The Psi-Titan

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The Psi-Titan

Post by Apothecary Meros on Mon Mar 06, 2017 3:30 am

“Brother Paladin, we cannot hold the line for much longer!”

One leg bent upon a mound of bleeding cultists, Paladin Gorgantl swept the landscape with pounding shots from his wrist mounted Storm Bolter. His glimmering force sword lay in his right hand by his side. It was clean – nothing had gotten close enough for him to bother moving it. The sky was a blighted twist of burning black and blood red, out of which came the unstoppable hordes of Khorne.

“We cannot fail! Advance!” His brother Mirandos grunted in response, mashing his crackling force hammer through the skull of an oncoming Chaos Astartes. “They are weak! Nothing can stop the holy light of the Empero-“ He rushed forward atop the dead corpse of a chaos Defiler, gunning down incoming cultists and marines for a bliss second of heroism before being engulfed in a cataclysm of plasma fire.

“Havoc squad!” Roared a choir of furious Knights as they took a step back and took cover to protect from the incoming barrage of heavy fire.

Gorgantl ducked as a lasannon discharged its fearsome payload over the top of his head. “Were the Dark Angels not supposed to reinforce this line?” He grunted, aggravated at how thin the Grey Knights were stretched across this battlefield. Land Raiders and Stormravens were in short supply, they had been redeployed to the fiercest battles to the north of Sierra 43-886, the technical name for the planet. The local Astra Militarum forces used to name it simply ‘Forty Three’ due to its rather uninteresting landscape. Forty Three was a small Forgeworld but also was home to the formerly mentioned Militarum regiment, rather uninspiringly dubbed ‘The Forty Third’. The forges actively produced vehicles based on the Chimera chassis; including Basilisks, Hellhounds, Manticores, Hydras, and even the odd Deathstrike. Because of this, the Forty Third are very keen on assaulting enemy lines inside their Chimeras whilst also pounding them with artillery. It had somewhat worked to begin with, but although the tanks were strong, the minds of the crew were a completely different matter.

Behind Gorgantl sat a line of roughly seven or eight Basilisks, manned by the few stubborn guardsmen who hasn’t succumbed to the dark urges and had to be executed by the hands of the Knights. A handful of Autocannon teams were perched either side. He knew the regimental command were in the capital, with the largest contingent of Grey Knights leading the counter offensive. Thankfully, the Guard had not entirely crumbled yet.

To answer his previous question, the vox rang in his ears to release the voice of a fellow Knight. “Almost the entire Dark Angels chapter has redeployed to hunt down renegades in the Galactic East.”

“There are plenty of renegades here too brother.” Gorgantl retorted.

“The Sons of Caliban have forever been a mysterious few.”

A crackle signalled the entrance of another onto the Vox-net. Brother-Captain Kikaro. “Many chapters have their secrets, they shall be prosecuted in due time. We must strike fast now brothers – Titan support is closing in to end this battle now.”

‘A Titan? Is such potent weaponry needed here?’ the Knight pondered, ignorant of the bolter rounds pacing his feet and glancing from his shoulders. He faced the fire and replied with a flurry of shots from his own weapon. To his rear the basilisk artillery continued to pulp the advancing horrors, each round singing a hymn through the skies before landing with a furious forte of crying souls.

“We can’t sit here for another day and let the onslaught continue elsewhere. The titan sweeps this landscape clean–“ The vox switched off, and it became apparent the Captain’s voice came from behind him. “Then you join and fight in the capital.” Inches from the face of his Captain, Gorgantl stiffened. Kikaro planted his Warding Stave in the ground and let his wrist mounted Psycannon sit by his side.

“Of course, brother-captain.” He answered with a bow.

On cue, what seemed like a distant spur of the wind far away began to erupt into a cataclysmic storm of promethium fuelled engines. Gorgantl, Kikaro and several of his nearby brothers turned in awe, blessed by the sight of such a god-machine entering the battlefield.

From the hallows of the entering dropship fell a night black statue of the Collegia Titanica – 33 metres tall figure weighing 2,500 tonnes of adamantium. Built within its Warlord chassis are six void shield generators, each protecting the hull from the fountain of heavy weapons that opened up in panic at the sight. The Titan bore a flickering pair of (what can only be described as) very, very, very heavy flamers at the end of each limb. Perched like a parrot sat a golden eagle on the left shoulder that hummed blissfully and danced blue ethereal energy around its head. On the right was a mounted Titan Laser Blaster, capable of tearing through even the thickest of armour plating with bright pulsating green volleys of forgotten energies.

“For the Emperor!” The Knights chorused, the sound nearly blotted out by the menacing ‘thud’ that reverberated through the ground as a result of the titan-fall. Though 10 metre high clouds of dust kicked up from the Titan’s feet, Gorgantl and his fellow Paladins charged head-first as the Titan marched hundred ton feet up and over the bemused Basilisk operators.

“The Inquisition! The Blood-God was surely not expecting that!” Yelled one of his brother-knights from afar. Gorgantl could hear the grin on his face.

The Paladin accompanied his Captain in their adrenaline fuelled advance on the hordes of the Blood God. The Titan was a saviour, if there is more than one deployed then perhaps the Knights can finally turn the tide of this war.

Their charge ran through hails of bolters, promethium flame, lascannons, plasma, tank shells and Emperor knows what else. A cultist ahead of him opened up with a Heavy Stubber. The rounds pinged off his arcane suit of Tactical Dreadnought Armour, but a round slipped through the cracks and lodged itself in Gorgantl’s thigh. However, it did nothing to avoid the Paladin ramming the cultist with his blazing force sword and watching him explode in a fountain of gore.

The Psi-Titan as it had been temporarily dubbed, was a glorious sight to behold. It’s flamers bathed the sky in an inferno that would make a Salamander drop to his knees in awe. Gorgantl saw a Helldrake soar into its arc of fire, and reduced to a flying slag pulp in less than a second. The Laser Blaster tore open a line of Predator battle tanks placed inside dusty ruins. The crater left behind was impressive to say the least. The Knights stopped in their tracks, just as Kikaro removed his Stave from the concaved skull of a Khorne marine clutching a Chainaxe.

With a screech and a moan of ancient mechanics the Titan arched its humungous foot over the pack of Knights – Gorgantl saw the eagle on its shoulder glimmer in cyan lightning, much like the dancing pattern around its psychic hood and in the depths of its eyes.

It took another step with its left, blazing holy fire on lowly cultist and heretic Baneblade alike. A heavy wind encircled the Knights that blew their capes around wildly. They hunkered down on one knee, eagerly awaiting the next big step of the Titan.

A big step is what they received. As the intensifying lightning reached its climax the Titan’s foot smashed to the ground with a thunderous shockwave. A tsunami of bright blue energy tore across the ground, sweeping away the entire line of Chaos that charged headlong toward it. Infantry exploded in puddles of blood, and the blazing remains of tanks were flung far into the distance. The Knights were thankful that the psychic wave was only sent forward and didn’t cover a 360 degree area – or else they’d be reduced to the same slush as the enemy. As the wave travelled and swept the battlefield clean Gorgantl felt his psychic powers intensified by the Titan and he stood up – the wind still blasting small debris in all directions and shaking his various loin cloths ecstatically.

“For the glory of the Emperor!” the Knights chorused in unison, standing up proudly in the Titan’s wake and darting forward through the fire and flames into the cleansed territory of Chaos. A poor omen it would seem, for what would come next.
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Apothecary Meros
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