As I left my tent, my blue greatcoat billowed behind me. As I walked, Trokk and his remaining Ogryn compatriot lumbered up to me, eager to receive orders. "Follow me, and stay close," I said with a small smile at their eagerness to join combat. Ogryns may not have a lot of intelligence, but their loyalty was unquestionable and their hatred for the enemies of humanity would see them dead before dishonored. I moved to a halfway point between the cavern entrance at our backs, and the tunnel leading further into the mountain where I took a stance, laspistol in one hand and my falchion in the other.

"GUARDSMEN, FORM A FIRING LINE! WALL TO WALL, I WANT TO SEE LASGUNS POINTED AT THE TUNNEL! HEAVY BOLTERS ON THE FLANKS, BRAWLERS IN THE THIRD LINE!" My orders were repeated across the cavern and the firing line started forming. Within 10 minutes the cavern was covered end to end with guardsmen pointing their lasguns toward the tunnel opening, the heavy bolters on the far flanks had endless boxes of ammunition delivered, and the brawlers, those among the guardsmen that had either the size and bulk to excel in melee, or those nimble individuals with pure skill, had taken their place in the third row, ready to rush forward and engage in melee if the Skaven made it through the hailstorm of ranged firepower I was setting up for them.

"TROKK!!" I yelled out, and the Ogryn came trudging up to me. "You and your Ogryns do not leave my side during this battle unless I order you to." He nodded at my words and they fell into place behind me. Already guardsmen were slowly filing out of the tunnel leading into the mountain, splitting off to the sides as soon as the cavern walls allowed them to and they hurried to take their place in the ranks of soldiers at my back, eager to reach the safety of massed numbers. Explosions, shouting, heavy gunfire, and bestial roaring could be heard from the tunnel and I guessed we only had a few minutes to get ready before our last strongpoint had fallen. One of my aides came up to me and I turned my head to receive his message.

"The Inquisitor had ordered me to inform you that he will be marching a full regiment of Mordian Iron guards to the frontline as soon as they can leave his ships. In the meantime, he will join you at the front as soon as his personal armor and weapons have been brought to him. He has also ordered mine launchers to be brought to the front." He said, and I detected a hint of fear in his voice.

"Thank you. Bring me a master vox and then make yourself scarce, I would hate to lose a competent aide to an overzealous mutant." I replied, and he made the aqualia before hurrying over to a group of officers where he gestured wildly and pointed at me to give his words power. The look of annoyance on their faces was replaced with resignation as he had them help carry the voxcaster over to my position. There seemed to be no apparent reason for my orders, but what could they know of my plans? I had to do something to get the witch hunter to back off, and I knew just how to do it.

I grabbed the vox-caster as he left for safety behind our firing lines. "Heavy weapon squads, your orders are to focus on the larger mutants and abominations, especially mutant psykers. Leave the fodder to the regular troops. Mine launchers will arrive soon and I want them aimed at the tunnel entrance. It does not matter if the enemy is already occupying the area when they arrive, I want that entrance saturated with frak mines. To all units, we are entering the primary battle for the mountain and the enemy is throwing everything they have at us. Steel yourselves, and pray in earnest with me, that we may face the enemies of humanity with fire in our hearts and hatred in our minds.

I offer my life to the Emperor, I pray that He accepts it.

I offer my strength to the Emperor, I pray that he redresses it.

I offer my blood to the Emperor, I pray that it quenches His thirst.

I offer my body on the altar of the battlefield, I pray He grants me a noble death.

I pray for His protection, as I offer all that I am.."

Within the first few words of my pray, I could hear the guardsmen across the cavern raise their voices to recite the warriors prayer of battle. I could not see our dear Inquisitor but had no doubt he could hear the praying, no matter where he was. Let's see him proclaim me having heretical tendencies now.

As the prayer ended, an eerie silence fell over the cavern. All of us watched the tunnel and the sporadic groups of guardsmen that filed out at speed, running as if daemons were chasing them, and all of us were thinking the same. Let them come and face the volley of thousands of lasguns at once. Let them taste the Emperor's fury channeled through the men and women fighting in his name. And let them fall before us.

After a few minutes passed our silent waiting was shattered by an ear-shattering roar, followed by hundreds of voices all chanting in unison from within the tunnel.

"By verse of eight and chorus of four, with a choir of bone and chords of pain, I am the celebrant of ruin. By path of eight and praise of four, I bow to excess and blood, to change and to plague. With sight of eight, by command of four, I am weaver and reaper, the shaper of souls and their devourer. I lead the congregation of slaughter. I bring the revelation of skulls. My path is deluge, my wake is holocaust, and my march is fealty. I am the servant. I am the priest. I am the undivided."

