Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 437 Little Red Riding Hood Iron Hand and the Big Bad Wolf Emperor
-
Front row reminder: There is no Typhons in this chapter -
When Vosko last left his home world, Medusa's desolate surface was still filled with black volcanic rocks that had been there for tens of millions of years, hard and unique crystalline rocks, huge, broken single-body mountains, and magma that was constantly erupting in the rapid movement of geological plates.

In the unstable geological movements and tides, the deep strata are melted by the core of the planet and rise up to form new land, while more ground falls into the dark abyss and is swallowed by the ghosts deep in the planet. The renewal speed can be regarded as "why hasn't this planet fallen apart yet" in the geological concept measured in centimeters.

High-temperature geysers carrying sulfur and other toxic gases spew out from new plate cracks and volcanic craters. The only real living things on the sandy and rocky ground are the clan tribesmen who make a living by scavenging the fragments of ancient technological ruins that fall from the sky.

Perhaps ten thousand years ago there were some "Giant Kings", "Ascended Warlords" or "Giant Dragon Monsters" that have now become legends and sound incredible, but the arrival of Ferrus Manus and the beginning of his journey made everything simple.

The world of the living on Medusa is made up of clans and chapters, while the world of the ghostly dead was sealed off in the shadow lands and ancient mountains by Ferrus Manus's isolation operation and the chapter's ancient orders.

High in the sky, lead-gray and carbon-black clouds obscured everything, thick enough to attenuate the radiation from the blue supergiant star to the point where the hardiest Medusans could survive.

Vosko Dofok still remembered that when he left, he could see the towering ancient holy mountain Karash from orbit. This holy mountain, which was said to be the place where Ferrus Manus descended, was covered with thick black snow formed by severe nuclear radiation, and the steel temples built by the Karagu clan, the guardians of the holy mountain. Its top has been emitting thick steam and volcanic smoke for tens of thousands of years. The charged particles in the dense clouds under the black sky hit the top of the mountain, forming a magnificent scene of lightning and thunder.

Medusa's largest single mountain range, the Firgazer Mountains located at the equator, is so huge that it can be clearly observed from space. On its peak are the black iron faces of the original ten clan chiefs, carefully preserved for tens of thousands of years by various scientific and technological means and unimaginable stasis stance technology, overlooking every fight for the selection of new recruits on this planet.

This is how it has always been. This is the life of the Medusa people, and it is also the home that the Medusa clan is accustomed to but loves.

But now, there was something very unsightly, dirty, a glaring stain. It appeared above the clouds south of the planet's equator. An area in the dense black and leaden clouds had now turned into a yellow-green color like thick phlegm, like a whirlpool, like a tentacle, it twisted into a ball and began to spread around.

Although you could certainly say that it made the clouds go from cold black to bright and...seemingly "alive," the uncomfortable feeling of having something stuck in the throat was aggravated just by looking at it, almost suffocating everyone who saw it.

And on the discolored cloud, there was a huge creature, emitting silent terror.

The Terminus Est. The flagship of First Captain Typhons, whose guns had killed his cousin on Isstvan and bombarded the Imperial Palace on Terra. Now this huge hunk of plague meat was suspended in geostationary orbit above the planet there, with the symbol of Chaos clearly visible on it.

Rotten, swollen flesh and synovium replaced the steel armor, and rows of wriggling sphincters grew out of the gun barrels. Its hangar was like a huge bulging blister, with rusted storm birds and thunder eagles vaguely visible inside. The zombie-like crew members were plagued by diseases, and in addition to the aircraft that were to be discharged, there were more corrupt juices of various colors in the hangar blisters.

The souls of everyone who had the misfortune of being on board this Chaos Plague Ship are presented on this flying sanctuary of Nurgle: the slimy flesh walls are integrated with the inorganic armor, countless rotten faces are presented in a distorted manner, and the wails and screams of human souls and the blessings of the Plague God are transmitted in an unnatural form from the depths of the cabin filled with plague zombies to everyone who sees it.

