Editing Obstinate Marines (section)

== Legends of the Partinax Astartes ==
There are many tales told of the Obstinate marines. Some may be propaganda spread by rivals or enemies, others exaggerations told by outsiders. Some may even come from within the chapter itself. The truth remains unknown, and the Partinax do not care to give time to clarifying things. Readers are encouraged to make up their own minds about what is true and what is not. 

=== Forever Pigheaded ===
Captain Obduratus did not stop or slow as the report came in from his scout squadron. There was no time for that kind of bullshit.

"Sir, we have the Xenos assault units trapped on the second floor of the building. Unfortunately the only way up is a set of wooden stairs. Recommend standby until the tech marines can activate the elevatus."

He did not stop to shake with rage at this suggestion. He was too determined to stride to his goal. However, as he kicked down the walls of the building the Xenos were holed up in, he did spare the time for a small rebuke.

"Hold for the elevatus? We are no Ultramarines."

As he activated the jump packs on his terminator armor, he had but one thing to say.

"We are the Obstinate Marines. The Emperor's Juggernauts. And nothing will stand in our way."

Inside the building, the jump packs propelled him upward until he burst through the ceiling to the floor above.

In a corner, the squad of Firewarriors cowered and readied their weapons.

Nothing could stand in the way of his mission.


=== Dawn of Stubbornness ===

[[Mordecai Toth|Inquisitor Mordecai Toth]] glared at the white-haired Blood Raven. “Captain. I am not questioning your loyalty. But I have to wonder if the events you witnessed on Cyrene perhaps affected your judgment.” Angelos spun around, seething. “I apologize. That was a poor choice of words. But...what?” The tense exchange between the two power-armored men was broken by the keening shriek of a drop pod. Toth tilted his head back and gaped. “Did you call for them?”

“Of course not,” Angelos growled. “I know better.”

The pod slammed into the ground nearly half a click to the north. A plume of dust and Orkish bits rocketed into the sky from the impact. Toth broke into a jog, his artificer armor eating up the distance, Angelos hot on his heels. He reached the edge of the crater and stared.

A small pack of Orks was busily firing away at the six-man squad of Astartes that had climbed out of the pod, who were looking around themselves as if confused. Suddenly, they seemed to notice the Orks around them, and one of them distractedly picked one up and threw it into the others, bowling them over. Before they could react, the squad leader hefted his bolter and took off at a dead sprint, racing for… Toth’s stomach knotted. They were headed directly for the mine where the Key of the Maledictum had been hidden away.

“By the Throne,” Toth grumbled. “They’re called the Partinax Marines for a damned reason…”

Angelos looked at the spectacle and laughed. “Well, this should be entertaining. Come on, we can see it better from over there.”

The newcomers wasted no time. The group of Marines charged forward through the forest, plowing through the brush as if it weren’t there. A small cluster of equipment pods landed ahead of them, and they snatched more weapons from them without even slowing down.


Atop a nearby hillock, the Dark Reapers of Macha’s task force watched, unseen. “Farseer,” one reported, tapping his helmet, “A group of Imperials has arrived. They are NOT the Ravens.”

“Who are they?” Macha’s irritated voice replied.

“Ah…I’m not sure. They’re plowing through the Orks like a molecular stiletto through air.”

“Well… how close are they to the Key?”

“Very.”


As if they had been listening in, the Astartes suddenly changed course, sprinting through a started clump of Orks who had wandered into their path. The Nob leading them saw the commotion and waved his choppa at them. “Dere’s da Space Marines! Krump ‘em good, boyz!” The greenskins still on their feet roared in response.

“WAAAAGH! Gut ‘em! We’ll…uh…” they trailed off as the Marines charged, heedless, through the clearing and out the other side, ignoring the Orks completely.

“W…wot do we do, boss?” one asked the Nob hesitantly.

“FOLLOW THEM, YA GIT!” he yelled back. “Iz you blind? They must be headin’ to a betta fight!” The Orks nodded at their leader’s impeccable logik and trundled off after the distant Astartes.

In the middle of a ruined Imperial chapel, nearly a mile ahead, Farseer Macha bowed her head respectfully to the Dark Reaper Exarch who stood before her. “Thank you, my dear friend, for your sacrifice. I must call upon you to execute it now.”

