I quickly gathered up the 3 Ogryns, they were busy making themselves familiar with some improvised slab shields they had been provided. While only made of wood, they would stop most of the ranged attacks the Skaven could throw at us, except Jezzail sniper fire and the like. Small gates in their own right, they would provide all the cover we could want when it came time to advance. The weapons had arrived along with last night's booze and squads were being outfitted with rocket and grenade launchers. We did not have any flamers, but every guardsman worth his armor and weapon were more than familiar with Molotov cocktails, so it would not be an issue to start fires in the Undercity.

It would still be some time before anyone would arrive to deal with the Pandemic Staff, so I might as well make some proper progress on the campaign. With the Ogryns in tow and a random squad I picked out on the way serving as my personal guard, I turned my attention to the enemy on the other side of the blockhouses. I made my way to the barricades that at this point would be more akin to a small fortress placed at the entrance of the enormous, endless cavern that functioned as an expanding area for the Skaven city to build and grow, their reason for preparing an attack on the Imperium being a lack of access to food rather than a lack of space. They could always dig out more of the mountain, or further down even.

The arch-militant were at the front to greet me, already lobbing a mix of incendiary and explosive grenades into the outskirts of the city. By itself, it didn't do much beyond drawing the ire of the Skaven, but we were too far away and too well protected to be worth the effort of firing arrows at us. They had also quickly learned the effective range of our guns and stayed well outside of range whenever possible.

"Greetings, Lord Captain. Just a friendly bit of morning shelling to start the day." He said between reloads and grinned at the grimace running across the hungover guardsmen's faces whenever he fired the launcher.

"Are we ready to begin attacking in earnest?" It was a meaningless question that I already knew the answer to, but formality dictated that I ask it anyway.

"Just waiting for the order, Lord Captain." Came the expected reply and I was handed a vox caster connected to every deployed squad inside of the mountain. "Commence attack. Shake the mountain to its core." I ordered and heard the words repeated at a slight delay from the nearby vox that was installed in the barricades. 3 seconds later I heard the first explosions echo back to us, and a small shudder ran through the gathered soldiers. The battle had been joined and a proper frontline had been drawn, now they could start doing what they did best, grind down the enemy through attrition. A series of small thumps sounded out nearby and a wall of flame rose on the outside of the Skaven city, causing the mutated rats to panic. They clawed at each other in their effort to escape the fiery hell approaching them fast, killing anything in front of them while kicking down anything behind them. The few that started a firefighting effort were quickly swept up in the mess, engaged in isolated fights with the fleeing and panicked victims of our opening salvo. Now to keep it up until our weapons could no longer reach the city effectively. Move forward, rinse, repeat, victory.

Provided the bloody Skaven didn't get creative, which unfortunately was a genuine possibility, especially once they got backed up into a corner. They preferred fleeing and hiding, but if you forced them to fight, you got what you asked for. Surprisingly adept once their life was on the line, many people had found themselves beaten by a smarter or more aggressive Skaven with no options left but to go through you. The screeching from the outskirts of the Undercity reached us, telling its own story of destruction and death. Good, I was getting tired of having to deal with the overgrown rats anyway, tired of wondering what they might be holding in reserve. This would force their hand, and they would throw everything they had at me in an attempt to break through and gain some breathing room. They wouldn't succeed, the weakest point in the enclosed perimeter surrounding them, was the now advancing frontline with tens of thousands of troops waiting to engage the enemy. The rest of the Skaven exits had been continuously reinforced since we first landed on the planet, a process that was still ongoing. At this point, I was receiving reports of plans for solid metal gates being crafted to create permanent exits to the mountain that could be locked down at a minute's notice, with small forts being constructed around the gate for the specific purpose of containing anything that might exit the mountain, even after the campaign is over, as well as serve as training grounds for the more tedious tasks of a PDF trooper, such as standing guard and passing the time while 'on duty'. True, it was still a medieval world by Imperial decree, but it was a good plan for the future and one that I personally approved of, so as soon as I had given it my okay as the planetary governor, the Mechanicus got to work and to avoid the decree of no technology, they enforced a strict curfew and worked at night. This did cause some minor issues with the furniture orders I had placed, but I could live with a few delays as long as there was an enemy to fight, justifying the delay.