I could see the unease spreading among the ranks of guardsmen and I had to do something. Activating the vox once more, I spoke with a stern and jovial voice. "Rejoice! For we are blessed by the Emperor on this day! Not only do we get to rid this planet of mutant filth, but heretics as well! Through the destruction of our enemies do we earn our salvation!" As I finished the well-known quote, a roar as impressive as any the Skaven and heretics could muster rose from our ranks as the troops were filled with grim determination.

The last of our own out of the tunnel was Idris's arch militant, walking backward as he fired controlled salvos of lasgun fire into the darkness, every shot granting a moment of illumination of a horde of heretics, both armored and unarmored. The moment he was able to, the arch-militant dashed to the side, opening up for the rest of us to start firing. And open fire, we did. I gave the order through the master vox. "FIRE!"

As lasguns lit up the semi-permanent darkness and superheated the air, the smell of ozone quickly became overpowering, drowning out the smell of sweat and fear. The screams of the dead and dying chaos worshippers began ringing through the air. Beastial and unnatural roars could be heard further back, but my heavy weapon squads were not yet firing. Good, they adhered to my orders, waiting for the moment when their firepower was needed. The heretics were still pushing forward despite the wall of death blocking the tunnel, their numbers and blood-crazed charge were enough to force the sheer numbers forward. Some of them used the corpses of their comrades as improvised shielding against the onslaught, and it DID buy them precious seconds of movement whenever they did.

They soon hit the tunnel opening, spreading out like marbles rolling across the floor, giving the rest of my firing line targets of opportunity as hundreds more lasguns opened fire and lit up crevices that had never seen something as bright. I was firing my laspistol as fast as I could and got the occasional blip in the corner of my eye, but that was not my reason for going for the middle of the line. I wanted to prove by action, beyond any doubt, that our dear witch hunter was wrong in his badly hidden animosity against my person and that any further continuation of such, would only work against his already horrendous reputation, considering his affiliation with the Inquisition.

And a Rogue Trader, leading the defense against heretics and mutants working together was about as true a behavior a man could display in service to the Emperor. Going against me after this could see him risk open rebellion. I already had a more than adequate reputation among my fighting men and women for them to choose me over the fear of an Inquisitor. If he moved on me after this, He wouldn't make it to the designated execution spot before he would be ripped to shreds by them men among us.

The larger aberrations of the Skaven came pushing out of the tunnel, bulldozing chunks of our fortifications in front of them. This makeshift barrier vastly increased the flow of giant rats, Skaven slaves, aberrations, and other hideously mutated things, and they died in greater numbers as a result. The heavy bolters were barking now, their larger bolts ripping through the horde at an astonishing speed. Even as better equipped Skaven, the clan rats, entered the line of fire it did little to stop them. We simply had too much firepower concentrated on a single point of entry.

But, as with all good things, so to had our advantage. The ground started rumbling and about 20 meters in front of me the ground exploded upwards and a giant balding creature with front claws the size and thickness of a regular Skaven came flying towards us. It was only the combined fire that made the Burrowing Behemoth curl up to protect its face rather than succeed in its impact upon us. As things were, it landed a few meters in front of us and spun in place causing its tail to impact my firing line. I was pushed aside as bodies were moved with bone-shattering force and the brawlers didn't wait for my order, but charged forward with claymores, axes, and falchions. They descended upon the beast like a swarm of ants attacking a larger and stronger, but ultimately inferior insect specimen. While our part of the line got back in order, Trokk had pulled me to my feet and moved close enough that I could smell him, but at least he gave me just a bit of breathing room from the other soldiers, not wanting to get in the way of a protective Ogryn.

Stolen story; please report.

The Burrowing Behemoth fell under the combined efforts of the brawlers and the rest of the line, and they started cheering, but I caught the eye of one of the sergeants and signaled for them to retreat immediately. The Skaven would not let such a tunnel, so close to us, go unused and I was not about to lose my best melee fighters just because they got excited over killing a giant mutant. Besides that, my battlefield-savant ability was screaming to me that trouble was incoming. Thank the Emperor I was not in a position to be questioned about my tactical decisions.

My instincts proved right as moments after the brawlers pulled back to our own lines, the heretical followers of the Skaven came screaming out of the hole in the ground, shouting madly and swinging their weapons at anyone that got too close, including each other. It wouldn't be long before they reached our lines, even with the ranged weapon advantage we had. I had to do something, this could throw everything down the drain since every soldier on my side that got entangled in the melee was one lasgun less to fire at the enemy, which in turn would see more enemies reach the lines in a vicious cycle that could quickly turn this battle into a crushing defeat. I was so insanely outnumbered that even starting this war has been bordering on suicide. But, in for a penny, in for a pound and I had to do something, anything.

