their outer walls, and lunges forward.
The Subjugator titan and the slaanesh daemon Knights march and stop behind the blue huge twin Towers, ready to assault and overrun the enemy front, which poor defense forces consist of a battered guardian warhost, and the Golgotha ordinatus, now disarmed.
The Slaanesh daemon engines have become the beachhead of the invasion, while behind them, the riding beasts and the mechanized coven of slaanesh march and occupy the highway, taking refuge on the buildings.
Rex Foetidum, the just arrived Nurgle warlord titan, march it too, facing directly Ignis Divine and the Leman russ, in front of it, giving secondarily support at the advancing hordes of Slaanesh.
++ Ivanor. Imperial Guard Eastern command head quarter ++
<< General Daikun at Ivanor's Eastern command head quarter! General Daikun at Ivanor's Eastern command head quarter! Respond! Commissar Nelson, but what the fuck is going on! >> << We are intercepting an audio stream, a vox device left open, I think the command is no longer operating. The regiments are in disarray, unattainable, abandoned to their fate. >>
OST - IVANOR - eastern front command head quarter
Can the human mind resist, in front of so much death? And madness? And destruction? From the Eastern command center now comes a sinister music of celebration, revelry and coarse laughter, while the regiments, now overwhelmed and holed up in a few pockets along the whole collapsed front, continue their relentless battle now for their mere survival. Told this, when someone asks you about Ivanor: a battle at the junction between the abyss of the warp and extinction. Chaos is spreading in the city, triumphing tearing bodies, steel and minds.
OST - Guns, Fighting & War | Free Sound Effects HD (with download link)
The Slaanesh assault began, while Gargarism and the traitor Shadowsword abandon their space port and bring close to the ruins of their outer walls. The courtyard of the Astra Militarum is a fortress full of forces, a formidable garrison stationed only in defense of their Liberator.
The loyalist outer walls are a moonscape, an obliterated scenery. An abyss of death and destruction, now abandoned, while behind it, on the second line of trenches of their space port, the loyalist forces are ready, in overwatch: the ork tankaz, the devastator detachment, the stormboyz and the ordinatus Mars. The world has been distorted, Ivanor was disfigured, but they are still there: the defender.
In the Royal Palace, the last revenant titan, the warhound, two company of land speeders are ready as counter attack force, ready to leap out, if the enemy cannons and swords will approach closer and closer. And it will. At the doorstep of the ramp that leads to the Royal Gates, two warlord titans of the Legio Metalica stand as gods. Gods of the God Machine: deus est machina.
Suddenly, twenty terminators of the space wolves appear on the Avenue of Splendours, blocking the way for a possible engagement of the Subjugator titan against the imperial titans. The stakes are very high, but in the same time, another teleport, this time of the black legion terminators, that appears threatening the fort of the destroyed loyalist ground cannon.
Then, a flame.
Among the meager ranks of the guardian warhost the incarnation of their god of war, called by the flow of blood, by the promise of revenge and massacre: the Avatar of Khaine. A flame of light and anger.
In front of the Royal Palace, under the eyes of the high Lords, Generals and Kings, are going to consume a cruel battle for the conquest of the sector. An horde of zombies emerges from the hundreds of fallen scattered along the neighborhood, a horde of undead animated and moved as puppets by the will of the Grand corruptor: Father Nurgle speaks from the mouth of Ebola, the Plague father. The doomsday machine of Ivanor.
But the Golden gates of the Royal Palace shine of an arcane light, ancestral, magical, irradiating the darkness that surrounds them. Old, as gold. Old, as old is TERRA. A light that is still hope. An hopepeak. The hellenic house of Istanor serves the imperium by millennia, and an aura of magic wraps its foundation.
Hope is still a faint light in a world of darkness and flames.
TURN 19 - OBJECTIVES
ALLIES Stronghold:allies hand ALLIES HQ's Huge Gates:allies hand ALLIES Space port:allies hand - 2nd turn - reinforcement: 9 ork stukas
CHAOS Stronghold:chaos hand CHAOS HQ's Huge Gates:chaos hand CHAOS Space port:chaos hand - 1st turn
OST - 1. Des Führers Sekretärin - Stephan Zacharias (Downfall OST)
<< Distrust of this story still burning, which the men before us have described and lived, to the rhythm of their lives, short like ours, it has the size of their anger, their dreams and their illusions. >> King Minos III. Ruler of Istanor, Doge of Ivanor and golden crown of the star system of Istanor VII.
The hands of time run, run, and run straight into the abyss, for those born cursed, cursed to live and relive the battle of Ivanor.
There is no peace, there is no rest, nor quarterstaff. All, all enmeshed in the same mire, called time. Shadows, empty and damned shadows, who stage their battle, swollen of spleen and ideals, fury and fear, greedy for power, certainly not for wisdom. A decadent empire, a rotting carcass, to be defended from extinction brought by the furious chaos hordes. This, today, is Ivanor; while the plague spreads. A horrible disease that bears the name of the tyrant of the Legion Cariosus. Ebola. A fetid wind, a green disease, which is rotting flesh, leads to death, and sporadically, to resurrection, resurrection into undead. Occasionally, zombies outbreaks are reported in the city, and restrain where possible with ferocious purges by citizen militias commanded by the Holy Inquisition.
The powers of the warp. Horus once called them "aliens". But humanity coined a better word, since the times in which swarmed in cold caves, naked and terrified by the fear of the unknown: daemons.
Black smoke at the Golden gate.
