THE BEGINNING

     All eyes turn and look at the auditorium as a solitary figure begins the walk down the central aisle.  The figure is bathed in an impenetrable cloak of darkness, only a faint outline of a masculine, muscular body visible through the shade.  Whispers travel among the audience, all conjecture on who the mysterious figure may be.  With a flourish and bow, the figure climbs on top of the stage and raises its massive arms up in a triumphant gesture of victory.  The moment passes, and the figure is revealed to the crowd.  Gasps resound throughout the cavernous room as a figure made of pure Iron is revealed.  The Iron man opens it mouth to reveal a set of perfectly polished teeth.  A bellow issues forth, a shrill sound that forewarns of the future.  "THE IRON WARRIOR HAS ARRIVED, TO GIVE AN ASTOUNDING BATTLEREPORT TO THE HOPELESS MASS OF HUMANITY THAT CALLS THEMSELVES BATTLEREPORTERS".  The silence is paramount.  In seconds it is replaced by wild applause, and the Iron Warrior smiles.  It knows the time for a battle report has come.

     I am the reincarnation of Der Fuhrer, a much-despised battlereporter, a sentiment borne from taking the name of the most hated figure in history as my alias.  My retirement has finally come to an end, and I am poised above my keyboard, ready to deliver a battlereport on an awesome game:  Warhammer 40000, Dawn of War.  Dawn of War is a game based in the far future, a future in which humanity has spread throughout the stars under the protection of an all-powerful empire, the Imperium of Man.  In this far future, humanity is constantly waging war against foul xenos, or aliens.  Very ominous. 

     In continuation, my inspiration for this battlereport comes from the single player campaign of Dawn of War.  A Space Marine Force Commander, a man titled Captain Angelos, has landed on the planet of Tartarus, poised to eradicate a recent Ork Invasion.  A Space Marine is a biologically altered human that stands well over eight feet tall.  Space Marines had the musculature of a body builder on steroids, without the harmful side effects.  To get back on subject, upon arrival, Angelos and his company of Space Marines begin to suspect there is much more going on than meets the eye.  However, the Space Marines soon clash with Ork forces and are distracted from their thoughts.  Here is the beginning of their saga….

SOMEWHERE OUTSIDE TARTARUS PRIME SPACEPORT
 
     Captain Angelos raised his bolter and surveyed his surroundings.  Stark flashes of gunfire streaked across the sky, falling on the Tatarus Prime Spaceport where a regiment of Imperial Guard was desperately holding off the Ork thrust on the city.  To Angelos’s immediate left and right stood two squads of heavily armed Space Marines, massive bolters and heavy bolters clutched dangerously in their hands.  A beacon began to blip on the corner of his holomap, the spot indicated holding the recently launched Imperial Stronghold.  These strongholds could be dropped from orbit to serve as an immediate base camp for the Imperial Space Marines.                                                                               

With a curt signal from Angelos the Space Marines stalked off toward the beacon, wary for any hostiles.  Behind them Angelos marched and thought about the recent events that had unfolded.  A desperate plea for help had issued from the surface of the planet, asking for immediate assistance.  Angelos’s battle barge had been passing through the planetary system when the message was sent out, and its course was quickly diverted to the source of trouble.  What Angelos had found was a planet swarming with hostile greenskins and Imperial Guard regiments under the command of a Colonel Brom.  Angelos’s initial relief force had landed in the center of a greenskin assault on the spaceport, and had only just managed to escape with their lives. Under Angelos’s direction, Brom was given the task of guarding the Tartarus Prime Space Port while the Space Marines went off looking for the enemy.  Brom had not appeared very pleased with his task, but he had refused to speak up.  The Space Marines had a certain aura about them that demanded respect and obedience.

     Angelos caught sight of the unfolding strong hold; a massive structure curled up into a pod like ball, showing it had only been recently dropped from orbit.  The red raven emblazoned on the side of the hull marked the edifice out as a building of the Blood Ravens, a venerated Space Marine Chapter.  The Chapter contained over a thousand Space Marines, and this massive building represented a small portion of their power.  Unfurling next to stronghold was the Company Chapel Barracks, a solid structure packed with over five squads of Space Marines.  The base was situated on the outskirts of the Tartarus Prime Spaceport Recent signs of battle were evident around the encampment.  The bolters of three squads of Space Marines smoked, dismembered ork bodies strewn around the base evidence of combat.  