“You can not ask for what I give freely, Farseer. My life is Biel-Tan’s.” Without another word, he strode over the lip of the ruined building and vanished in a brilliant red fireball.

“The Seers have chosen! The Young King has sacrificed himself. We see now, the War God! Kaela Mensha Khaine!” she called out, arms raised.

“I…HAVE AWOKEN…TO DO BATTLE…WITH THE ENEMIES OF THE ELDAR…” a reverberating voice said from beyond the shattered building façade. “NOW DIRECT ME…TO THE – OW! WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Macha blinked at the deviation from the ritual. Curiosity got the best of her, and she inched forward to look over the edge of the crumbling stairs in front of the building.

Khaine was sprawled on his front, the Wailing Doom lodged in the ground. A small band of Astartes was trampling over his molten form, apparently unaware that they had even hit anything. Macha gaped at the affront. The frontmost Marine turned a corner and ran out of sight as the others followed. As the last one neared the side of the building, Macha fired off a shot from her pistol at the edge of the building, catching the Marine’s attention.

“Space Marine!” she yelled, livid beyond imagining. The Marine glanced at her. “Who do you think you are?! Get back here and answer for what you have done!”

“…No.” And without another word, the Marine ran after his colleagues, leaving Macha to gape like a fish under her helmet.


Several kilometers away, Isador, Angelos, and Toth watched the spectacle through their long-optics with varying levels of emotion. Toth was finding it hard to stifle the impulse to groan, Isador was alternating between amusement and private concern, and Angelos could barely suppress a laugh. “I could watch this all day!” Angelos said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Why are we simply allowing this?” Isador asked, directing his question to the Inquisitor.

“You want to go tell them to stop?” Toth asked pointedly.

Back in the city, the War God struggled to his feet, wrath oozing from his molten face. “THOSE…MORTALS DARED…TO BOWL ME OVER? THEIR DOOM CREAKS FROM…THEIR TWISTED BODIES…I SHALL CLEAVE THEM RIGHT AGAIN!”

“And we shall follow, Venerated Khaine,” Macha said. She turned to her Warlocks and bade them follow, but before they could, an animalistic roar sounded from down the road. The assembled Eldar turned to see a small army of Orks chasing after the Marines, panting.

“Dere’s a fight worth havin’, boyz!” the Nob at the head of the pack roared. “Kill da big burnin’ one! I want his head for me pointy stikk!”

Angelos burst out laughing at the sight, as the shocked Eldar warhost and the rabble of Orks fell upon each other with a fury. “Oh, holy Emperor, this is the best thing I’ve seen all week!”


Less than two miles away from where the Eldar god of War was having a very bad day, a pair of Alpha Legionnaires stood plotting. “Your…assurances leave me cold, Sssssindri,” the balding Chaos Lord said, glaring at his counterpart.

“My Lord Bale, you need not concern yourself. The Eldar and the Orks are useful tools, no question. Their distractions, and the sacrifices of their blood, will be more than enough!” the Sorcerer said soothingly. He gestured grandly at the collapsed building behind him, where a small pack of cultists were busily clearing away rubble. “The Key of the Maledictum shall be ours in no time, I promise you.”

“We shall see,” Bale snarled. “I am rather more concerned by the arrival of the Space Marines. They could find the ritual sites before we have a chance to perform them fully.”

“Always a risk, yes, but the Blood Ravens are too busy evacuating the civilians of the planet to stop us,” Sindri said, turning his back on Bale and walking up to the building.

“So you said,” Bale rejoined, turning to follow. “The Blood Ravens are – OW!”

“What now, Lord Bale?” Sindri started to say as he looked back, but before he could finish, he was knocked off his feet by a charging pile of ceramite. Sindri struggled to his feet and watched in disbelief as the crumbling wall of the temple - and the cultists hacking away at it – flew apart, and six Marines charged into the building.