How started this battle? The mists of cannons and gunpowder gets up from the ground and inflates the air, clouds the mind, like the mysterious curse that permeates everything on the battlefield of the Royal Sector. It all started with the first garrisons on the respective fortresses, the Royal Palace for the allies, the Astra Militarum stronghold for the traitors, deploy of precious artillery, the defense of the outer walls, and a rapid strike force to conquer the hill, which is, or is better say, was, the sector of the city high containing the military district of the intercontinental missile silos. But the loot, contended, was lost by both, the devastating explosion of the whole sector, a missile from an ork stuka, from the now legenardy blood axes squadron of stukas had reached the deposit of the warheads. Then, the first apocalypse of fire and destruction. Then it was the turn of the long siege of the outer walls to defend their space ports, and for both the city walls have collapsed under the weight of fierce bombing. The forces of chaos twice attempted the conquest, the first failed at the gates of the outer walls; the second, with the support of a spaceship Class Luna of the black legion and a titan legion battle group, stopped before it was too late by a class Unicorn imperial space ship, driven directly by the admiral in command of the allies fleet. The result was the second apocalypse of fire and destruction that has upset the entire sector in front of the allies space port and signed the end of the second chaos invasion, which in effect coincided with the defeat of the allies attack on the traitor outer walls. And now, after a brief as cruel battle as all now intend as "the hill": the ruins of the city high, now on the front of the traitor outer walls the battle presses again, with the army of Slaanesh in advance, under support fire of the Legio Cariosus, while the hordes of Khorne swarm down the hill. The allies forces, watching the entire battle, began to lose ground, in a neat as inexorable retreat to the royal palace, the hellenic house of King Minos. The king of the new Babylon. They are losing. Militarily in difficulty, relying on a finite number of reinforcements, for them the battle is to win as soon as possible, and yet, hour after hour, now countless, the wished outcome of the battle seems increasingly distant. But these are only guesses and dark thoughts of a general. Of General Daikun, nestled in thick clouds of his thoughts, and cigars, but the reality is war, and it's all in front of him.
The seventh tactical detachment of the sixth great company is cut off, alone in the western square of the city high, in front of the entire army of Khorne, but the priorities now are many. Too many.
OST - Guns, Fighting & War | Free Sound Effects HD (with download link)
Now the battle has reached the quarters of the Royal Palace, the palace is on the front line, however, the initiative is again managed by the cunning tactic of the Allies generals, who manage to stay one step ahead of the Liberator's evil forces. Emundans, the assault warlord titan, advances near the fort of the destroyed ground cannon and opens fire on the Subjugator titan. The turbolaser destructor breaks down all its void shields and the volcano cannon knocks it down, tearing in two the legs of the Slaanesh warengine, that collapses to the ground in a flurry of hissing twisted metal sheets.
The retaliation inevitably arrives, with the onslaught of the terrible terminators of khorne who burst into the fort, overwhelming the guardians who vainly try to stop them with their grav-cannons, breaking their overwatch. The Avatar of Khaine joins the fray, fighting like a lion against the hordes of bloodletters while Emundans, arrived in range of support fire few minutes before, unleashes a fiery apocalypse against the demons and the terminators. The ordinatus Golgotha is attacked and destroyed by the terminators, all the guardian warhost savagely massacred, but the forces of chaos are paying a heavy price, the detachment of terminators consolidates the conquered position, in the shadow of the flames of the Avatar of Khaine, defeated but not tamed, but many are the terminators destroyed and demons crushed.
There is no more time to lose if there is a chance to save the tactical detachment from the pocket where they have fallen, it's now. General Daikun orders at the leman russ company to advance and clear the access ramp to the western square from the horde of zombies. The leman russ make a tactical move, escaping from the line of fire of Rex Foetidum, the warlord titan of Nurgle, and unleash their massive firepower, a storm that sweeps away dozen of zombies, thus clearing the passage. Meanwhile, the detachment of tactical marines march, escaping finally from the incoming ambush by the Khorne's engines, consolidating their position in protection from the tanks that have saved them, the tanks that carry the name of their Primarch.
The zombies, what remains of the horde, holed up crawling inside the blue palace, the north tower.
But the assault is pressing. The Slaanesh Daemon Engines advance over the wreckage of their leader, the Subjugator titan, and despite being hit by the sonic cannon of the ordinatus mars in overwatch, they arrive to attack the terminators near the north tower. However, the terminator armours hold the bump, and thanks at the arrival of a detachment of land speeders from the Royal Palace, the engines are rejected, and the north tower recaptured and liberated by the terminators themselves, that assault inside the building, crushing the zombies like flies. The few surviving carcasses retreat in the south tower.
The sector of the destroyed allies ground cannon, for hours an area just bombed, has become a new front line. The ground cannon was destroyed, the Eldar in protection of the fort killed, the ordinatus Golgotha, another, precious and priceless weapon in defense of humanity lost, forever destroyed; and what had to be the loyalist attack route is now a front to defend; but the loyalist maneuver to repel the black legion terminators from the fort is almost completed. The entire tactical maneuver of consolidation and reaction is in the handful of Logan Grimnar. A living legend on the battlefield.
OST - 12. Exodus - Stephan Zacharias (Downfall OST)
When the hell will overflow of lost souls, the damned will walk on earth. An old motto of an ancient age, dating back to the Holy TERRA, echoes as anathema became flesh, machine, and horror. This is the hour of Charon.
Its sinister tolling thunders in heaven and on earth of Istanor. Billions of lives destroyed, on a whim of the dark gods, for the folly of one man, deceived and bewitched by these. Billions of lives lived unaware. Hell no knocks at the door, doesn't ask permission. When the traitor hand strikes, it strikes with the strength of a legion.