Nothing spectacular happened the first day, our bombardment continued and we cleared a good few hundred meters of ramshackle Skaven city outskirts. In the grand scheme of things it was less than nothing, but it was a good and uninterrupted start. The men's morale would benefit greatly from the lack of troubles during the initial attack, a much-changed routine compared to the standard battle awaiting regular guardsmen. In their minds, this shaped the way this little war would play out regularly, and them having the advantage was a welcome change indeed. The second day started much the same way, except the Skaven seemed to have caught on to our plan of attack because they seemed to have an endless supply of water ready to attack any fires with and we made progress even slower than the first day, but progress nonetheless.

I was busy listening to the master vox at the frontline when deep ringing started reverberating through the mountain. Rhythmic and monotenous in tone, it plucked at a string of unease within me and I saw the same unease spread across the faces of the men around me with every toll of the bell. I knew of only one thing the Skaven could use to achieve such an effect. A Screaming Bell.

"MAN THE BARRICADES! PREPARE FOR AN ATTACK!" I yelled out as loud as I could before remembering I was sitting in front of the master vox. "All units, this is your Lord Captain speaking. Man the barricades and steel yourselves for an immediate attack." I sent the message out as quickly as I could before I reached down and drew my stub cannon as I stood up and moved to look out through a small porthole. sure enough, there was a mass of movement in the distance, growing larger by the second. I thought I could see some sort of construction among them, most likely the bell, but it was too far away and too obscured. At least I could hear dozens of boots running from behind us, meaning that my orders were being adhered to with as much speed as the men could muster. Seconds later the large autoguns opened fire, not caring too much about accuracy when packed ranks approached like that. But this was different than the previous skirmishes and probing attacks. The first deaths among the Skaven mob only seemed to spur the frenzy to a higher pitch, forcing them to pick up speed. It had to be the bell, the foul magic of the Skaven working through the constant toiling. It wouldn't do to attack the bell itself, the warp energies running through it making it impervious to most damage, but the Rat ogre that was ringing it would be a different story. I could only hope they brought it close enough for us to take out the bell ringer, but I doubted that would happen. You could say a lot about the Skaven, but the bastards were not stupid despite what everyone else might think.

"I fucking hate those furry bastards!" I mumbled and I heard chuckling from the nearest guardsmen. I put into words what they were all thinking but didn't dare say out of fear that someone might mistake it for cowardice or unwillingness to fight. Lasfire opened up to bolster the autoguns, but it did little good, the brown wave was approaching fast, much faster than I liked. I thought I heard the faint clicking of metal revving up but I didn't have time to think about what it could mean before a hailstorm of warpstone bullets slammed into the fortifications around us at an astonishing speed. I dove for cover, away from the porthole. The barrage lasted for 5 full seconds before there was a break, allowing us to start firing our weapons again.

I could hear cries of "WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?" and "FIND THE XENO SCUM RESPONSIBLE FOR THAT!" from the guardsmen manning the small fortress facing the Skaven city. Great, they brought Ratling Gunners. If they had Ratling Gunners, they had both the means and the wealth to also field Stormfiends, which would make our lives a living hell, should they hold them back until we were forced to abandon our nice and cozy fortifications to raze the Undercity. Which those damnable grey seers would do without a doubt. A skaven would always, always, capitalize on an advantage, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant.

"KEEP FIRING! WE HAVE AT LEAST A MINUTE BEFORE THEY CAN RELOAD!" I yelled, hoping the soldiers around me would not question where I had this knowledge from but just accept it as fact and get back to firing their weapons. In truth, a ratling gunner team took almost 2 minutes to reload their weapon, but I was not taking chances. I had already lost men to the first barrage, their corpses were still writhing with a vile, pulsating green energy.