“No! The Key! We must protect it!” Bale roared, running after the Astartes. Inside was bedlam, as cultists poured in after the running Marines, who had barely even slowed down after running through the wall. The assembled cultists sent a stream of poorly-aimed lasbolts after the running men, but it was no use. Before Bale and Sindri’s horrified eyes, the Astartes leading the charge ran up to the slow-levitating Key and…body-slammed it into the far wall with an echoing CRUNCH. As one, the cultists screamed and bolted, dropping their weapons. The two Alpha Legionnaires stood aghast as the Marines brushed themselves off and looked around themselves, as if only then noticing where they were.

“Well, I think we’re done here,” the one who had destroyed the Key said to the others, eliciting a chorus of “yeah,” “uh huh,” and “job well done.”

“YOU WAIT JUST ONE DAMN MINUTE!” Bale roared, his warped voice echoing through the building. He charged forward, swinging his scythe with all the strength his rage and disappointment could lend him. “I AM NOT FINISHED WITH YOU, CORPSE-WORSHIPPERS!”
“Finished?” one Marine asked of the others, shrugging.

“Finished,” the pointman responded. They six men formed back up into the wedge they had been in before, now pointed back at the door…and through Bale.

“I WILL RIP THE MEAT FROM YOUR CARCASSES, SPACE MAR…wait no!” Bale had time to say before the charging arrowhead of ceramite and adamantine slammed into him yet again. Sindri barely managed to jump aside before the Astartes charged through the gap they had opened, running back the way they had come. “Argh…” Bale moaned from the floor, gingerly picking himself back up. He limped over to where the flabbergasted Sorcerer was standing, and joined him in staring at the retreating Marines. “Sssssindri,” he growled, “who the fuck were they?”

“I…have no idea,” Sindri managed.


The Inquisitor and his two Astartes compatriots watched the scene from their hilltop perch. Isador and Angelos glared at the Inquisitor. “Chaos Space Marines? Here?” Angelos said coldly. “Funny how you didn’t stop to tell us.”

“It was irrelevant, Captain,” Toth said warily. “This world will be swallowed by the Warp Storm regardless of your or my efforts. And now that the Astartes Partinax have destroyed the relic that would have allowed the Alpha Legion to summon the Daemon of the Maledictum, my job here is done. Forgive my earlier suspicion.”

“Yes…”Isador said, carefully hiding his disappointment. Before Toth could expound upon his statement, the charging Marines ran back up to the pod they had ridden down in, still sitting in the crater below. Angelos gave Toth one last frigid stare before jogging down.

“Brothers. Well done down there,” he said, gesturing at the carnage in the city. The sergeant looked him over before returning the gesture with a curt nod.

“Thank you, Captain,” he said, tapping a red button inside the pod. A Thunderhawk Transporter swooped down in the distance, homing in on the beacon.

“I was rather hoping that you could help us drive off the remaining xenos while the Guard evacuates the civilians, or perhaps neutralize the Chaos forces here,” Angelos said, his voice trailing off when he saw the look on the other man’s face. He knew better than to try to change a Partinax’s mind, so he changed tracks. “Let us at least help you load up your pod.”


“Sure, thanks,” the Marine said as the Thunderhawk flew overhead, opening its cargo claws. The Blood Ravens and the Partinaxes hefted the pod into the claw and clambered aboard, leaving Toth to glare at the ship. As it lifted, and he ignored Angelos’ jaunty wave, he turned back to his own ship, flexing his power-armored hands.

His '''empty''' hands.

He suddenly shot bolt upright as realization hit him.

Aboard the grey Thunderhawk, the leader of the Partinax looked over Angelos’ armament with naked envy. 
“Nice Daemonhammer.”

“Thank you, brother,” Angelos said, testing the heft of the weapon. 

“It was a gift.”

FIN

=== Stubborn Meal ===

Another wave of spore-laden smog wafted over the trenches, and Guardsman Allidus prayed to the Emperor that he had fixed his gasmask tightly. For weeks massed swarms of chitinous creatures assaulted the Imperial lines. The tyranid had come to this planet to feed, and this meager lot of humanity was the only thing standing in its way. They would not be for long. Guardsman Donic had called the alien horde “an unstoppable force”. Donic received a bolt round to the head from the Commissar for that remark.

Allidus fit the magazine into his lasgun and prepared to die when a call rang out along the lines. Eventually the news reached their post. “A space marine! One of the Emperor’s angels!” the messenger blurted excitedly as he made his way through the dugout trench. Allidus’ pulse quickened. A space marine? Here?
Perhaps there was hope for them after all. But only one?