The thunderhawk gunship, full of the remaining skyclaws, lands near the golden gate of the Royal Palace, still open, and fires a battlecannon shot against the terminators of khorne perched in the fort, while the skyclaws deploy flying on the walls. The holographic room, the command center of the Royal Palace is in fibrillation, while orders are followed fast and frantic. The few survived marines of the VI tactical detachment that has regained the loyalist outer walls with a drop pods strike, fifteen marines and a dreadnought, move quickly from the large building near their space port and arrive on the square below the Hellenic patriarch Cecrops I, the one who laid the first stone of Istanor, opening fire on the chaos terminators, now encircled and under crossfire, forced to leave the position. The terminators leave the fort, while the bloodletters behind them vanish in the shadow of the flames of the Avatar of Khaine, which ultimately weakens its flame. The fort is liberated, and he has not come in vain. The south tower now teeming with zombies and the few remaining black legion terminators.
While the chaos forces stalling, like a beast ready to pounce, the Allies forces prepare to withstand the impact of the impending army of Khorne, forthcoming. The devastator detachment advances and occupies the large building near their space port, while the stormboyz fly from the buildings under the walls and occupy the trenches and positions just abandoned by the devastators while their tankaz confirm the overwatch. Ignis Divine too, the warlord titan, is ready in overwatch. All forces, last hope of the Allies even in battlefield, prepare to withstand the impact.
From the Royal Palace the manticores unleash their missiles salvo against the incoming slaanesh riders horde, causing great slaughter and actually stopping the advancing horde of Slaanesh, which doesn't come close over the line of contact to not annoy the incoming hordes of Khorne, thus revealing the inevitable, predictable and effective battle plan of the Libarator.
<< My kingdom for a battlewagon! Thoze damned devilz are unstoppable! >> Blood Axes General Kundra von Grinda, da Desert Fox.
The four ork stukas, the millennium falkork and all the ork support aviation fall upon the horde of juggernaugts. The orders of Von Grinda, the blood axes warlord, are clear. A firestorm strikes on the horde of Khorne, but after the huge cloud of smoke and explosions unravels, with horror the allies generals observe the horde of Khorne still intact, unstoppable. An avalanche of steel and fury ready to descend the hill. And like an avalanche that awaits the signal, after the ineffective bombing of the ork aviation the khorne army breaks into the western square and down pours against the allies forces. An avalanche of steel hooves, enormous tracks, the immense steel wheels of the Lords of Battle, a march that shakes the earth and the hearts, although in the largest steel giants called Titans.
Ignis Divine breaks its overwatch. It opens fire with its apocalypse missile launcher, opens fire the turbolaser destructor, the plasma destructor and the volcano cannon. The first Lord of Battle is hit by a sea of fire, and for a few moments of it remains only a huge flaming torch, but the beast of Khorne, badly damaged, emerges yet operational and angry, spearhead of the entire army, ready to sow death and destruction at the foot of the Royal Palace.
A thunderhawk of the black legion, an old model, the prototype of the modern thunderhawk, flies to the ruins of the devastated allies outer walls, and lands in the ruins of the Class Luna spaceship, disembarking forty bersker marines of Khorne. A diversion, certainly, but certainly tricky.
The north tower, conquered and lost by the forces of the Liberator, now becomes an advantage for the assault and conquest on the route to the Royal Palace, and from the black fortress the order is given. Gargarism, Rex Foetidum and the shadowsword open fire on the building, an imposing tower, now reduced to shreds by hours of massive bombings. However, the building still stands, devastated, but still stands. The north tower did not fall.
Ancient thunders, huge explosions, as if the echo of unspeakable battles of the thirtieth millennium had come this far, ten thousand years along paved with blood and war.
The army of Khorne raided far, where from until the beginning of the battle, no one had ever arrived. The allies generals can now also watch the develop of the battle from the chiseled balconies of the Royal Palace, rather than look inside the holographic device in the command room. The horde of Khorne, with all its fury, is upon them, and the clash will be cruel.
For nearly an hour there was the battle for the ground cannon fort, finally freed from the occupation forces, a bloody battle perhaps not yet over. The horde of Slaanesh is still threatening, ready to jump forward, while on the opposite side a detachment of Khorne berskers has reoccupied the smoking ruins of the northern front. The war roars, increasingly furious.
Carthago delenda est.
The white waterfalls, blue rivers and green forests of Abeldar are now a fading memory. Here, on Istanor, a Forgeworld of concrete and steel on fire, wrapped in a vermilion funeral mantle, there is only death. Still, for a moment, the eyes of General Daikun move, leaving the smoky shadows in the war holographic device, to sink in the memories, not yet completely overshadowed, of a better world. A new green world, age, a new renaissance. Aristotle, and the book that he still firmly holding. A new hope for mankind to defend from the diabolic hands of the chaos power at any cost.
OST - Memories of Green - Vangelis
TURN 20 - OBJECTIVES
ALLIES Stronghold:allies hand ALLIES HQ's Huge Gates:allies hand ALLIES Space port:allies hand - 1st turn
CHAOS Stronghold:chaos hand CHAOS HQ's Huge Gates:chaos hand CHAOS Space port:chaos hand - 2nd turn - reinforcement: 9 doomwings + 1 firelord
"Let us strive for the impossible. The great achievements throughout history have been the conquest of what seemed the impossible." Charlie Chaplin. 930.M2.Holy-Terra.
