Imperium Ascendant

(A.N. More personal stuff has popped up and Chapter Eight has hit a bit of a snag. It will be done though. Probably in the next 24-48 hours but I didn't want to keep everyone waiting so here is the first half of the chapter. )

Chapter Eight: Thunder from Below

Terra's atmosphere had been ravaged, repaired, and ravaged again throughout the Millennia. Yet even the polluted irradiated sky of the Age of Strife possessed the ability to create a particular phenomenon that had frightened and enchanted Humans for as long as the species has existed: Thunderstorms.

One of these storms raged over The Caucasus Wastes of Terra. Bolts of lightning crashed against the nation-sized forcefield that sheltered the domain of the Ethnarchy. Countless armies both Imperial and otherwise had been broken trying to crack open the Hollow Mountains of the Ethnarch. Yet the Imperium of Man would not be dissuaded and now the full might of the greatest power on Terra was arrayed against the Ethnarchy.

It was at this precipice of war that Arik Taranis and the last of the Thunder Legions arrived. Exiting his transport Arik looked to the sky just as a blast of lightning illuminated the night sky.

"How perfectly proper" the Ancient Thunder Warrior quietly mused as literal lightingbolts of unification erupted overhead the last obstacle for Terran unity. Gesturing to his command squad to follow him Taranis headed towards the command bunker at the center of the impromptu base.

Bracing himself psychologically the Gene-Wrought Giant prepared to meet with his Creator and Liege. Despite hundreds, if not thousands of meetings with the Emperor first contact still rattled the old warrior. The Emperor did not disappoint and the sheer mental impact of his presence was enough to throw the jaded warriors off kilter for a moment.

Arik recovered from the bombardment of stimuli first and was the first to kneel before the Emperor of Mankind, who stood before a hololithic table discussing strategy and plans with his various generals. It has been months since the Emperor had served on the frontlines worrisome rumors had begun to sprout about his disappearance. Looking up from the display the Emperor acknowledged the Thunder Warriors, allowing them to stand.

Moving to speak with his Champion among the Thunder Legions the Emperor saw glimpses of a possible future as he looked into the face of Taranis.

*The Thunder Warriors butchering thousands easily on the fields of Franc till the ground had turned into a lake of blood.*

*Psychotic rage leaving the faces of the survivors of Mount Ararat as they realized there time had come*

*A handful of the tortured broken warriors scattered to the wind as there bodies and minds fractured under their own might*

*Sons of Traitors encountering the Lighting Bearer deep within Terra, his body and face a mass of scars and cancerous lesions. Ruined armor clinging to his titanic bulk as he sat upon a throne of scrap ruling over a kingdom of filth*

Placing his hand upon Arik Taranis's shoulder the Emperor spoke softly to his rapidly breaking prototype: "The time has come Arik. The time for the final war of the Thunder Legions." The somber sadness that marred the Emperor's perfect visage surprised Arik more than the knowledge that came with it. He had expected the end to come in a brutal cull or being locked away and rot. Not in a simple yet cruelly kind opportunity to do what they had been built for.

Taranis knew the end was coming, he had expected this order ever since the first of his sons had died from his own body ripping itself apart. Every time a Thunder Warrior lost any semblance of sanity and butchered allies and civilians or when an Apothecary opened up an ailing Warrior and found his body to be naught but a mess of tumors. The Emperor's blade edged closer to the necks of himself and his soldiers.

The saga of the Thunder Legions was ending and The age of strife was at its close. They had been built to usher out that era of insanity and barbarism yet they were as much part of it as the countless monsters and madman that they had battled. Now they would do their duty and crush the last shadow of ancient horrors dwelling within humanities cradle.

Misson data and tactical assessments poured from the generals and strategists of the Emperor's inner circle into the Thunder Legion Officers as did new equipment born of both Terrawat and Martian technology into the hands of there soldiers. They were to burrow beneath the surface of Terra to reach the mythical source of the Ethnarchies power: The Tempest Galleries

Millions of Soldiers kept up the offensive on the barrier, artillery rained day and night in a nonstop barrage designed not just to simply weaken the void shield but distract the defenders from the true assault. Armored in upgraded power armor and wielding a menagerie of powerful weapons the Thunder Legions were ready to strike. 25,000 Warriors, The last five Stormhosts had been assembled under Arik Taranis and were ready to bring the Emperor's wrath upon any and all who would stand against them.

There transports to the subterranean Tempest Galleries were reverse-engineered Martian vehicles called Termites. Massive burrowing ships built to survive the most punishing environments in the known universe. Ghota, Taranis's second: looked skeptically at the collection of vessels all primed to pierce Terras crust and let out a sound that was a mix of a growl and a groan. Over a secure vox with his Commander he expressed his concern.

"Sir, you know as well as I do that at least a tenth of our forces is teetering on the brink. Is there any other option than cramming us into those half-finished rustbuckets and hoping half our army does not go insane or literally rip itself apart?" Barely reacting to his Equerry's worries Arik simply said "There are contingencies in place"

Hoping he was not bluffing Ghota shrugged his shoulders and took his place in one of the Restraint mounts within the lead Termite. The old Thunder Warrior noted that the design of the seats seemed similar to various dropships and grimaced at the irony of a Thunder Warrior: Storm Incarnate, Conqueror of the Heavens and master of the Deep Strike meeting his end below the world's surface in some bizarre parody of a tactical insertion.

Buckling in and plugging his armor into the surrounding machinery, Ghota's eyes suddenly felt heavy, looking around frantically he saw his Battle-Brothers slumping into there restraints one after another and he could feel his mind fading. Swearing in countless Terran tongues he frantically tried to break free. Looking up to where he had last scene Taranis he saw the legendary warrior sitting casually and unaffected, watching his sons passing out. Realization dawned upon Ghota, this was the contingency. With those final thoughts, he passed out.

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