[center][h1][u][b]The Jade Citadel of Hongol[/b][/u][/h1][/center]

[center]The Stone Wolves March[/center]

The carnage beyond the Meridian Gatehouse was immense. Armored spearheads lay broken and burning across the ground, infantry assault vehicles belched thick pillars of black smoke as fires consumed everything within. Even while entire platoons of armor and companies of men perished, others prevailed. The Meridian Gate, unbreached in the decades since its construction at the direction of the visionary Narthan Dume, remained unbroken. 

But it did open.

The massive armored doors ground on their rails, sliding into their recessed holds inside the wall itself. The noise alone was immense, no doubt the doors were only ever opened only slightly to allow for lesser traffic to pass, but now the entrance to the Jade Citadel was wide open for an Imperial army to enter.

An army wide voxburst was transmitted even as the doors groaned and settled in their open position.

++ALL FORCES++
++MERIDIAN GATE UNDER IMPERIAL CONTROL++
++ALL FORCES ADVANCE++
++BRING GLORY++
++IN HIS NAME++

The Stone Wolves stormed through that wide opened gate house. But not with the chaotic zeal of something unorganized, they were slow in their swiftness and methodical. Like the stones beneath their feet they did not rapidly budge, but they did move in force. Each one identical with their wolfen motifs on their armor and their helmets.

“Hold this gatehouse, and pierce further.” Their Commander ordered in a clear and unmistakable tone.

“Make safe for the Legions that come behind us.”

And this was the other side of their coin, where they first advanced with explosives and with destruction in their first wave through the Meridian Gate; those behind them also put their wake of destruction back in some jerryrigged order. They scorched the proverbial earth and then put it back together. The Stone Wolves understood that little use came of charred remains and debris strewn in haphazard piles. Destroy everything in your path, but pick those ruins up as they always said. There is little use for ruined territory. So clean up what you blow up.

“If you are not holding the Gatehouse, you should be Advancing.” The Commander  ordered.

With that latest declaration the frontal wave marched on, rockets and rounds piercing holes further ahead where none existed yet. They made paths and roads for themselves, and those that came behind them.

The Pacifican forces within the reaches of the Meridian Gate found themselves assaulted by an unstoppable force. The Imperial Astartes marched over them in lockstep, reducing strong points to charred husks and leaving the dead and dying in their wake for follow-on forces to deal with.

A squadron of battle tanks, dreamed up in a drug induced nightmare of Narthan Dume no doubt, skimmed their way back across a wide open pavilion. Battle cannons roared, their shells barely falling to gravity as they screamed across the stone pavers to land amongst habblocks and in the midst of Stone Wolf formations. But the Stone Wolves were answering in kind. Missiles streaked across the open space, finding their marks in turret rings and grav-suspensor arrays as the wolves bit back.

A battle tank spun from a hit to its flank, a massive detonation that saw it careen from its straight line path and land half buried in a building across the plaza. Its turret continued to turn, debris clattering off its hull as more missiles failed to find their mark beyond the stone now surrounding it. The immobilized tank let loose withering volleys of fire, scorching Imperials and forcing their inexorable advance to a standstill. 

All across the pavilion, Pacifican reinforcements began to swarm the habblocks and shop fronts as they fortified their new position

“Spread!” The order came down through the Stone Wolves ranks. Hand gestures and orders barked back and forth as the Wolves shifted their formation.  The less clumped they were; the fewer of them could be targeted from each blast, but the more space they took up as they went to ground.

“It can’t move!” someone barked.

“Take it out, we’re not getting any farther ahead with that tank active.” The order carried over the legion. Their ordnance turned towards the immobilized foe, as the Stone Wolves ducked and spread out from the oncoming turretfire.

“Make that tank disappear!” Another Wolf yelled.

The missiles began to careen all around their target, where the tank was not struck craters formed around it, the massive detonations ignited the air and engulfed the area with thick, drenching smoke.

It was a game of explosions and waiting and fighting as the Stone Wolves held firm until they were once again clear to advance.

A blistering massacre of krak missiles criss-crossed the plaza. Storefronts disintegrated in gouts of flame and debris, and hab apartments crumbled under successive blasts. The Pacifican’s, for all their training and skill, met their end screaming under piles of rubble and rebar.

The disabled tank took a beating, its weapons reaping a heavy toll on the wolves as they tore chunks from its armored hide, but it did not last. A krak missile hit home, the machine guttered under the hit, a choke of smoke billowed from the tank's cannon barrel before the ammunition within cooked off.

The tank detonated in a flash of sound and fury. Its turret, spinning end over end, hurtled far into the sky and disappeared behind habblocks in the distance.

There was a lull in the fighting, as the Pacifican’s no doubt withdrew to find positions they were less likely to be slaughtered in, and the mortal Imperials fighting alongside the Astartes tallied their dead and tended their wounded.

The Stone Wolves watched their retreat and the commander signalled the advance.

“They scurry away to hide, remove every place they can seek cover, expose them!” They ordered.

And that was the brunt of their next advance as explosions rocked forward and to their flanks during their enemy’s route. If a statue stood as a possible shield they tore it down and if a wall hindered their march they blasted through it. They became seek and destroy, and destroy all they saw they did.

If an enemy was spotted then artillery bombarded them. Before them were structures whereas behind them was nothing but rubble. They’d rebuild later, now was the time to move forward and be the victors. The Stone Wolves brought overwhelming firepower and force to their path, like the earth itself cresting up in rebellion and punishment.

“I don’t want any stragglers to threaten those that come behind us, make safe the path!” The commander ordered again.

And they did, structures were a trap; rubble was where you could safely march over after the Stone Wolves were through.

The Wolves advanced inexorably. An unstoppable force grinding their way through men, machines, and structures alike. A warhorn blared in the distance, and a sound like the death of the world followed shortly after. The vox network lit up with priority alerts, and the presence of the Oni warmachine was impossible to miss as pict images and datascrawls filtered across every Stone Wolf’s helmet display.

A new order scrolled across their displays, one wrought by a hand so high it may well have come from the Emperor Himself. 

“Redirect to macroweapons foundry, secure any remaining warmachines. Priority: Absolute.” the Sigillites own encryption key was set upon the message, and the Wolve’s fury was given a target at last.

There was the barest moments of pause as the Stone Wolves deftly swiveled their collective attention. It was just long enough to reset their focus and begin their advance again. They moved swiftly like a well oiled machine, or a pack of wolves on the hunt, perhaps? And they took aim at anything that stood between them and the macroweapons foundry. For every Wolf that fell in the onslaught they took ten or more foes with them.

And this was where they were more surgical. “Secure them! Or scuttle them! Let the enemy have none of them!” Came the direction.

And not a great many would be scuttled, for every foe that rushed to a protect their warmachines, or use them, they were swiftly shot down before they could make it inside of them.

And for every machine they reached, a Wolf commandeered it, took control of it, or otherwise made it certain to serve them not serve against them. Enemies collapsed from the sheer force brought to bear against their foundry.

But it was clear this touch was as delicate as it was violent. The Stone Wolves meant to seize it, they meant to control it not simply destroy it. They wanted this facility for the Emperor.

And they would have it.