Kingsfeud

Ullanor Sector, Outer Rim

Ullanor Tertiarus

Among the vast sea of stars that dotted the great expanse of Ullanor, powerful explosions the size of miniature suns glimmered in the fleeting darkness. The first true void-battle for the Ullanor Sector had begun. The Imperial fleets, led by the four Primarchs, engaged the Ork kroozas just as they emerged from the nearest planet in the system.

Lasfire burned through space in bright red streaks of blinding light, torpedoes homed in on their targets like tiny schools of fish, while projectiles the size of small islands slammed into faulty Ork shieldings until their ships broke apart into derelict hulks. The xenos fired back, launching smart rokkits piloted by gretchin and human slaves to shatter Imperial barriers. Typically for all Ork technology, their torpedoes were far from reliable, with some shooting off randomly as guidance systems failed, failing to ignite at launch or detonating prematurely if at all. The Orks made up for this by a truly Orky method - by firing more torpedoes. Between salvoes, gretchin slaves descended into the launch tubes to hit faulty parts with hammers and wrenches in the hop. Zzap and mega-kannons roared in tandem with their happy gun-krews, for the Orks were all too happy to get stuck-in with their new enemies.

At the behest of Horus Lupercal, the Maw of Orcus smashed into the brittle wall of debris that floated in the middle of the exchange, leading the charge into Ullanor Tertiarus III, the first of the three largest planets to be retaken from the greenskins in that system. Angronius' flagship blasted off Ork kroozas left and right without taking pause. The thunder of her guns left the psychic imprint of a mad dog tearing its way across the stars. The Ullanor Crusade would require the liberation of twelve star-systems, a promise of a long grueling set of campaigns, even in the hands of four of the greatest Primarchs to ever live, before the taking of Ullanor Prime itself- the seat of the Ork empire.

The brutal forthrightness of the War Hounds, in the absence of the White Scars, would at least see the Crusade's momentum throttle forward for a few solar days. When Angronius achieved a breakthrough, the Luna Wolves followed the Twelfth Legion into the fray. Next came the glory-hungering Space Wolves, then the ever-cautious Ultramarines. Roboute Guilliman made a point of burning clean every derelict hulk his legion came across, for by then it had become common knowledge that Orks tended to infest hulks like a virulent fungal plague. This delayed the Ultramarine advance, but not too much that it gave cause for argument.

When the four battlefleets cleared the orbital perimeter of Ullanor Tertiarus III, the War Hounds began fielding ground assault teams while the Luna Wolves bombarded key strategic locations and hammered them into dust.

Onboard his flagship, Angronius took pause to don the great brass-colored armor his legion gifted him. With utmost reverence, two of his chosen legionnaires carried each piece from the iron sarcophagus, within which the armor in question was placed in safe-keeping until the time for battle was at hand, and strapped them onto their gene-sire. The Primarch took up his chain-sword, Brazentooth, and his personal plasma-pistol Spite Furnace. Both weapons he latched to his belt before receiving the final piece of his armor.

The helmet that was forged by his own hands was fashioned in the shape of a snarling wolf-hound's visage, dubbed by the whole legion as the Howling Helm. Like all spacemarine helmets, the piece was created to amplify one's voice to ear-splitting heights. For a Primarch such as Angronius, the helm was meant to amplify his roars on the psychic level, thereby earning its name for the fear it sowed into the hearts of xenos and traitor humans alike.

Khârn awaited him at the boarding platform in the deck below the main hangar, where the drop-pods were located. The 1st Company was ready and eager to fight at the side of their lord, and there was a palpable stir in the air as all eyes beheld the towering figure of brass and scarlet that walked among them. He boarded with Khârn and the honor guard of terminators.

"Well?" Angronius growled impatiently, "What are we waiting for? Launch!"

Hundreds of drop-pods were hurled planetside, with hundreds more on the way. Once the legionnaires successfully set up a foothold in the landing site, the Astra Militarum would field in their own troops to hold ground so that the invasion could spread planetwide. There were Stormbird carriers ferrying Imperial Knight titans that were sent directly from the Legio Mortis flotilla that accompanied Horus' expeditionary fleet, and these gargantuan death-dealers would prove useful in the battles to come- especially since Ullanor Tertiarus III was home to a specific gargant-growing tribe of Orks.

Angronius' drop-pod, though cramped and heavier than the rest, made planetfall safely upon a hot and humid marshland. The planet was a tropical paradise once, but some dark force twisted the hand of nature into something vile and inhospitable. The Orks were just among the most recent to take refuge in that place. Amidst the towering trees strangled with alien vines and rotting fruit dangling from dead branches, there stood many Ork watchtowers connected by an intricate network of wooden walkways and crisscrossed wirings. The Primarch, already annoyed by the harrowing conditions of this first day, signaled his legion to begin burning out the swamps to call upon the Ork inhabitants.

