Ignatius watched the temple from orbit, his brow furrowed. The Temple of the Holy Emperor was currently guarded by a small mission of Adepta Sororitas from the Order of Sacred Ashes, the zealous warriors standing sentry over its entrance with their boltguns held tightly to their chest. Though they were far from matching the transhuman Astartes in physical combat, their faith made them dangerous. Ignatius was not going to make the same mistake as his arrogant brothers and rush in recklessly, thinking he could crush them just because the enemy was mere mortals.
Even so, he had no choice but to launch a raid. He found it distasteful, but the relic in the Temple of the Holy Emperor held immense value for him, especially the arcane lore within the grimoire. As a member of the Cult of Magic, Ignatius was always looking for ways to improve his sorcery. It was the only way to survive amidst the sinister politicking within his legion. His father was not who he once had been, Magnus brooding constantly as he schemed vengeance against the Imperium who had betrayed them. Ignatius held no hatred against the Imperium, but there would be other sorcerers amongst his brothers who would question his loyalty.
Thus he needed to act.
"Let's go," he murmured to Makhat, who nodded grimly. The Scarab Occult Terminator was leading a squad of automata clad in tactical dreadnought armor. They proceeded toward the teleportarium chamber aboard Ignatius's battle barge, Honor of Tizca and readied for the combat.
Below, Ulysses ducked instinctively as a shell screamed overhead, crashing into the lines of Cultists. Traitor Guardsmen who had thrown in their lot with the Thousand Sons and Tzeentchian cults after the psychic awakening, Ulysses Uriel, formerly of the Stygian Fourth Imperial Guard, had defected when he realized to his horror the burgeoning psychic potential within him. It started with the mutations, and aware that the Imperium did not take too kindly to witches and mutants appearing within their ranks, he made a run for it before the Commissar learned of his newly found...abilities.
However, being sent to the worst battlefields the galaxy had to offer meant that his defection to the Thousand Sons was little better. Nonetheless, it at least provided a slim chance of survival. He knew that if he had stayed with the Astra Militarum, he would definitely be dead, executed by a bolt round from Commissar Holt.
That hope of survival seemed ever more distant now as the shell exploded above their heads. Ulysses heard the stricken screams of his comrades even as he dove for cover. Scrambling to his feet and rushing toward a small ruin that used to be part of the previously glorious temple, he risked a glance over his shoulder and saw that his squad had been reduced to two men. Six of them had been instantly pulped to blood and viscera by the detonation, and two more were fleeing in the other direction. Ulysses cursed their cowardice but didn't blame them. He glanced back at the Castigator tank rolling up to his position. He could only hope that the Adepta Sororitas sister didn't spot him or Belial as they hid inside the broken block.
To his relief, the Castigator tank turned away. In the distance, five giants lumbered out of the fog, their eyes glowing eerily. Ulysses recognized his masters. What did they call them? Yes, the Rubricae. He had heard the rumors even as the cultists and traitor guardsmen gathered in the lower decks of the traitor Astartes's battle barge...how these silent giants were little more than dust sealed within power armor. Their strength could not be denied, however. He watched as the battle sisters unloaded a volley of bolt rounds, the harsh bark and thunderous roar of detonations against the shimmering field of energy that shrouded the Rubric Marines.
For a moment, the Rubric Marines didn't fire back. Ulysses didn't understand why. They certainly were shrugging off the exploding bolts as if they were nothing more than harmless sparks. Was it to strike fear in the hearts of the enemy? Even so, the tactic wasn't working. The Sisters remained stoic, holding their ground as they continued to shoot their devastating bolt rounds.
Against any other enemy infantry, such firepower would lay them low, but the Rubric Marines remained totally unscathed.
Then they opened fire.
Ulysses finally understood why they took so long. They were trying to close the gap, to get within range of their warpflamers. The five Rubric Marines opened up with a sheen of roaring, luminous flame that engulfed the Sisters. The renegade guardsman shuddered when he heard the shrieks that he didn't think could possibly come from such stalwart, zealous warriors. Their power armor melted and sloughed off their shifting flesh. Ulysses watched in horror as the Sisters didn't just die...they mutated, their flesh writhing and taking on nightmarish forms. One of them turned into a fuming blob of flesh and tendrils, smoking on the ground. Another was a hideous mound of putrefying liquid.
The surviving Sisters retreated, even as the Rubric Marines smashed into their lines, clobbering them with gauntlets. One Sister went down, her helm caved in, while another fell, the breastplate of her power armor dented before a Rubricae callously stomped on her. If the first blow didn't kill her, then the second certainly did. The sorcerer who led them twirled his force stave about, trading blows with the Canoness who was trying to rally them, and though she parried his long weapon with her power sword, she knew that they couldn't prevail in close combat. With a shout, she ordered her surviving Sisters to survive.
