Imperium Ascendant

Book II: The Great Crusade

Chapter Twenty-Five: Rust and Ruin

Excerpts from "A Storm of Fire and Iron: recorded accounts of the X Legion." by Lady Remembrancer Jinjoon Mhuirich

Article Nine

Dated: (128) 894.M30

Before the Imperium it was a common verbal expression to compare great destruction to the Wrath of God. Watching the first strike against Rust it struck me how inadequate that saying proved. What god could match the Wrath of Man? Three waves of fire and death struck Rust as the start of the ground war. First a moon cracking bombardment of Macro-Shell and Lance Strikes. Probing for any weakness in the Orkish shields that covered the burnt acidic skies of Rust. The second wave consisted of a million drop pods. A steel rain covering a small continent. Most of the pods were duds, a screen of falling metal to hide the ones carrying Astartes. Cracks in the Orks defenses were pried open by chapters worth of Astartes. Crucial shield generators and flak turrets took offline by incredibly fast super-soldiers. Paving the way for the third wave, the one I was part of.

Fleets of dropships, vehicle-pods, and quick-fab fortresses rained from the sky. Surrounded by a buzzing swarm of Fighters and interceptor-skulls. Protecting us from the Greenskin flying-craft. Locked into a reentry couch and pumped full of G-compensator drugs I fell to Rust inside a Tetrarch Heavy Lander. It carried part of Clan MacSmyth and a complement of Auxilia to the surface. Compared to a Drop Pod the Lander was taking a sedate course towards the surface, and yet I still lost consciousness twice on the descent. Even when designed to accommodate less-augmented humans orbital drop vehicles are traumatically intense.

Fighting off the acceleration threatening to push me back into the black I watched the skies of rust through some sensor-skulls I was patched into. My senses cycled out of my body, hopping between different drones and camera systems, a privilege of the Remembrancers. Our destination was Green-Forge-Beta, or at least that's what the tactica adepts called it. A hundred-kilometer wide plateau covered in a monument to Xeno industry. This sprawling factory-metropolis was the second largest of its kind on Rust. If the Imperium could take it we would have a strong beachhead. The Orks were obviously not going to let this happen easily.

Thousands of crude fighter-craft filled the sky, relying on strength of numbers to rip from the air. My heart nearly stopped when I saw them succeeded in such an endeavor close by. An Auxilia troop-transport swarmed by a rabid flock of Orkish fighters, riddled with lead and fire until it detonated in a massive conflagration. The Orks did not flee the blast until the last minute, so obsessed with claiming the kill. I wager a quarter of the number attacking the lander burned up in the explosion, too slow to evade it. These Aliens were mad, utterly insane, diving headlong into battle with a barely functioning sense of self-preservation. As if War was more important than living. Thinking back to the dossiers I had read about the Greenskins I occurred to me it probably was to the Xenos.

My heart hammered away in my chest as I watched the surviving Orkish swarm dart towards us. A song of screaming metal started as autoguns opened up, pelting the Lander with a storm of hot lead. This was it, this was how I died. Holding my breath, waiting for an explosion to snuff me from existence. It never came, salvation arrived in the form of Xiphon Interceptors. A wing of the aircraft screamed past us, ripping through the Orkish fighters. Lascannons shredding the Xeno craft and saving us from a fiery doom. Wings of Astartes and Navy fighter craft soon surrounded the Lander. Having broken through the first wave of Orkish orbital defenses and protecting the heavy landing craft as they descended.

I watched our descent through the eyes of a dozen Servo-Skulls. Our destination was a crater at the southern edge of Green-Forge-Beta. Created by some impossibly large industrial accident in Rust's history. Astartes drop-pods had already secured the impact basin and it would prove an excellent starting point for the offensive. Squads of Imperial Fighters, Bombers, and Dropships broke from the Landers and flew towards the great battlements of Green-Forge-Beta. Distracting the defenders lining the towering walls. Giving us time to land and disembark. The lander slowed at a steady but still gut-wrenching rate as we reached the surface. A chemical cocktail designed to protect me from the rapid deacceleration flooded through my veins and made landing survivable.

Once the lander made contact with the ground it released its cargo. The entire bottom half of the vessel unlocking and unfolding. Leaving the new lighter and more agile ship to return to orbit and prepare its next run of cargo. Automated processes under the careful supervision of Enginseers transformed each deposited cargohold into prefab bunkers. Land Raiders, Rhinos, Predators, and Land Speeders detached from the dropped cargobunker and moved to position. Tech Adepts and Auxilia troops quickly finished the process of turning each lander's load into a miniature fortress and supply depo. Swarms of Servo-Skulls deployed from the fab-forts and ranged across the battlefield. Giving me a unique perspective from a thousand different eyes.

