[center][b][h1]Ursh: The Anvil[/h1][/b][/center]

For all the cacophony of war, there was an eerie quiet to the work of the Astartes. It was not in their movements or their wargear, for both were as thunderous as any could be expected. It was in the lack of audible communication between them as they swept through the motions of clearing ruin by ruin. Even the most highly trained mortal soldiers could not match the instinctive flow that they had upon the battlefield, they had not been trained for war, they had been bred for it, and each step in the action of a breach and clear was as fluid to them as breathing.

Earlier in the war this alone had often been enough to shatter the enemy, the sight of a being too large and too heavily armoured to move with a fluid and fast grace, terrifying to mortal minds. But what true mortals remained among the fighting forces of Ursh were not in this fight, the Astartes finding their physical, if not mental, match in the foes assailed against them. Each hollowed out shell of a building on the long march through the shattered streets of the outercity was a barracks of horrors, from twisted mutants born of recent Wyrdcraft, to amalgamations of machine and flesh which screamed in binharic death cries even as they lunged at the armoured forms of the Emperor's finest.

The marines had been bred for war, but the foes they fought were made of it, crafted in anathema of peace or reason, with only the purpose of bleeding and delaying the Emperor’s forces. 

Along the forces tasked with running this cruel, grueling gauntlet of fighting, building-to-building, street-to-street, were the forces of the 8th Astartes legion. They had come in force, with the entire strength of the 2nd, 4th, 6th, and 7th companies having made the journey to the dark lands of Ursh to see the monsters purged once and for all. 

There had been some issues between the Praetors. While Praetor Ulstecht of the 2nd Company was recognized as being in charge, the history between Praetors Al-Allal of the 4th and Praetor Josch of the 6th made having both of them in the same command tense… even if the bulk of the bad blood had been settled. 

The real issue was Praetor Loffenbjorn of the 7th. Egoism and a fundamental selfishness were bad traits to have in someone who was meant to be a subordinate and it caused many a butting of heads. Still, despite the difficulties, a battle plan was organized and agreed to. 

Fundamentally, this was just the same as any other urban fighting they had done; Melee combat with side arms and close to mid range weaponry being the standard kit, with heavy weapons being kept close by as support to be bought up as needed. As buildings were secured, buildings in key locations to lock down and secure the street they were overlooking would be entrenched and manned by heavy weapon teams and snipers. Grenades of various varieties were to be employed liberally. 

Two companies were to be actively pushing at a time, one on active reserve to respond if a crisis or counterattack happened, the last one to start as a secondary reserve before cycling in to allow one of the active companies to step back and rest, recover and resupply while maintaining the pressure. 
 
The issue, of course, was that this was the most logical course of action. The most logical plan of attack was also the most predictable. A predictable plan of attack got people killed. 

Spending what little time they could to try and find an alternative, other options were ruled out either due to the timetable the Emperor was demanding for this siege to be brought to a victorious end, or the fact that their advances were objectively worse in terms of predicted losses and difficulty. However, the search for an alternative did provide a plan that might give an edge going forward.

While it was the outer edges of a city, it had been advanced enough in its heyday to have pipe infrastructure. Sewers, water, or other, the exact reason for the pipes to be laid wasn’t important to their needs; merely their size. The major pipelines that would branch off to supply individual hab blocks or buildings could easily allow people to traverse them.

Finding suitable pipes and tunnels was going to be left to the abhuman and mutant retinue forces of the 8th. Once buildings and streets began to be secured, the job of the ‘mortal’ forces of the 8th was to scour the buildings and roads, tearing apart or digging as required, in search of suitable pre-existing pipes or tunnels. Once found, they were to be breached to give access, with the Irregalers going into them with the intention of securing, repairing, or digging as needed to connect existing infrastructure to speed up the invasion.  

Ideally, the defenders would not have considered ancient and neglected pipes or sewerage tunnels as a part of their defensive plans, allowing for rapid progress. In the event that they had accounted for them and the situation devolved into tunnel fighting… well, those underground passageways were now being contested instead of simply providing the defenders with a tactical advantage.

A crew of abhumans labored, clearing rubble and refuse from a long-since-abandoned tunnel connecting an arterial road deeper into the city. They sweat, cursed, and joked quietly as they worked, each taking turns manning the torch and stubber on security as the others worked.