I grabbed the master vox, "I need breachers to my location. Bring melta Charges!" I ordered and hung it back up before I could get a reply. "TROKK!" I screamed as I looked around for the lumbering giant. A giant hand landed on my shoulder and I looked to my right to find him staring down at me. "We need to reach the tunnel so we can collapse it! When I say so, get me to the hole in the ground!" I ordered him, and I saw him ponder my words for a second before nodding with resolution and hefting the improvised slab shield, made from a handful of small tree trunks, that was on his back. As soon as he did that I readied my blade, switching it to my dominant right hand.

"FIX BAYONETS! GET READY TO CHARGE!" I yelled as loud as I could, and many soldiers around me fixed their bayonets between shots with experienced ease, barely breaking stride in their controlled bursts. Somewhere behind me, I heard orders being yelled, and moments before I gave my order to charge a series of *THUMP* noises. The mine launchers had arrived. I waited a few seconds for the first explosions to do their magic, but I was surprised at the low intensity of the explosions. It didn't lessen the amount of screaming though, it rather seemed to enhance it, and I realized that there was fear mixed in with the pain and dying. Pure, genuine, unfiltered fear. The Iron Guard must have used shredder mines to turn swathes of the battlefield into bloody pulp. As insidious and morally questionable as it was, I had to respect the effectiveness of such a tactic. Those who did not die would be maimed beyond fixing by whatever primitive mud paste that passed for medicine on a medieval world.

A few moments passed before I heard a voice from my left. "You summoned us, Lord Captain." I saw a group of rough-looking guardsmen, more so than the standard grizzled individuals you might find in the Guard. I looked them over and they presented themselves with the Aquila for a moment before hefting lasguns and adding fire to the ranks of soldiers while waiting for instructions. "Yes," I said to the squad leader. "I need you to close the tunnel ahead of us. I do not care how, as long as your fellow guardsmen do not suffer in the ensuing explosion. Follow behind me when the line starts moving." I ordered him, and he smiled widely.

"It's not often we are afforded a place behind the front. That will make it an easy and fast task, Lord Captain!" he grinned as he acknowledged my order and turned to instruct his squad. I gave him a few seconds to convey the message and then turned my attention back to the task at hand, and the rather impatient Ogryn standing in front of me.

"Now, Trokk!" I said while giving him a push in the back. With a shout of glee, he threw himself forward, his bulk and unexpected momentum it brought with it saw 2 heretics turn to red paste on the massive steel club he wielded in his right hand. "DEATH TO THE HERETICS!" I cried out as I raised my falchion as high as I could and made a slashing motion forward, settling into a fast jog to keep up with Trokk, who was busying himself with pulping any of the chaos worshippers that crossed his path on the way to the tunnel in the ground. The collective roar of the soldiers around me as they joined in the charge made the chaos heretics pick up speed in return, eager to join in the melee. With a handful of steps, the line crashed into the charging heretics. The heretics had the advantage of psychotic rage and a fearlessness that only came from fanatical zealotry, my ranks had the advantage of being able to work together and enjoying cover fire from ranged weaponry. The spread-out formation of the heretics also helped my troops overpower them before they could group up. Trokk, for his part, was moving with the singular purpose of reaching the tunnel, and the path he had taken was already littered with the broken corpses of those who had tried to stop him.

The breacher team was close behind me and as soon as we got close enough, 4 of the navis endurants set up their heavy shields and trained their specialized shotgun toward the tunnel, ready to lay down devastating amounts of fire on anyone that got too close. Their sergeant took up position in front of them, his chainsword growling as the engine inside of it was idling. The squad's surveyor knelt behind the endurants and started furiously operating the electronic device in his hands. I was not close enough to see what exactly he was using, but I had a good idea. 3 servo skulls with a rather large and unsightly metal ball fitted where the lower jaw should be, rose above the ranks of my firing lines behind me and started floating toward the hole in the ground.

"GHEISTSKULLS ON THE MOVE!" The surveyor called out, and the rest of the breacher team took up position around him while the regular troops that had followed us made themselves busy with trying to set up a supporting firing line that could free up those caught in melee combat. The servoskulls modified with explosive charges floated hastily toward the hole from which the heretics continued to pour forth, now with more Skaven slaves in tow. If the damnable rats had redirected some of their forces to that tunnel, it was a matter of moments before more exotic variants or mutants spilled forth. One of the gheistskulls was knocked down by a heretic who got lucky with a wild swing but the other 2 floated on and disappeared into the hole. Seconds later, a gout of flame erupted from the ground and the sound of an explosion followed by a collapsing tunnel reached us.