The Crater was soon filled with Imperial war machines and soldiers. Only some Landers deposited fab-forts like the one I had arrived in, most delivered vehicles, troops, and supplies. I briefly wondered why the Orks were letting the Imperium set up a forward base of this magnitude so quickly. A cycle between different Servo-Skulls showed me the ugly truth. Every second spent turning the crater into a base of operations was bought with human and transhuman lives. An army of Greenskin vehicles poured forth from the nearest gate of Green-Forge-Beta. Tides of scrap-craft, dust-buggies, malformed walkers, and similar Xeno contraptions fought Astartes and Auxilia armored vehicles in the far distance.

This was my first time properly seeing Orkish construction and it lived up to its reputation. Everything from the quarter kilometer tall walls of Green-Forge-Beta to the storm of land vehicles shared the same brutish primitive construction. It all seemed "thrown together" as if a child tried to recreate some machine it did not understand. Nothing was symmetrical or refined. The walls were a haphazard piling of layers of defensive structures and scrap-metal. Defying gravity to stretch up into the sky. Teeming with alien life and machinery. Even as the battle raged in the wall's shadow faint signs of construction were apparent. What I first thought was gun-barrels and plasma discharge was in truth crane systems and short-spindly Greenskins welding new additions to the wall. The gate where the Greentide had flowed from was only a gate in name. It appeared more like a cleft in the wall, a jagged fissure stretching from the ground to half-way up the wall. With every passing second of observation, it became apparent to me this "wall" was more a massive vertical nest that encircled the Xeno industrial complex. A slum and scrapyard turned into an ad-hoc yet formidable fortification.

Fighting through such an enormous and feral fortress would be incredibly costly. Bringing with it all the troubles associated with urban, tunnel, jungle, and siege warfare all at the same time. The walls of Green-Forge-Beta must be bypassed, one way or another. Infantry and Armored detachments battled Orkish hordes across the ashen wastes. Pushing towards the fissure the Greenskins used as a gate. Newly deployed Artillery soon opened up, testing the patchwork of shields covering the outer wall. Orkish gunners across the vertical labyrinth before us turned their attention to the rapidly growing Imperial beachhead in response. A duel of steady Stormbringer thunder and screaming Orkish rockets filled the air around me. On more than one occasion the fab-fort I sheltered in took a direct hit and the entire structure shook with the impact. Ion and Conversion shields could only mitigate so much of the Xenos firepower.

Across the battlefield, I watched the heroics of the Imperials and feral power of the Orks. A Land Raider of one of the Clans deployed with us took a direct hit from an enemy siege gun. Instantly overloading its shields and ripping through the Tank's armor. Fire erupted from the destroyed Land Raider and sent bits of metal flying. To my shock, numerous armored figures pulled themselves from the wreckage. Badly wounded Stormbringers escaped the ruined war-vehicle and joined the battle on foot. Even with armor burnt black and wounds visible from my remote perspective they fought on. Grim determination to push forward no matter what marking out the Sons of Culian.

The battle entered its next phase as warning claxons set off across the beachhead base established in the crater. Servo-Skulls rapidly moved back towards docking ports. Both mortal and Astartes ran for cover inside Fab-Forts as a mechanical voice broadcasted across the main vox frequency. "The wrath of the Omnissiah has come. Brace for Titan fall."

Wave four of the Imperial bombardment had started. Over a hundred massive drop-pods descended towards us. The largest of which more resemble Imperial escort ships than actual drop-pods. When Astartes arrive en masse by Steel Rain it is called a Descent of Angels. An accurate description as thousands or even hundreds of thousands of shooting stars make planetfall. No such poetic term exists to describe when the God-Machines of the Mechanicum arrive from the sky in vaults of blazing steel. I doubt any phrasing in gothic or any other human tongue can ever do it justice.

Even with the Titans still miles high and layers of ceramite surrounding me, the sheer power of what was coming echoed around me. The roar of maneuvering jets more powerful than some lance weapons filled the dusty atmosphere of Rust. Windstorms born of massive air displacement accompanied a stomach-churning anticipation for the inevitable impact. When it came, it did not disappoint. The ground shook beneath me with such intensity I feared the fab-fortress would be blown away. All I could do was shut my eyes and try not to vomit as tremendous force impacted my body. After a few heartbeats that lasted a lifetime, the shaking stopped. Any attempt to tap into exterior cameras or drones proved ineffective, massive clouds of dust obscured the vision of any eyes I peered through. However, the presence of great shadows hidden behind blankets of ferrous winds could not be denied.