They had made considerable progress, carting hundreds of pounds from the tunnel as they worked, so much so that they had to begin moving the growing piles of debris outside, further away from the entrance as not to tip off the enemy as to the work they were undertaking below their feet.

An abhuman, a third appendage hanging limply from his chest, hefted a boulder the size of a man’s head with ease and released a stream of viscous fluid from the rubble. The fluid ran down his uniform in runnels, pooling at his feet as he and his companions ignored it and continued working.

Throughout the tunnel, the work crews were met with the same fluid soon enough. Dark and thick as molasses, it ran from cracks in the tunnels and under rubble through seams too small for anything but the rats to traverse. None thought to radio in the strange finding, for what else would a sewer hold but long since stagnant waste and effluent? The miscalculation was the last for many.

In every tunnel that had encountered the strange substance, all at once, Ursh gave its answer to the enterprising Imperial sappers. 

The fluid, pooled and forgotten, began to coalesce. Jet black fluid rose silently out of sight toward the ceiling, shaping into roughly humanoid forms in the shadows of the work lamps and around dark corners. The first sign that anything was wrong, and often the last, was the wailing of the creatures as they descended upon the work crews and ripped them limb from limb with claws and spiked appendages that writhed like liquid. 

[center]............[/center]

Between the screaming, braying, and the sounds of those few brave souls that managed to try and fight back against their blatantly supernatural foes, it did not take long for word to reach the surface that combat had started down in the tunnels. The odd survivor who had managed to escape in the chaos was even able to give those above some idea of what was waiting down in the dark. 

Praetor Al-Allal, the master of the 4th company and tasked with overseeing the infiltration effort due to his personal experience dealing with ‘supernatural’ hive environments, had been quick to round up what few eyewitnesses of the chaos in the tunnels as he could get and listened to their seemingly mad ramblings and stories with an intensity of attention that few would give the mutant or the abhuman. 

His response to the situation was sharp and made very clear so that those who heard it would understand exactly what the assignment was. “Part of the reason we did this was to prevent the enemy from using the underground against us. Considering that we are fighting insane, depraved, and desperate witches, supernatural bullshit was to be expected. Work crews are to focus on widening and stabilizing the tunnels enough so that we can get Astartes down there.”

“Deploy the mortal elements of the Coven and their guardian squads. They are to drive the foe from those tunnels and secure them from Imperial use.”

Ever since the 8th had started to take the field during the early Mercia campaigns, the legion had noticed that some of its members, as well as some of the abhumans that made up their auxiliary forces were able to use what the Imperial government referred to as psychic abilities. They also found that when dealing with other ‘psykers’ or just weird, supernatural things that didn’t have a logical or technological explanation behind them, those with supernatural abilities of their own tended to be the best equipped to counter them. 

Thus, the Coven was born. An organization made up of psykers, be they Astartes, abhumans, or more traditional humans or mutants who trained together, honed their abilities to be their anti-supernatural forces. Their guardian squads were not psykers themselves, but still actively trained alongside the Coven to be as resistant to psychic abilities as possible and not freak out when things started to get weird. 

Ursh had been harsh and unforgiving on the Coven and its guardian squads. Every step deeper into this wretched land that the 8th had taken, the Coven had needed to fight to protect themselves from the insidious and murderous spells of the Ursh witches, as well as Imperial forces in general. Many had died or broken in ways so horrific that any mention of how they died was censored and redacted from all records. 

Those that remained were veteran combat psykers. Luck, training, and the experience that survival provided had created a fighting force that actively used supernatural abilities to counter and destroy the supernatural. And it was these veteran spellcasters, human, abhuman or outright mutant alike, that Praetor Al-Allal ordered to sweep and claim the tunnels under the outskirts of this final hive city with confidence that they would get the job done.

The tunnels closest to the 4th Company's positions were still secure as the Coven made their way down beneath the streets. Work crews scrambled to complete their work and vacate the subterranean death traps as quickly as they could, as the rumors of the fate of those ahead of them began to trickle down to them. The smell of fear permeated the air, the weight of so many minds on the verge of panic licked at the minds of the warp-blessed as they passed and pressed onward toward the Ursh aberrations.