Those with heavy-flamers torched the rainforest, driving out beasts and insects into a storm of noises that would've been enough to awaken any sleeping giant. And those with bolters hosed down the thick underbrush with a deadly hail of bolt-rounds. Soon, the noise drew the attention of the Orks, who by nature were drawn to any hint of a fight.

"Waaagh!" They bellowed, not as one but as an undisciplined, uncoordinated, barbaric cacophony that befitted the greenskin tide.

"Here they come..." Angronius pulled out Brazentooth and gave its trigger a good squeeze. The chain-sword roared, and so did the Primarch. "Anoint this marshland with their blood!"

The surging ocean of green broke against the red sandbar. For to reach the War Hounds, the Orks had to get through their nigh-impassable storm of bolt-rounds, Guard artillery shells and a literal wall of lasfire shot out from behind the legion firing line. Their dead turned their reckless rush forward into an awkward, slogged march that slowed even further the more losses they took. And when they managed to make it face-to-face with the War Hounds, the Orks tasted the bite of their swords and the burning agony of ignited prometheum. Imperial guardsmen dug into what solid ground they could find, under the protection of their astartes overlords. Once the trenches and cover barriers were set up, they moved to mount their heavy weapons to support the legion's advance. They repeated this strategy on all sides of the landing site, as they've done on countless different engagements. A more cunning opponent would have seen this and adjusted accordingly.

Thankfully, these Orks weren't at all that smart.

As the Imperial war-machine grinded forward, expanding the foothold outwards and into the depths of the tropical hellhole, more and more transport ships brought supplies and support vehicles from the fleet above. When the titans came, the tempo of the advance increased threefold. The giants were armed with Inferno tri-cannons as their battle-carry weapons, particularly effective even against the toughest ceramite alloys as they were proven to be hot enough to melt them down into slag in one burst. Some Stormbirds carried the legion's panzerhunds, which aided greatly in the ensuing melee.

One of the knights, named Ferro Aeternum, lumbered over to the front of Angronius' engagement. Its livery was colored in the blood-rust of Mars, bordered with cold silver. The armaments were made up by twin-barreled battle-cannons in one arm, a heavy-stubber in the torsal mounting, and a power-fist crackling with arcing energy in the other arm. The pilot, seeking future glories in the battlefield, trampled upon the Ork menace and blasted their crude gun-emplacements to pieces. Overcome by their inherent bloodlust, the War Hounds surged forward against the greenskins and broke out of the forest to storm the gates of the Ork settlements.

But just as they approached the main gate with launchers ready to blast it open, the Primarch sensed the faint emanations of a great beast behind the crude barrier of shoddily welded steel. In between the thundering footfalls of the Ferro Aeternum, the ground quaked also from the heavy steps of something equally large- perhaps even larger.

"Halt!" He commanded, "Saturate this place with bombers! Let them come to us!"

Unfortunately, Angronius' change in tactics served him poorly in that moment. The Orks were not content with sitting around and wait for the legion's strike fighters to rain death from the skies, so they unleashed their Orkeosaurs before the War Hounds could get the bombers ready. Three of the gargantuan beasts burst free from the gate, trampling both friend and foe as their drivers goaded them forward. Mounted mega-lobbaz and multi-gunz roared from the back of the Orkeosaurs, while the spiked tusks of the beasts swept aside spacemarines and tanks in the reckless stampede.

This was the first time the Primarch had seen an Orkeosaurus with his own eyes, and he felt a powerful hunter's urge rise from the pit of his stomach. Astartes and guardsmen fanned out to avoid the charge, but Angronius stood his ground. Seeing his gene-sire prepare for a bold charge against the beasts, Khârn ordered the assault marines equipped with jump-packs to follow him and the gladiator king.

"Their skulls will make an excellent throne, my lord." Khârn remarked, unfazed by the sight of the monsters bearing down on their position. By his estimate, the Orkeosaurs were about a hundred meters and closing.

"I suppose." Angronius growled, "But trophies later, we win this first."

The near-sighted squig giants at last spotted the little unmoving group, and despite the frantic urgings of their drivers, they were drawn to Angronius like moths to a flame. The Primarch and his sons planted their feet firmly into the ground in preparation for the jump. Angronius and Khârn would make the charge, while the assault marines take to the skies to deal with the mounted gunnaz. This was the unspoken plan, which would never fully reach fruition.