As the last of the aftershocks, caused by smaller Titans landing, ended. The sound of moaning metal and hissing mechanical muscles erupted. Impossibly large hulks hidden in the dust storm began to unfold. Bringing a new wind with it that blasted away the obscuring sands of metal and silica. Revealing the cargo of the mammoth Drop-Pods for all to see. The Titans of the Legio Titanicus had arrived. A pentarchy of Imperator Class Capital Titans exited the macro Drop-Pods and took to the surface of Rust. Every step the colossal war machines took sent another tremor through the ground. The ponderous footfalls of Capital Titans were soon joined by the marginally lesser tread of Battle and Scout Titans. The Talos-Adamants legion joined the battle.

Of the five Capital Titans one stood apart, Nuada the premier Titan of the Talos-Adamants. What marked Nuada apart was its unique bridge. Shaped gold and beaten bronze covered the skull-shaped bridge of the Titan. Giving it the face of a colossal beautiful human. An intricate genderless mask of precious metal nestled below the fortress resting on the Titans shoulders. Human proportions and features bonded to unstoppable mechanical might in an unsettling combination. As I watched Nuada slowly turn towards the jagged gate, its lumbering steps capable of squashing entire buildings. My connection to the Servo-Skull drones flickered for a moment, as a wave of static traveled the frequencies. The mechanical equivalent of an apex predator letting out a warning growl. A growl that quickly became something more as the mouth of Nuada opened up, pink-gold lips widening to release the God-Machines roar. In a challenge loud enough to shatter glass and pop blood vessels the Warhorn of Nuada sounded. Soon its siblings and escorts joined the choir of rage. Forming a single unified note of pure bestial rage somehow caged in silicon and metal.

The Warhorns echoed across the crater and reverberated against the scrap nest the Orks considered a wall. With the challenge issued, now came the fury of Titans. As one the Pentarchy of Capital Titans marched forward, troops of Battle Titans forming a loose ring of escorts around the behemoths. The lupine Scout Titans had already rushed ahead into the clash near the jagged gate. Hunting for any threat capable of harming their larger kindred. My most distant skulls darted around the main battle and showed the shock and fear in the Xenos. Entire convoys of Greenskin scrap-craft turned as fast as their crude forms could allow. Fleeing towards the safety of the gate and away from the Titans. Some of the larger Orkish vehicles took the opposite approach and focused fire on the Titans. Charging through Astartes lines at suicidal speeds, firing madly. Neither strategy proved to be much use.

Void-Shields that had no business outside of Voidships and fortresses protected the Titans from the storm of lead and exotic energy unleashed by the Greenskin attackers. Scout and Battle Titans quickly intercepted the Xeno attackers who broke past the Astartes. Reducing them to a mixture of slag and ash. More broken machinery for the world of Rust. Slowly but steadily the five Capital Titans made their way closer to the jagged gate. With each step monumental weapon systems charged up. The two Capital Titans on either side of the formation were the first to fully prime their main weapons. Only a few moments notice were given between the Titan's comm-officer relaying the war-machine's intent and their action. Twin Hellstorm Laser Cannons opened fire. Rapidly fired blasts of directed energy roared forth from the Titans. Slamming into the jagged gate and the wall around it. The bizarre mess of shield systems built into the wall quickly started to break down under the Titans firepower. Gravitic, Void, Ion, Displacer, Converter, and a few more exotic variants of shield systems popped under the Imperial Assault. This constant Hellstorm barrage was only the start. Three new Suns ignited on the surface of Rust. A trio of Plasma Anhilliators from Nuada and its closest siblings were unleashed.

Plasma fire ripped forward in unstable gouts of death. With no shields to neuter the attack, the full might of Three Capital Titan primary weapons struck the gate. One moment the jagged gate was there, the next it wasn't. An unstoppable wave of Plasma vaporized hundreds of tons of metal and thousands of Orks. Lighter Imperial craft was sent flying from the shockwave. Paint was stripped from the hulls of larger vehicles and I sincerely hope no one was unlucky enough to be unprotected when the three Titans fired. The Talos-Adamants are sworn to the X Legion and follow the brutalist philosophy of the Stormbringers. No quarter would be given, and the Emperor's enemies would die screaming. The blinding flash of three miniature suns soon faded. Leaving a mushroom cloud billowing into the sky and an iron-scabbed crater where the jagged gate had once stood. The Titans had done their duty and breached the Xeno wall. Providing a hole in the defenses of Green-Forge-Beta large enough to march an army through. Which is exactly what the Stormbringers did.

Talos-Adamant Titans, Stormbringer Astartes, and Auxilia from a hundred regiments moved to enter the Greenskin stronghold. Firing blindly into the ash-choked hole in the wall. Nuada and its kin fired lesser broadsides at different parts of the wall bordering the crater we used as a beachhead. Bursting shields, and reducing turrets-nests to dribbling flows of slag. The Plasma Annihilators had done their work and needed to cool off and recharge. Hellstorm, Vengeance, Nemesis, and Inferno Cannons still fired, and Orks died in droves. It seemed nothing could stop the Titan's wrath and victory would soon be ours. That is till the first Titan exploded.