Lifting his head as high as he dared, Allidus peaked over the earthworks to the battlefield. There strode a lone space marine, seemingly oblivious to the carnage around him. He was a massive thing, a slab of gunmetal armour encasing his superhuman form. It was pitted and dented from what seemed like a million strikes. Stabbing claws and grabbing hands worked at him, but he marched ever forward, plowing through the horde like a wedge. Xenos that got caught in his way were simply trampled into paste; quick, precise bursts of bolter fire were casually aimed and let loose. Hundreds of the monsters fell.

Allidus had never seen such a thing in his life. A momentous cheer rose from the guard lines. It seemed like this lone space marine would win the day. The celebration was premature, however. All the boisterous laughter died away as a massive monster, larger than the rest, rose from the seething mass. It dwarfed the space marine, and brandished its menacing claws and dripping biological weapons. Allidus had heard of this beast.; the hive tyrant, the leader of the swarm. With a deafening screech it charged toward the space marine, and with blinding speed it snatched him in its jaws, and swallowed him whole. 

Men began to flee. Lasguns were thrown aside. The Commissar fired his bolt pistol into the backs of the deserters until he ran out of ammo, and was overrun by the tyranid. Allidus looked on in dismay. They had come so close. The huge hive tyrant bellowed again, as if boasting of its victory. On and on it roared, until the pitch began to change into a gurgling bellow, and then a pained scream. The monster doubled over, and began to retch ichors from its maw, all the while screaming and screaming. 

Allidus watched in horror as the stomach of the monster began to split and tear. Taut sinew and meter thick chitin was rent open from the inside. The sound of tearing flesh and animalistic screams reached a crescendo, and the hive tyrant’s stomach exploded in a wave of gore. Out of the ragged red hole strode the space marine, covered in innards. Without even stopping to brush away the viscera the marine continued on in the direction he was traveling. Allidus’ jaw hung open, his mind unable to make sense of the spectacle he just saw. With the psychic direction of the hive tyrant severed the remaining tyranid milled aimlessly on the battlefield. A torrent of bolter fire from guard reinforcements made short work of them. 

“An amazing sight, isn’t it lad?” a gruff voice called from behind. There stood Lord General Titian, resplendent in his golden armour, but a good deal less impressive to Allidus than he had been before the battle. “Aye, my Lord. Did you summon the space marines to aid us?” The general laughed, and slowly nodded his head. “I’m afraid not my lad. That was a Partinax Marine….an Obstinate Marine. He was spotted in the sector a week ago. I doubt he even knew there was a war raging on this world. Regardless, he has saved us this day.”

Allidus stared at his commander. He stared at the broken and mutilated bodies the marine had casually left in his wake. Finally. He watched the form of the hulking warrior fade off into the distance, silhouetted by the sun, ever marching.

=== When Unstoppable Meets Unstoppable ===

Captain Obstinatus did not slow in his march as he continued to his next objective. An Ork encampment, a mile to the south.

Not even when he saw another member of the Emperor's Juggernauts in his path.

From a distance, he called his greeting. He did not spare the time to wave his hand. Instead, he increased the speed of his stride.

"Greetings, Brother Contumacious!"

The other marine responded in kind.

"Greetings, Brother-Captain Obstinatus! How goes the mission?"

"Forever undaunted, brother. You?"

The two strode closer to one another. In a moment, they would impact one another. Neither made any change to his stride.

"The stride is never stopped," he said, the two now almost ready to collide.

As one, the two marines activated their jump packs and grasped, forearm to forearm.

Sent into a dizzying spin, the two turned for a dozen rotations and released, each flying far into the distant sky, traveling in their original direction.

As the terminator armor came crashing down into the Ork Camp, Captain Obstinatus collided with the store of Ork explosives and missiles there.

In a moment, had he taken notice of it, he would have heard a single Nob boss see the Marine coming down from the sky and utter a single confused, "Wot?" before fire raged, and the camp was consumed in a massive inferno.

As the flames died down, Captain Obstinatus marched away. There were other objectives to complete.

