[center][i]“The taste of victory is so much sweeter when snatched from the jaws of failure”[/i]
-Erron Khaal, quoted in the [i]Saga of Hinde[/i][/center]

Like twin omens of victory, two Valkyries streaked above the onslaught, leaving twin tails of mist in the air as they circled the field and headed back in their direction of travel. Erron watched with a smile growing on his face as the aircraft dipped and turned, leaving almost as soon as they had arrived. His men had paid little notice or heed to the fighters, their attentions completely focused on keeping back the Orkish brutes that still pressed them from all sides. The assault from Void Master Gabriel and his Chapter had given the Wild Blades the surge they needed, giving strength to their arms. The entire Legion fought with the ferocity of wounded beasts backed into a corner, lashing back at the Orks and taking down three or four times as many xenos scum before an individual Astartes fell. 

They would not have to hold much longer, Erron knew, his smile growing. 


Over the ridge, barreling like a stampede of Taurochs bellowing with rage, the combined forces of the XVII and V Legion rose like an oncoming tidal wave. The Great Chief saw the colors of his brother and sisters forces in the distance, the massive frames of Knights and the roar of Rhinos filling the air. Dragging his bloodied sword from the gut of an Ork, he lifts the crimson soaked blade into the air and tilts his head back. A primal howl rips from his throat, mingling with the sounds of combat and the roar of their reinforcements as the first lines of the Paladins Eternal crash into the green tide. Bones crunch and bodies are churned underneath the treads and feet of the Paladins and their war machines. Like a wedge the allied forces drive into Ork lines, pushing aside the beasts as they reinforce the center where the Wild Blades have made a gap. The armored personnel carriers of the Astartes disgorge their payload of armored warriors, spilling out the azure and dark crimson armor of the Paladins to mix with the deep green of the Blades. As their cousins join them in conflict, the Wild Blades pull back their lines to allow the new arrivals a share of the glory, checking equipment and dragging the wounded away from the fight under the cover of their reinforcements. Erron watches as a squad of Marines in Terminator armor surge past his position, joining his [i] Apexa Predatoris[/i] around him and giving the Primarch a bubble of calm. 

Surveying the battle, the Great Chief can see that this new turn of events has dramatically affected the minds of the Orks. Fear shows plain on their savage faces, and more and more turn and try to flee. Some are successful, other are met with steel and bolter on the fringes as the outer Companies slaughter the broken xenos.  Where there had once been a threat of defeat and death, now hung the bright light of victory.

[b]+”Brother Erron, you were expecting us?”+[/b]

Erron turned, his smiling face regarding a Knight of greater size and embellishment than any of the others. He nodded his head, lifting his sword in salute to his brother warmachine.

[color=007236][b]“Aye, though you seemed to have arrived just in time for the party to end my friend. Still, looks like there is plenty of fun to be had,”[/b][/color] Erron replies into the vox-mic on the collar of his armor. His mic crackles another time, the sound distorted through distance.

[b]+"Brother Erron, tis thine own brother Talvyrn. I have arrived to support and relieve your forces with my own legion, we landed as close as we could to your location but the cogitators dropped us further than expected. Do you know of the quickest way into thy location?"+[/b]

Erron shakes his head slightly, a grin still on his face as he listens to the hail from another of his sibling Primarchs. [color=007236][b]“Always showing up right as things start to get going don’t you Tally? Maximus has just arrived, we are mopping things up here quickly. I’d suggest finding out if the Imperial Army is in need of support,”[/b][/color] he replies, turning back to the Knight bearing Maximus.  

[color=007236][b]“Now lets show these bastards what it means to face the Elite of Mankind,”[/b][/color] he finishes with a wicked grin as we turns and dashes back into the fray, blades held high.

[hr]

The remaining Orks had been disposed of quickly. Those that had managed to escape were left alone, to be hunted down later. Erron had received word from his Astropath that the Emporer himself had sent out a call for all Primarchs and their Legions to join him on Ullanor Prime. The Warboss had been slain, the invasion of Ullanor a success. No doubt such a day would bring glory and honor upon the participants for the remainder of time. 

Erron himself, his armor still dented, slashed, and dulled from grim and blood, marched at the head of his Legion. Representatives from each of the ten Companies had been assembled, as well as the Chapter of Void Stalkers that joined them. The remainder of his Legion was left to refit and repair their equipment and prepare the fleet for exodus as soon as a new mission was given. 

The ten ragged formations marched without ceremony or strict discipline towards the tower, their ranks uneven and the Astartes of the Wild Blades singing ballads of war, honor, and triumph as they walked towards the tower. Erron did not know why the Emperor was calling all of his siblings together, in truth he had not seen some of his brothers and sisters in decades. Such a calling no doubt had implications that could change the course of the Crusade.