The guardian squads moved ahead at first, their torches sweeping the tunnels as they moved with practiced precision toward danger. As they advanced, group by group, the wytchminds began to take the lead, their extracorporeal senses far keener than any torch and eyeball could ever wish to be. But the mad sorcerers of Ursh had foreseen the deployment of Imperial psykers; in fact, they had [i]hoped[/i] for it.

A coven squad reported contact with the aberrants back to the 4th company command post just seven minutes after entering the tunnel systems. A guardian, frantic, claimed that the tunnels were filling with the black fluid, and they were withdrawing. The last transmission from the squad was a garbled scream from liquid-filled lungs.

A sigh escaped Prateor Al-Allal as he reached out and turned off the vox. As entertaining as it had been to listen to those final screams, he needed a moment to reflect on the situation. Besides, any survivors were already withdrawing if they could and didn’t need him ordering them to use common sense. As much as he hated the bitter taste, he was forced to acknowledge that his ploy had completely failed. 

The plan had been good and his fault for sending in the abhuman elements of the Coven had been due to the sheer scale on which the defenders of Ursh had produced their literal living tide of corrupt filth then a tactical blunder.  Further attempts to take the underground would likely end in failure and wasted lives without even the promise of keeping the enemy’s monster (Monsters? Or was the tide just one massive thing that could split into many?) contained in the underground for the sacrifice. 

Flicking the vox back on, he changed the channel to start giving commands. “All Mining, we are activating failure protocols. Rig the tunnels with mining charges at the pre-determined zones to seal the damn things. If you see a tide of filth coming towards you before everyone further up the tunnel has reported in, everyone you can’t see is dead and you should seal it immediately.”

With the miners getting their orders, the Praetor swapped to an Imperial command channel. “This is Praetor Al-Allal, fourth company of the eighth legion. Be advised. Attempts to breach the tunnels and underground of the hive city have been repulsed by what can only be described as a literal living tide of polluted ‘water’. Alongside the normal hazards of large bodies of heavily polluted water, it seems to be able to spit pieces of itself out to create combat forms.”

“While currently it has only been reported in the tunnels under the hive city, there doesn’t appear to be anything stopping it from coming to the surface. Be advised that any body of polluted water within the bounds of the city may be an ambush in waiting.”

[center]………………[/center]

The flames roared, competing with the screams until both died down so that only the crackle of ash and embers remained. 

Ike stepped away from the door, the heavy flamer in his hands still flickering, even if he wasn’t bathing the room in fire. Sergeant Amutiel was the first over the threshold, giving the room a tactical scan within a matter of seconds: Formally a living area of some sort, most of the objects that had been within it now either ash or actively burning, which included those who had been within the room when the door was breached and Ike cleared it with a preemptive wave of flaming death. 

Without hesitation, Konrad aimed his pistol and fired into the head of one of the residents who was still twitching. Against any other foe, this would have been done as an act of mercy to end their suffering; If Ursh had taught him anything, it was that there were some enemies that you couldn’t afford to indulge with petty sadism. A dying Ursh witch could unleash some horrific shit with their final, agony filled breaths if given the chance.  

With the primary threats dealt with, Konrad gave the room a second, more measured sweep with the intention of locating hiding places or locations for caches that could prove problematic if left alone.  
Having earned a great deal of experience in Urban Warfare due to the campaigns in Mercia, as well as surviving long enough to learn some of the terrifying variations on the practice that Ursh brought to the table, Konrad’s proper inspection took less than ten seconds. The room was clear, and the extra time made damn sure he hadn’t missed anything. 

He had been about to leave the room to repeat the breach and clear process with the next when a feeling came over him. Subtle and easily missed or ignored in most situations, but even since coming to Ursh he had learned to trust a rather difficult to explain sense for dangers of the more… [i]supernatural[/i] variety.  

It was almost like he was detecting a strange scent; The closest Konrad had been able to describe it was akin to the stories some of the nomads told about being able to tell a storm was coming due to a scent in the air. The promise that something dangerous was nearby and about to happen soon.

Closing his eyes and focusing on the ‘scent’, it seemed to be coming from the wall that separated this room from the one next door. Enough so that the idea of kicking in the next door and letting Ike do his thing suddenly seemed like a very poor idea. 

The room still needed to be cleared and secured; They couldn’t just leave it alone without compromising the security of the building or their continued advance forward. 

Making a few hand signs so as to not need to speak, a ripple of activity spread through his squad… and a melta charge was brought forward.   