Starcruiser Ophelia and escort vessels
<< Gunboats Commander Litvjak, but that vessel in flames in front of us is our starcruiser Ophelia? >> << Yes, my Lord, is under attack, dock now has a probability of success of the... >>
OST - Wing Commander Movie Soundtrack - Overture
<< Oh damn you with these damned statistics! I've enough! I seem to be back in the academy! Admiral Nalin Sampath from the Prince Hamlet to Lieutenant Williamson on my fucking Ophelia! For the three-headed Cerberus, don't ask me how the hell we did, but open the damn coupling pin. We're back! >> << Damn space catfish, even hell don't wants you on his heels! Orders my Lord. >>
<< Strategic map and updates in real time of our, Astartes, blood axes and Eldar fleet. Lines of assault, trajectory of engagement and strategic framework of the enemy fleet. Hurry Lieutenant Williamson! Ophelia, I'm back. >> << Admiral, you're bleeding profusely from your right arm. >> << I have no time to bleed. Now I have again the responsability of the loyalist imperial fleet. From the ancient holy Latin responsabilis, from Latin respons-, past participle stem of respondere "to respond". Meaning "accountable for one's actions" is attested from 640.M2 Holy TERRA; that of "reliable, trustworthy" is from 690.M2. Retains the sense of "obligation" in the Latin root word. Skilled to respond to these unfortunate down there, the Imperial Navy, the High Lords of TERRA, the God Emperor and ultimately to the fucking mankind when I'll be dead. So, do me the courtesy to keep quiet, and obey. My dear friend... Williamson. Forgive me, but I had a couple of hours really difficult. Great job with the flagship, but if you don't mind, I get back to me this little girl. >> << My Lord, and if you were fallen during the operation? >> << Oh shucks! You are ready like me, we are all useful, no one indispensable. I can already see you... Admiral Williamson. >>
OST - The Tractor Factory - Enemy at the Gates Score - James Horner
Poor glory of the world, that it passes like a stealth shadow; your time is always marked even before your scent expands. Poor glory of the world dressed in gold and silver, but made of ashes. History repeats itself, for those who have learned nothing from its past.
The Demon straddling the fiercest, most brutal, most terrifying juggernaut sounds a deep and heavy horn. A low and gloomy sound that vibrates for a hundred yards. And the avalanche of anger and steel launches at the assault: four daemon engines, The horned Lord of battle and the horde of juggernauts. The Whole army of Khorne bursts on the Avenue of Splendours.
The order comes immediately from the Royal Palace: "Let break the overwatch for all the detachments in range". Suddenly, from the outer walls of the Royal Palace every cannon thunders: fire the mole mortars of the space wolves along with the rapiers, shoot the whole aspect warriors warhost, forty dark reapers, and even the ork tankaz unleash a hail of fire. A cacophony of mortars, cannons, reaper launchers, big gunz, Soopa gunz and other orkish strange weapons. A terrifying firepower against which the horde of juggernauts crashes, in pieces. Only the captain and a couple of beasts escape the death, retreating; but the engines of Khorne impact against the defenders, unstoppable.
The Horned Lord of Battle overwhelms two leman russ under its massive giant wheels, two dreadnoughts and a dozen marines, supported by the heavy fire of the second Lord of Battle, while the daemon engines burst into the ranks of the other leman russ and the tactical detachment. Screams, gunfire, deafening sounds of saws grinding meat, power armours, and steel. Hammers, chainsword, hand grenades, the dreadnoughts are fighting as lions damaging the Lord of Battle. Ignis Divine, legate of this legio metalica titan legion battle group, unleashes a massive support fire together with the devastators detachment, a devastating rain of fire, but marines and leman russ are overwhelmed. A daemon engine collapses, the Horned Lord of Battle is severely damaged, but the leman russ company and tactical detachment are decimated and forced to retreat behind the ordinatus Mars.
The battle at the foot of the walls of the Royal Palace began to make its mark: tanks destroyed, marines killed, infernal machines crashed to the ground and the bodies of twenty juggernauts, infernal beasts of flesh and steel, cast down to the ground through smoke and flames.
The horde of Khorne raided, but retaliation is immediate. Emundans, the assault warlord titan, advances and opens fire on the second warlord titan, previously damaged by Ignis Divine. Its turbolaser destructor unleashes a firestorm and its volcano cannon center in the heart the steel beast. Its immense right wheel breaks, and the lord of battle collapses on the right side, while the flames devour it from within. Destroyed.
The red and hellish night writhing again, only to throw out another storm of Tzeentch, which flows against Emundans, now alone and in open field. However, gloriously, the void shields of the Titan hold the firestorm, and the bulk of the aviation misses its target. Not satisfied, the chaos terminators on the south tower launch the assault against the space wolves terminators, followed by the horde of zombies. A bloody, ferocious melee, but thanks to the support fire of Emundans that with its laser burner makes great massacre, the space wolves triumph. Five terminators lost, but the enemy is annihilated.
The action is pressing, and follow one another more and more rapidly. The Allies must drive the enemy back, and as soon as possible. In the courtyard of the Royal Palace the last revenant titan advances and moves on the parapet of the eastern walls. Its pulse lasers soar over the heads of the space wolves employed to their light artillery, and begin their dance of death. The last Lord of Battle, however, holds the shot and the attack of the revenant is ineffective.
The firestorm continues. Fire! Fire! Fire! The orders are followed, and the detachment of devastators opens fire on the Khorne daemon engines, destroying two and forcing the last to retreat.
On the Avenue of Splendours scrap begin to accumulate. A pile of destroyed tanks, marines, juggernauts, a lord of battle in flames and two hundred yards back the ordinatus armageddon, now a heap of twisted metal. The battle, like the waves of a stormy sea, is about to lap the walls of the Royal Palace, and the echo of the cannon, the screams of the dying are becoming closer.
What remains of the army of Khorne flees from where it came, decimated. Behind it: a massacre. Blood for the Blood God.
