Kal'raths gaze bored through the armourglass windows of the rhinos driver compartments, his fingers tightening on the haft of the thunder hammer as he surveyed the tide of destruction that had washed through the once pristine streets of the capital. The his right he could see the noble vindicator Lost Scion surge forward, the quad barrels of its laser array glowing white as they heated up.
"Lord, vox chatter and auspex reading indicates heavy Night Lords prescene" intoned the driver
"All ahead full" ordered the praetor feeling his battle lust swell
Death of Kings, the Salamanders vindicator, emboldened by the destruction of its Night Lords counterpart now hunted bigger game. Easing into the shell of a burnt out building it carefully lined up a shot to the rear armour of Korsh. The gunners aim was true, layers of adimantium plating flashing into molten slag in an instant, but this was still not enough to destroy the behemoth.
Jareth and his terminator companions forge ahead towards their foes, the Bedlam Crypt but were bogged down by enemy fire.
Having taken a circuitous route through the city the elite veterans of the Salamnders managed to infiltrate closer to the fight managing to blindside the marines of the faceless murder who were too focused on the pyroclasts in front of them.
Back at the mansion the govenor and his retinue hear the raptor squad approaching, rather than cowering in fear they advance opening fire on their would be attackers, killing all but one and forcing the survivor to flee into the street where he was cut down by fire from the advancing jetbikes.
Movitium rolls forward intent on delivering its terminator payload deep into the heart of the conflict, but the tank traps set on the defnces perimiter do their jobs, fouling the tanks wheels and pinning it in place. Inside the terminators howling at being denied the chance to join the bloodshed drop the assault ramp and charge forward.
Overhead the storm eagles wheel and open fire doing mininmal damage to the land raider Pax Mortum.
Kursh, enraged at the cowardly attack, grinds ponderously to face its tormentor. However, the shot has done more damage than anticipated and its targeting matrixes wouldn't function properly its shots going wide.
The govenor drunk on the glory of seeing off the raptors assault focuses his fire on the terminators but finds them more than a match for his weaponry and their return fires kills them to a man.
Jareth turns his eyes to the east and feels the first glimmers of hope as he notices streaks of orange and red on the horizon, like the whole sky was catching fire, the sun was coming up.
The apothecary is now within striking distance of the rival terminators, he couldn't save the govenor but he could avenge him. The salamanders swept down upon their opposite number killing them all with no loses of their own.
At the walls of the mansion the newly arrived terminators of the Head Takers stomp forward unheeding of the danger surrounding them. Errupting from cover the members of Dragons fire and Drakes Wrath trigger their weapons and obliterate the terminators ending their threat once and for all.
Outside the mansion the vindicator and the two rhinos race forward seeking to aid their brothers. Disaster struck as the veterans found their vehicle snagged on machinery and the engine overheating in the second, slowing the advance of the loyalists.
The Sicaran stunned at the continued survival of the land raider fires again the impact of the hit visibly lifting the tank from the ground before slamming it back down, one track a fused and molten mess.
Third Claw finally emerge from the rubble of their ruined building and unleash their fury upon the members of Dragons Fire, cutting down all but their sergeant
Korvash-ull hovered over the battlefield, powerful engines whipping up a storm of debris, and unleshed its payload at the loyalist terminators but failed to fell any of the mighty marines.
The troop compartment of the traitor storm eagle Nishallitha Valas was as pitch black and as silent as the grave. The warriors entombed within stood still as statutes despite the turbulence they were the hunters of the legion, experts at the fine art of the killing blow and they would not strike until absolutely necessary.
"It's time" a voice like a dying gust of wind blew through the compartment barely disturbing the air
The ramp at the front of the craft yawned open and air thick with the smell of burning and carrior wafted in finally stirring the monolithic marines within.
As swift and silent as a shadow Avros Jasster, blooded praetor of the Night Lords, flung himself from the plane his cloak whipping and writhing behind him like a living being. boots hammered into the cobblestones of the mansion. Death had come to Ambrose House.
Thats part two finished. Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion.