Warhammer: Dark Knights

"Hold your ground, Sons of Sanguinius!" A veteran sergeant roared, driving his chainsword through the chest of a charging Ork with a sickening roar of metal and flesh.

Around him, a mix of warriors from the 1st and 3rd companies fought in a disciplined circle formation. The wounded were gathered at the center, some still clutching bolters, providing covering fire for their brothers holding the outer perimeter in brutal close-quarters combat.

The ground around them was a charnel pit—piled with the corpses of Orks, Astartes, and Guardsmen alike. Blood soaked the earth, thick and dark, and the stench of death choked the air.

"How long until reinforcements arrive?!" One of the Blood Angels shouted, barely dodging an Ork's cleaver before a bolt round took the beast's head clean off.

"We can't hold if this keeps up!"

The veteran sergeant didn't answer immediately, cutting down another brute with a brutal backhand strike. He activated his vox-link, voice sharp with urgency.

"This is Sergeant Kaelen, 1st Company! We are holding position Bravo-Zeta, but we are surrounded! Reinforcements needed immediately or we will be overrun!"

No sooner had the words left his lips than the battlefield was drowned in a blinding burst of blue and golden light. Arcs of lightning surged through the air, sending ripples through the dust and blood-soaked ground.

The Orks paused for a moment, confused and snarling.

Then the light vanished just as suddenly as it had appeared.

In its place stood fifty towering figures, Astartes clad in Terminator armours with weapons that can shatter almost everything they meet. Among them, there are twenty Astartes clad in Cataphractii standing in the front of them all, each holding a power axe and storm bolter.

Behind them, the remaining Terminators formed ranks—twenty of them wielding storm bolters and power axes, while another twenty carried heavy flamers and chainfists, flamers growling low, weapons primed for devastating breach and purge tactics.

Before the Lamenters or the Orks could fully react, the heavy flamers roared to life.

A torrent of burning promethium erupted from the barrels, washing over the front ranks of the greenskins. The Orks don't even have the chance to scream or run, their hulking forms were instantly engulfed. Flesh and bone were reduced to ash in seconds, while crude armor and rusted metal weapons warped, twisted, and melted under the intense heat.

This quickly let the Lamenters and remaining Orks to regain their senses.

The Orks, undeterred and driven by bloodlust, roared in defiance. Their attention shifted now to the towering figures of the Terminators, drawn instinctively to the stronger, larger foes. With guttural war cries, they resumed their charge, screaming across the scorched earth.

But the Lamenters had found new strength.

With the arrival of reinforcement, they knew that they will survive and a chance to destroy the Xenos that kill their brothers. The most able of them charged out with their chainswords revving and power swords crackling.

"For the Great Angels! For the Emperor!" The Lamenters cried as they charged at the Orks.

With the Orks preoccupied with figthing the Terminators, the Lamenters cover the flank, making sure that the Dark Knights able to focused on what's infront of them.

As the battle continue, explosion suddenly erupted in the Orks ranks and before long, the Thunderhawks arrived.

Their hulls scorched by re-entry, the heavy bolters fires at the Orks that stood too close with it, shredding them without much effort. Veteran squads leapt from drop ramps mid-flight or stormed out the moment the landing struts touched ground, bolters blazing, crash into the Orks with only fury and precision.

Following the Thunderhawks are twenty-four Thunderhawk Transporters followed behind the attack craft, transporting the armoured elements of the 1st company.

They touched down with thunderous force, the ground trembling beneath their massive weight, unloading their packages. Twenty-four Predators launch out with their Syrtis pattern autocannons already firing at the Orks, their side-sponsons heavy bolters added to the storm, cutting down the Orks in great number.

From the eastern flank, ten Land Raider Crusaders advanced in a tight formation. Their twin-linked assault cannons spun up, spitting high-velocity rounds, while six twin-linked bolters on each side unleashed a wall of firepower. Anything in their path was shredded or crushed under treads of ceramite and steel.

As the Land Raiders advance more deep into the horde, the front ramp open with a loud clamp as it hit the ground. From within, fifty Cataphractii Terminators marched out in formation. Each arm with a combi-bolter and a power fist, firing and punching Orks as the Land Raiders advance to another location, leaving them to hold the flank.