The first sign something was a Reaver Titan stopping mid-stride. The Escort Battle Titan simply paused. Breaking from its formation encircling the Capital Titans. Then after a moment of inactivity, the Reaver detonated. Blasted apart from within by some unknown means. No damage to its armor, only a flicker of Void Shields and an eruption. The Talos-Adamants reacted quickly, diverting power to Void Shields and rapidly taking defensive positions. It did nothing to stop the next wave of blasts. A scattering of Battle and Scout Titans died in fire. There was no impact, no projectile trails, just sudden death from nowhere. Nuada moved with some machine-spirit instinct then. Rapidly jerking its colossal frame away from the gap in the walls. That saved the Titan, as an explosion ripped one of the God-Machines arms off. The force from the blast was still powerful enough to nearly topple Nuada.

Moving faster, trying to reach and destroy the mysterious weapon the Talos-Adamants pushed forward. Hoping to catch up to the advancing Astartes Tank companies. I could tell when the third volley of impossible explosions was to come before it even happened. A pounding headache struck me right before the blasts. Blasts that either missed or failed to find key-systems this time. Something had changed, the Stormbringers had adapted to whatever the Greenskins were throwing at us. The Orkish weapon had lost much of its accuracy and could not reliably hit the Imperial Titans.

After the battle, I learned what exactly was occurring in that brief moment of unknown violence. The Orks now had a clear line of sight with the Wall gone and unleashed the "Doom Driva Kannon '' An utterly insane weapon that's lunacy matched its destructive potential. The weapons ammunition came in the form of spherical explosive pods with Gretchin-breed Orkoids wired into its targeting system. These lesser Xenos are shown pict-captures of a target just as they undergo a mixture of lobotomization and electrocution that starts the firing cycle. The Gretchin-controlled ordinance is then shot into the Warp. Aimed in some arcane heretekical means by the brain-damaged Gretchins to re-enter the material inside the target of the weapon. A virtually unblockable form of firepower capable of tremendous damage. It was only through the quick thinking of the Astartes Librarians that the complete destruction of the Talos-Adamants was prevented. The Librarians had sensed the shift in the Warp and used their power to deflect the Doom Driver shells. Using enough psychic power to cause headaches in all but the most warp-dull humans nearby. A psyker Remembrancer of the X Crusader Fleet assigned to a Librarian described it as an incredible feat. Stormbringer Librarians creating avatars in the Warp molded after Giants of Old Earth myths. To smash away the incoming Doom Drivers in a battle of thoughts and willpower. Even with their efforts some Orkish shells got through and ripped a grim toll on the Titans.

Injured, with not insignificant casualties the Titan Legion kept marching forward. An advancing wall of giants shrugging off all but the most grievous blow. Only when the Titans finally reached the gap they tore open in the wall did the terrible truth of Green-Forge-Beta become clear. Orks are a species divorced of any semblance of sanity. Run-away weapons produced by long-dead masters, running amok in a galaxy wounded by countless ancient wars. The fact such horrific mistakes such as the Orks inhabit the stars shows how unworthy the Xeno is to rule the Galaxy. Run-away weapons that despite their madness and illogical actions are some of the most dangerous creatures in existence. As the Titans passed the broken Scrap-wall and my Servo-Skulls went with them, something became brutally apparent. The Scrap-wall was just that, a wall of scrap. Not a defensive structure by any meaningful design, but a mound of refuse repurposed as a bulwark. On its other side lay the real defenses of Green-Forge-Beta

Article Ten

Dated: (129) 894.M30

Past the walls of Green-Forge-beta was a colossal hive-complex of machinery twisted together in an impossible Xeno-nest dedicated to simple industry. The sprawl of arcane mad xenotech went on for hundreds of kilometers. Building up towards the center in a humongous tumor of metal. Some primal part of my brain was reminded of a cyst. Each Greenskin forge-complex a massive bulging zit on the face of Rust, with piles of dead flaking metal forming its border. At the very peak of the mound was a point of crackling green lighting. The point of eruption, where this mountain of foul life and twisted machinery would finally burst out into the galaxy. Before we could even attempt to climb this summit, the Imperium needed to deal with two lesser hives near the destroyed scrap-wall.

Twin hive-spires, each the size of a small mountain, and just as bulbous stuck out of the mechanical wasteland. Unlike the rest of the area they did not belch smoke, spit sparks or scream with tearing metal. They did not move, nor make a noise until they awoke. At first, I did not understand what I was seeing. At first, I thought some Titan missiles had smashed into the hives. As layers of gantries, wiring, tubing, and scaffolding were ripped away. With growing horror I watched as two cities began to move, ripping free of cocoons of infrastructure. An arm larger than a Capital Titan burst from the scaffold wrappings. Shaped into the form of a monolithic three-fingered claw it reached up and tore away what covered the hive-machines face. Revealing a pair of glowing red balls of hate for eyes, and a colossal mouth filled with scrap-metal teeth. Soon both hive-machines were free, treads large enough to flatten Knight-Walkers like bugs pushed the monstrosities forward.