For just as they all took their first step, a fierce howl from the skies caused all to glance up. Like a sudden gale in a calm evening, Leman Russ came down with the force and speed of a falling star.

Apparently, the Primarch of the Space Wolves couldn't wait for his air transport to get close and promptly leapt from the Stormbird. Fangs out, he brandished his greatsword Mjalnar the Balenight and drove it deep through the top of the largest Orkeosaur's skull. His blow pierced the thick bone surrounding the creature's tiny brain, and the blade severed the stem. The Orkeosaur groaned piteously, then fell forward in mid-stride. The sudden lurch sent many an Ork falling overboard and into the killzone of the armies below.

The kill had been made, stolen right out of the War Hounds' hands. But not to be outdone, Khârn and the assault marines made their jump and attacked the other two gargants. Angronius remained on the ground, striding forward to meet his brother. "Aren't you supposed to link up with the Luna Wolves and take Ullanor Tertiarus II?"

"Aye." Leman replied, giving his sword a good yank to draw it out of the giant's head.

"Then what are you doing here?" The gladiator king demanded.

Leman hopped off the Orkeosaur just as the Ferro Aeternum punched the second Orkeosaur unconscious in one blow. The crack of its power-fist connecting against flesh and bone sounded like a clap of thunder, and the green giant toppled onto its side. The knight was not done with the beast, nor with its riders. Its pilot primed the arm to punch through the giant's thick head, then turned its twin-barreled cannon upon the hapless Orks making a run for it. Orkish blood drenched the armor of both Primarchs, a curious red bleed despite the stark differences between man and xeno.

"I'm hunting a particular Ork." The wolf king explained, "Their 'warboss', Grizgutta da Slayer. These xenos are connected to one another like a great vine, but they are supported by one singular entity. Sever the heart, and they will falter. The Orks won't fight as hard once I've taken his head, and this campaign will be over in a week."

Angronius tilted his head, "You couldn't have simply informed me, instead of going through all this trouble?"

"Now where is the glory in allowing others to do what you can do yourself?" Leman retorted, "Enough, brother. The Space Wolves are here, and the hunt is on. Do try and keep up."

Angronius growled at his brother, but he ordered his sons to cover the Space Wolves all the same.

Together, the two legions made short work of the Orks of Tertiarus III and burned the rainforests clean. The Ork Undaboss Grizgutta, a mere lieutenant in the vast hierarchy of the Ullanor Ork Empire, was holed up in a mountain stronghold deep in the heart of an active volcano, which was named the Hot Mount. The further up through the green horde the legions went, the more powerful the opposition. Grizgutta himself was absent from the battles, feeling it was beneath him to indulge in the fracas of the boyz. But when the Ork boss heard that there were two humie bigganobz on their way to take his head, he relished in the opportunity for a good a proper fight.

An eleven-foot green giant encased in red mega-powa armor, with a snappy bionik klaw in one arm and a kombi mega-shoota in the other, Grizgutta had long made his way to the top as far as his Ork will could take him. Content with following the undisputed rule of the hyper-evolved Prime-Ork Urlakk Urg, but nonetheless as brutal as any Ork warboss, Grizgutta maintained a relatively smooth operation in Tertiarus III, so much so that it eventually became all too boring for the Ork.

His throneroom in the Hot Mount was a treasure horde of weapons, trophies and skulls collected from a lifetime of battles. He hoped he could add some more, thanks to these intruders. A small army of the meanest Nobz was at his command, and a great Gorkanaut he named Gitgud slumbered like a shackled dragon in the fiery pits of the volcano. Gitgud had nor needed no crew to pilot it, for through some unknowable Ork psychic force the machine had come to life on its own, drawn to battle same as its Ork creators. The Hot Mount quaked with new life as the Gorkanaut stirred, taking slow but steady stomps towards the natural earthen walls surrounding Grizgutta's stronghold.

Grizgutta lumbered over to the balcony of his fortress, showing his ugly battle-scarred face to the outside air. His skull had been hammered and pierced with several spike studs, and a massive red gob was bolted into his jaw. His small but keen eyes scanned the War Hounds and Space Wolves vanguard for the two Primarchs, till at last he caught sight of the pair cleaving a swift path through his boyz. Behind them was a stompy thing, the knight titan Ferro Aeternum. Grizgutta's torn and dry lips parted to reveal a mass of golden teef, clenched together in a crude Ork grin of wicked glee.

At last, the fight he was looking for.

"Hehe." He guffawed, "Ere we go!"

