[color=007236][b]“Hold boys! Don’t let the green bastards take another inch!”[/b][/color] Erron roared over the cacophony of combat. Sometime during the melee he had lost his winged helm, his black hair unbound and streaming around his grimacing face as he fought. The circle of the 9th had bent and bowed under the weight of the Greenskin tide pressing at them on all sides, forcing the circle to turn into a disfigured shape. Out of the corners of his green eyes Erron could see the forces of Ragath, Ballor, and Roek trying desperately to reach the beleaguered Marines, Ragath’s twin axes hacking down Orks as he bellowed with primal rage, while Roek’s claws sizzled and popped with fresh blood. 

In the sky, formations of Jetbikes and Speeders arched and turned, bringing their formidable firepower to bear again and again on the seemingly endless brutish hordes. Heavy bolters rattled, spitting explosive shells into the bodies of the Orks, and the heat of Volkite beams lancing through the formation made the air ripple and crack. Ork shapes burst into flame and ash, seared by the arcane technology, their primitive armor doing little to stop the onslaught of heavy weaponry. Off to one side, alone, stood the [i]“Ancient”[/i] himself, his Dreadnought body riddled with indentations from bullets and Ork blood. One arm bearing a powerfully large blade, the length nearly half as long as the entire Dreadnoughts body, carved vicious slices through dozens of Orks at a time. The other hand shaped like an immense claw gutted the Orks that dashed around his massive feet, struggling to escape the wrath of the Wild Blades Dreadnought. 

Even with all the might of his entire Legion brought to bear, Erron could see that his lines were starting to break. Despite the efforts of his Thanes, the Greenskins were too concentrated, too dense to simply breach by sheer ferocity and strength of arms. 

Erron heard a roar, turning, his eyes flicking to an Ork Nob holding a massive Choppa over his head in a two handed grip. The Nob leapt into the air, slicing downward with its massive blade, looking to split the Primarch from head to toe. Erron gave the airborne beast a snarl, and ran forward, dropping to his knees in a slide spewing dirt and rocks in front of him. He leaned back, his black hair tracing the ground and he brought both [i]Sisters[/i] up in an arcing slash above his torso, slicing deep through the Orks midsection. The two halves of the Nob crashed behind him, carried forward by its momentum. Erron jumped to his feet, spinning his knife around to drive into spine of another, his sword coming across and slicing its throat with such force that the body spiraled away from him in a haphazard corkscrew. He turned again, only to be jarred sideways by a round striking his shoulder plate. Off balance, he staggered to one side, then another as an Ork took advantage of his confused state to slam a Choppa into his side. 

Erron let loose a feral cry, grabbing the foolish Ork by the head, slamming his forehead into the Orks pig shaped nose and felt the flesh pulp against his skull. The Ork went limp, its face caved in under the strength of the Primarch. Before it could drop Erron grabbed the body, holding it up against his chest and turning the Orks crude pistol backward, squeezing the Greenskins fist so that it fired a deadly burst into the chest of one of its fellows. 

[color=007236][b]“Death Rides on Swift Wings!”[/b][/color] He screamed, the barking cries of his Legion answering the call. He felt a swell of pride for his sons. Here, on the corpse stricken fields of Ullanor Prime and surrounded on all sides, they still roared their defiance in the face of death. 

The churning of an engine made Erron turn, his battle lust making him ever more hungry for fresh prey. The sound grew louder, and Erron crouched, anticipating some Orkish machine to come crashing through the ranks towards him. A stuttering staccato of bolter fire raked out, splattering Orks as a single Outrider bike came into view, its thick tires smeared with blood as the figure on top lashed out sideways with twin swords. The bike struck a huge Nob, pulverizing the beast’s chest but halting the bikes suicidal charge, causing the vehicle to tip upwards on its fore-end. The Marine on the back jumped, using the bikes momentum to catapult himself forward, swords held high as he landed on the back of an Ork just to the Primarchs flank, crushing its skull beneath his armored knee. 

Erron grinned, recognizing the lupine-esque helmet of his 6th Thane, Captain Lovar Kine. [color=007236][b]“Damn foolish of you to find your way in here!”[/b][/color] He shouted, pulling his knife out from under and Orks jaw and kicking the body aside. [color=00a99d][b]“You looked like you could use the assistance Chief,”[/b][/color] came the vox-muffled reply, but even beneath the helmet Erron could hear the mirth in his Thanes voice. [color=007236][b]“Any more of your boys find a way through?”[/b][/color] Erron asked, a slight reprieve gained from the battle as his bodyguards formed around them, holding back the snarling Ork forces with powerful two handed cleaves of their swords. Lovar shook his head. [color=00a99d][b]“It was a miracle I made it through, the dirty bastards are everywhere. You certainly picked a good spot for a stand.”[/b][/color] Erron nodded, surveying the battle again. [color=007236][b]“Aye, but imagine the stories the Seers will have once we finish removing this stain from the land?”[/b][/color] He said as he gave his Thane a wide grin, and then they both turned and charged back into the fray together, blades held high.

