Echoes of Coldforge

[//Silver Stars prosecute the first battle of Coldforge, a multi-front advance alongside the Riven Lords and Storm Tyrants against the defending Charnel Guard.+]
[//edward_r/@death_of_a_rubricist+]

***

He heard the Space Marine mutter something under his breath, before trying to blow some warmth into his cupped hands. It was an oddly human gesture. Isoris wondered if it was intentional; theatre to endear the Riven Lord to the human forces under his command. On reflection, he considered, probably not.

It was cold. The theatre briefing had suggested that Coldforge, despite the name, was broadly temperate. 'Broadly' was clearly a relative term. Once again, the Imperial Guard liasion stopped himself from sighing., and tried to quell the shivers. The Polemarch had made it clear that he regarded him as a liability at best, and – for what little it mattered, Isoris still had his pride. 

Was the blowing into his hands? Isoris couldn't quite bring himself to ask the Polemarch why he'd removed his gauntlets. Isoris wouldn't have taken his gloves off for a gold coin from the Primarch himself. His hands were chilly enough already, and no amount of huffing on them was going to fix that.

The Riven Lord Polemarch looked up, eyes narrowed. 

Isoris flinched as a large detonation went off, close at hand. The other members of the squad ducked back down behind the barricade.

'Alright, Free Moreaumundans! The bastards are coming. Looks like they're coming in force, so get those mortars locked in on the main street. Osric?'

'My lord?' replied the waifish sergeant

'That thoroughway is to be the only meaningful approach. Isoris won't have time to reset and resight the platoon's autocannons if they're outflanked, so your engineers need to be set and ready to detonate the alleys on my mark.'

'Yes, my lord!'

Polemarch Katap stood upright as ash and flaming debris began to gust past. It caught his cape, tattered and torn though it was, and it flapped as the Riven Lord gazed off into the distance. For a moment, the Space Marine looked exactly as the Guardsmen needed him to.

Descending from the spoil heap, Katap unbuckled his scabbard and pistol holster. Taking his place alongside Isoris, he motioned the liasion to raise the colours of Free Moreaumunda. As Isoris hefted the banner, a ragged cheer went up along the line.

As it dies down, leaving an expectant hush, the two stood alongside each other for a long moment.

'At least I'm going to die doing what I love,' murmured the Polemarch.

'What's that, my lord?'

'Trying not to die.'

***

Elsewhere on Coldforge

[//The Grim Host+]
[//monke/@stonedapepaints+]

Range estimates scrolled across the ocular lens of Dadrico's heads-up display, shunting the data to his team-mates with a blink.

'Pentarchy strongpoint, seventy-five ahead.'

Below his elevated position, preparations were already taking place. Sergeant Ageios had decided on a course of action the moment he'd seen the vid-feed from his scout. It fell to his brethren to make that plan a reality. Behind him, his enhanced hearing perceived the micro-clicks as his demolition specialist individually programmed the fuses on his frag-cannon shells via the input screen on his wrist.

Luciean Steele was a masterful example of what mathematical precision and well-aimed man-portable artillery could achieve. Around the corner of the destroyed hab-block, Deanym Trayne braced his modified Infernius-pattern heavy bolter & prepared to unleash suppressive fire.

'On your initiation, Brother Achith...'

Without a word, the scout picked off an unaware mortal soldier with a clean headshot from his stalker - pattern boltgun. Before the headless corpse had hit the scorched earth, Trayne and Sergeant Ageios had emerged from cover and unleashed suppressive fire against the barricades concealing their foes. A half-second later, Brother Steele fired four frag-canisters at precise locations.

The fifth and final round struck the charging Charnel Guard marine squarely in the shoulder guard, his own post-human reflexes saving his life for the moment. As he charged the Riven Lord killteam, he was met by the tectonic impact of the final member's thunder hammer, knocking him from his feet.

Brother Pieter Gabriel continued the arc of his immense weapon as he stepped from his hiding place, bringing the weapon over his head in a two-handed downward arc to finish his downed foe.

The ping of hot metal was all that broke the silence, aside from the faint crackle of an errant fire somewhere nearby.

Without a word, the Grim Host continued towards their objective...

***