Narrative Campaign – The Flight of St. Dorothea Pt. 3

Singidunum Gaming Club

Narrative Campaign

The Flight of St. Dorothea Pt. 3

Welcome back to the third and final part that marks the conclusion to an epic saga.

Our three commanders gather once more at the Singidunum Gaming Club to do battle and bring a satisfying end to this mission, with the stakes never higher.

With a reprieve for the Imperial forces in sight, they prepare for one final push, but the Orks are not done with them yet and they will make the Imperials pay for every inch of ground in blood.

Once more, Alek, Miloš and Nikola dove into an epic battle to decide the fate of the sacred relic, remains of Saint Dorothea.

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The sounds of battle still raged on. Wave after wave of xenos was repelled and yet they came again and again in ever growing numbers.

Even with their leaders dead and their monstrous machines torn asunder, they harried us still. Thundering roars preceded every new wave, and uncoordinated as they were they charged at us with a madman’s glee, the prospect of a good fight spurring them onwards.

Commander Fuhs’ stalwart stubbornness bore fruit. The roar of the Leman Russ battle cannon that never ceased firing could still be heard as the relic transport slowly inched towards safety. With the Greenskin tide blunted, and their “teeth” broken, we were able to coordinate and form a line at our rear around the Commander and hold off the jaw that was threatening to close down on us from all sides

On the commands of Codicier Cassio a large number of his remaining forces was to escort the Saint Dorothea’s remains to safety, while the rest of his brethren were to secure the flanks and hold the line with Commander Fuhs.

Company Commander Vran, obstinate and indomitable as he is, still held his position. Barking out orders, and directing fire of the remaining forces into the weak points in the Greenskin horde.

What was left of our infantry was cut down to a single man, a Kriegsman who with a prayer to the Holy Emperor lashed out at the Orks that surrounded him. They cackled as they closed in like a pack of predators on their prey, about to savor a kill from a worthy opponent that would not back down.

In their hubris they were caught unawares as a heavily damaged but still standing Blood Angels Dreadnought burst through some rubble and started tearing through the Orks.

The lone guardsman prepared to charge along with the revered dreadnought, but urgent and immediate orders came through the vox; he was promoted to Commander Vran’s bodyguard and was to make his way to him immediately, tardiness being punishable by death. Torn between orders and his wish to redeem himself with a death worthy of Emperors mercy he made his way back through the chaos of battle, an explosion from where he just was drawing his eye.

The Dreadnoughts right side was completely destroyed, he was not moving, but his other hand still clutched a crushed Ork. Like avenging angels his brothers came, a squad of tactical marines that followed the convoy in a Rhino transport, cleaving through the foul xenos. Perfect shots brought them down in droves before they charged them with righteous zeal and rage of Sanguinius in their war cries.

On the other side of the battlefield another clash took place. A throng of Orks, somehow bigger than the others, covered in scars and animal hides, bore down and ravaged another squad of Blood Angels holding that flank. No losses of their own was enough to stop them, and these… Beast Snaggas as they called themselves, swarmed the marines and then one by one felled the marines.

Realizing that the loss of this squad left our flank exposed, Codicier Cassio took command of a Primaris marine squad followed by Apothecary Alessandro and positioned themselves in the rubble of our original transport that was suppose to take the relic off this planet, between the Snakebites and Commander Fuhs.

Commissar Silas was, sadly, killed in battle against a squad of orks trying to ambush Commander Fuhs, taking down several Orks with pinpoint laspistol shots and skillful yet brutal swordsmanship, never making a single sound when he was slashed and gashed to death by a sea of rusty and jagged Ork blades. Those same beasts were cut down mere moments later when they and their crude Deffkopta’s assaulted Commander Fuhs, torn to shreds in a hail of bolter fire.

In the struggle to hold the flank Codicier Cassio and his battle brothers were soon to be overwhelmed. But he would not yet relent and he would not despair. He ushered an order to Apothecary Alessandro to gather all the gene-seed he could and extract with the Relic, making him swear an oath that he would keep it and the gene stock safe.