Witnessing all this from behind the shadow of Iron Moon, Vosko could barely contain his anger: What was the Star Fortress of the System Watch doing? What was the Guardian of the Orbital Defense Platform doing? What about the Star Ring Guardians? And what about the mighty fleets of the Clan Company? How could this mobile seeding machine of the Plague God be allowed to penetrate so close to Medusa, to commit such an unspeakable desecration of his homeland?
But those qualities in his innate talent that enabled him to think and consider other people soon neutralized his anger and calmed him down.

He rechecked his power armor and his loyal bolter, as well as his newly issued power-geared axe.

Although the weapons were good and the Rakuan clan provided all new and fully loaded equipment, when Vosko saw the flagship of the First Plague Captain, he knew that his fate would probably not be good.

But this is already above Medusa.

This is his home.

He had no way out.

He has also decided to abandon any thoughts of retreat.

Even though the emotional side of his body was screaming at him, his rational understanding completely overwhelmed his emotional fear.

And this abnormal calmness towards the infection of the evil god was not due to his emotion suppression module - because Vosko was too "new", so "new" that he had not yet received the installation of those conventional suppression modules.

"Why, recruit, are you scared?"

Someone came and sat down in the drop capsule next to him.

The Bogus, who had not yet reclaimed his original clan name, glanced at him.

This was one of the reinforcements they were suddenly informed of before they set off. Although according to their superiors, the addition of these people was said to significantly increase the success rate of airdrop operations and landing point opening operations, Vosko had reservations about this.

He didn't know that the captain of the Karagu clan, Bask Karagu, held the same opinion about the additional personnel in this action, and was even more intense.

This patriarch, who was a die-hard supporter of the Saint Ferrus and had believed from the beginning that Ferrus would return to lead the Iron Hand, rarely made a comment that he did not agree with the decision of the Father of Genes. Of course, Basque Karagu would not go against the decision of Ferrus Manus - as long as Ferrus Manus did not go down with them - but if that happened, I am afraid that all the officers here would immediately die - but he could still complain in the clan council's thought channel. His complaints about the temporary addition of the Third Legion's scum in this operation can be basically summarized as: "As we all know, when the factors of aliens and traitors are added to a calculation formula, even the most perfect plan obtained by the most perfect calculation will eventually fail!"

"No. Fear is not an emotion for an Iron Hand, nor for a Space Marine. Our bodies are forged by the great engineering of Om Messiah and will be constantly strengthened by the Mechanical Spirit of Om Messiah. We are no longer the same as the fragile and sensitive bodies of mortals."

"Sensitive. A very good word." The pronunciation of the newcomer's High Gothic was completely different from that of the locals of Medusa. It was very standard, but the way of using some auxiliary words and phrases was very ancient. If it weren't for Vosco's brainwashing surgery to instill these in him, he doubted that he would have understood what the other party was saying at all.

"Oh." He only said one sentence, and then fell silent, concentrating on buckling himself into the safety buckle of the landing capsule, but his helmet, disturbingly, began to scroll the data link from just now, which showed that he, as a member of the non-Lakuan clan, a lone person, had been incorporated into the tactical team of this strange chapter's reinforcements, and now their tactical communication channel was including him.

Logically speaking, he shouldn't be so suspicious, but Vosko's distrust is actually different from that of the captain of the Karagul clan. His doubts mainly come from the other party's power armor paint and... temperament, which are completely different from his own.

These newly joined warriors were wearing ancient Mark IV and Mark V power armor or the overly rounded lines of the Hades-style (Note 1) Terminator power armor, but compared to these ancient and precious relic armors, their painting was surprisingly casual: the gray-white paint plating covered most of the surface of the bodies of these strange Astartes, almost as if it was hastily splashed.

Only the right shoulder armor of each of them was sprayed with the colors and patterns used to distinguish their chapter emblems and squad logos in accordance with the conventions of the Bible - these yellow and black patterns were delicate and sloppy, and it looked like someone had temporarily brought out an exquisite and detailed spray mold, but the subsequent paint surface, which focused more on accuracy than beauty, was made by the armor painting servitors of the Iron Hands.