With this much committed, the battle ended quickly with the destruction of more than twenty Nobz, sending the remaining Orks leaving combat when they can't see the fun in it anymore.

The Lamenters and Dark Knights did not pursue. Instead, the Predators continued firing into the retreating Orks from a safe distance, gunning them down as they fled.

Once the fighting had died down, Astartes from both Chapters began piling up Ork bodies, preparing to burn them in accordance with Imperial protocol. Sergeant Kaelen of the Lamenters stood quietly among the aftermath, his eyes fixed on their cousins—the Dark Knights who had come to their aid.

Rumors had long circulated among the upper ranks of the Lamenters regarding their cousins. Though they had only arrived in the middle of the crusade, they have actually fight along side with the Dark Knights since the beginning of the attacks on the Orks.

And after fighting for this long, they suspect that the Dark Knights numbers have grown far past of what the Codex Astarte allowed, a form of heresy.

Yet Atharion have treated them with nothing but kindness. Providing them their much needed supplies to make sure their ships can move, and foods for the mortals serving abroad their vessels. Atharion also provide them with new weapons, armors and vehicles, all freely given, without any condition.

Still, these suspicions remained only rumors. The Dark Knights rarely deployed as a full force. Each company fought its own battle, followed its own mission, often far from each other. Without seeing the Chapter together, no one could say for certain just how many of them existed.

But now, standing here and watching this, Kaelen wasn't so sure anymore.

From what he'd learned fighting beside them, most Sergeants—especially within the battle companies—wore an iron halo. Not the full traditional halo used by Captains or heroes of the Chapter, but a half-circle design, a crescent-shaped piece often called a "half-moon halo" by the Dark Knights themselves. One Sergeant had told him it functioned like a regular iron halo, though with a lower energy output. Its purpose wasn't purely protection—it was a symbol, a mark of honor and status within their Chapter.

And now, Kaelen could see at least twenty-seven of these half-moon halos across the field, each worn by a Sergeant leading a squad of Astartes.

Some might argue they were from different companies—but Kaelen knew better. All of them bore the same icon on their pauldrons and vehicles—an emblem exclusive to the 1st company of the Dark Knights.

But he didn't have the time—nor the will—to dwell on it.

After all, it was Atharion who welcomed them into the Crusade when so many others had turned their backs. To many within the Imperium, the Lamenters were little more than failures of the Cursed Founding, one that need to put constant surveillance, and if needed, total purge. But not to the Dark Knights. Not to Atharion.

He had offered them supplies, repairs, and sanctuary. He had treated them with respect, not pity. And for that, many among the Lamenters no longer cared about the whispers surrounding their cousins.

As long as the Dark Knights remained loyal to the Emperor, that was all that truly mattered.

"Sergeant Kaelen."

The cold, clipped voice pulled him from his thoughts.

He turned toward the source and saw a Dark Knight striding toward him. The Astartes wore Mark VIII power armor with the half-moon halo, its overlapping gorget catching the sun.

The Astarte stopped before him, his tone cold and mechanical.

"By the order of Supreme Grand Master, we, 1st company of Dark Knights shall take control of this flank. The Lamenters are relieved from active combat and are to fall back for recovery and resupply."

"Understood." Kaelen acknowledged, his voice steady. But before he could say more, the Dark Knight cut him off.

"Our Thunderhawks will arrive shortly to assist with evacuation. Medicae teams are standing by. Prioritize the wounded."

The words were not unkind—just efficient. Duty spoken plainly, with no room for sentiment.

Kaelen gave a sharp nod. "We'll be ready."

The Dark Knight didn't respond. He simply turned and strode off, reunion with, possibly, his squad and already moving out of this temporary camp that they set up.

As the Lamenters waiting for the Thunderhawks, more arrived on the camp. Or to be more exact, two regiments arrived with Rhinos and Leman Russ, a full mechanized regiments. But, what's come out of the Rhinos puzzle them.

