Khorne Flakes
[EU] "Blood for the Blood god!" "Blood for the Blood god!" "Skulls for the Skull Throne!" "Skulls for the Skull Throne!" "Milk for the Khorne Flakes!" "Milk for th- what!?"
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"The milk of life is what sustains the Ruinous Powers. As such, it must be soured before it can quench the thirst of laughing gods" ~ The Tallarn Book of the Living Saint Cain\*.
In the Imperium Nihilus, in the Regency of Lord Commander Dante, the Bringer of Lord Sanguinius's Light...
Hordes of armies, of the Lost and the Damned were swarming over the ice world of Valhalla. Lasgun fire light up the night sky, as the Ice Warriors emerged from soft drifting snow, in a desperate mission of hit-and-run. In any other time, the 597th alone would have been able to turn the tide of battle: This was their own planet, and only the Space Wolves themselves were as adept in fighting in the tundra. Yet this was not to be the case.
Acting Colonel Jenit Sulla was running herself ragged, barely sustaining herself on recaf and the Emperor's faith alone. She had a lot to do, and not a lot of experience to do it. After all, she was merely a substitute while Major Broklaw was in the field hospital, tending to Colonel Kasteen's health.
Supply lines are being cut off by drop pods, no doubt those used by the Traitor Legions. The tech-priests themselves are unable to repair the Chimers and Leman Russes, claiming that they've ran out of the "Ritualistic oils". The heaviest weapons now operational are heavy stubbers and Meltaguns - but the get in close contact with the enemy, would prove to be too costly with the amount of men she has left to pull a Jurgen Surprise (which amazingly enough, has no relation to his odor) with the Meltas.
Walking out of the command post, she stares out at the remaining able-bodied soldiers at her command, recharging their lasgun magazines on open fires. All of them anticipate for whatever hope - or futile truth - she will deliver. What would the Commissar do?, she wondered.
"The good news is that the enemy has been forced to withdraw, and is likely to be regrouping. That gives us another hour of respite. The bad news is that communications have been cut off, and no response has come back from command."
She sees the slumps developing on her soldiers, hope in their eyes flickering away.
"You have all fought bravely, and in a fashion befitting of the legacy of this regiment. However, the Emperor wishes for you to perform one last task. Steel yourself with this purpose, and armour yourself in the Emperor's faith, and if your thoughts are true, may the Living Saints intercede".
These haunted men stood, faces set grim in determined purposes, lasguns unslung from shoulders and chainswords unsheathed.
"Ready whatever ammo you have, and fix bayonets. Make your peace with the Emperor for he will know of our deeds soon enough. And I'll see you all beside his Golden Throne".
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It's always quiet before the fighting starts.
Some soldiers mutter oaths and prayers to the Emperor, others whisper apologies to friends and family, of promises broken and unable to be accomplished. And a few decide to break out the amasec in secret, hoping that they'd not have to witness the oncoming carnage whilst sober. Several more huddle around the fire, shaking hands
As for the good Colonel Jenit Sulla? She was sipping tanna tea from a thermos. One last ritual, a demonstration of her faithfulness to Valhalla.
Se gazes upon the frozen wasteland she calls home. Pristine white snow was blackened with explosions and lasgun burn marks. Bodies of her fellow guardsmen and guardswomen are lying on the ground, unable to be recovered. A few of them are stripped bare, a thought that brings her both disgust and acceptance. The dead can't use their gear, after all.
Beyond that, to the horizon, no enemies could be seen - yet.
Rumbling and roraring echo through the valley, shaking the ground wherever the remaining shoulders stood. Sulla clenched her teeth, and gripped her chainsword ever tighter with her free hand. It has begun now.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was half-hoping that the armies of Chaos were busy fighting Valhalla's resident Orks somewhere, and praying that was indeed the case. At least then, Valhalla might be rid of two squigs with one shot.
The roar was deafening now, but no lasguns, nor bolters were firing. No war cries nor crawling treads or stomping sentinels are heard. After the shock and fear of being outflanked came to pass, with a radio check across the perimeter, it meant that there was only one direction that the noise was coming from.
Rumbling and roaring echoes through the valley, shaking the ground wherever the remaining shoulders stood. Sulla clenched her teeth, and gripped her chainsword ever tighter with her free hand.
Fleets of Valkyries descend upon the planets surface, a sight that couldn't be more welcoming if His Godly Majesty came down with his Custodians - almost, that is. After all, her faith is her shield in these trying times. She approached the nearest Valkyrie, as its cargo doors descend.
She took stock at these fresh soldiers - Green armour. Cadian variants, no doubt. One of them, closest to the doors, stood up.
"Colonel Sulla?", he responded quizzically, glancing at her rank marking.
"It is I, yes.", replied the acting officer, energy and warmth returning to her voice.
"Hail the Emperor", greeted the commander, crisply making the sign of the Aquilla. Her Ladyship responded to the gesture with as much formal aplomb as she could give.
"State your rank and your regiment, Trooper."
"We're the 14th Company of the Cadian 8th. The Lord Castellan's Creed's Legacy. We're here to temporarily relieve you."
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"As Colonel Kasteen is recuperating, we thank Colonel Sulla for her resolute persistance and logistical genius in ensuring that us reinforcements are fed."
With the new batch of reinforcements, it is clear that the forces of Chaos have taken the time to regroup with greater vigor - and that means greater time for the Guard to rally and rearm. Sulla is now on the makeshift parade ground, eyeing the line of Cadians, as their commander, some transfer by the name of Sturnn makes an address.
"These vile mutants and apostates DARE to tread upon the Emperor's most blessed realms, and turn the glories of humanity into shrines for their abominations! We are here to avenge our homes, and that could only be done by routing the Despoiler's hateful armies back into the Warp where they came!"
Cheers of Cadian soldiers, some Valhallan too, went up.
"The Traitor Legions may scream "Blood for the Blood God" and "Skulls for the Skull Throne". Perhaps when they break their fast, they call upon the Dark Gods and invoke "Milk for the Khorne Flakes!"".
Bouts of grim laughter and chuckles ensued. The pious Lady-General was taken aback. He dares speaks the name of the Enemy?
She was already unclasping her laspistol from the holster, but the next few sentences give her pause.
"We will give those most corrupt armies the TRUE tribute they deserve! Something the enemies of the Imperium know from the Damocles Gulf to Lorn V! That if they wish to so much as step foot in the Emperor's Realm, it will cost them even more than Styger Milk and Corpse Starch! WHAT IS IT?"
Thunder roared across the parade grounds, that no Basilisk salvo could match. Lady-General Sulla could not help but straighten with pride.
CADIAN BLOOD WILL PAY THE PRICE, FOR NONE'S MORE VALUED IN THE FRAYDIRT AND MUD TO CRIMSON CAST, FOR MANKIND AND IN HIS NAME-
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*That doesn't sound like something Ciaphas would say... outwardly at least. A. Vail, Ordo Xenos, The Emperor's Most Holy Inquisition.
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THE END.