Have you ever seen a city move? No, I don't mean a walking building like a Titan or Voidship holding tens of thousands? I mean an actual city. Part of a sprawling urban landscape, detaching from its surroundings and trying to kill you? I have, and I will never forget every detail of it. Even through borrowed eyes kilometers away from my own flesh, I had never felt such fear. As I watched the insane battle unfolding I kept telling myself over and over the "Giga-Gargants" were machines. Just overgrown ramshackle alien contraptions. That would soon fall to the Imperiums might. Yet no matter how many times I told myself, I could not shake the feeling they were something far greater and more terrible. Every flicker in those hateful red eyes seemed a sign of a malicious power beyond comprehension. My reading on the Orks informed me the Xenos crafted mega-machines as idols to their gods. Seeking to build larger and more terrible false-Titans to capture the essence of their twin gods. As grinding metal and roaring engines came together to sound like bestial laughter. I started to wonder if some terrible element of truth powered that belief.

The fear I felt was not shared by the Angels of Death or God-Machines. They did not even falter when the Giga-Gargants broke free of their scrap-chrysalis'. All my attention and that of the entire assault of Green-Forge-Beta was focused on the nightmarish idols before us, we did not even realize the next threat had arrived. The Xeno cyst had finally erupted. From its glowing emerald peak, a blast of green lighting flew up towards the heavens. A lance of Orkish malice born of some "Mekboy'z" insanity struck the Thunderhead. The Gloriana-Class Flagship hung in low orbit and seemed to writhe with pain when the lance hit. It took me a moment to realize it actually was writhing, the kilometer-long ship thrashed about. Horror chilled my soul as it became apparent what was happening. An Orkish gravity weapon the likes never before seen had speared Thunderhead. The flagship was doing all it could to resist being pulled from orbit.

No time to process this incoming disaster was to be had. My attention was pulled back to the clash of Gargant and Titan. The Orkish war-idols were slow, lumbering brutes that killed anything they hit. Literal waves of lead and plasma poured from hundreds of guns haphazardly mounted to the beasts. Turning Land Raiders and Battle Titans alike into smoking piles of ash. The battle once so surely in our favor rapidly shifted against us as new waves of Orkish attack-craft spilled from the industrial wastes. Joining the battle in the plasma-born crater. Thankfully we were still getting reinforcements, not from the Thunderhead of course but some of the other large Crusader ships had broken through the Orkish orbital defenses and deployed alongside us. Entire Clans of Astartes and elements from three Titan Legions joined the fight.

Almost on cue to crush morale the Thunderhead suffered another devastating blow. Another lance of green lighting struck into, coming from somewhere else on Rust. Another harpoon in the belly of the leviathan, working to drag the ship to her doom. Soon a third and a fourth gravity skewer hit the Flagship. The works of Green-Forge Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and Delta I was guessing. For a few terrible moments, I wondered if I would witness a Primarchs star-throne fall. Such grim worries were interrupted by a broad-signal vox-cast. A simple message to every human in the Rust system spoke by a familiar voice of a legend. Primarch Culian MakTursan roared his son's cadence across the vox: "STRENGTH OF MEN!"

Which called forth a Legion to respond in unison to their father: "STRENGTHENED BY METAL!"

Before the full-throated cry of the Stormbringers could fade from the Vox, the Stormlord arrived. A bolt of lightning cut through the skies of Rust again. This time it was not sickly green but the white-hot electricity of distant Terra. This time it came from the Thunderhead, not aimed at it. This time it brought not death born of mad genius, but salvation created by immortal wisdom. The Primarch and his chariot arrived. Teleporting right to the top of Green-Forge-Beta with an honor guard of Land Raiders and Predators. Primarch Culian rode inside a behemoth of a Tank. Known as the Ríastrad-un-Laeg, A naming translating from old western Brittionese as "Chariot of Stormy Fury." An apt name for the vehicle. Its form resembled both Baneblade and Land Raider to some degree. Then magnified in size to tower over its parent-vehicles like a Primarch looms over Astartes. Supposedly in his youth, Culian had traveled to Mars to petition the Fabricator-General themself to create this hybrid weapon of doom. The young Primarch is said to have traveled into the dark catacombs of the Red Planet armed with nothing but a spear of adamantium and a robe of red. Returning weeks later with secrets thought lost forever in Old Night and permission to create his perfect chariot.