===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]

=== Indomitable Spirit ===

The call had been sent. Information from the scouts far ahead had made its way back to the Chapter Officers on board The Pertinacious. After analyzing the data an objective was decided. From the great hulk of the fortress monastery an armada of craft detached, ships of every size and shape, bearing the foundries and servitors of war, and not least among them the mighty Juggernauts of the Imperium, the Partinax Astartes. Steadily the small fleet floated through space toward the malignant planet below.

Careful surveillance from the scouts revealed that this planet, whose name was unimportant, was succumbing to the insufferable taint of chaos. Truly they were deluded in their madness, for the twisted servants of corruption decided to build their stronghold in the path of the Obstinate Marines’ inexorable march. The objective was clear, crush the stronghold, raze it to the ground, leave nothing left. Troop transports deployed their cargo; 100 battle brothers, bedecked in their stalwart and ancient armour. Sunlight glinted off them in a metallic sheen. A larger ship landed, and from its hold trundled a mighty engine of war. A veritable relic, the Land Raider Indomitable, whose machine spirit saw hundreds of years of victory. With the factoriums and warhouses still deploying, the Obstinate Marines began their methodical march to battle.

Opposition was stronger than expected. More than simple heretics defended the walls of the blasphemous fortress; powerful chaos space marines of the Black Legion also manned the parapets. They rained cursed fire down on the Obstinate Marines from heavy bolters and missile launchers. Still, the Juggernauts strode forth, never flinching from their objective. Indomitable rolled forward, lancing fire from its mounted weapons, tearing great gouges in the stone. Just as the defenses seemed to fall a luckily aimed krak rocket slammed into the Land Raider’s tracks, disabling the vehicle. Stuck in position, it was hit by more anti-tank weaponry, rendering its weapons useless.

The Obstinate Marines threw themselves at the wall, never falling back, but their power hammers and gloves were no match for the chaos infused material. Lascannons had begun to take a toll on the stalwart marines. Brother-Sergeant Adamant surveyed the battlefield, and was inspired. He knew how to accomplish the objective. With little more than a whisper into his vox, he alerted his brothers. “To me.” Winking acknowledgment lights flashed on his HUD.

As one the Obstinate Marines turned to the smoldering wreckage of the Land Raider. They began to work at the underside of the vehicle; powerboots making short work of the weakened armour. Small arms fire plinked all around them, but still the Juggernauts toiled. Eventually the Land Raider was hollowed out, and filled with the marines. They lifted the mighty hulk with their inhuman strength, and started to crawl toward the wall, slowly at first, but gaining speed.

Seeing the Marine’s plan, the foul chaos champion bellowed to his fellows to target the makeshift battering ram. Las rounds and plasma punctured the wreckage, felling marines, but for each that fell the brother next to him shouldered his burden. The marines mustered greater and greater strength, eventually bringing the wreck to blazing speeds. With an earsplitting crack they collided with the wall, and sent a mighty rent along its height. Groaning masonry gave way, and the defense collapsed. Without a moments hesitation the marines abandoned their ram, and stormed into the gap. It took less than an hour to finish the remaining chaos filth.

Some time later the huge manufactories and engine of the chapter arrived to grind the chaos edifice down to nothing, and recycle and reuse its resources. Soon nothing would be left of the blight upon this land. Techmarines and servitors wandered the field, collecting fallen weapons, armour, and the bodies of Obstinate Marines.

Brother-Sergeant Adamant strode across the battlefield. By some wreckage he came across the shattered and broken body of the corrupt chaos champion. The wretched thing laughed as it saw the marine, and spat curses with its blood-chocked voice. “T-that fucking Land Raider…” Adamant did not give him time to finish his thought; a powerboot to the skull silenced the traitor forever.

=== It's That Fucking Land Raider Again ===

Turza 6 was a agri-world of little importance to the Imperium of Mankind. Yes it did produce food for nearby Hive Worlds, but in reality it was relatively minor in the grand scheme of its sub-sector. Still there are those who lived on Turza 6 and found life there to be not to their liking. After one such rebellious group was crushed by an Inquisitor's Acolytes a tome was found amongst the wreckage of the insurgents compound. This tome inevitably found its way to a bookish Adept of the Adeptus Administratum. Unfortunately for the whole of Turza 6 this unassuming adept was a nascent psyker and the heretical texts the tome held warped the mind of the man, and soon he began to plot a method to bring the foul forces of Chaos to Turza 6.