OST - Wing Commander Movie Soundtrack - Into The Quasar
In the vicinity of what is now a cauldron of flames and destruction, seething and restless, another two armies are now close. An army of Alaitoc Eldar, called by the southern front, that it was possible to move thanks the massive arrival of the blood axes orks hours before on their sector, now it is marching to the Royal Palace, while an horde of Tzeentch march compact towards the Astra Militarum Stronghold, an army of black legion marines dedicated to the worship of the god of magic gloriously lead an horde of cultists of planet Omeros, also followers of the Great Deceiver.
While the army of Khorne tries to escape, defeated, Ignis Divine aims the last Lord of Battle. He have to bring it down now, before it returns to the front. While its plasma destructor recharge, the Titan opens fire with all its weapons system: an apocalypse missile launcher, a turbolaser destructor and a volcano cannon. The Lord of Battle, bombed in its back is hit by a hail of blows, and seized with furious anger, turns one hundred eighty degrees, and with astonishment goes back, turning unexpectedly against Ignis Divine. The wrath of Khorne.
After the bloody battle of the loyalist ground cannon fort, now the sector is indefensible. The space wolves terminators, victorious march inside the Royal Palace, while the thunderhawk hurtling over their massive heads and land in the landing platform, embarking the terminators and a dozen skyclaws. A fast action, followed immediately by its takeoff. Ready for a new mission: codex astartes.
With the retreat of the space wolves terminators, the land speeders retreat them too, patrolling the access platform that lead to the Hellenic Golden Gate, where the Imperial Eagle still shines of hope and glory.
The chaos forces are waiting, they know that the impetus of the loyalist will not last much longer, and stalling, to have the last word. From the courtyard of the Royal Palace once again the manticores project into the air their missiles, killing half dozen of slaanesh riding beasts.
In the courtyard of the Astra Militarum a black legion thunderhawk lands and embarks the raptors cult, then fly also nearby, ready to prey the enemy.
The chaos hordes, after the great battle and the defeat of the Khorne army seems to stop, but for those who, among the officers had ever thought of such a thing, knows that it is pure folly. The titans of Nurgle and the shadowsword open fire again on the north tower: strategic target, building that must be crushed for better paving the way for the future siege of the Royal Palace.
By a miracle half an hour ago the tower has stood, but now, again under fire, the foundations of the massive, huge building begin to falter. What, who can stand in front of these destroyers of worlds, in front of the Legio Cariosus? The crunch becomes clang, clang becomes the din and landslide, and in a few moments an avalanche of concrete pours burning and burying hundreds of fallen zombies, terminators, jetbikes, and the destroyed daemon engines of Slaanesh. The north tower fell.
The two titans of the legio metalica now are alone, only defenders of the Royal Palace, and on the wreckage of the army of Khorne, among the corpses and the devastation of the entire sector, the two titans in the Avenue of Splendours know, for a few moments, a moment of peace, a truce in a city in flames. Devastated.
Half a mile down the avenue of Splendours, the orks and astartes forces are closing ranks, while the ordinatus mars prepares an overwatch fire, ready to repel the barbarian hordes that, it's a certainty, yet will cross the threshold.
Ebola, the seventy times seven damned, Ebola, the great leprosy, his rotting majesty, observes the horizon, waiting for orders. Today, even the gods obey the will of the Liberator.
As the waves of a flaming, stormy sea. The route that will lead the Liberator to the Royal Palace was opened, and he is ready to sacrifice his whole army just to rip, today, crown and book from the hands of the allies. The road is open, and will still be war. Until victory, or death.
Until victory... or death. Ivanor's burning.
The House of Istanor VII stars system. Segmentum Ultima.
OST - Killing Joke - Twilight Of The Mortal
"The dawn, the dawn of a new day. How long since the sun rises, on our house? There is no night so long to prevent the sun to rise." King Minos III.
TURN 21 - OBJECTIVES
ALLIES Stronghold:allies hand ALLIES HQ's Huge Gates:allies hand ALLIES Space port:allies hand - 2nd turn - reinforcement: 9 ork stukas
CHAOS Stronghold:chaos hand CHAOS HQ's Huge Gates:chaos hand CHAOS Space port:chaos hand - 1st turn
<< It will not be the roar of the cannon to decide the fate of this war. The curse that hangs over mankind is ancient, as your own race, however, compared with our is newborn. Your race is shortsighted, blinded by honor, glory and lust for power. But it will not be neither steel nor flesh: the thought is stronger. It moves arms, nations, worlds, galaxies and universes. It can disrupt the order of time, and it will, because this battle is far from decided. there is a powerful vibration in the Immaterium. The echo of the devastation and massacre has awakened forces far greater than us, and soon will be them, to decide the outcome of this war. Yet I see, even the fate wavers, on a whim to play with mortals and Gods, once again. The future is hazy and yet all is not lost. The Aristotle's third book of comedy, you, imperial fools! Really you can't still see? Nor understand? >> Cuiviénen-Iyl. Alaitoc Farseer Eldar Princess.
The answer has always been there, in his fist. A hand that deviates the blanket of time, and rips present, past and future. Immutable, as Immutable is the nature of the human heart.
OST - Daed Can Dance- Summoning of the Muse
Non praevalebunt.
Within the Realm of a dying Sun, the Alaitoc craftworld, a dying race, arrived. A nameless enemy. A forgotten book. Or maybe neither one nor the other. Inscrutable and deceptive are always the paths of the Eldars. Yet, the destiny, or the weird fate, now miraculously enabled an unthinkable alliance. A miracle, made possible by one man. Were right the Emperor tarot. The ways of chaos are endless, but on each of them was that name: Daikun. Whose task, perhaps, is accomplished. Now, to wait at the crossroads of history in front of them, for all the actors of this comedy, there's just fate.