I saw a soldier reach out to grab something from one of them and I kicked out and hit his hand before he could make physical contact. "DON'T TOUCH THE DEAD!" I roared as the corpse began mutating rapidly where the warpstone bullets had hit, twisting and expanding the flesh in a sickening display. Without prompt, some of the troops started blowing holes in their dead comrades with their lasguns until the mutation stopped. Just as well, it would not do to have mutants run amok in our fortifications. The autoguns came under fire from jezzail snipers hiding far behind the approaching horde, which seemed far better equipped now that it had gotten close enough to distinguish the individual Skaven. Proper clothing, triangular shields, well-made spears, a torrent of round and polished stones from trained slingers, frenzied packmasters driving hordes of mutated creatures in front of them, even a few rat ogres with newly fashioned armor plating that still had the shine of freshly produced steel. This meant that they either had far better connections among the planet's population than anticipated or that the cultists had set up a forging operation within the mountain, either of which would suggest that this problem has been growing for far longer than I cared to think about. It would also mean an accusation against my character when the Inquisition showed up, but I could dismiss that easily enough with the Imperial records. What it meant for the family bloodline of the former governor, however...

I was ripped out of my thoughts as a massive boulder crashed against the fortifications, caving in some of the portholes and leaving the wall a weakened mess of splintered wood. It would be easy for the rat ogres to hammer their way through once they reached the walls. "GRENADE LAUNCHERS, FIRE!" Was called out from somewhere and several *thumbs* quickly followed, falling into a steady rhythm after the first few rounds went off. It would not stop the attack, but it would slow the attacking troops and force them to scatter right before the final stretch of ground, taking away their collective momentum. With a bit of luck, it would stall the attack long enough to prepare for a tactical retreat to the next blockhouse. A soldier ran in front of me to get his gun to a porthole, but I grabbed his arm and had to hold him up as the sudden stop almost made him fall over.

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"Grab a few men and start moving supplies to the next blockhouse! I want these fortifications emptied before the mutants break through the wall!" I hissed and shoved him toward the storage area in the back. It would take them a few minutes to get rid of everything the enemy might make use of, but the less equipment I gave the Skaven to experiment with, the less trouble I would have with newly fashioned and unstable weaponry. I risked another glance out over the Skaven undercity, and my heart sank. The horizon had become blurry and moving as the cultists had joined the Skaven assault. And however many numbers I thought they had behind them were put to shame. Thousands upon thousands of raving mad lunatics, covered in dirt, and grime, and painted with the symbol of chaos undivided in blood, swinging improvised weaponry that focused more on inflicting pain than killing, all while screaming incoherently, were bearing down on us. The effect was a rolling wall of sound that impacted my troops and filled them with a sense of dread and foreboding.

I could see the effect roll over the fortifications, the troops started fumbling with their weapons, they dropped charge packs before they reloaded, and their aim became unsteady. That's when the Skaven's damnable bell started ringing with amplified effort, sending shockwaves through the air, each of them hitting us like a physical punch in the gut. One that left you drained of all positive emotions and a sense of hope. I couldn't have that, not when they were attacking like this. If the defenses failed, they would roll through the mountain and into the world beyond, unimpeded and lusting for destruction. I took up a position in the center of the blockhouse where my now passive ability could do the most, and I saw those within the influence steady their hands and regain the steel in their eyes. Great, I had to stay close to the frontline for as long as that bell kept tolling or my men would hesitate and falter. Just what I needed.

I saw a whisp of green among the enemy troops and tried focusing on it. There, in all its evil glory, was the cart that carried the bell. Behind it stood 2 rat ogres who worked together to swing a large piece of wood with a head of warpstone into the bell, which was bathed in a sickly green light while warpfire engulfed the entire thing. Every impact of the improvised hammer resulted in a shower of green sparks, clouds of warpstone dust, and visible shockwaves of unholy energy spreading in every direction. The grey seer situated on top of the entire contraption was cackling with maniacal glee while huffing the clouds of warpstone dust around him, the psychic energy streaming off of his body as he poured every ounce of his formidable power into the Screaming Bell.

"GET SOME ROCKETS ON THAT THING!" I commanded and not 5 seconds later 3 frak missiles screamed through the air. They never made impact though, a mixture of warp lightning and a psychic forcefield stopped them in their tracks, but I did see him buckle under the strain of keeping the power of a modern missile at bay with his forcefield. It would not take many to get rid of the grey seer or the bell, provided we could secure enough breathing room for the rockets to take proper aim and fire in tandem. Of course, we could also try to ride out the attack, hoping we could stay awake longer than the Skaven could frenzy.