The adept preyed upon those bored of a life of tedious farming and animal rearing and soon he had a sizable contingent of followers under his control. It was only a matter of time before a localized warp storm consumed Turza 6 and from its foul mouth did the heinous forces of the traitor legions pour forth. At its head was the Chaos Champion Actin Credast of the Black Legion. He looked upon the meager congregation that the adept had produced and decided that they would be put to better use to create a more permanent gate to the warp beyond, and so began construction of a massive and terrifying altar to the dark gods. Credast had hoped to use this altar to act as a conduit to the teeming mass of daemons that gazed upon this world with hungry eyes.

However... the warp storm ended and soon word came to the Astartes Chapter #1298 otherwise known as the "Parintax Astartes" or "Obstinate Marines" that a world under command of the Imperium of Man had become a unholy gathering of the forces of Chaos, and so they set out from their fortress monastery to the remote world. A company, 100 strong along with the ineffable might of the Land Raider "Indomitable" was all that was sent, but all that was needed to crush this force of foul warp followers. The transit to Turza 6 was a brief one as their astropaths were graced with good fortune as the warp yielded before their ship, and spat them out in an almost record time from their departure. As the ship prepared to unleash its cargo the marines within were prepared to do the Emperor's duty.

Credast was absolutely thrilled when he heard that worshipers of the Corpse God had come to Turza 6. He had indeed begin to grow bored with the congregation and the construction of the fortress protecting it. Although an impressive if not fearsome sight it was battle that Credast sought. Battle and Slaughter. However when word reached him that the specific Astartes that came to Turza 6 bore no recognizable heraldry and instead were what could be called "Walking Wedges" Credast began to worry. He had come across these loyalist before, and fear grew in his corrupter heart. He gazed to the horizon with mixed feelings. Battle would be his, but would victory?

The tireless Obstinate Marines continued towards the seething fortress. They needed no sleep for they had a mission to complete, and they needed no rest for they would not tire even unto death. When the heinous protrusion of the Chaos Fortress became clear on the horizon the marines were already prepared for combat, and it was the ancient Land Raider Indomitable that unleashed the first blow. Its munitions calling out like wrathful thunder as the walls it struck broke under its might. The marines were close now, and they could see the defenders ready for them.
Credast barked orders at his subordinates and soon the sound of hellish bolters and plasma rung through the Turzan air. The shots hit a few of the marines, but their heavy armor protected them from all but the most lethal of blows. Still despite the almost impervious nature of their opponents the Chaos Legion would not let up, and soon the fruits of their violent labor shown as a few of the marines were being brought down. Credast however was still wary of the Land Raider as it had not fallen under any duress through out the fight and was soon to truly shatter the confines of the fortress. Credast drew attention to the danger of the Land Raider and demanded that something spell its doom or else it would be the end for them.

The threat worked. A stroke of blind luck graced (or perhaps cursed) one of the Legion Astartes as a Krak Missle ruined the tread of the potent war machine, and Credast became elated. He howled his victory over the astartes and seeing as how their war machine lie derelict he assumed that they would finally falter and flee. He was wrong. The marines came to the side of the Fortress and with a single minded determination that surprised even Credast they began to attack the fortress itself.

Despite their determination their armaments were not able to pierce the empowered walls, and the ritual was growing so much closer to its completion. Credast hurled insult after insult upon the marines believing his victory secure, and when the marines turned away he was all to certain that he had won. Again... Credast was wrong. For the marines had returned to the ruined Raider and began to remove its under side with stomps and kicks. Credast was at the very least surprised, and soon grew into despair as he saw what the Marines had done. Donning the ruined Land Raider as cover they began to march forward and after a short moment began to sprint towards the wall with the raider prepared to act as a make shift battering ram.

There was but a brief moment where Credast saw his end hastily approaching. He could not for the life of him figure out why this was happening, but this moment of introspection was quickly shattered by his rage demanding his attention. He roared to his followers to fire everything they had upon the raider. Indeed some of the Marines within fell before the onslaught of fire, but for each that feel the resolve of his battle brothers became so much stronger.