Watching even from a distance the Riastrad-un-Laeg unleash its wrath I could fully believe those legends. Even only catching glimpses of the Primarch's Chariot challenging the peak of Green-Forge-Beta, its might was evident. Lances of Starfire drawn from the Dyson-Bottle flew from the Riastrad's main gun. Culian Stormking challenged the Orkish warlord called "Wyattboss Zakga" in the Xenos lair. In a duel of battle-tested steel and exotic energy. White-hot Starfire and sickly-green lighting clashed, blasting Titan-sized holes in Green-Forge-Beta with every missed shot. I did not witness the Primarchs fight but later learned what he faced. The Wyattboss was truly mad, even by the standards of the Orkish tech-caste. Having wired himself into Green-Forge-Beta and by extension all of Rust. Becoming some nightmarish hybrid of Ork and Abominable Intelligence. A digitized beast ruling a kingdom of machines and malice. Culain fought the monster in its sanctum, the core of Rust's industrial machine. A great nightmarish nexus of Orkish psitech, half-finished apocalyptic weapons, and puppeteered Cybork Elites.

The Primarch faced his own challenges and would not be able to help us. The assault on the Giga-Gargants would be the duty of humans and transhumans. Leaving the Hero-King of Thunder to slay his Monster Lord. The Titans and Astartes fought well and died well. Every death the Orks inflicted was paid back many fold. Auxilia armor took the lead fighting the Orkish Tanks and Trukks. Baneblades and Borealis Tanks dueled swarms of patchwork scrap-craft. Crushing Orkish bikes and lost infantry under tread. While blasting Gargants and Battlefortresses with powerful guns. Some Astartes Land Raiders and Rhinos joined the fight, but most of the deployed Stormbringers were needed alongside the Titans to fight the Giga-Gargants.

Packs of Scout Titans danced around the massive Orkish war-idols. Slipping into the monster-machines blindspots and attacking its treads. Titanic hunting hounds flushing the great beast for their masters to strike. The Capital and Battle Titan sustained fire against the Giga-Gargants, never ceasing a barrage of laser, plasma, and missile detonations. The Capital Titans were slower than the Orkish moving-hives but more agile. Their lumbering frames capable of dodging city-crushing charges. Eventually, a misstep in this clash of Titans happened. Damage from the earlier Orkish assault had caught up to Nuada. Stress fractures in its Adamantium bones finally split open and its left leg cracked under the Titan's own weight. Using its main weapon-arm to stabilize itself, Nuada tried to stay standing. The first Giga-Gargant, a red-painted beast the Greenskins called the Gorkmonsta, noticed this weakness. Revving engines strong enough to power a Battle Cruiser the gravity-defying city-on-treads barreled towards Nuada. Before the Gorkmonsta, the Capital Titan seemed a child about to be run over by a rogue landcar. Nothing could be done, the Titan would meet its end beneath the crushing bulk of the Orkish war-idol.

The Princep of Nuada understood this, but she also understood her enemy. The Greentide cannot stop once it is started, it will hurtle forward crushing everything in its wake. Stopping only when this irresistible force met an immovable object. The Princep lacked such a thing, but she had the next best option at her disposal. A force powerful enough to disrupt the Greentide. With her last thoughts, the Princep diverted every drop of power into the weapon her Titan used to prop itself up. The Titan Nuada and its crew greeted death with a roar of triumph as the Gorkamonsta crushed them under itself. An act of destruction that not just destroyed the Nuada utterly, but broke open its overcharged Plasma Annihilator inside the Giga-Gargants shields.

Plasma fire erupted right under the Gorkamonsta. The same power that had reduced the jagged gate to ash and slag now punched into the War-Idol's undercarriage. Ripping a hole right through the Gorkamonsta and up through the city-weapons ``chest" In a testament to Orkish engineering and Gravity technology much of the force was redirected. Launching the front half of the Gorkamonsta into the air. Pushed up on its back treads the War-Idol hung there for a moment before true Gravity asserted itself. Like some feral steed rearing up and thrashing hooves, the War-Idol came crashing down. The impact was not kind to it and its massive red eye-lumens flickered out. The Gorkamonsta had come to a stop, having met an equally irresistible force in mankind's determination.

The Stormbringers wasted no time, a quartet of Mastodon Heavy Assault Transport barreled towards the wounded Giga-Gargant. Punching into the torn open machinery of the War-Idols front and releasing squads of Breachers and Assault squads from the Sixth and Eighth Wings of the Legiones Formations. Fast-acting boarders punching into the disabled Gorkamonsta. Carving a path of destruction through the Beast-machine's innards. All while feeding a steady stream of tactical data to the broader Assault. The Astartes of the X Legion had mastered the art of Armored Warfare, but they were still Space Marines, and boarding an enemy vessel was the purest form of their duties. Like some fast-acting Virus, the Stormbringers homed in on critical systems and ripped them to shreds. Shields fell, weapons went silent, Orkish crew died, and bit by bit the Gorkamonsta collapsed. Rhinos, Thunderhawks, and other transports swarmed the disabled behemoth. Releasing more than two Clans worth of Astartes into its bulk. The Gorkamonsta died a slow ugly death of a million cuts.

