The Third Son

[simison]

Now only fighting against one opponent, Jorg shoved off his opponent. An Ork may have been as tough as a space marine but never as strong. He swung. The Ork blocked with its crude weapon. The weak metals shattered as Jorg's powered maul connected, sending electrified pieces flying into the Ork before his swing broke the Ork's arm. It released a pitiable shriek as tried to force bone back beneath skin. For a single moment, Jorg stood triumphant. Then the other five Orks charged. As fast and skilled as Jorg was, he only had two weapons to defend himself. He blocked the first strike but a second ragged sword struck at his helm. Jorg avoided disorientation but his left lens cracked, a frustrating distraction. He stepped back, trying to add some space but another Ork jabbed at his chest. His armour held, and Jorg rewarded the foe with a quick blow from his pistol. One Ork swung with a large pipe, smashing it into Jorg's knee. 

 

Jorg forced himself to remain standing even as gravity pulled at his leg. It hurt, but Jorg knew from experience that it wasn't broken. Then the last Ork punched his head, further cracking the left lens before attacking with an ax. The ax bit beneath his armour's waist ring. Jorg felt blood spilling out of him and locked his eyes on the Ork that dared to wound him. 

[simison]

An image appeared in Jorg's mind sent by the giant behind him. 

 

With all of his might, the Champion of Kurn slammed his maul... into the walkway on which they stood. Untold time within the Immaterium had corroded the adamantium. A small piece fell as cracks spread outward. The beasts lumbered away from the cracks with alarm and provided the opportunity Jorg needed to survive. He stepped toward the Ork who wounded him and promptly sent him flying off the walkway. The remaining Orks tried to overwhelm him again, but Jorg hit the walkway again sending more adamantium flying below as its structural integrity suffered. 

 

Images rapidly sent to him showed himself at various points at battle. More importantly, they showed where he could stand without fear of falling. Thank you, Lord Alexandros. 

[deathspectersgt7]

 

[Welcheren]

I especially enjoy envisioning the unusually close relationship these Astartes must have with their Primarch. Knowing that he is the origin of your own gene-structure is already conducive to a close bond, but to feel him personally 1) shielding your from as much harm as possible and 2) directing your already powerful martial abilities to even greater efficiency is heady stuff.  

 

Watching a mighty giant stride across the field, and feeling a genetic kinship with him, is one thing, knowing that he is also looking out for you is another. 

Edited December 14, 2016 by Welcheren

[simison]

Fueled with confidence, Jorg eliminated another Ork in one move, bringing the total to two dead Orks, two crippled, one barely wounded, and four in complete health. Speed would be the only thing to keep him alive. He stepped back as the mob tried to avenge their latest loss. One Ork immediately chased him and yelped when its foot stepped in the wrong spot. It fell as its weight punched through the walkway, all the way up to its thigh. With a flip, Jorg didn't bother as he fired two bolts at point-blank range, adding a third kill. 

 

He hopped to the side, following the images perfectly as he stepped onto another safe spot. It put him into melee range of the Ork with the shattered knee. It had discarded its close combat weapon and had been trying to get a bead on Jorg with its rifle. Three rounds bounced off his Mark 2 plate before he killed it. 

 

"Dis one is moar trouble than its worth!" Cried out one of the beasts before it scrambled away. That left Jorg outnumbered 5-to-1, but he could see the same fear spreading through the rest of them. One or two more kills, and he would break them.

[simison]

Unfortunately, these Orks were using more than blind instinct. While Jorg had finished off his last kill, the rest of them had spread out and carefully approached him as one, even the one with the broken arm joined the fight. Jorg could perhaps shoot one more before they were upon him. His wound was no longer bleeding, but it hampered his left slightly. The last image Alexandros had shown him was a safe foothold to his right. Between the two factors, Jorg finalized his plan of attack though something bothered him at the back of his mind. With perfect, guided aim, he shot an Ork to his left through the eye before he lunged to the other side. The mob swarmed him, but it seemed halfhearted. He took advantage of their delay and smashed another Ork off the walkway. 

 

"Where ya goin'!?" An Ork screamed. 