I discarded the idea as fast as I got it, with a screaming bell the Skaven would frenzy until all life was destroyed or subjugated and they could claim the planet. We were stuck in it now, victory or death were the only options left to us. A roar followed by the crashing sound of splintering wood and the fortifications shaking violently broke me out my pondering as someone yelled "THE BIG ONES STARTED THROWING ROCKS!". Another mighty crash shook the fortifications and I made a fateful choice. I hurried over to the arch-militant who was sending grenades into the incoming flood of fur with practiced ease.

"Place explosive charges on the walls, make sure it will collapse this structure, not demolish it! Then pull the men back to the next blockhouse and call up more heavy weapons to reinforce our potential firepower, start issuing 2 bandoleers of grenades to every guardsman on the frontline, and inform them to be liberal with their use. After that, I want you to select the 50 best troops we currently have, and form them into a strike squad. Give them a shotcannon alongside their lasgun, and make sure they only carry frak grenades. There will not be armor that needs to be cracked. See to it!" I ordered and got a strange look in return before my orders were followed. Everything would be done in an orderly and efficient manner, the troops would be pulled back and the explosives detonated on time. All I had to do was prepare for this next plan. I must be out of my goddamned mind!

____________

Over the next few hours, everything was carried out as I ordered it. The collapse of the fortifications overlooking the Undercity created a proper blockage in the tunnel. Not that it stopped the Skaven, we could hear them digging furiously on the other side whenever we got close enough, but my troops were afforded more than enough time to set up more autoguns and heavy bolters. Hastily mixed ferrocrete was applied to the outside of the wooden blockhouses, making them much more resistant to both warpstone bullets and thrown boulders. Sure, we had to light fires at the base of the blockhouse to dry it out quickly enough to have any meaningful effect, and it would still take a few days for it to harden properly, but it would have to do as it was. The soldiers I asked to be pulled aside were gathered and given their new equipment, which was received with extreme enthusiasm. Guardsmen were opportunistic, bordering on kleptomaniac, when it came to gear, and a new weapon alongside extra bandoleers of grenades were nothing to be scoffed at. Sure, I could not upgrade their armor, but doing so would also make them less effective. Having to adjust to new and unfamiliar armor during a special operation was a serious detriment to their fighting ability, one I could not afford.

I had my own ships confessor brought in from the outlying villages where he and his preachers were rooting out heresy if there was any to be found. I was busy avoiding both the group I had gathered and Idris as she was looking for me, probably pour more troubles onto my already overflowing plate, when the confessor arrived back. I only knew because he marched straight up to my tent to look for me. I could hear him calling for me, and I had to hurry to shut him up before Idris heard him as well.

His face lit up as he laid eyes upon me, and again, he drew in a large breath to go off on a praising speech, and once more I raised a hand to silence him before he started. I had to admit, watching him deflate like that was kind of funny, but there was no time to focus on the humor.

"I need you to lead me and a group of guardsmen in both prayer and blessings. We are about to undertake a most dangerous critical task, and I desire those who accompany me to do so with a clear conscience and the love of the Emperor in their hearts. We start immediately. And yes, I know you have had no time to prepare a sermon, but I prefer it this way. Let the Emperor speak through you, confessor." I told him softly and the almost ecstatic look on his face told me I could not have picked a better way to go about this.

And it came to be, that a mix of 50 guardsmen and voidsmen, and their rogue trader captain, were all kneeling in unison as the confessor took a position in front of us. He looked nervous as he prepared to speak, but then again, this was an impromptu sermon. with no time to prepare, he would have to pour everything he had ever learned into this sermon. He pulled out a small aspergillum and started sprinkling us with water droplets as he intoned,

"By the Emperor's might, may I be warded. From the choking fumes, may He deliver me. From the scorching tongues, may He protect me. That I may protect His works.

Shielded by my faith, I fear not flame, I fear not poison, I fear not plague.

May this holy water cleanse my skin; may this ritual cleanse my soul.

