The battle for Phalona Reach continues! Though I forgot to take pictures again!!
The Ultramarines tried an armoured punch to break through into Phalona Prime. They were met by Phalonas own armoured might.
The battle started with a fast thrust from the Ultramarines down the centre of the board. Magneus Calgar lead a charge of blade guard into a squad of guardsman, predictably they were cut down but crucially they held up the marines. My ogryns swept in and uneashed a hail of fire before charging in. Ultramarines fell to the Ogryns leaving only Calgar and one other left but Calgar isnt the chapter master of the Ultramarines for nothing. He slaughtered the ogryns leaving just the Commisar leading them alive. Meanwhile the Cerastus knight Lancer that pushed forward alongside Calgar was my no 1 target. 3 Rogal Dorns targeted the knight and brought it down in one turn! Then it exploded! Causing 8 mortal wounds to the 2 Land Raiders .
This loss hit the Ultramarines hard, terminators teleported in and got out of the surviving Lamd Raider. My Gaunts ghosts aka Phalona team 1 were destroyed by the terminators after they took my opponents objective in deployment zone.
My infantry pushed forward along with reserves coming on . The one Rogal Dorn came face to face with the chapter master of the Ultramarines. Everything it had went Into Calgar and took him out (I love the oppressor camera). The 2 land raiders were took out as well cutting off the Ultramarines from using the transport for rapid changes of location.
After this my opponent conceded the game. His remaining forces would struggle to take objectives off me and I still had 3 Rogal Dorns that could pound him from range.
.it was a fun game, when I saw the knight and 2 Land Raiders being set up i had a deep sense of foreboding but the knight blowing up and stripping 8 wounds of each land raider was a huge stroke of luck!
Phalona Reach VP total for Victory: 1000
Phalona Reach Defence Forces: 372
Ultramarines :353
The hololithic display flickered as new data-streams bled into the projection, the ghostly blue light warping and reforming into a fresh vision of the battlefield. Icons shifted, some dimming, others vanishing entirely—extinguished like candles in a storm. The aftermath of the recent engagement was laid bare in cold, clinical detail. Roboute Guilliman stood unmoving for a long moment, one gauntleted hand hovering over the display. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he began to adjust the formations. Entire companies slid across the map at his command, their new positions forming a lattice of containment rather than conquest.
“The fault is mine.”
The words were quiet, but they carried the weight of a thunderclap. Canoness Angelica did not immediately respond. She watched as a cluster of icons—representing the armoured spearhead—flickered uncertainly.
“The engagement was lost the moment I permitted overextension,” Guilliman continued, his voice measured, but edged with iron. “I anticipated a faltering line. Instead, the enemy committed fully. I did not account for the resolve of the Phalonan regiments.”
His hand passed through the projection. A towering sigil—once denoting the proud engine of a Cerastus Knight—glitched, fractured, and then vanished entirely.
“The destruction of the Knight Lancer broke the cohesion of the advance. Its demise was… spectacular.”
For a fraction of a second, something almost human crossed his features—regret, sharpened into frustration.
“Chain-reaction damage crippled both Land Raiders. A single point of failure cascaded into systemic collapse. It is a flaw I should have foreseen.”
Angelica stepped forward slightly, her armour whispering against itself.
“My Lord, the Sisters who witnessed the detonation described it as apocalyptic. No mortal commander—”
“I am not a mortal commander.”
The interruption was not harsh—but absolute. Silence settled between them, filled only by the low hum of the ship and the distant echo of the Chant. Guilliman exhaled slowly, the sound controlled, deliberate.
“That is precisely why the error is unacceptable.”
He resumed his work, more quickly now. Surviving Ultramarine elements—proud warriors of the Ultramarines—were redrawn into tighter formations, forming interlocking fields of fire. Retreat vectors became defensive bastions. What had been a failed thrust was reshaped into a shield.
“The Phalonan Astra Militarum have overextended in their success,” Guilliman said, his tone cooling into pure strategy. “Victory breeds carelessness as often as defeat breeds hesitation.”
He isolated a region of the map. A small outpost pulsed faintly at the edge of the contested zone, its defensive perimeter thin, supply lines stretched and poorly supported.
“Their advance has created a void.”
His massive finger descended, enlarging the projection. The outpost expanded into sharp relief—bastion walls, ammunition depots, vox arrays—all suddenly vulnerable in their isolation. Angelica followed his gaze, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the target. She could already see it—the approach vectors, the angles of assault, the hymns that would be sung as her Sisters advanced through fire. Guilliman’s eyes lifted from the hololith and met hers across the table. For a moment, the vast chamber seemed to contract around that single point of focus—Primarch and Canoness, reason and faith, united in purpose.
“Here,” he said, his voice once more that of the Lord Commander, absolute and unyielding. “Is your next target, Canoness.”
The image of the outpost hovered between them, bathed in cold blue light—waiting. Angelica stepped forward, the glow reflecting in the polished surfaces of her armour. The names within the Tome of the Lost seemed to weigh heavier at her side, as if the fallen themselves bore witness to the moment. She brought her fist to her chest in a crisp, reverent salute.
“It shall be done, my Lord.”
The words rang with conviction—unyielding, unquestioning. And in the shifting light of the hololith, the next battle had already begun.
Phalona Reach
The static metallic tang held in the air, unreal energies from the Knights reactor explosion still lingered on the breeze. Commander Cowley stood in his Rogal Dorns turret surviving the battlefield through his amplivisor. Even in defeat the Ultramarines were dangerous. The stroke of luck was the knight exploding, shattering the main assault of the ultramarines.
They had surged forward like a tidal wave. The knight strode with purpose, a wicked looking spear held ready to impale any armour it got close to. A land raider accompanied the knight.
Commander Cowley remembered the frantic orders over the Vox and the disbelief when the knight exploded. The zealous requests to pursue the Ultramarines but he knew better than to try and run down space marines. He held the forces in check. Only Phalona team 1 disobeyed that order and they paid the price……
In the command centre several officers were slapping each other on the back at the victory they watched on their holo table. General Laricon stood off to one side,
“Fools…..” He muttered to himself. The officers were plotting a grand strategy to take to the governor. Laricon noticed a weak spot in the lines caused by the advance. A position left exposed. He scratched his beard, he took out a data slate and wrote orders to try and reinforce the post but it was a matter of timing. Would they get there to help or clear the bodies?
He left the officers to their grand schemes. He dealt with reality and she was a harsh mistress
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