 

I've broken them, Jorg thought triumphantly as he turned to his next target. Then he saw that the Ork who had yelled wasn't yelling at the three Orks running off. It was looking away from them and Jorg. Realization struck Jorg. His head snapped toward the Primarch. Xiphos embedded itself in the last Ork in front of Alexandros, the rest of the mob a pile of corpses and detached limbs. 

 

The Ork with the broken arm was charging the purple giant. That was what had seemed off to Jorg. The last image Alexandros had beamed into his mind had purposefully taken Jorg away, leaving himself exposed. Jorg's mind was racing as he reacted. The Sons of the Emperor wore the finest armours throughout the Imperium. Surely, no crude blade could penetrate it. Then he saw where the Ork was aiming. No armour was invincible. The plates used by the space marines may have been forged from hardened adamantium, but, as Jorg's own wound proved, it couldn't cover everything without rendering the wearer immobile. 

 

As Jorg watched, the broken-armed Ork lunged and buried his weapon deep into Alexandros' side. 

Edited December 16, 2016 by simison

[Welcheren]

[simison]

Alexandros grunted with pain as the Ork cheered its own success. Then Alexandros twisted with enough speed and strength to throw the broken-armed Ork off-balanced, almost using its own grip to throw it over the edge. It staggered back from the giant and never noticed Jorg, until the Storm Rider crushed its head. That was enough death to send the last Ork running away, but Jorg cared nothing for it as he addressed his Primarch. "My lord! I beg your forgiveness! I followed your instructions and would never have left you defenceless..." The words faded away as Jorg became deep in thought. The answer came to him. "You purposefully exposed yourself," Jorg said, half accusation, half questioning.

 

"I did," Alexandros answered as he pulled out the Ork's crude sword out of his flesh before tossing it away. "If I hadn't, the one who wounded me would have broken your leg."

 

Jorg protested, "A paltry injury, my lord! It is my duty to serve and protect you!"

 

"I need you for the rest of this battle. Thus, since I can withstand more punishment and heal faster, it was a simple choice," Alexandros said as he gestured to his wound. Despite how deep the blade had cut, the blood flow had already stopped. 

 

For once, Jorg was irritated by his sire's foresight, under the impression that any complaint or criticism he gave would be disarmed by the Lord of the II^nd in quick fashion. That was when he noticed the unceasing thunder of heavy bolter fire. 

[simison]

Jorg looked up and recalled his sire's earlier order to position as many heavy bolters within the cavern. From within the rocky ceiling a kilometre above them, dozens of gyrocopters had swarmed down, the ramshackle vehicles unleashing missile and round as their Ork pilots attempted to check the Storm Riders' advance. Waiting for them was a growing network of firepower as heavy support squads countered the Orks' latest tactic. 

 

One copter swung towards them. Before it could fire, it was washed in bolt shells. A lucky shot hit the propeller stem, sending the blades and the rest of the copter falling in two different directions. Jorg glanced toward the rear and saw the responsible marine behind Sergeant Schmidt's squad, who were slowly catching up to Jorg and Alexandros. Yet, the defenses were not perfect. Six hundred metres to Jorg's right, several copters unleashed attack runs on another walkway. Jorg saw two assault marines die as a wave of missiles struck them and ripped apart the walkway. A second later, another pair of Ork flyers repeated the missile barrage on the same walkway but one hundred metres behind the initial attack, severing an entire section of the walkway from any connection. 

 

As Jorg watched, an entire squad of Storm Riders failed to sprint to safety and fell to their deaths. 

[simison]

The creaking of adamantium drew Jorg's attention to his side. Alexandros watched as his sons fell, his grip around his sword tightening. "Quickly, we only have a minute and fourty-three seconds to reach our objective." 

 

Jorg nodded before he faced their target, the Ork firing point. Now, only a hundred metres away, Jorg studied his foe with greater accuracy. A mob of eight Orks and a number of Ork dwarfs had constructed a circular barrier on the platform's center. From within the chaotic nest, the Orks, who's outfits were bizarre parodies of ancient rogue mariners, opened fire on any Storm Rider unit attempting to advance within their sphere of control. Unlike the rest of the horde, the weapons wielded by this bunch were considerably more sophisticated, despite appearing to be assembled by a crazed infant. Most of the weapons fired blasts of plasma which could threaten any space marine. 