The Battle of Ivanor, its eco now reverberates in the icy void and in the dead silence of the infinite space, spearing time and matter. City, capital, legacy of an ancient civilization of the Holy TERRA; temple of wisdom and wit, world and forge. Crown and gear, sealed by a millenary alliance with the Adeptus Mechanicus caste of Mars. The Battle of Ivanor, now a seething cauldron where everything will be decided. How many hours have already passed? Maybe ten, maybe a dozen, the time now seems to slow down, deformed by dark powers that disrupt the matter and what surrounds and permeates it. A battle fought in Materium, and Immaterium, while the guns firing, the artillery is unleashed, and the chainswords cross creaking, the dark curses of the nameless black legion wizard crash against the arcane defensive magic spells of the Alaitoc Princess, together with the imperial and Astartes psykers perched in the Royal Palace. Ivanor, a battle that now involves all planes of existence. Ivanor: the long arm of the Horus heresy, covering ten thousand years, has come this far. The eternal struggle between good and evil, as well as men knew it, when they crawled out of the primordial brew, becoming aware, this also, today, is Ivanor, and already echoes in eternity.
The Royal Palace sector, by a handful of hours, crumbled still resists, defended by the best. Eldars, orks, Human and legendary heroes, soldiers and kings, at the crossroads between the extinction and the defense of the worst dictatorship that humanity has ever known, below which also the Hellenic dynasty underlies, and yet, in front of the abomination of chaos, is the only possible choice. There is no happy ending in a tragedy, only tears and blood, between shadows of glory and ghosts of heroes.
The lord of battle, a devastated steel giant, stands menacingly, ready to crash into Ignis Divine and take it to hell with him, but while its mighty wheels start the deadly descent of the ramp, in the courtyard of the Royal Palace a phantom titan advances, moving alongside the revenant titan. Its long pulse cannon dominates the walls and targets the khorne daemon engine. One, two, three, a storm of blows hits the warengine, a huge flaming torch, now destroyed, crashes on the ruins of the other Lord of battle, forming a mountain of sheets and flames, twisted and entwined, both destroyed. the spearhead of the Alaitoc reinforcement army has made its entry into the battlefield.
Rex Foetidum, the second walord titan of Nurgle, moves fast and reaches the ruins where Saetta, the reaver titan of the legio metalica, found its end, a tactical move to avoid the line of fire of the two loyalist warlord titans.
Saetta lie there, its head crushed under the huge metallic foot of Rex Foetidum. What was supposed to be the loyalist assaults route is now its grave, fell between a destroyed baneblade and the wreckage of the huge altar of Nurgle.
From the courtyard of the Royal Palace the manticores immediately open fire, the aim is to deter the army of Slaanesh to start the invasion. The missiles befall numerous on the slaanesh riding beasts, decimating and forcing the few remaining to retreat into the ranks of the mechanized coven perched on the buildings along the way.
OST - Katyusha Rockets - USSR
The army of Slaanesh doesn't advance, forced, perhaps even by the bombing, to delay their advance, in so doing, both loyalists warlord titans prepare an overwatch fire, waiting to see how will turn out the events from here on. The eldar army is entering the sector, bringing vital reinforcements at the defense of the Royal Palace.
But the Eldars are not the only ones to enter the battlefield, a rainbow of colored lights, evil and sinister, announces the arrival of the altar of Tzeentch, around which a horde of cultists dedicated to the god of magic advancing compact, reciting litanies and dark curses; dancing with them come a huge horde of daemons: flamers, pink horrors and unspeakable devilry erupting flames and anathemas. Behind them, another shadwosword arrives leading to two the number of traitor shadowswords now in field. The altar of Tzeentch, an altar that gravitates from the ground, no technology supports it simply defies the laws of our universe, supported by what is called: magic. A column of glyphs inscribed of unholy runes and unclean words to whose top lies a golden flaming idol. Blue lightning and thunderbolts permeate and surround it, while two flying disc of Tzeentch revolve around wildly, part of a ritual and a curse at the same time.
OST - BSO The Name Of The Rose. Track 4- The Lesson
<< What is Chaos? Suffering, you might say. Oppression. Deceit. But could not all these things be said of your Imperium? You hunt down the talented and the strong-willed. You break them or sacrifice them. You lie to your citizens and wage war on those who dare speak out. The inquisitors you call masters assume guilt and execute millions on a whim. And why? Why do you do this? Because you know Chaos is there but you do not know how to fight it, so you crush your own citizens for fear that they might aid the Enemy. The Imperium suffers because of Chaos. No matter how hard you fight, that will never change. Chaos exists in a state of permanent victory over you - you dance to our tune, mortal one, you butcher and torture and repress one another because the gods of the warp require you to. The Imperium is founded on Chaos. My lord Tzeentch won your war a long, long time ago. >> Ghargatuloth, Daemon Prince of Tzeentch
The powers of Tzeentch wonderfully bloom, like a broken skull from which a flower rises, a knobbly flower that all observes, on whose tentacular protuberances shapeless entities, demented and multicolored swarm frantic, dispensing knowledge, illusions and power.
A dead eye. Observes...
...but Let's call it hope. Even in the darkest night, the stars shine of glory.
The ignorant ork aviation, once again, reaches the battlefield, led by the millennium falkork, throws itself on the Khorne coven perched on the eastern square: a storm of missiles from which however the hordes of Khorne emerge unscathed.
At the orks bombing follow the bombing of Gargarism, which unleashes its terminus howitzer and morbus cannon against the detachment of devastators, destroying a razorback and killing a dozen marines, buried in a landslide inside the building.
