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| The Lion Warriors mass on the edge of the base |
My soace marines faced off against a mix of Ultramarines and Sisters of battle. The plan was to draw the defenders o I t as much as possible then deep strike a squad of terminators in to effect the rescue!
It started off well, offering up tempting targets pulled the defending units away from.the target building . My Brutalis dreadnought suffered the fates of 99% of new models it died but it took out some paragon warsuits before it died. The Repulser suffered the same fate but also killed a tank before it died so at least they didn't get wiped out without doing anything.
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| The defenders hold the line |
Unfortunately my friend Matt cottoned on to my brilliant plan when I deep strike my terminators behind his lines. He left minimal defences at the front and turned to face the new foe. My terminators held firm for 3 turns under withering fire they eventually forced a tank to fallback and were slowly. Brought down under the weight of fire.
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| Enemy forces swamp my terminators |
My Repulser pushed forward and unloaded my blade guard and assault intercessors in a last ditch push for the base but they were stalled and repluser destroyed. My rescue mission failed.
Lessons learned space marines are not guard. I need to push forward and be aggressive with my attacks. More terminators deep striking in would have helped . 5 terminators and a Chaplain held for ages but couldn't really push forward. More numbers would have helped me there.
Phalona Reach VP total for Victory: 1000
Phalona Reach Defence Forces: 311
Ultramarines :313
The sounds of battle were overwhelming. Space Marine vs space marine, it was a blur of combat . The defenders rushed to the outposts' barricades in defence. In the chaos of battle no-one noticed a single man slip through the lines .
Like a Shadow he moved through the facility. He located the room he was looking for. An explosion rocked the walls, the sister guarding the door, touched her com bead and then walked away from the room. Seemingly called away, “ what luck” Dutch thought as he sheathed his knife . He quickly entered the room, a figure tied to a chair was slumped over and covered in grime and dried blood.
“Fancy meeting you here Marshall” he whispered . The slumped figure raised their head.”Dutch?” A confused look on her face.
Dutch worked fast freeing the shackles,
“The governor isn't finished with you yet Dreval and we have new friends. Space marines in fact”
Dutch's utter calmness really made Dreval nervous . They walked out of the cell . Huge amounts of gunfire erupted very close by. Dutch indicated for Drevall to wait. He went around the corner but quickly came back. “Our escorts had been spotted and …..well that way isnt safe “ Dutch and Drevall headed back the way Dutch had entered the facility. Dreval's eyes hurt as they adjusted to the light. Dutch led her from cover to cover. They were spotted by 5 space marines in yellow. Dutch waved and pointed at a menacing tank that was maneuvering and would spot them soon. The yellow armoured space marines nodded and opened fire on the tank drawing its attention.
The 2 made it to the relative safety of a thick patch of trees. Dutch lit a cigar and indicated that Dreval should.follow him. They emerged in a clearing where several space marines clad in yellow power armour. Except one, who was glad in white. They walked over,
“Marshall Dreval. I am pleased to see you are alive. We have taken the liberty of acquiring equipment similar to what you had before your capture. If you would get ready, we need to move, and I fear the battle is not going our way. Operative Dutch will you be joining us? “ The voice through the helmet gave it a robot tinny sound.
Dutch shook his head
“Negative Apothecary Ryden. I have other matters to attend to. “ Dutch headed off into the woods.
Apothecary Ryden followed him until he was out of visual range. The Phalonian then disappeared altogether. Nothing on any scan the Apothecary ran. “Hmm I need to see a tech marine “
Canoness Angelica stood before the empty detention cell, her left hand resting on her hip. She ran her right hand through her damp hair, her eyes blazing with a quiet, barely restrained rage that sent an immediate hush over the room. The nearby Sisters and Initiates—even those tending to the injured—refused to meet her gaze as she turned and stalked out.
Her heels rang sharply against the bare plasteel of the stairs. Reaching the top, she shoved the hatch open, and her senses were immediately assaulted by the smells of burning vehicles, spent promethium, and spilled blood.
Her eyes searched the milling figures of the Ultramarines and Sisters of Battle outside, eventually finding the one she was looking for: Lieutenant Titus.
A clear path seemed to magically open before Angelica and close behind her as she advanced. Titus nodded in acknowledgment as she approached, but before he could speak, she spat out the words:
“She is gone. Escaped.”
Titus frowned. He glanced toward the smoke rising from a burning tank and the slumped, collapsed frame of a Dreadnought before settling his eyes back on the Canoness. He spoke two words.
“A distraction.”
Angelica frowned, turning her gaze eastward across the devastated zone. “An expensive one, but perhaps they could afford it. I will put together a force and go after her myself. I will bring the Emperor’s purifying flame to these heretics.”
With those words, she spun on her heel and walked away, her earlier rage now channeled into cold determination.
Titus followed her retreating form with his eyes until she was out of sight. Then, he let out a single, low word.
“Good.”
Gathering the Purifying Flame
Angelica did not return to the command centre. Instead, she strode through the makeshift field hospital—a repurposed hangar bay smelling of antiseptic, ozone, and fear—and headed directly toward the armoury station nestled in the southwest corner. The guards snapped to attention as she approached, their bolt-pistols held rigid.
She ignored them, marching straight to the station's main console where a Tech-Priest, Magos Zeta-8, was running diagnostics on a heavily damaged Exorcist tank chassis. The Canoness slammed her gauntleted hand on the metal workbench.
"Magos. I require immediate requisitioning," her voice was low, yet sharp enough to cut through the whine of the diagnostic tools.
Zeta-8 paused, its optic sensors swiveling up to meet her blazing eyes. "Canoness Angelica. Specify needs. All resources are currently optimized for defense and triage."
"Optimization is irrelevant," she retorted, leaning closer. "The heretic, the witch we captured, has been freed. This changes the tactical priority. I require a fast, mobile pursuit unit. Three squads. Full combat load."
She began dictating the specifications without waiting for confirmation:
• Squad I: Sisters Repentia. "The ones who are still whole and eager for atonement. They will form the spear tip."
• Squad II: Battle Sisters. "The veterans. Bolters and flamers. We need immediate, overwhelming firepower to breach whatever hidden bolt-hole they've secured."
• Squad III: Retributors. "Two heavy bolters, two multi-meltas. For the vehicles they used in the escape, and any heavy defense they might mount."
Zeta-8's mechanical manipulators clattered across the console, registering the demands. "Requisitioning approved. Logistics will be notified. Estimated deployment readiness: twenty minutes."
Angelica nodded curtly. That was acceptable. She turned her attention to a nearby Initiate, kneeling beside a Sister who was having a wound bandaged.
"Initiate. Go to the barracks block. Find Sister Superior Cassian. Tell her I am forming a mobile Retribution Force and she is to command the Battle Sisters. Tell her to be ready for deployment in twenty minutes. Go!"
The Initiate scrambled to her feet and raced away. Angelica watched her go, then glanced back at the field hospital, her gaze sweeping over the Sisters being treated. The cost of the heretic’s escape had been high.
They will pay a thousandfold for this momentary victory, she vowed, her hand instinctively resting on the hilt of her Angelic Blade. No distraction is too costly to avenge.
