Title: A Dance of Drakes and Death: The Loyalist Landing at Isstvan V
It was a spectacle of cosmic proportions, a ballet of devastation and valor, as over 40,000 loyalist Astartes descended upon the planet, their landing crafts pockmarked by traitorous fire. Many of these steely birds, bearing the warriors of the Emperor, were reduced to flaming debris before they could even kiss the planet’s surface. But this was far from a hindrance; it was a provocation.
At the heart of the offensive, the 10th Legion, Ferrus Manus’s Iron Hands, lunged at the traitorous horde. They were flanked by the Raven Guard on the left and the Salamanders on the right, forming a trident of loyalty piercing the heart of betrayal.
The Sons of Vulkan, the Salamanders, descended upon the right flank, a sea of emerald warriors crashing against the black sands of Isstvan V. Their Primarch, Vulkan, led the charge, a beacon of purpose and resolve amidst the chaos. His formidable retinue included two Terminator battalions and several dreadnoughts that punctuated the symphony of war with the thunderous roars of their autocannons.
The Salamanders found themselves pitted against their former allies, the Death Guard. The scene was a gruesome echo of their tragic operation on Ibsen, the taste of betrayal still fresh in their mouths. The Death Guard, now armed with insidious weaponry, unleashed a deadly gas that claimed the lives of the 15th Reconnaissance Company. The Salamanders, unmasked and undeterred, continued their relentless advance.
Vulkan, witnessing the horrifying demise of his warriors, threw himself into the fray, his fury a beacon amidst the dread. One by one, the sons of Mortarion fell before him, until the battlefield was soaked with blood, and even the mist above was painted a grim crimson.
Meanwhile, the maddened World Eaters, offspring of Angron, launched an onslaught against the Salamanders. The World Eaters, fueled by their savage implants, bore down upon the loyalists with rabid fervor, their numbers overwhelming. The melee was brutal, a dance of death between brothers turned enemies.
As the battle raged on, a monstrous duel began to take shape. The Butcher Nails Red Angel, Angron, and the Dawnbringer, Vulkan, were on a collision course. Before they could clash, however, a rocket salvo tore through the sky, igniting a firestorm that separated the two Primarchs and decimated the surrounding Space Marines.
In the aftermath, reinforcements bearing the heraldry of the Alpha Legion, Iron Warriors, Word Bearers, and the Lords of Khorne descended upon the battlefield. Vulkan, despite his relief, ordered a retreat, allowing the newly arrived legionnaires their share of glory. Enigmatically, Angron had vanished post the firestorm.
The Salamanders and the Raven Guard returned to the landing zone, setting up camp on the northern side, while the newly arrived Iron Warriors fortified their position nearby. The Iron Warriors, cold and indifferent, ignored the Salamanders’ greetings. It was a chilling sight that made Vulkan realize a bitter truth: the Iron Warriors had betrayed them. The Salamanders, victorious yet bloodied from their battle, had gained not allies, but new enemies. The iron tide had turned, and their guns were now aimed at them.
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