At the sound of the recent bombings enters behind the traitor space port a detachment of black legion marines of Tzeentch, anticipated by a Deathwheel. A rapid army, ready to go through the Royal Sector to get on the front line. The military superiority of the Liberator is still overwhelming.
He, the Liberator, from the top of the Astra Militarum, observes the battlefield and the incoming Tzeentch reinforcements. The army of Khorne was defeated, but it's just the beginning. How long will the allies resist at this kind of pressing? The time of the total attack approaches. Magnus the red, approaches.
The huge crater created by the destruction of the black legion space ship Class Luna is an open and still smoking wound, a tomb of concrete and steel bubbling fires out of control, radioactive to the point that no one could survive without adequate equipment in the following hours.
In front of it, beyond the allies space port, the ordinatus mars confirm its overwatch order, while the ork tankaz move near the buildings on the avenue of Splendours. The devastator detachment, in the battlefield by a dozen hours now, still holds its ground. They proudly defended their space port.
And finally, the whole Alaitoc reinforcement arrives, moving inside the courtyard of the Royal Palace, forming, with the two land speeders detachments and the warhound titan, a new as precious assault army. A falcons troupe, a fireprism troupe and a storm serpent super heavy grav-tank, an incredible super heavy tank that can be itself a webway portal, and in fact, a warp spiders warhost is ready on the Alaitoc craftworld, waiting only the order of their princess and prophetess, to move in the webway and to enter the battlefield.
The loyalist assault route seems the metaphor of a defeat. Where the imperial warlord titans should have to march gloriously to victory, the titans of Nurgle are instead ready to advance. Two warlord titans against two warlord titans, and soon the battle will decide who will have the right to see, if there ever will be, a new dawn, or a neverending night.
OST - Dead Can Dance - De Profundis (Out Of The Depths Of Sorrow)
The army of Tzeentch raided on the battlefield, and although the witch eldar is silent, nameless and the liberator know what is going to happen. This is nothing more than an outpost of the true, and unstoppable incoming army of Tzeentch. The thousand sons are at the gates of the materium, ready to break into our dimension, with their deceptions, their arcane mysteries, their changing spells. Leads them Magnus the Red, the immortal champion of the dead and swollen eye, that everything looks, whimsical and overjoyed. The God of Change. The Great Deceiver. Judas of all Judah. Yet, even now, the future in the eyes of the Alaitoc princess is partially clouded, in confusion, at the fork. The future is unwritten.
TURN 22 - OBJECTIVES
ALLIES Stronghold:allies hand ALLIES HQ's Huge Gates:allies hand ALLIES Space port:allies hand - 1st turn
CHAOS Stronghold:chaos hand CHAOS HQ's Huge Gates:chaos hand CHAOS Space port:chaos hand - shifted to turn 24 - reinf: 9 doomwings + 1 firelord
"I see that Time's the king of men, For he's their parent, and he is their grave, And gives them what he will, not what they crave." William Shakespeare. 607.M2.Holy-Terra. -- Pericles from "Pericles, Prince of Tyre"
The downfall.
OST - dead can dance-saltarello
Harpsichord, twirl! Flute and tambourine. Hop and revelry! The stronghold of the Astra Militarum, until yesterday, was the highest fortress of Twelfth Army, Supreme Headquarters from which thousands of missions have been planned and carried out successfully through the most unimaginable war theaters of Istanor VII star system and beyond; the council of the best strategic and tactical minds at the service of the Fieldmarshal of the Twelfth Army, From Ross and his predecessors for thousands years, a temple of military art, where plenty of brillant generals were forged in the strict steel law of the Codex Imperialis, a temple of power and strength, now overflowing of malice and creeping horror while insane shapeless entities and unclean daemons gurgle in an infernal carousel in its sacred violated belly. A fallen fortress, a lost bastion to mankind, at its top chairs the Liberator and his black nameless mentor, the apex of a system now corrupted to the marrow. As a huge bubo now stands the castle of the Astra Militarum, the castle of the Damned, the lost castle of the imperial guard. Now, just a place to purge, to erase with the purifying fire. Harpsichord, twirl! Flute and tambourine. Hop and revelry: the hell is at the gate!
While outside, the world burns.
<< Do you want to smile, my nameless slaanesh mentor? We have a numerical superiority that will guarantee us certain victory, but now, on this battlefield, with our routes of reinforcement opposed by the space wolves forces in the Thermopylae sector, we are virtually fighting on par. I don't know if you understand me, now, both, we and they are respectively besieged in our fortresses, and the fact that behind us there were also all the legions of the warp, at this juncture, it doesn't matter. A sublime tactical and strategic maneuver, perfect. We believed, by moving our headquarters here, to have our enemy in hand, and instead we ended up exactly where they wanted us, in the right place in the right time. May not have been General Daikun, only the king of Fenris can so much. We fell into his trap, and if we try to get out now from this pocket, we will be certainly intercepted and shot down, no aircraft can escape now from the Royal sector, neither ours nor their own. >> << That Thunderhawk... it was a damned trap! A mousetrap! >> - (THE TRAP)- act 17. Istanor. The eye of the needle. << Exactly, my Nameless. So now, we just have to win. >>
OST - Iron Maiden - Wasted Years (Low Definition)
Right men, wrong times.
A handful of heroes, united by fate, by a twist of Tzeentch, races that tomorrow will return to slaughter each others, looking with suspicion. Tomorrow, most of them, will return to being enemies. But today. Today, the fate has placed them, perhaps, on the right side of history. A bitter fate, deceitful, treacherous. Those Generals, Warlords and Lords, perched there in the royal manor, now commanding the extreme resistance, waiting for a tomorrow that never comes. Driven by the mere hope, a distant light, but still dazzling. A light so maybe worth to fight, and even die. And like them, thousands of soldiers and civilians share their fate, while millions, nor sung, nor remember, without a tombstone, without a name, already lie in the raw ground.