The Apothecary in turn reported that after a grueling endeavor and no small dose of Emperors guidance, he managed to stabilize his vital signs and keep Captain Tybahlt alive… but in grave need of further proper medical assistance aboard their battle barge. A sigh of relief left the Codiciers mouth, and moments later a vox rang out with orders for the Blood Angels Rhino leading the way for the Relic to make haste to their position as soon as possible for an immediate extract. With this he bid the Apothecary goodbye, reminded him to hold to his oath and re-focused his mind on the Ork threats approaching their lines. Not too long after, a throng of the xenos blundered into them, hacking and slashing through the marines even as Codicier’s arcane energies blasted them apart. A crude blade would soon find its mark, stabbing at the back of the valiant marine. Vaporizing his attacker before turning to another, Cassio carried on without even a flinch.

With the blade still sticking out from his mighty frame, a lucky Ork shot found its mark, destroying one of Cassio’s hearts. The momentary shock staggered him, breaking his concentration. He glanced at the battle unfolding around him, time itself seeming to stretch and slow down, agonizingly imprinting in his last memories the abominable slaughter of his brothers all around him. Another ork blade stabbed at his abdomen now, time seeming to slow even further as the pang of it surged through his body. He looked down at the wound, and then slowly up the beasts arm and into its leering, disgusting face… In a moments notice time realigned itself, his hands shot towards the orks face grabbing it firmly. Within his minds eye, even as the Ork tried to wriggle out of his grasp, he gathered power. Power that shot out of his fingertips directly into the Orks skull, frying his skin, melting his flesh… and finally exploding, sending both the remains of the Ork and the marine flying, never to rise again.

Not too far from their location, Company Commander Vran was surveying the increasingly desperate position he and his forces find themselves in. It might be that in his pondering he was caught unawares for just a split second. This was long enough though. A lumbering Ork Nob made his way up to his position in a mad dash to charge at whoever was left there. With a bestial roar and revving of his chain axe he struck at the commander, and although he had just enough time to ready his power sword and las pistol, this was not enough.

The blow crashed into his side, tearing his breastplate apart and leaving him reeling and bleeding profusely. With a chuckle filled with disrespect for such an unworthy foe, the Ork lifted his huge weapon above his head about to bring it down on Vran. Like a master tactician Vran bid his time, waited for an opportunity to present itself, and he was rewarded for his patience. Ignoring the pain wracking his body, in a flash he shot his pistol into the brutes knee mid swing and pushed himself forwards.

The Ork lost its footing, but was still crashing down carried by his own bulk and the titanic swing it was about to deliver… All to land skull-first directly onto Commander Vrans power sword pointed upwards, impaling it through the Orks skull using its own weight.

The massive xenos lie still, Its heavy bulk pinning Vran down. With a grunt in defiance to pain and exhaustion Vran pushed the Greenskin off himself, unceremoniously throwing the body off the ledge of the ruins he stood on, body crashing loudly onto the rubble below.

Commander Vran hobbled towards the nearest wall, painstakingly pulling himself up to lean onto the nearest wall. He looked upon the battlefield around him and could see Commander Fuhs’ Leman Russ still firing round after round relentlessly. He could see the rest of his forces rallying around Fuhs to form a wall of steel, fire, and zeal. He saw the Blood Angels pushing back the xenos on all sides, only for the gaps to be filled with more. And in the distance he saw a familiar shape. Through the smog and clouds he could see rays of sunshine burst through and shine upon a silhouette of Valkyrie taking off, its engines lifting it ever higher. In that moment he knew this mission was finally complete. Saint Dorothea’s remains are safe, never to be tarnished or defiled by these foul xenos.

His recently promoted bodyguard burst onto the floor, covered head-to-toe in gore, chainsword in hand. Vran turned to him, and with pained growl said: You’re late!.. While contemplating the soldiers summary execution, a panicked vox could be heard from the nearest corpse of a guardsman. Vran picked up the device and answered. A tide of Greenskins was approaching from all sides, the skies above were now too contested to send any further extraction and rescue craft. The fleets above are retreating, and that they are on their own. A new vox interjected, coldly issuing orders with sounds of cannon fire in the background, Fuhs commanded what forces were left to reform lines around him and the rest of the Leman Russ tanks. While the xenos still draw breath upon this planet, our job was not done. If we die we die standing atop a mountain of Greenskin corpses!