Planting an explosive charge while wearing power armor was [b]not[/] a silent affair, but the task was carried out without a word or any noise beyond the movement of larger than life bodies wearing metal; The nature of what that movement was attempting to achieve was not betrayed by it.

The charge secured, Ike moved into position. Far enough away to be clear of the detonation, but close enough that he would be able to immediately start flooding the breach and the room beyond with fire hot enough to distort and melt just about anything that wasn’t instantly reduced to ash and cinder.

The signal was given. The charge hissed as it was activated….

And the world went mad in less than three seconds.

As the charge detonated, an unearthly roar that sounded like it was made up of countless different voices crying out at once shook Konrad to his bones. 

He didn’t see it clearly; Ike was fast on the trigger of his heavy flamer and whatever was on the other side of the hole was blocked from view by the comforting sight of purifying flame.

But he heard it. 

He heard the horrifying noises it made. The sound of the door to the next room exploding as something [b]big[/] burst through it. The cries of alarm from his squad that had been watching the next door with the intention of ambushing anything that tried to escape the flames and the rapid discharge of their weapons. 

He witnessed a chunk of the wall explode outwards as [i]something[/] [b]punched[/b] through, sending it flying into Ike’s helmeted head and staggering him for a second;Thankfully, the flamer remained pointed at the wall, even if its spray was briefly in the room instead of going through a hole.

Konrad himself was not idle, pointing his weapon at one of the openings and firing through the flames where he had to. For a few moments all that could be heard was violent thrashing, inhuman roaring and weapon discharges.

Soon it was just the thrashing and chorus of gunfire. Then the gunfire alone, as even lacking movement and noise, everyone wanted to make damn sure whatever was in the room was good and dead.

“Status.” Was commanded over the squad vox as Konrad tried to get a headcount. All but two of his squad sent the all clear signal.

Ike himself answered “I’m fine. Took a hit to the head, but it was a glancing blow. Good thing too.” Ike made a gesture over to where the chunk of wall had ended up, letting Konrad see how deeply it had embedded itself into the ground where it had ended up. “This is why you always wear a helmet.”

Once Ike was done, a second voice spoke up belonging to Organa. “Got clipped by some of the door when it exploded, but the armor took the brunt. Still combat ready.”

Letting out a breath as Konrad took some comfort in his squad still being alive, he instead turned his attention to what exactly they had just killed.

It… was honestly difficult to tell what he was looking at. Part of that was because of the combined fire, volkite and solid bullet damage that had worked together to end its wretched existence, but he honestly could say that even without all that, it wasn’t anything that belonged in a sane universe.

It’s… mass seemed to fill up the room they had found it in. Considering how it was literally destroying the building around it, it was possible that it physically couldn’t leave the room, but Konrad was more inclined to think that it had just entered an animal panic due to the fire.

It didn’t… seem to have skin. Granted, the battle damage made it hard to be absolutely certain and its remaining bulk meant that seeing a piece of it that was unharmed would require hacking it to pieces to gain access to the room proper, but Konrad’s impression was that it didn’t seem to have flesh to begin with.

In fact, looking closer at one of its less burned ‘limbs’… it looked like a misshapen human fist connected to a mutated forearm… if both of them were a random amalgamation of body parts from multiple humans.

 Once he saw it, understanding revealed the true horror to Konrad in that terrible moment. The whole creature, a singular solid mass big enough to fill up an entire living space (or as good as filled it up from what they could see), was an amalgamation of who knows how many people, twisted into this… [b][i]thing[/i][/b] via methods that Konrad couldn’t help but automatically label as profane in his mind.

On an intellectual level, Konrad knew that this thing would have terrified him back before he became an Astartes; both the thing itself and the ramifications of how it came to be. But now…now it just filled him with hate at how revolting it all was. In both of his hearts, he hoped that his squad would find the monsters who had created this thing so that they could be [i]properly disposed of[/i].

Speaking of.

“Secure the position while we set up another melta charge to try and break up this crime against humanity into pieces so Ike can properly burn it to ash. I don’t want it to return to life behind us.” 

His squad only had so many melta charges but making sure this… thing didn’t become an active threat again was worth a second one. You couldn’t trust the monsters of Ursh to stay dead after all.

Still, Konrad doubted that this was the only ambush or trap on this floor but by the Emperor, he was going to see this level secured or die trying.