It was a harrowing sound when the Raider crashed through the wall of the fortress. Those within were trampled beneath the feet of the marines, and as quickly as they entered the left through another wall on the opposite side. The hellish structure groaned as the ritual failed to complete, and in the few moments before the entire complex came tumbling down Credast gripped his head with some pathetic attempt to come to terms with what has happened. Only one thought ran through his warp-addled mind. "Again. It was that same FUCKING LAND RAIDER." The fortress collapsed and as the marines passed by the site to return to the Thunder Hawk Credast drug himself out of the rubble. Spitting up blood he tried to scream at the Marines, but instead it was a meager voice that came out. "That Fucking Land Raider Agai-"

He was interrupted as a bolt round shattered his skull, and the uninterested marine continued his march.

===Big Obduratus===

+++ Extracted from the memoirs of Inquisitor Rogericus Smithius +++

While the Astartes Partinax’s restlessness makes them phenomenal soldiers, it also made it incredibly difficult to talk to any of them. Even if I managed to find one who didn’t speak in monosyllables, they would stop listening after just a few sentences and then march off to find something to do. It was incredibly frustrating, three weeks in that grey fortress with no sign of the reported Heretics known as “The Still”, and I could rarely get an answer out of one of the marines before they wandered off. It was enough to drive anyone mad.

And so I found myself in the company of the Adeptus Mechanicus. A bunch of lunatics, but at least they could hold up a decent conversation. I spent most of my spare time with a higher ranking member of the cult, Dastun. He oversaw the maintenance of the Partinax’s Dreadnoughts and vehicles, known among the members and workers of the chapter as ‘Juggernauts’. They differed greatly from the standard Dreadnought design due to the Partinax’s peculiar habit of constantly upgrading their armor, they looked more like oversized versions of their living brethren, the only major differences being heavier weapons, and their usual power feet being replaced by treads. Many of them were walking slowly in place on treadmills, even as the tech-priests atattched more and more armor.

There was one in particular that caught my eye. It towered clear over everything else in the room, instead of an upscaled version of the standard Partinax helmet, it had what appeared to be a human face, set with a blank expression. But what really caught my eye were its arms, I had never seen anything like it, the forearms were massive, and there were two cylinders about half as long as its forearms jutting straight out from its elbows. “Excuse me,” I said as I tapped Dastun on the shoulder, “who is in that massive Dreadnought over there?” 

He looked up from his data-slate “We just call him Big Obduratius, that’s what everyone here has always called him. Not even the other Dreadnoughts remember a time when he wasn’t here, even the oldest ones just say that he’s always been here and always be called Big Obduratius. It doesn’t help that he’s not very talkative.”

He shrugged, “He only says the same handful of phrases. He wakes up, smashes some enemies of the Omnimessiah, then goes back to sleep.”

“What about his arms? I’ve never seen power fists like those before.”

Dastun shrugged again, “It’s because they aren’t power fists. They work more like a thunder hammer really, but it seems that he can discharge them at will to send out a blast of the same type of energy, it loses power pretty quickly over distance though. We just call them Thunder Fists.”

We had been walking toward it while we talked and now stood right at its feet. If anything, it was even more imposing from this viewpoint. Hundreds of tons of gleaming ceramite and adamantium towered over the both of us. “So you really don’t know who this Obiduatius was, huh?”

He turned back to his data slate while he talked, “Not a clue, someone runs the name by the Administratum every once in a while, they don’t have any record of him as anything other than a Dreadnought, and even that only goes back to when they noticed that the Astartes Partinax were still around. Most of the Dreadnoughts here are older than that. He could be from before the Horus Heresy for all we know.”

Just then, an ear-splittingly loud voice boomed and echoed around the room, “SHOWTIME!”

Big Obduratius just woke up. 

A nearby tech-priest pulled a lever, and the back of the Leviathan (one of many that made up the amalgam of titans, troop transports, and other things that made up the mobile fortress) opened up to allow the towering Dreadnought to walk out. For whatever reason, this one in particular didn’t have treads, just large feet. I learned later that they had a tendency to slide backwards when its Thunder Fists were activated, not so good when there was an army behind it, or if you’re trying to hold back a particularly large orc.