 

Yet, none of them paid any mind to him or Alexandros. The reason why was clear as it stomped around the Ork position and stepped onto the path. Where Ork infantry had failed, now a walker would attempt. Garish yellow covered the hull as four claws snapped and waved threateningly at the pair of Imperials. The Ork within activated its speakers. "WAAAAAAGGGHHH!"

[simison]

"This will be a problem," Alexandros muttered, unfazed. 

 

Jorg could only agree. His maul enjoyed an enhanced engine that allowed him to strike with extra force against his foes. However, it would not be strong enough to simply break the enemy machine apart. Likewise, his krak grenades would only be of use if it were placed in a weak spot. He glanced at his gene-sire. While none doubted that the endowed strength of the Primarchs outstripped their sons, it wasn't overwhelmingly so. Furthermore, while Alexandros' blade was one of the finest in all of the Imperium, it's 'short' length was to emphasize Alexandros' speed and not his power. Glancing at his own, Jorg considered handing it to Alexandros but discarded the idea. The weapon would be too small to provide any benefit to his lord. 

 

"Take extra care Jorg," Alexandros said before he cautiously advanced against this new opponent.

[simison]

The clanking walker eagerly marched towards them.

 

"My lord, can you spot a weakness? Surely, this pathetic excuse for a weapon will not fell you?"

 

"No, it won't," Alexandros replied as he raised his shield high. "In truth, you are right in that I already know how this will fight end. For us to accomplish our objective, we need to lure it farther away from the Ork firing point."

 

Jorg took heart in his Primarch's confidence. "Should be easy enough."

 

Then the walker lunged forward, two of it's claws reaching for them. 

[simison]

Alexandros hopped back out of one claw's reach as the blocked the second one. Jorg, ignored, swung at the claw. His weapon harmlessly bounced off its ragged metal despite the strength he had poured into the blow. Using his own strength, Alexandros forced the claw back before he parried a third one. Worried about the Primarch getting close to its main body, the walker stepped back.

 

Guiding Jorg, the pair mirrored it's movement, opening a gap between the three combatants. "I'mma gonna skewer y'all!" The dreadnought charged again. This time, Alexandros allowed the assault to push him back as they steadily led the machine away from the other Orks. Despite having the initative, no matter how many times the Ork swungs its claws, Alexandros negated the attack, his entire focus on his defense. Jorg felt his frustration grew as he could only stand behind his Primarch, waiting for the next step in his lord's plan.

[simison]

As the furious assault continued, Alexandros saw his opening. One claw overreached and pushed too far. The Primarch sidestepped it's clumsy attack and snapped forward. The point of Xiphos struck the left 'eye' of the machine. More importantly, one of the security locks keeping the access plate between the mangled Ork and the Emperor's son was destroyed. Within the metal, the pilot panicked and back off, yelling profanities at Alexandros. 

 

From behind, Jorg's mind instantly filled with Alexandros' next step. The space marine snorted at the plan but said, "Ready!" 

[simison]

The pair took three rapid steps back, at least for the Primarch's size. Before the hostile machine could react, Alexandros crouched low and held his shield horizontally, its face staring at the ceiling. Without any further prompting, Jorg jumped on the shield, activating his boot's mag-locks. 

 

Here we go, Alexandros' 'voice' whispered to Jorg's mind.

 

Grunting with exertion as he hauled the several hundred kilograms of weight, Alexandros spun in place. Jorg winced as his body bore the brunt of several g forces in between seconds. The mental image given to him by his lord prepped the space marine for the exact moment to complete this ridiculous plan. As Alexandros completed the spin, Jorg released the mag-locks.

 

Jorg catapulted.

[simison]

The Ork walker couldn't react at all before Jorg flew over its body. The space marine reached the apex of his arc before he began his meteoric descent...straight into the Ork emplacement. The plasma-wielding Orks merely had a moment to realize the danger hurtling towards them. Jorg pulled his body in a tight ball before he crashed into the mob. Two Orks were killed instantaneously by the impact alone, while a third one wailed when Jorg crushed its legs. The armour's mini-cogitator warned that Jorg's forearms were laced with micro-fractures, but he ignored it as he whirled to his feet.