[hr]

Within the artillery blasted trees on the outskirts of the battle, Void Master Gabriel watched. His men were doing their best to drop Orks from their positions, taking shots at unsuspecting Greenskins and targeting any Nob that looked like he was barking orders. Even still, he could tell that his efforts were not going to be enough. Erron Khaal had tasked him with protecting the formations of bikes that strafed the flanks, and he had done so. Still, some of the last words the Primarch had said to him rang in his thoughts. [color=007236][i]Your actions will save a lot of Wild Blade lives…[/i][/color] From his position Gabriel could clearly see that the battle was not going in the Xth Legions favor. Their lines were breaking, and soon the 9th Company that held the center would be overrun and trampled under Ork boots. Erron himself held that center, and through the lenses in his helmet Gabriel could see the Primarch hacking wildly at the hunched shapes of Orkish brutes. Gabriel chewed his cheek inside the helmet. He had to do something. He couldn’t just stand here and watch fellow Astartes get slaughtered. Especially not when Erron himself had placed such trust in him and his Chapter. [i]What would Asmodal do?[/i] he asked himself, and the answer was obvious. He knew what he had to do, though he did not relish the thought. 

[color=92278f][b]“Sixth Chapter,”[/b][/color] he called calmly over vox, the calls from his Stalker-Masters affirming his hail. [color=92278f][b]“All Legionnaires, prepare for close combat. We charge to relieve the Wild Blades on my order.”[/b][/color] There was a pause. His Stalker-Masters had undoubtedly heard the command, and Gabriel knew they disagreed. This was not the Void Stalker way. They did not charge headfirst into carnage. They met the shadows of death with shadows of their own that were even more terrifying. [color=92278f][b]“Sixth Chapter. I gave an order,”[/b][/color] Gabriel said, annoyed by the silence that followed his order, inflecting his words with his Will. He would be obeyed without question. [color=a187be][b]“Roger sir, all squads are ready on your order.”[/b][/color]

Gabriel hefted his Singing Spear, taking a deep breath through his helmet. He did not feel fear; no Void Stalker would ever let themselves succumb to that vile emotion. No, it was simply the weight of what he was about to do. He would not, could not, fail. 

[color=92278f][b][i]“Death,”[/i][/b][/color] he whispered.

[hr]

From his position in the center, Erron did not immediately see the sally of the Void Stalkers. The violet clad Marines gave no war cry, no signal to their attack. But they came on, like silent ghosts out of the trees, chainswords whirring to life and bolters flashing, dodging the passing bike formations as they ran to meet the flanks of the Greenskin horde. Void Master Gabriel himself led one of the formations, his spear held above his head in a reverse grip, throwing the weapon and lancing an Ork through the chest. Gabriel simply held out his hand, and the spear twisted, gutting the Ork open and flying back along its trajectory to his open palm. With his other hand he let out a powerful psykic blast, an invisible wave of force rolling in front of his men, bowling over Orks and knocking them prone. His forces fell upon the fallen Greenskins with quiet efficiency, blasting their heads apart with bolt rounds or ending their lives with quick thrusts from close combat weapons. The Orks, surprised by this new threat, gave a brief pause in their aggression as they assessed the new battlefield conditions with their primitive brains. Erron did not give them the chance they needed. 

Punching one Ork in the throat with an armored fist, the Primarch left the choking and gurgling xenos die slowly as he raised his arms above his head. [color=007236][b]“Now Wild Blades! Let these Greenskins taste your steel! Kill them all!”[/b][/color] He roared, his eyes alight in savage fury, Lovar barking an order over vox as well. All around them the Wild Blades on their bikes slid to a stop, scattering clods of dirt and dismounting. The 6 mounted Companies all converged on the Orks, following Gabriels example and mounting one last counter charge. The blades of tens of thousands of Astartes warriors answered their Primarchs call, letting the Greenskin brutes taste steel tempered with the memories of the fallen. As Erron Khaal crashed the pommel of his sword onto the skull of an Ork, he felt another jump onto his back and his knees bend at the weight of the creature. Reaching back, he heaved the beast off him, raising his foot and crushing the Orks face under his heel. 

This was their stand. Here the Wild Blades and 6th Chapter of Void Stalkers had devoted everything they had to give the Armatus the time they needed to kill the Warboss. Erron had to hope that their victory would be soon.