I am an imperfect child of the Emperor, I cast out the abhorrent filth, and make myself worthy of Him.

Ave Imperator."

"Ave Imperator!" We answered in unison. Following the opening prayer came a short but powerful speech about facing the dangers that threatened the Imperium so that the civilian population could live in peace and grow prosperous under the Emperor's guidance. When the confessor took a small break to have a quick drink of water and regain his composure, the 50 troops around me started a prayer without prompt.

“The Emperor is our guiding light, a beacon of hope for humanity in a galaxy of darkness. As we serve Him, He is our greatest servant. As we pray to Him, His thoughts are only for us. And in the dark when the shadows threaten, the Emperor is with us, in spirit and in fact.”

They chanted 3 times. I was quick to fall into the well-known prayer and even the confessor got a solemn look of peace on his face as he watched the troops praying more fervently and fiercely than both he and I expected of them. They prayed with an intensity you would expect of people tethering on the threshold between life and death, the true belief in their own words carrying through to let me know that these men and women did not merely believe in the Emperor as a divine being. To them, it was just a fact of life, the way that things were, and they offered up their entire being to him through their prayers.

After the troops stopped chanting, the confessor allowed a moment of silence to settle over the group before he spoke again. "Before we end this sermon, I ask of you. Have any among you sinned against the Emperor? Fear not the truth, for you can approach and receive penitence, lest the Emperor condemn you when your duty ends. We spea sub rosa; may my eyes and ears be His, and may my tongue speak only as He wills. Children of the Creed, speak thou and be heard, for He is with us.

For a moment nothing happened. Then 7 troops moved forward and threw themselves flat in front of the confessor. "Imperator miserere, for I have sinned; I come before you as a penitent." They cried out. This was new to me, but their words were the same, almost delivered in tandem, so it had to be ritualistic.

The confessor rose to his full height and spread out his arms in an embracing gesture before he answered, "Penitent, I stand before you as a candle. That light that burns before you is His light, and you sit with Him. The Emperor loves you, sinner, as he loves all humanity. Speak of your sin, so that it might be laid naked and you might be judged."

They all admitted to varying sins of lesser degrees, ranging from personally questioning the Emperor's divinity, to having allowed unregulated mutants to live. By themselves, not the worst of sins and certainly not the worst we could find among 20.000 Imperial troops, but harsh enough to warrant some sort of punishment.

After a theatrical moment of pondering, the confessor delivered his verdict. "Grave it is to sin against the Emperor, no matter the size or nature of the transgression. Penance must be paid, and you will pay yours by ensuring the life and safety of our lord captain on his coming excursion. No matter the cost, no matter the effort, he must return alive. As such the Emperor decrees, and as such it shall be done." The confessor stepped back and waited for us to get underway. He had performed his duty and performed it well, while also letting me know that I had his full support. We were natural opponents, him from the Ecclesiarchy, and me backed by the Inquisition. But I had proven myself flexible enough to warrant his vouching for me, something that could benefit me massively, should I ever come under scrutiny from his organization.

"Lord captain?" A fairly old sergeant directed his words at me. "What exactly is the nature of our current task?" Not an unreasonable question, but one I could fully choose to ignore. Instead of answering the sergeant, I looked at the confessor. "The blessing of the Ardous, if you would be so kind," I commanded, and the confessor stepped forward once more. It was not a blessing I had in my system in this world, but I remembered it from back home and it felt quite fitting. The soldier understood the meaning of my words but had no clue about the blessing either. Not surprisingly, it was not a well-known piece of lore.

“O Holy Emperor, watch over Your servants. The path of the faithful is not easy, yet in Your name it must be walked; the burdens of service are not light, yet in Your name they shall be borne. Be Thou the star in our darkness; the light that shows truth and the beacon of home. Be Thou the guide and the guardian, the scourge and the savior. For in Your name, what must be done, shall be done.”

The confessor recited solemnly as he sprinkled more water on us, and it felt different to me. Sort of tingly, but it didn't linger. I looked at the sergeant after the confessor finished. "Flanking maneuver, sergeant. We are going to cause a bit of chaos for the damnable mutants. Now follow me and keep noise to a minimum."