 

For all of the meticulous attention these Orks had spent on their weapons and their outfits, the actual practicality of wearing real armour seemed to have escaped them. As such, when Jorg began swinging through their ranks, the Orks died quickly as they fumbled for anything that would do as a melee weapon. One desperate Ork actually grabbed one of their runts and slammed the creature against Jorg's face. It squealed as half of its body was broken in the blow.

 

Jorg was not amused.

 

He quickly threw the unwanted pest away before he smashed his maul into the Ork's face. It fared far worse than what Jorg endured. 

[simison]

The final Ork aimed its plasma weapon at the exposed Storm Rider. "Let's fix tha purty mug of yurs!" It crowed as it squeezed the trigger. The plasma containment unit failed spectacularly as raw plasma exploded over the Ork. Hide and bone quickly melted beneath the heat as the beast squealed in its death throes. 

 

It was then Jorg became aware of the sound of crunching adamantium. He looked back toward the walkway. In the seconds between Jorg's thunderous arrival and now, the Ork walker had pushed forward. One claw was pressing down on Alexandros' shield, another wrestled with Xiphos, and the third hung uselessly. But the fourth one was locked crushing the Primarch's shoulder, the purple armour cracking and blood spilling out of new wounds. Alexandros grunted with pain as he struggled against his foe. 

 

A schematic of the walker appeared in Jorg's mind.

 

Completely focused on killing the giant before it, the crippled Ork never noticed Jorg until his maul crashed into its rear. The metal and wires connecting the fourth claw shattered entirely. The metallic limb dropped unceremoniously before Alexandros lost his own arm. The Ork bellowed with alarm as it tried to shift its vulnerable back away from Jorg.

 

Then, it stopped.

 

It didn't move when Jorg destroyed its leg closest to the edge.

 

It didn't move as it slid over the edge.

 

It did nothing as it fell.  

[simison]

Jorg looked at Alexandros, who's eyes stared past him, unfocused yet intense. After another second, Alexandros blinked and returned Jorg's gaze. "To trap a foe in a dream, especially a foe with so little discipline, requires much concentration."

 

"My lord, your arm," Jorg said bluntly.

 

Alexandros waved him off. "It looks worse than it actually is. More importantly, you completed the objective," he finished as he spared a glance around him.

 

Following the Primarch's gaze, Jorg identified six different Storm Rider squads in weapon's range making progress along their respective routes. Dozens of space marines would have died had the Ork emplacement lasted another mere minute. 

 

Correct, Darshan interrupted. Aloud, Alexandros said, "The entire assault in this area would have been brought to a stalemate, and it would have been too dangerous for me to advance unsupported. But now, there will be a permanent gap in the warboss' defenses. A gap I now intend to exploit."

[simison]

While Jorg couldn't deny the obvious tactical advantages of his lord's actions, he was still uncomfortable with Alexandros' willingness to risk his health for the sake of easing victory for his sons. The adamantium armour around his bicep was distorted, a few pieces had fallen off as the metal gave way. This allowed the observant a few small holes to see the mangled flesh beneath the armour. While the arm moved as it should, Jorg thought he noticed a momentary delay as though each movement pained his lord. Still, he could not deny the Emperor's work which was already closing the wound. Jorg only hoped that it wasn't any worse than what he could see. 

[simison]

Alexandros' ignored Jorg's probing stare as he focused on the battle's next step. The initial assessment concluded that his strike force mirrored his personal state: bloodied yet highly functional. Burklak's air assault had inflicted some casualties but, as the last of the copters had fled back up into the porous ceiling, it had been a tactical loss. It had forced the Ork Warboss to commit his walkers earlier than he had intended. Alexandros couldn't deny their tactical effectiveness as the overwhelming majority of the Storm Riders were forced to either fall back due to ineffective weapons. Where the paths were clear of the mechanical obstructions, any advance would comprise of only a few squads. Those squad sergeants had wisely seen that this was purposely done to encourage them to move forward only to be wiped out piecemeal, draining the overall assault. Yet, while there were no foolish charges, that meant they were immobilized until enough neighboring elements could march with them. 