We didn't have time to celebrate. "BACK TO THE LINE!" I cried out and the endurants started backing up while still training their shotguns forward and keeping their shields in place. They were firing fast but still with precision, as the time we had spent dealing with this attempt at circumventing our firing lines had cost us precious ground that the rest of the original firing line could not keep secure, and the Skaven clanrats were getting precariously close, with only a hundred or so meters separated the charging horde from our lines. A clanking whirring of metal cut through the sounds of battle and screams of death, and green warpstone bullets started hammering into the shields of the endurants and the soldiers around us. I followed the trajectory of the sudden burst of gunfire from our enemy and my heart sank.

There, waddling out of the tunnel with a weapon that was already firing, came a Stormfiend followed by 2 augmented rat ogres sporting warpfire throwers and massive pincers made out of rusted metal. The packmaster that was fused to the back of the Stormfiend, acting as an auxiliary brain to help it understand tactics and complex orders was directing the fire of the 3 ratling cannons grafted unto the beast, and with eight barrels each, it was laying down devastating amounts of firepower and destruction, especially against firing lines like the one I had made my soldiers get into. The augmented rat ogres stuck near it, no doubt intended to take over should anything happen to the Stormfiend. Not that it was likely to happen, the green arching lighting that wreathed the Stormfiend in a protective field made it impossible for anyone to engage in close combat with it. For a short second, I pondered the enormous cost to the Skaven warlord that had secured such a beast but I could not linger at that thought.

"SHOOT THE LITTLE ONE ON THE BACK!!" I cried out to no one in particular as I started firing my laspistol with impunity, desperately hoping that one of the shots would connect. If we could take out the packmaster that was fused to it, the natural aggression of the Stormfiend would make it turn on the 2 augmented rat ogres out of instinct. They were extremely territorial and extremely violent by nature, and it was our only chance of getting rid of the beast without committing enormous amounts of lives to the task. I could see the tracers from one of the heavy bolters shift its aim and start peppering the beast, several of the bolts impacting near packmaster, but not a direct hit. The Stormfiend roared, a sound that made the cave vibrate with its echo, and started turning to return the favor of firepower, but the troops close to me added their lasguns to the mix, and one of them scored a lucky hit, nailing the packmaster in the head and taking off most of it in the process. An anguished cry came from the Stormfiend and it shook its head in confusion before its eyes settled on one of the augmented rat ogres and it turned its weapons on its comrade. The hailstorm of warpstone bullets was enough to bring down the foe, but the other rat ogre now got involved, firing warpfire into the face of the Stormfiend while it tried to get a hold of it with its pincer. They would destroy each other quickly enough.

The sight of their champions of war being bested before they could even start doing proper damage was more than even the Stormvermin that had started showing up in the tunnel could handle. A horrendous stench spread in the massive cave as thousands upon thousands of Skaven started excreeding the musk of fear, and panic set in among their ranks. In another few minutes, they would be routed and we could start the cleanup process. This attack was an all-or-nothing affair for the Grey seer that had ordered it, and if this failed now he would lose the support of every Skaven under the mountain, as well as whatever other leaders that was still alive.

"NO!! MAN-THING MUST DIE-DIE! DO NOT FLEE OR SUFFER THE ANGER-WRATH OF THE GREAT HORNED RATS CHOSEN SEER!" Out of the tunnel came the largest rat ogre I had ever seen, more than twice as big as the regular ones, and with a hunched back caused by the truly obscene amount of muscle mass on the gigantic creature. On the back a platform had been mounted, and on said platform stood the grey seer that had cursed my existence after we ruined his screaming bell contraption and killed at least one of the rat ogre handlers on it. The grey seer I had gravely insulted in his own language as I was being carried away.

His beady eyes were scanning the carnage in front of him, the destroyed hole in the ground, and the firing lines that were killing his Skaven troops by the hundred every second. Then he saw me.

"YOU! DEFILER OF THE SACRED BELL! ENEMY OF THE HORNED RAT! YOU WILL SUFFER-SUFFER AS THE MIGHTY-STRONG SKAVEN TAKE THEIR REVENGE ON YOU! DIE-DIE, DIE-DIE!" The ranting grey seer was practically frothing at his mouth as he lifted his hand and I saw green-forked lightning shoot straight toward me. I had no place to move, no room to dodge. Being pressed in between the soldiers around me, I was staring at his warp attack as it snaked through the air at incredible speeds and only one thought stuck in my head.

"I was supposed to find a way home..."