All the Guardsmen are wearing some kind of carapace armor which cover their entire body.

'This must be the Auxilia of Dark Knights that I keep hearing about.' Kaelen thinking as he looking at those Guardsmen.

And true to his assumption, this two regiments are indeed the Auxilia that Atharion formed, the 1st and 2nd regiments. And they indeed are wearing carapace armor, or more precisely, Solar pattern Void Armor that used by the Solar Auxilia during the Great Crusade and Horus Heresy.

Solar pattern Void Armor, or any Void Armor is a fully enclosed suit was designed for the void of space, chemical warfare, and hostile planetary environments. Fully integrated with life support systems, the armour itself was capable of resisting small arms, ballistic impacts, and shock trauma. It was capable of minor self-healing against small penetrations and lacerations, and was particularly resilient against radiation and thermal effects.

After the Heresy and with the separation of Imperial Army into Astra Militarum and Imperial Navy, Void Armor is exclusively use by the Imperial Navy. But with the resources needed to build one, most within the Navy still favour flak armor for their Voidsmen.

And now, after learning the Orks situation from Zaerion, Atharion reassigned both regiments here to quicken the pace of the battles as he don't want to waste too much time here.

The Auxilia, at first were formed primarily from the PDF of worlds that Atharion trusted, but as the recruitment effort are enlarged, recruits who failed the initial trials to become aspirants also were given a chance to serve the Chapter and Emperor in another way. Though they did not meet the stringent standards required to ascend as Space Marines, they were still stronger, faster, and more disciplined than the average Guardsman.

As the Thunderhawk's ramp closed and the gunship began its ascent, many of the Lamenters returned with heavy hearts. Having already suffered grievous losses in the initial assault, they now feared for their Chapter's future—especiallywith them suffer another loses before they can refill their ranks.

Back on the camp, Caden already begin the preparation of a renewed offensive aimed at breaking through the Ork lines and linking up with the Black Templars, who had been stalled just a hundred miles from the warboss's last known position.

With renew strength, Caden launch a offensive from land and air, using the Thunderhawks to transport the Terminators, while the Land Raiders and Rhinos to transport the Veteran squads, and advance with the Auxilia regiments.

As Caden offensive begin, another battle happen on the other side of the world.

"So, that is their last one, correct?" A cold but tire voice ask.

"Yes, Master." Another cold voice answered. "According to Auspex scan, that is the last one."

A sigh can be hear. "Finally."

With a heavy hiss, the armored hatch of a Sicaran Battle Tank groaned open. From the command cupola, an Astartes clad in burnished Mark III 'Iron' pattern power armor rose. Battle-worn and smoke-streaked, his helmet's dull red lenses scanned the field with calculated precision.

He surveyed the battlefield. What lay before him was not a battlefield—it was a graveyard of machines. Smoking wrecks of ramshackle Ork war engines littered the landscape, twisted and broken, their crude forms no match for the precision of the armored assault that had crushed them.

"Finally," Valerio, Master of 9th repeated, his voice more resolute now. "With this, they no longer possess any vehicles capable of threatening our line."

Around him, the armored elements of the 9th company stood vigilant. Twenty Sicaran Battle Tanks, forty Predators and ten Sabre Strike Tanks formed a steel fist that had plowed through the Ork mechanized forces like a blade through flesh.

As the primary armored force of the Dark Knights, the 9th Company boasted one of the Chapter's largest concentrations of armored vehicles. Their strength was such that they were rarely deployed as a whole. Instead, they were often divided and assigned to support other companies, for full-scale armored deployments were uncommon.

Even now, this was only a portion of the 9th. Most of the 9th are separate to the other battlegroup within the Crusade or waiting to be called in when the moment was right.

"Let's keep moving," Valerio said calmly over the vox, his voice cutting across the command network that linked every tank under his command. "We will join the main assault, as Lord Atharion has ordered."

With his words, the engines of the armored columns came to life. One by one, the Sicaran tanks, Predators, and Sabre Strike Tanks rumbled forward, treads grinding over blackened soil and broken wreckage. Their guns turned toward the horizon—toward the next front of the war.