He practically trotted off with a happy waddle, bellowing out orders for his Nobz squad to follow him into combat. Gitgud was already getting stuck-in with the boyz, and the Undaboss had no intention of letting the Gorkanaut have all the fun. He boarded a Kill Blasta heavy assault tank and rode on it like a charioteer. Upon seeing him in their midst, the boyz felt a surge of renewed vigor and started pushing back the spacemarine legions. Rokkits, shootas and burnaz competed against astartes launchers, bolters and flamers. Every now and then, on either side, a squad would break cover and engage in a brutal melee. Of all the humies the Orks faced, these legionnaires were less tactical than the rest. They didn't shy away from a good brawl when it mattered. They were considered the 'fightiest' and therefore the best enemy they faced in a long time.

"WAAGHH!" Grizgutta roared, unleashing burst after burst from his kombi-weapon. He killed whole squads of astartes legionnaires, and wiped out companies of Imperial guardsmen.

"WAAGHH!" The Orks screamed in turn. The marshland soon became a wasteland of body mounts, charred trees and blasted earth.

They were loud, these greenskins. But Angronius' roar was louder. He parted the green sea with every swing from Brazentooth, heading straight for the Undaboss. The Orks faltered easily in the face of such a powerful superhuman warrior, so soon after being rallied together by Grizgutta's brutal goadings. However, Gitgud was still in the gladiator king's path. As Leman Russ cleaved Orks left and right, Angronius took a running leap over an overturned war-trukk and scaled the junkyard titan's frontal armor to reach its head.

This mechanical effigy was the embodiment of the Orks' brutal god of war, of straightforward violence. Angronius showed them that Ork might paled in comparison to Mankind, and with almost little effort, he ripped Gitgud's head off its iron shoulders with his bare hands. Steel groaned and cords snapped, while the Gorkanaut itself stopped in mid-stride as though the psychic ghost driving it forward was suddenly banished, its guns falling silent. The gladiator king tossed the head down at Grizgutta's Kill Blasta tank, demolishing it into a hundred burning pieces and sending the Undaboss crashing to the muddy ground.

Angronius leapt from Gitgud just as the Ferro Aeternum knocked the thing aside to crash into the Ork mob. The earth trembled again, and it split with abyssal fissures. The fall awoke the Hot Mount, and the volcano started the first stages of eruption. Steam and poisonous gases began to fill the air, and amidst the stench of the growing masses of heaping dead it was easy to mistake the smell. In the chaos of the struggle, the rumbling mountain numbered among the least of anyone's worries.

"Boss, we'z gotta go!" One of the Nobz yelled as he helped the Undaboss get his feet under him.

"If we'z gonna leg it, we can fight again anotha day!" Another echoed.

"Anova day? Anova day?!" Grizgutta angrily krumped the Nob on the right with his klaw and shot the other to pieces with his kombi-shoota. "Not a chance in 'ell!"

The Hot Mount erupted once, sending heavy black clouds filled with molten lava hundreds of meters up into the sky. The resulting blast sent shockwaves throughout the marshlands, uprooting whole treelines and distenting the very earth. Mortal men and lesser Orks were swept aside by the storm of dust and debris, leaving only the strongest warriors to continue that late stage of the battle. Machines, and likewise Ork totems and towers, were lifted up and tossed away. The second eruption blasted the cone of the Hot Mount, sending another shockwave now filled with the fiery blood of Tertiarus III.

The air in the crumbling stronghold grew so hot that the legionnaires started to glow from the heat, yet still they fought on. And in the very heart of that hellscape, Angronius and Grizgutta began their duel. As they fought, news of the Undaboss' sighting reached Leman from another part of the sundered fort. Understandably, he was furious at the thought that Angronius beat him to the prey after all and raced to get to Grizgutta in time to get a few licks in.

Angronius danced around the lumbering oaf, striking with Brazentooth at the exposed pistons and industrial wirings holding the bulk of the Ork's armor up. With each strike, he made Grizgutta a little heavier and a lot more angrier.

"Hold still an' lemme kill ya!" The Ork roared, swinging his kombi-weapon wildly to get a bead on Angronius.

Suddenly, Kirya the panzerhund broke out of cover and clamped her steel jaws over the Undaboss' gun. Her weight forced Grizgutta to lurch forward, exposing his back to Angronius, who drove his fist into the power-pak that gave the whole armor its energy to move. With a firm tug, he messed with the couplers and ripped out a handful of wires still alive with sparking energies. Crippled and encased in a steel trap, Grizgutta's face was a comical mix of befuddlement and surprise. Wide-eyed, he squeaked as he toppled face-first into the hot ground.

"Good girl." Angronius rumbled at Kirya, kicking the Ork sideways to roll him onto his back. He didn't give Grizgutta a moment's pause and ran Brazentooth across his neck.

