The Adeptus Sororitas have taken an outpost on the edge of Phalona Prine as a start of the operation into Phalona Prime, the planet capital.
The outpost fell quickly, the Lion Warriors saw an opportunity for a counter attack to help the beleagured Phalonians.
The mission was unexploded ordinance so we had to drag the objective markers into the opponents deploynent zone.
The forces clashed quickly, the Sororitas melee units and armoured vehicles closed quickly with the on coming space marines.
What followed can only be described as the worst dice rolling ever.
Initially the space marines had success virtually wiping out a squad of battle sisters. After that their aim was off for the rest of the game.
The Sororitas paragon warsuits laid waste to many space marines . In the centre the my captain in gracis armour and his aggressor squad was killed before they even got to do anything meaningful.
Then the death watch made an appearance!! Who knows what they are looking for!
Absolute show of power by the Sisters of Battle, I had more units to use but time was running out and the mission went I wasn't going to score anything to win so the space marines retreated.
Phalona Reach VP total for Victory: 1000
Phalona Reach Defence Forces: 387
Ultramarines : 372
The Lion Warriors boarded their transports. Heads hung in shame. Cpt Krenal watched the last of his brothers board the craft. The Chapter master would not be impressed. This world was becoming a curse on their chapter.
Battle Barge Vigilant Nemesis
A Shadow cast over a giant of a man, he sat in his throne grim faced. The hall of the Battle Barge was largely empty. After the latest contact from Phalona Reach Chapter Master K'narn had retreated to his throne. Only his personal guard and a few servitors running routine maintenance were present.
The chapter master stared into the emptiness . After an hour he suddenly moved and made for the bridge. His personal guard snapped to attention and followed.
The bridge was the opposite of the hall, full and bustling with activity. Everyone stopped when K'narn entered.
“Back to work!. Bring me the reports from Phalona Reach” he barked.
A bridge officer handed him several data slates. K'narn studied them closely.
Officers and space marines on the deck waited . They hadn't seen the chapter master like this before. After what seemed like an eternity K'narn laid the data slates down.
“Put me through to Cpt Krenal. “
After a brief pause Cpt Krenal voice echoed across the Vox
“Chapter Master. I have failed you”
“Cpt Krenal we will discuss that later. What is your assessment of Phalona Reach at this time? I have read the data slates and I have my own opinion but you are on the ground. “
A moment of silence followed silence filled the bridge
“Our losses have been catastrophic. The Ultramarines arriving and backing up the Adeptus Sororitas was an unforeseen complication. Reports are that the returning son Gullimann is also in the System now”
The chapter master nodded,
“Yes it does appear Phalona Reach has garnered more attention than we had accounted for. It is time, we will start the withdrawal. It is a shame Phalona Reach could not have been kept as a recruiting world but we must take what stock we have and leave. “
The vox crackled…
“Captain?” Chapter Master K'narn snapped impatiently
“Master, I am uneasy about leaving the Phalonians.”
A power armoured fist slammed on to the bridge throne, the human serfs jumped at the sudden sound.
“This world is doomed! Would you doom our chapter? You may offer assistance while we withdraw but Captain you will be on those transports leaving. You have failed me enough times “
“it will be done”.
The chapter master took one look at Phalona Reach and cursed under his breath.
Phalona Reach Command
Governor Snarpe saw the vox light up,
“Captain Krenal to Governer Snarpe. I have some.bad news”
The Governor smiled, currently all news was bad news.
The smoke over the Phalonan outpost did not rise; it drifted in heavy, greasy ribbons, hugging the shattered remains of the bastion walls. The air was a thick slurry of ozone and the coppery tang of high-velocity impact.
Canoness Angelica moved through the carnage with the slow, deliberate gait of a predator that had already feasted. Her power armor, once a pristine ivory, was now a tapestry of soot and the bright, spray-patterned yellow of the Lion Warriors’ heraldry. She didn't holster her plasma pistol; the coils still throbbed with a fading turquoise heat, a rhythmic heartbeat of contained miniature suns.
Around her, the field was a morbid hive of activity. Sister Initiates, their robes tucked into their belts to avoid the gore, moved like ghosts through the wreckage. They worked in silence, a sharp contrast to the ecstatic, melodic chanting of the Living Saint. High above, the Saint drifted on wings of pure, blinding light, a golden icon of the Emperor’s wrath made manifest. Her presence turned the battlefield into a cathedral; where her shadow passed, the Sisters of the Order fell into a rhythmic praise-song, their voices rising in a soaring polyphony that celebrated both the Master of Mankind and the cold genius of the Primarch’s strategy.
"His blood for our life," an Initiate whispered nearby.
Angelica stopped as she reached a cluster of fallen Astartes. These were the Lion Warriors—traitors who had traded their loyalty to the Throne for the hollow promises of the rebels. Their yellow plate was cracked, scorched by melta-fire and bolter rounds. A Sister Hospitaller knelt over a wounded Loyalist, her Narthecium whirring as she performed the grim alchemy of battlefield medicine. Beside her, another Sister performed a different rite. She stood over a Lion Warrior whose chest cavity had been hollowed out by a krak grenade. With a prayer that sounded more like a sentence, she delivered the Emperor’s Peace with a sharp, vertical strike of a combat blade, ensuring the traitor’s soul was sent to the Judgement he deserved.
"Record him," Angelica commanded, her voice raspy from shouting orders through a vox-grille.
The second Initiate stepped forward, the Tome of the Lost cradled in her arms. The heavy vellum pages flipped in the wind of a passing gunship. With a quill made from the feather of a cyber-eagle, she scratched a name into the margin—not of the traitor, but of the Sister who had fallen taking him down.
"Canoness," a voice grated, cutting through the Saint’s holy chorus.
Angelica turned. Standing near a matte-black Inquisitorial Rhino—its engines humming a low, predatory growl—was a figure of shadow and silver. A Deathwatch Lieutenant. His armor was a patchwork of ancient marks, the silver left arm gleaming with the etched icons of the Ordo Xenos.
He reached up, the magnetic seals of his helmet popping with a sharp, pressurized hiss. As the helm came away, a face of rugged, scarred granite was revealed. He looked less like a soldier and more like a cliffside worn down by centuries of salt and storm. One corner of his mouth hitched upward, pulling at a jagged scar that ran from his jaw to his temple.
"Congratulations on your victory, Canoness," the Lieutenant said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to come from his boots. "A fine display of purging. Though, I must admit, I’d hoped our quarry would have been found among this particular pile of scrap."
Angelica reached up and disengaged her own seals. She pulled her helmet free, and a cascade of shock-white hair spilled over her pauldrons, framing a face that was youthful in features but ancient in the eyes. She took a deep breath of the acrid air, her sharp gaze immediately locking onto the silver crux on his shoulder and the specific, notched insignia of his rank.
"Lieutenant," she said, her voice steady and demanding. "The air is still thick with the ashes of my Sisters. If the Deathwatch has seen fit to shadow our advance, I would know the price of your presence. Who, precisely, is your target?"
The Lieutenant’s smile widened, though it remained a fearsome mask of old wounds. He leaned back against the warm hull of the Rhino, the Inquisitorial "I" glowing a faint, menacing red behind him.
"A shadow, Canoness. A ghost in the machine who has been feeding the Lion Warriors more than just tactical data. We tracked a signal—a high-level heretic cipher—to this outpost. Someone was coordinating the retreat before your Saint turned the sky into a furnace."
"And who is he?"
The Lieutenant didn't answer he just turned his head in the direction of the retreating Lion Warriors, his eyes narrowed
Angelica nodded at the silent marine "Then we shall hunt him, ghost or not"