[simison]

Which was why Alexandros' position was now invaluable. Destroying the Ork walker had opened a small hole in Burklak's defences. More importantly, by eliminating the Orks fortified here, Jorg had ensured that enough Storm Riders survived to make the upcoming breakthrough possible. Sending a few quick orders to his detachment, the Primarch activated a series of orders that would counter the wall of walkers the Storm Riders faces. At the same time, lone marines on wings of flame surged down the metal paths at Alexandros' command. 

 

Darshan stretched out as he established mental connections to the infantry fist forming around him. Sergeant Schmidt's breachers reached himself and Jorg right as the summoned marines arrived at their respective squads. With no prompting, Darshan felt waves of revulsion and wariness as the squads realized who were joining them: battle-psykers.

[simison]

The Imperial Auxilia had only heard the rumors of the black mark against the Second's psykers. The Storm Riders themselves were all too aware of the danger their psyker brothers were to themselves and to others. Prepare to advance, Darshan ordered, his 'tone' brooking no dissension. His sons dutifully clamped down on their emotional misgivings as they prepared for the next phase of the battle. No battle-psyker joined Schmidt's squad as Alexandros would fulfill that role. Darshan did not mistake the small ball of relief the marines standing next to him felt, easily trusting their gene-sire over their more fallible kin. It was an attitude Alexandros intended to fix, which required the battle-psykers to prove themselves. The Battle of IG-88 was to prove to themselves that they could serve again. This battle was to prove to the legion that their erstwhile brothers had a rightful place among them. 

[simison]

Pointing at the center of the Ork horde, Alexandros said, "Forward." As he and the nearby squads moved, he opened a vox channel. While a majority of the strike force was engaged, Alexandros had left a significant force of reserves for this moment. With a few deployment commands, additional squads would follow on these routes, reinforcing the breakthrough against the Orkish defences. It would be extremely necessary for the few walkways that would lead away from Alexandros' position.

 

My sons, Darshan began as he addressed his fellow psykers, focus your efforts on protecting your brothers through peering at the future. If we are to claim the warboss' head in the next hour, we will need to keep casualties to an absolute minimum. Understood?

 

Yes, Father/Alexandros/My Lord, the various mental replies returned. Some were confident, some were wary. All desired obedience and success. Alexandros hoped he'd be able to fulfill those desires before the day was over. 

[simison]

While Burklak could not counter with more walkers, the warboss had plenty of warriors at his disposal. Seconds had passed since Alexandros ordered the breach before a horde of greenskins rambled towards them. Firefights broke out as squads and mobs traded fire. One of the great dangers regarding Orks was there ability to overwhelm foes with sheer numbers, whether in bodies or bullets. Here, on these narrow, metallic paths, their numbers were limited as they did everything they could to throw back the space marines. Bereft of one of their key tactical advantages, the Orks died in droves. From behind walls of breacher shields, the Storm Riders enjoyed dual layers of protection as they continued onward, slowed yet not stopped. Between these two advantages, it would be a hard fight to prevail against the Emperor's Angels of Death. 

 

However, under the careful eye of Darshan, the legion battle-psykers added a third advantage. Harnessing the future as a weapon, Orks who were on the verge of kill-shots died before they could squeeze triggers. Whenever the rare Ork armed with a weapon that could penetrate adamantium moved into range, they were riddled with bolts before they could choose a target. For a time, there was no battle, merely slaughter as Storm Riders marched and greenskins died. 

[simison]

Gradually, strands of the attack veered off as the pathways took them away from Alexandros' path. Any danger of losing the momentum was eliminated as continual reserves double-timed and reinforced the more exposed squads. On his helmet's readout, Alexandros watched their progress as Imperial red pushed through Ork green, all the while periodically checking on his other strike forces.

 

More good news filtered in when more Ork dreadnoughts were brought down along the battle lines. Soon, other Storm Rider 'reds' penetrated through the cloud of green as Ork defences failed to contain the legion. When Alexandros could hear the buzzing return of the Ork copters, he knew Burklak was growing desperate. He spared a glance at the warboss, who remained at the center platform even as Alexandros closed the distance between them. The giant Ork bellowed order after insult after order as he waved his power claw madly towards Alexandros' position. Soon.