I wanted to see this thing in action, and an excuse to get away from the drab corridors of the “The Pertinacious”, so I used my Inquisitorial authority to commandeer a nearby Land Speeder, ignoring Dastun’s warnings about following it to the front lines. Despite the fact that it was merely walking, the sheer length of its strides made it difficult to keep up with. Luckily, the march of the Partinax and the speeders anti-grav engines meant I didn’t need to worry about crashing into anything besides the occasional pile of Ork corpses, which would soon be cleaned up as the fortress advanced.

It wasn’t long before we saw the ranks of the Partinax, carving their way through the encroaching horde of Orks like a lasbolt through butter. Carefully placed shots, fists, and boots took out the biggest threats in the crowd first. It was obvious that they were headed towards the Ork’s Warboss, who was spraying a ceaseless hail of heavy bolter fire down from the hilltop, luckily with the usual Orkish lack of accuracy. The greenskin in question was large, even for a Warboss. It was roughly the same height as Big Obduratius himself.

The Dreadnought turned its blank gaze to its living Battle Brothers. The few who weren’t currently occupied with the Orks simply pointed to the Warboss. Obduratius faced forward, and to my surprise began to run. It cleared the distance at a blazing speed, simply stepping on any Orks unfortunate enough to be in his path. As he approached the Warboss, he pulled his right arm back, the cylinder in its elbow extended outwards. The Warboss turned his fire on the Dreadnought, but the curtain of Bolter shells didn’t even slow his approach. Even above the din of the battle, you could hear his booming voice.

“CAST IN THE NAME OF THE EMPEROR,”

Obiduatius’ punch landed cleanly in the middle of the Warboss’ stomach, lifting it off the ground on top of the Dreadnought’s fist.

“YE GUILTY.”

The cylinder rammed back into Obduratius’ forearm, and the Warboss’ entire torso was vaporized in an instant. A look of shock passed over its face for an instant before its two halves hit the ground out of view.

===Ever Forward===

Brother Persistus regarded the heretic before him; his objective. A twisted lump of flesh and armour, seemingly held together by foul ichors alone, it was hard to believe that this creature was once a Brother. Every Obstinate Marine heard tales of the threats of idleness, of the dangers that waited for those that wavered in their devotion. Still, it was hard to believe that such a thing could happen to Indomitus. Stalwart Indomitus, who strode by Persistus’ side during the grueling recruitment marches. Indomitus, who had walked through death and damnation, only to come out victorious on the other side. That Indomitus was gone now. 

In its place was an ugly, diseased smile. “Pooor Persistus, unable to complete his objective.” The former marines laugh was a wet raspy gurgle, indicative of something congealing and writhing in his throat. Persistus knew the situation was grim, but he could not help but smile back. Even the blood leaking from the infected stumps where his legs had been could not curb his determination. The gaggle of nurglings and other unnamable growths quested over Persistus’ prone body, looking for a chink in his plated armour. There was not much time left. “You have forgotten what it is to be a Juggernaut of the Emperor Indomitus,” Persistus coughed. “We always complete our objective! EVER FORWARD!”

Triggering his neural synapse Persistus activated the jump-pack integrated into his armour. Enough force was produced from the thrusters to send the Juggernaut hurtling toward his objective. Plumes of fungal growth were kicked into the air, and Indomitus’ gaggle of nurglings and other, unnamable beasts, fled in terror. Persistus collided with the cursed marine with the force of a freight train. Normally, an Obstinate Marine’s enhanced armour would be able to resist the ministrations of a combat blade, but Indomitus’ armour was covered in the gaping wounds characteristic of his patron. It was into one of these ragged holes that Persistus dug his blade. 

Indomitus took hours to die, gurgling and spitting up offal as he did so. Persistus never once weakened his grip. When the deed was done he fell to the ground. Precious little blood remained in his body. Persistus had no doubts; knew he had accomplished his duty. The traitor, one of the damned brothers of The Still, had been slain. The chapters honour was preserved. Soon another Juggernaut would set out, with the objective to recover Persistus’ gene-seed and his body. Soon he would march again, ever forward.