Editing Obstinate Marines (section)

===The Webway Gate===


On the horizon, on a plateau many miles from the Partinax Astartes convoy, a lone Guardsman watches the procession of steel. It had been almost four full days since the arrival of the Astartes -referred to by many as the 'Obstinate' Marines, and the assortment of mobile manufactora and battle-cathedrals seemed never-ending. Soon they would have be gone, as the battle-barges floating over the procession gathered the forces and departed. 
From his vantage point, many miles away, a tiny sliver of grey breaks off from the convoy, and streaks up into the sky leaving a powerful orange trail.

Aboard the Thunderhawk departing from the procession, Battle-Brother Quintus grew impatient. "Brother Tractus, cannot we go faster?" He paced up and down the passenger hold like a tiger caged. "With all due respect, I cannot bear to stand around whilst our target merely -waits-". He spat 'waits' with all the revulsion in the galaxy. 

Brother Tractus sighed, doing what appeared to be a slow, on-the-spot jogging motion. "We will be there soon enough, Brother! The enemies of the Imperium shall know us by the crushing of our boots, and the stamping of our feet. Show a modicum of patience, for we will tread upon their corpses soon enough."
The Partinax Astartes battle-cathedral procession had picked up what had appeared to be an ancient webway gate on a nearby moon, and Dozer squad had been dispatched to investigate.

Moving with all the frontward force in the galaxy, the Partinax Thunderhawk (with its special forward-mounted carnifex-catcher) streaked toward the barren moon. 
The forward-mounted drop ramp of the Thunderhawk suited the Obstinate Marines well, for it allowed them to stride unstoppably into battle, even as the Thunderhawk itself tilted forward to allow the Marines to depart whilst only barely slowing down. When it was time for them to depart, the great dropship would simply scoop them back up again, to be ferried back to the Holy Procession.

Brother Tractus continued his on-the-spot jog as a techmarine pilot yelled a message. "We are approaching the drop site, prepare for planetfall, Brother!"
The Thunderhawk began its tilt forward as the drop ramp lowered. The assorted Astartes (Ten in number) strode toward the opening maw as the atmosphere in the passenger hold evacuated. Even through his power armour, Brother Quintus could feel the motion of air escaping as he faced the ramp - it felt good, like the universe itself inviting him to move forward, unendingly. 

As one, the marines moved forward, falling from the dropship as it tilted far enough forward to have them fall out. The marines, now walking toward the Gate's co-ordinates, watched as the Thunderhawk continued, as it would enter into a steady orbit where it would remain, moving constantly, until the Marines had completed their mission.
Brother Tractus activated his vox transmitter. "In the name of the Emperor, let none stand in our way!"

High above, wreathed in cloaking fields and warp shields, a Chaos battlecruiser, the Temptation of Hedony, sat menacingly, like a predator about to strike. 
This particular ship belonged to a Slaaneshi cult that had decided to appease their foul god by finding a way to assault the Eldar directly, with the purpose of allowing Slaanesh to feast upon the Eldar souls. They had been monitoring the Astartes' movements, hoping the procession would move on and out of the system without detecting the ancient, abandoned Webway Gate. This having failed, a group of fallen Marines moved into drop pods. The plan was to land ahead of the Astartes' squad, and have two squads hold them back whilst at third squad -bearing with them a powerful sorcerer- secured the Webway Gate with a portal into the warp.

Brother Quintus observed the horizon, scanning for any threats, anything hiding in the many craters that pockmarked the landscape. The only sounds were the muffled thumps of his power armour across the landscape, the airless moon allowing no sound to cross. The starry sky above was the epitome of beauty - many other lifeforms, even other Marines, may have marvelled at the exquisite view of the sector, but such trivialities held no such interest for a Partinax Astartes. There was only the Objective. Nothing else mattered. The Emperor himself would guide their boots to the target, and let nothing stand in the way.

Something caught the Brother's eye, however, as nine flecks of light appeared on the horizon. A meteor storm? He wondered for a moment - but no, there was no atmosphere here. Nothing would burn up. That meant only one thing, that these were the retro-rockets of orbital insertion pods. 
A wave of disgust and horror washed over him, and he realised - the taint of chaos was visiting this world. Even worse, they would arrive at the target before the Astartes did.
Still, no matter. They were the Juggernauts, the Emperor's Unstoppable. 
"Brothers!" He shouted, his voice carrying between the armoured suits. "It seems the Heretics wish to stand in our way!"

"Then let them!" Brother Perambulus replied. "Let them be crushed under our heels!"

The chaos marines deployed barely a hundred feet from the buried Webway Gate, the ancient wraithbone poking from the silver dust that covered the moon.
Twenty of Slaneesh's chosen, those marines who had given themselves to the worship of the depraved god of Pleasure, were to form a line and engage the incoming Astartes. 
The oldest among them, the marine formerly known as Brother Princus, was uneasy, however. 
The Astartes surely would have noticed their insertion, would have picked them up on their Auspexes, however the marine squad had made no change of movement, they did not fan out, or prepare to engage, they simply continued their advance as if the chaos marines were not even there. Something about it seemed very wrong to the fallen brother, but he pushed his doubts aside. 
"COME, BROTHERS!" He roared. "LET US BATHE THE CORPSE-WORSHIPPERS IN THE BEAUTY OF PAIN"

Brothers Tractus, Quintus, Perambulus and the seven other Astartes watched with mild amusement as the Slaaneshi marines formed a line, ten men wide and two deep. 

Quintus hefted his bolt pistol, bearing in his other hand a power fist, with a large sheet of metal resembling a storm shield mounted to his wrist. Unusual equipment for a marine, but it was perfectly suited to the Partinax's advance tactic.

"Brothers, to arms! CHAAAAARGE!" He screamed, as he felt his blood almost boil with the anticipation of the coming run. Two-and-a-half tonnes of power armour began to shift into high gear, the improved locomotors and tiny but powerful boosters accelerated the armour to an almost twenty-MPH run. 
"IN THE EMPEROR'S NAME, LET NONE STAND IN OUR WAY!"
The Partinax Astartes charging, the marine formerly known as brother Princus steeled himself for the battle coming. Were they mad? He wondered, charging straight into bolter fire? He levelled his weapon and began firing, as his compatriots did the same.

The Astartes closed, bolter-arm held straight, firing round after round into the Chaos line. incoming fire impacted their armour over and over again, the reinforced metal shrieking at the impacts, and the trenches they carved across it. 
As the marines hit the chaos line, brother Quintus brought his power fist straight into the oversized custom codpiece of the marine formerly known as brother Princus, lifting him clean off of the ground, Quintus not even slowing as the two-tonne chaos marine was lifted by the fist to the crotch. 
The half-daemon marine screamed in anguish as he was carried, Quintus lowering his arm to let the recently-sterilized Slaanesh-worshipper fall to the ground. Similar fates befell the other chaos marines as the Astartes hit with the force of a steel tsunami.

[TBC]