The strategy of the Liberator is now clear, thanks at his military superiority the allies armies is forced in their now limited maneuver space and he reacts accordingly. So that, although the initiative is in the hands of the Great Enemy, are the allies manticores to open fire bombing the black legion retinue arrived on the battlefield half an hour ago, but it's futile. The black legion marines hold the bump and start their march on the western square of the city high, reaching the Khorne's coven that patrol the area.
A black legion retinue of Tzeentch, with twenty cult marines and twenty heavy weapons, followed by an huge Deathwheel arrive on the western square.
Emundans, the assault warlord titan, moves fast subtracting from the diagonal line of sight of the coming armies of Tzeentch and Nurgle titans, but Ignis Divine still hold the ground, gloriously ready on the ruins, sorrounded by the last four survived leman russ tanks, all ready in overwatch: no one step backward.
The coven of Khorne moves and reaches the top of the "Hill", the devastated Sector of the IBM silos, conquering again the top of the battlefield. All signals present on the battlefield say only one thing: that the Liberator is moving all its armies for the final assault.
The Altar of Tzeentch, a carnival of unclean light, move gravitating on the ground, praised by dozen of cultist and blessed by beastly songs and carousels of the horde of flamers, blue and pink horrors and other nameless daemons, and is in this infernal dance that rises with a cry of a thousand crow a terrifying Lord of Change, a Greater daemon of Tzeentch. Among a storm of Thunders and lightning the Tzeentch coven march forward, while the slaanesh coven, abandoned the buildings in which it was perched, overcoming the tzeentchians prepares for the next invasion.
The slaanesh coven advances, their land transporters advance on the ruins of the eldar jetbikes fallen hours before crushing them under their wheels, and their tracks, with contempt and defiance, but from the Royal Palace the Phantom titan and the fire prism grav-tanks break their overwatch and fire against it, killing one big mutant, a dozen beastmen and destroying one land transporter. Shortly, just scratched, the imposing army of the Liberator advances relentlessly.
In the realm of utopia, where the mirage fills coffers of gold glittering illusion and deception, across the border of the possible, over the harsh, cruel law of the Materium, there. Over the border and the mortal view, where no mortal should ever go. There lives and gurgling in a body of water, or in a puddle, the mirage of liberty. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
The mist.
As dead shadows, the legion of the damned advances relentlessly, obedient and blind at the orders of their great deceiver, whose name carries the dream of a chimera: Liberty. Under the evil will of the liberator the earth trembles, and as empty simulacra traitors and loyalists dance abreast of the black lady their macabre dance of death, between the laughter of the black and indifferent gods. Time seems to slow down, the seconds are more heavy, the minutes are interminable. The law of time and space is changing, as concentric circles, the time is stopping, and the Royal Sector is in the eye of a warp hurricane, an obscene event that now is taking shape. A light and nefarious mist rises from the battlefield, exhales from the wide open jaws of thousands of casualties, by the radioactive fumes, from the ashes of countless explosions. A mist whispering shrill laughter, cries of the damned, laments of the lost rises to the sky, as a sea that is going to storm, among sinister and scarlet lightning.
OST - BSO Dracula. Track 2- Vampire Hunters
Rex Foetidum marches reaching the ruins over the Tzeentch coven. In front of it, Ignis Divine doesn't loose time, and orders to break the overwatch. The leman russ tanks at its foots fire against the warlord titan, breaking down some void shields, and the same does Ignis Divine, firing its plasma destructor and its volcano cannon. A firestorm is unleashed against the bastard Rex Foetidum, but it's not enough.
Although tactically outnumbered, from the Royal Palace is coordinated an attack in depth over the enemy lines. Dart the legendary four blood axes stukas, they fall on Rex Foetidum knocking down its last void shields, while from the Royal Palace a Deathstrike missile is launched against the Titan. The missile rises and hurtling through the air, making a parable of death that conlude with a huge explosion. Rex Foetidum is still alive, damaged, but its plasma reactor has been breached.
When the huge smoke of the vortex explosion dissipates, the second Nurgle warlord titan, Gargarism, marches in front of Ignis Divine, covering with its massive body Rex Foetidum from a next retaliation. Gargarism is in front of Ignis Divine, finally, the two warlord titans on the battlefield from the beginning of the final battle face each other.
The invasion goes on. All the armies of the Liberator are moving, and so does Ebola, the seventy-seven times cursed, marching on the main Street that lead to the loyalist destroyed outer walls, escorted by five leman russ tanks, six warbikes, one vindicator, a Deathwheel and fourty khorne bersekers.
All the armies of the Liberator are advancing, he can afford losses that loyalists can not. All the armies of chaos are now advancing, among a rising mist, while the loyalists are perched on their Palace, and prepare for the inevitable bloodbath. Sing the cannons, pray the guns, shouting the damned and cry the fallen, all is now chaos, roar, explosion, earthquake and fear.
And fear again.
The most ancient fear. The fear of the unknown. Be afraid of the mist.
TURN 23 - OBJECTIVES
ALLIES Stronghold:allies hand ALLIES HQ's Huge Gates:allies hand ALLIES Space port:allies hand - 2nd turn - reinforcement: 9 ork stukas
CHAOS Stronghold:chaos hand CHAOS HQ's Huge Gates:chaos hand CHAOS Space port:chaos hand - 2nd turn - reinforcement: 9 doomwings + 1 firelord