At the same time, the chapter color painted on the shoulder armor made Vosko, who inherited the ancient Iron Hands gene seed, instinctively feel disgusted: the right shoulder armor was purple with a newly painted gold trim, and the Imperial Skyhawk on their chest was also shining golden but seemed very inconsistent with the old armor.

"It's too new." While waiting, he stared at the other party's golden sky eagle and said unconsciously.

"What?" asked the soldier who sat down beside him and began to buckle the landing capsule expertly. Vosko noticed that his movements were so smooth and natural, as if he had done this raid a thousand times before.

"…some of your armor pieces. Don't match. Why do your power armor look so ancient, while your helmets and Imperial Skyhawks look so new?"

"Oh, oh." The other man shook his head with a red helmet as if he suddenly understood something. "That's because we just retrieved them and haven't had time to make smooth repairs. They will be repaired harmoniously after the battle is over."

So the armor repairs are prioritized over Imperial Skyhawks and some less conventional parts? ...Maybe they are cousins ​​as devout as my gene-clan?

"Your weapons don't seem to be very common either. There are too many old models and types. I can't even recognize them all. It's rare to see such different bullets in a chapter. And why are they all raw steel color?"

"Oh, oh, you mean this." The other party waved the two weapons in his hand nonchalantly. One of them was a beautiful stance sword, but the decoration was not in the style of the human empire. The surface of the grenade launcher was polished to be smooth and simple, revealing the original color of the metal. There was a brand new parchment scroll of the Holy Word on the gun body, and the red wax seal was smooth and complete, as if it was still steaming. "Too hasty, not enough time... These are the relics of our previous regiment. Well, some of them have been passed down for thousands of years, and some are... the spoils of our attack on the aliens."

"Ten thousand years old relics." Vosko was in awe of the ancient heritage but also felt that it was inappropriate. "It's OK to use captured weapons, but it's not in compliance with the rules of the Holy Scripture to transform alien weapons into your own. And you put them together with these sacred weapons."

"We use them with the permission of... a noble man," the other party answered in a low voice, sounding a little mysterious (or subconsciously not wanting anyone to hear), "we have the permission of a noble man... who is second only to... the throne himself." At the same time, he intentionally or unintentionally showed his companion the colorful parchment scroll stuck on his body, which was full of oaths of war and poems praising victory.

"I see." The Iron Hands recruit nodded slightly. "Did you join us midway? I don't think I've seen any of your people in this fortress of the Lakuan clan before."

The other man tilted his helmeted head. For some reason, Vosko felt that the soldier blinked or smiled inside the helmet. "Yes, we joined in the middle of the journey. So your new recruits don't usually spend much time on the upper and middle decks, so they haven't seen us and don't know about our visit."

"Yes. We usually help the technical sergeants or mechanical priests to maintain the lower floors, reactors and mechanical cabins. This allows us to better understand the spirits of steel and machinery, communicate with them, and try to integrate with them."

"This is very Gorgonian." The other party seemed to laugh again. "Our dear cousin, you always like to do this. Don't you find it boring?"

At this seemingly innocuous question, Vosko's mind carefully raised its own defenses due to his experience on Medusa, just as he had always done in his childhood. "Flesh is weak," he answered simply with the battle cry of the Chapter.

The landing module began to seal all the hatch fixing screws, and the warning ready light came on.

They all felt the floor of the hangar begin to rumble and vibrate, indicating that they were about to begin dropping onto the ground of Medusa. Vosko's doubts gradually began to fade, which was a good sign. After all, they were going to fight side by side on the ground and leave their backs to the other side.

He asked the last question amidst the increasingly noisy background. "So, cousin, whose noble gene bloodline will I join forces with to defend my homeland, and what is the name of your chapter?"

The other party turned his head, and the eyepiece lit up, and at the same time a name and the chapter serial number were transmitted to the Iron Hands' voice receiver.

"We are... the Sons of the Phoenix."

(End of this chapter)