Of the ten battle sisters who guarded the Temple of the Holy Emperor, only three remained.
The Seraphim swooped down on them from behind, intent on unleashing bolt rounds upon the Rubric Marines who so tormented their Sisters. However, as if forewarned, the Aspiring Sorcerer controlling the automata had his Rubricae immediately spin around. Gouts of mutagenic flames snarled and wrapped around the descending Seraphim. Still in midair, none of the Seraphim were able to dodge and all five of them were reduced into mutating husks of immolated flesh that strained and broke through semi-molten armor. The jet packs spluttered and coughed before the falling Seraphim crashed, their ow monstrous forms mercifully consumed by the explosions.
The Sisters were not without teeth, however. The Castigator tank rolled up, ignoring the remaining Cultists for now, and opened fire. The heavy bolters scythed down the Rubric Marines. Ulysses watched, fascinated, as one of them fell, his power armor split open. Glimmering dust spilled out from the broken shell, drifting on the hot wind that swept across the battlefield. The turret barked and the rest of the Rubric Marines were enveloped in explosions.
No matter how durable they were, they wouldn't have survived that. Ulysses felt his heart sink. The surviving Sisters and a group of Sisters Repentia were converging on his position now. He clutched his lasgun tightly, wondering if he should flee.
But where would he go?
Before he could make a move, however, there was a bright spark. Ulysses felt his heart lift at the dazzling sight, knowing what it meant.
His new lord had finally made his appearance.
Ignatius looked around grimly, noting the wrecked armor of Rubricae sprawled over the ruins of the temple. The Castigator tank was turning around to face the new threat, but he was quickly running several calculations. With a telepathic order, he coordinated their strike. Fullisades of inferno bolts streamed from their combi-bolters, crashing against the reeling Sisters and destroying them. One Sister was cut down by the roaring shells from the Soul Reaper cannon borne by Tiowatt. The Scarab Occult Terminators then charged the Canoness, who defiantly met their charge with her power sword. Her power armor sparked from the shots she had taken, but she refused to let her injuries slow her down. Limping forward with a determined cry, she swung her power sword.
It did little against the nigh impenetrable terminator plate, and the return blow from Hedoran took her head off. The Scarab Occult Terminators continued trudging forward, neither gloating nor honoring their opponent. The mindless automata were almost dismissive of their foe, their ghostly attention now directed toward the Castigator tank who opened fire on them.
Makhat raised a hand and conjured a psychic barrrier that deflected most of the shots. Even so, one of the Terminators went down, his sapphire plate broken apart by a high explosive shell fired from the Castigator tank. The Scarab Occult Terminators didn't have much time to engage, though, for the howling Sisters Repentia sprinted toward them, their eviscerators screeching with rage. Their Sister Superior goaded them on, her neural whip lashing out incessantly as she also tried to close the gap.
As one, the remaining Scarab Occult Terminators raised their inferno combi-bolters and fired with near prescient accuracy. Three of the screaming Sisters Repentia were mowed down by the ensorcelled rounds, but the last survivor close in, swinging her massive eviscerator. Tiowatt deflected it before cleaving her in half with his power sword. Beside him, Hedoran sent the Sister Superior staggering with a slash, even as her neural whips struck ineffectually against his formidable terminator plate.
Ignatius reached out with his mind and crushed her with a spell, imploding her body from within. Before her corpse hit the ground, he turned around and blasted the approaching Castigator tank with empyrean energies. The large vehicle shuddered, reeling from the sorcerous blow, its hull quivering. The astral blast must have done some damage, for his Scarab Occult Terminators opened up, pounding its weakened plating with inferno rounds and punching holes through its hull. The smoking Castigator tank tried to turn around, but Ignatius charged, his force stave ramming into the driver's compartment and leaving a dent.
The Sister driving the tank snarled in defiance, her helm cracked and blood streaming down her face. She tried to turn the heavy bolters about to pummel Ignatius, but with a grace that belied his heavy Tartaros Terminator armor, he dodged the streams of devastating shells. Spinning his force stave about, he struck the weakened front plating of the Castigator tank. This time, it collapsed and he ran his weapon through the driver's chest, the length of his force stave crackling with arcane energies. The Sister convulsed, a curse on her bloodied lips before she expired.
Ignatius studied her form and the broken tank, a tinge of sorrow crossing over his features. Straightening up, he then turned to regard the temple he had seized from the Order of Sacred Ashes. Within, the tome awaited, its esoteric lore finally his.
"Let us go," he told Makhat, striding forward. The Scarab Occult Terminators followed him without hesitation, their eerily glowing eyes piercing through the cloud of dust that swirled around the battlefield. "We'll grab The Treastise on Imperial Psykers and leave this place before more Imperials arrive."
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