While this brutal fate claimed the Gorkamonsta, its twin the blue splattered Morkamonsta dueled the surviving Titans. The Talos Adamants fighting bolt and blade to avenge the fallen Nuada. Scans of the Gorkamonsta innards were added to the Titans tactical assessment. No two Orkish creations were identical but having a sense of where weak points *might* be proved useful. Morkamonsta was less aggressive than its twin, not charging headlong into a fight, content to use its overwhelming firepower, and thick armor to grind down Imperial Titans.

Literally, thousands of Titan class weapons festooned the War-Idol, and its Capital Titan-sized arms were armed with tools of destruction more suited for a Battleship. Its left arm was equipped with a dreadful Xeno combiweapon, part Gatling cannon, part gravity whip. The Gatling-cannon would shred apart a Titan's shield leaving it open for a lash of green energy to attach to it. With a flick of the Morkamonsta's bulk, it could send a bound Titan flying, using God-Machines as wrecking balls. A sight I had the misfortune of witnessing as a Battle Titan known as the Ur-Lomond was dragged through a battleline of its siblings before tossed up into the air and brought smashing down on an unlucky squad of Boralais Tanks. When the Morkamonsta got bored tossing Titans about it would drag them close, bringing them into range of the Voidship cutting chain-sword and army melting flamespewer on its other arm. Half a dozen titans met their fate to this combined assault. Forming a trail of molten metal and shredded scrap around the Morkamonsta.

Petty spiteful cruelty is a long known trait of the Greenskins. Something this Morkamonsta embodied in its vicious assault on the Titan Legions. Falling into a pattern of "playing" with human lives like the legendary Gigants of Aegean mythos. Yet much like those beasts of myth, engaging in simple savagery is predictable. A weakness exploited by the now legendary Wolfhound Class Scout Titan known as the Celtchar-Rex. To those unfamiliar with titanlore, the Wolfhound Class is designed for close quarter crippling strikes. Built to move faster than its cousins and hit harder than them as well, at the cost of durability. Only the bravest or maddest Princeps dared bond with these Titans. A description quite apt for Princep Primus Toole-74. Who pulled off one of the most daring feats during the Battle of Rust.

Toole-74 directed her Titan to leap in front of a gravity-whip meant for a damaged Capital Titan. The Celtchar-Rex was pulled forward towards the Morkamonsta with a terrifying force. Far more than was necessary for the Scout Titan. Instead of being pulled off balance or dragged as a Capital Titan would be by such strength. Celtchar-Rex was launched into the air and towards the Morkamonsta. Mico jets designed for balance and low-G maneuvering aimed the Scout-Titan at the hive-sized skull structure of its foe. A carefully timed surge from Celtchar-Rex's shields severed the Gravity Whip and let the Titan strike true. Moving faster than the Morkamonsta's crew could react but slow enough to bypass its shields, the Warhound Scout Titan struck the War-Idol's face. A Powerlance rammed right into the super-lumen eye of the Greenskin weapon shattering the glowing red sphere.

The Lance's power field did its work and started to cut through the Morkamonsta's eye and eventually its hide as Celtchar-Rex dragged down its face. All while firing wildly with the Titans mega-bolter. Leaving a scar of shredded metal and trail of pockmarks. Falling and cutting its way down the War-Idol's form the Scout Titan did little actual damage but proved a severe nuisance for the Orkish weapon. In her later memoirs, Toole-74 revealed that was her goal in the first place, to buy the other Titans time to regroup and prepare to strike back. She had no idea what was about to happen and how her act of suicidal bravery helped turn the tide of battle. Despite layers of psycho-organic augmentation, incredibly advanced mechanical knowledge, and a natural skill for war, the Orks are at their core angry stupid beasts. Requiring the rare cruel genius of Warbosses and similar to reach their full dark potential. It is because of this that Orks sometimes make incredibly idiotic decisions.

For example, the decision to try and swat away Celtchar-Rex decided by some unknown Ork attempting to sate its bloodlust and do its duty, in the most foolish possible way. Morkamonsta's massive chainsword arm flew up towards its face, hoping to squash the attacking Scout Titan. Celtchar-Rex barely slid underneath the leviathan-weapon as it smashed into the War-Idol's head. Tearing metal screamed louder than any warhorn as Morkamonsta started to decapitate itself by complete accident. Utter chaos ensued as wires and signal relays were severed. The chainsword cut deeper and deeper, its Knight-Walker-sized teeth digging into the Morkamonsta's mechanical flesh. Severing key connections and disabling entire systems, including its primary shields. Celtchar-Rex barely had enough time to get free of the Xeno city-monster before the assembled Titans opened fire. Inflicting cunning and brutal death for both War-Idols of the Orks.