Presently, Leman Russ and the warriors of Fenris arrived to reinforce the War Hounds. Seeing his brother take the head of his quarry, Leman bellowed out an oath of frustration. Angronius gave him a look of disapproval and tossed the dripping head his way as some form of consolation, not realizing that in Fenrisian culture that this act was an insult. The head bounced off of his warplate and landed at his feet, Leman didn't bother to pick it up. Honor stained must be brought to satisfaction. The ill-tempered wolf king's eyes flared up, and an enraged Leman attacked Angronius.

Startled, the gladiator king brought up his chain-sword just as Mjalnar Balenight locked firmly against its teeth. Not knowing what to do about them, and knowing that their own battle against the Orks remained unfinished, the legionnaires simply ignored the two Primarchs and continued fighting the greenskins.

"Leman, you fool!" Angronius bellowed when he broke away, "Why do you strike against me?"

"You know well enough why, brother!" Leman snarled hatefully as he circled him like a wolf would circle a hound, "That kill was mine to make! You've sullied my honor, and so now your blood must be shed!"

The Primarchs' eyes met, and Angronius realized that Leman meant what he said. He held no hatred for the wolf king, but he had little desire to meet his end this way. And so, he grimly obliged his brother's challenge.

"Come then, son of Fenris!" Angronius holstered the Spite Furnace, "Show me the might of the Space Wolves in those arms, and let the legions bear witness!"

This wasn't the first time two Primarchs fought each other in the history of the Great Crusade. Sometimes, rivalries no matter how faint had a way of reaching the surface and often demanded indulgence. While there was some love shared between the War Hounds and the Space Wolves, the brutal and barbaric nature of both legions was not without its own price. Hence, the necessity of bloodshed every now and then.

When the Primarchs fought, they fought like gods. Forces of nature made flesh, battling with weapons faithfully crafted by their master craftsmen now put to the test, they were indeed an awesome sight. And when the Orks were successfully exterminated in the ashlands of the Hot Mount, the legions bore witness to the fighting prowess of their gene-sires. Leman struck to kill, always with a bold charge and a downwards swing. Angron struck to fend him off, for he had no desire to slay his brother, no matter how the faint echoes of the damaged Nails urged him towards that killer's frenzy.

This was what separated them from each other. One was a wild dog who allowed himself to be tamed and collared, the other remained a savage wolf who gave himself over freely to his violent desires. As Leman rained blow after blow against Brazentooth, the chain-sword eventually shattered and Angronius was left disarmed.

But that didn't mean he was defenseless.

Stepping into Leman's next swing, Angronius caught his brother by the wrists and pulled him inward. An elbow to the face, with a force powerful enough to knock a mortal man's jaw into his brain, sent the wolf king's head snapping back. Stunned, Leman's grip loosened and Angronius pulled Mjalnar Balenight away from his brother's hands. When the wolf king recovered, he brought a gauntleted fist into Angronius' helm, putting a nice hairline crack from chin to crown.

The gladiator king reeled from the blow and felt the air rush from his lungs as Leman tackled him to the ground. Straddling his brother's chest, he prepared to rain more blows upon his head. However, the cold press of Angronius' plasma pistol against his jaw brought the wolf back to his senses, and he stopped short of delivering another downwards strike. Somehow, in the blur of the scuffle, Spite Furnace found its way into the gladiator king's free hand and it was a trigger's squeeze away from blasting a hole through his head.

Both demigods took pause, eyes fixed on one another. Everyone held their breath, until all that could be heard was the faint cackle rising from the pit of Leman's throat. The cackle grew like a nascent storm in the sea, and soon Leman was laughing heartily at the silliness of their fight. He was laughing because he felt foolish about losing his head over an Ork, though he would never admit it to anyone. He was laughing also because not too long ago, he had a similar experience with another of his brother Primarchs- which didn't end all that well for him. He was laughing now because as soon as his anger faded, he had no idea what he was supposed to do.

There was a noise coming from Angronius, amplified poorly by his damaged helm. It was a mirthless chuckle, which Leman took as a good sign. Soon, both brothers were laughing it off.

Gradually, Angronius lowered his gun and Leman backed off to let him stand. The fight was at a satisfactory draw.

"You fought well." The wolf king praised his brother, hoping to put a salve on the gladiator king's wounded pride.

"As did you." Angronius rumbled, removing his helm to show his face. There was no friendliness in his words, nor brotherhood in his countenance. Sternly, he warned the Primarch of the Space Wolves. "But the next time you ever think of raising your sword against me, Leman, take pause... for when you do, I will kill you."