When Gorkamonsta and Morkamonsta were reduced to smoldering mountains of slag, the Titans and Astartes joined the Auxilia and pushed back against the Orkish hordes. Casualties were bad on both sides but we were winning. The Stormbringers had fulfilled their name and would not stop until the Storm of fire and iron had cleaned the Orkish stain from this world. Under orders of my Chieftain, Shadrak Smyth the Stormbingers and other Imperial forces did not push deeper into the industrial-nest of Green-Forge-Beta. Instead butchering any Ork who dared get close to the gap in the walls, while turning said gap into a veritable fortress. Any Ork that exited the vast mechanical sprawl into the flatlands where the jagged gate had once been, died. I did not know the reason for not pushing forward the offense, but I trusted Shadrak completely, A feeling I know was shared across the entire assaulting force.

This trust paid off approximately fourteen hours after the destruction of the jagged gate. An explosion of green lighting erupted from the peak of Green-Forge-Beta and the massive Gravity-harpoon flickered out of existence, along with the feral green glow from the peak. Moments later the other Gravity-Harpoons shut off, Thunderhead was saved, she was damaged but nothing the Mechancium adepts could not fix. Then a strange broadcast filled the vox-frequencies. It addressed both Imperial and Ork communications alike. Something sounding like the mixture of a Machine-Spirit dying and a wild swine being speared echoed across the Vox. Lasting an uncomfortably long time before finally ending with a wet crunch. The vox went silent for a moment before the familiar lilting growl of the Tenth Primarch started.

"That was the sound of Wyattboss Zakga dying. I ripped the shriveled husk of his body from the main computation node and burned him till his thrashing broke his own atrophied neck. His skull is so malformed it won't even make a good trophy, I guess I'll have to look for one elsewhere. The Storm of reckoning has arrived, run fast Xeno-scum for nothing will stop it. Children of Sol! Kill every last Xenobreed and burn the carcasses."

I do not know how much of the message the Orks could understand, but enough to know their leader was dead and they were next. A sudden shift spread across the Greenskins, manic excitement and bloodlust became sheer animal-panic. They were afraid, and the psychic network uniting them broke with the Wyattboss's death. Billions of Orks all across Rust dropped whatever they were doing and turned to run. Storms of shoddy ships rocketed into the void, joining the nearly concluded battle in orbit. Becoming easy prey for Imperial ships, I hear some talented fighter pilots doubled their kill count cutting through the Orkish stampede into Space. The situation back on the surface was not much different, Chieftain Shadrak had expected this moment. The panicked Greentide poured down in the millions to where the jagged gate once stood. Right into the overlapping fire of Titans, Tanks, Artillery, Auxillia, and Astartes.

This was no longer a battle, this was extermination. Cleansing of this world of the monsters who had coveted it. I do not know what biological or psychic flaw makes the Orks devolve into such cowardly beasts once the local leader dies. I know some Adepts theorize it is the equivalent of the great network of Greenskin souls short-circuiting. Misfiring of the spiritual energy grid connecting the Orks and momentarily reducing them back to their most basic form. Until a new beast could dominate enough of its kind to complete the now broken circuit. Such matters fall to the Genetor and their kind, my duty is not to explain the collapse but record it.

It took several months to hack and blast through the literally billions of Orks on Rust. Many times the Greenskins attempted to rally together and fight back but these resurgent groups just as likely fought each other as us. The Warlairds of the Stormbringers had each led an assault on a different Forge site. Eliminating all of the Wyattbosses lieutenants while their Genefather dealt with the Xeno leader himself. Leaving the Orks without clear leadership and easy pickings for the Imperium. Great pyres of burning Ork bodies blotted out the Sun of Rust for days on end and a million Orkish skulls were collected from the best specimens. Enough trophies for X Crusader Fleet and eventually hundreds of museums across the galaxy.

For his actions during the battle Chieftain Shadrak was commended and put into consideration for promotion to Warlaird. A title he would finally gain approximately two decades later during some of the worst fighting of the Beast Wars. I would be right alongside him the whole time, doing my part to document him and his legion. As my shuttle left the surface of Rust to return to the Crusader Fleet I found myself feeling strangely hopeful and worried at the same time. I had seen what the Imperium could do facing the wrath of the Orks and it was incredible. While I had also seen the nightmarish power of the Xenos. X Crusader Fleet would now be journeying deeper into the Golgothan Wastes, Rust had been a factory world for the unfathomable Orkish empire waiting for us. Where weapons were designed and created in the billions. Somewhere in the Wastes awaited armies those weapons had been meant for, and I had to suppress a shudder as my mind replayed the sound of Orkish fury echoing through the stars. "WAAAGH!!!"

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!