     The Sergeant in a command, a Sergeant Lostus, trotted up to Angelos and saluted, “My lord, the task force is prepared to engage in search and destroy missions”.  Angelos returned the salute and nodded, “That is good news to hear Sergeant Lostus…. when has a Space Marine not relished the chance to destroy the enemies of the Emperor”.  Lostus nodded in agreement and turned to his men.  With an unspoken command Lostus’s three squads and Angelos’s two merged into a single fighting force.  Servitors, brain washed slave workers, were already constructing heavy bolter turrets to provide defense while the Space Marines were out for the hunt.

     Angelos raised his chainsword above his head and bellowed his battle orders.  Heavy bolter Marines melted into the rear of the formation, their long-range weapons and heavy volume of fire paramount to the destruction of any ranged enemies.  Regular bolter marines spread out into a wide skirmish line, and immediately began picking their way through the flattened outskirts of the city.  Several minutes passed before the marines can in contact with the first orks.  A phalanx of Gretchen, the lowest form of ork, was advancing at top speed toward the line of red armoured bodies.  It took milliseconds before the heavy bolter marines in the rear brought their weapons to bear, multiple arks of tracer fire smashing into the small green figures.  Dozens of Gretchen pitched over, the Heavy Bolters cutting down swathes of the detestable creatures.  It was not enough. 

     Captain Angelos lifted up three screeching Gretchen with his chain sword, glittering arks of dark blood sizzling through the air after them.    Angelos turned and bellowed as he felt cold hands grasp around his neck.  He cast the body off of his back and swiping it in midair.  The pulped carcass cartwheeled away and smashed into two more Gretchen, knocking them off their feet.  These mewling creatures were no match for the massively armoured Space Marines, as was evident by the heaped bodies at the feet of the marines.  The Gretchen stood at three feet and under, and were generally armed with low powered pistols and small combat knives, both ineffective against the ceramite armour coating the Marines. The bulk of the Greenskin broke against the loosely spread Space Marines, no match against artificial muscle and cold steel. In moment of the battle was over, the creatures fleeing away as fast as their little legs could carry them.  Glittering arcs of bolter shells followed after them, only a select few surviving the barrage.  “Sergeant Lostus, casualties?,” Angelos inquired over the communication bead.  “Negative my lord”, can the curt response.

     Angelos spat in disgust as he crushed the skull of a groaning Gretchen with his boot.  These creatures did not deserve the honor of fighting against the legendary Adeptus Astartes.  The marines had already fallen back into formation and were waiting Angelos’s orders to advance.  A ping on  Angelos’s visor showed another group of Space Marines had just landed at the base.  Angelos contacted the base and was reassured by the voice of his long time friend, Librarian Isador.  One of the many Chapter Librarians serving the Emperor in the Blood Ravens Space Marines Chapter, Isador was a potent psychic weapon, honed to perfection through years of training and preparation.  Among Isador’s responsibilities were the memorization and maintenance of the lore and history of the Chapter.

“Greetings old friend,” Isador said over the comm. bead, “I heard you were in the area and I decided to drop by”

Angelos laughed, “True, you always do seem to follow me everywhere I go.  Stay at the base and make sure no harm comes to my precious Stronghold, understood?”

     Isador laughed and acknowledged.  His voice faded into silence.  Angelos turned to address Sergeant Lostus when he noticed two scouts running helter-skelter toward him.  The both appeared slightly flushed, as if they were running for their lives. 

“My lord”, the first one breathlessly addressed him, “My partner and I stumbled across an ork settlement not five clicks due east.  The camp is heavily defended, and if I am not mistaken I saw an ork nob leading them”

     Angelos nodded.  A nob was an ork leader of sorts, normally the biggest and toughest of the ork warband.  Killing a nob could send all the orks under its command into disarray.  It was a priority target.  “Very well, scout.  You will stay with us as we assault this ork camp.  Your snipers will be much needed.”  The two scouts nodded and moved to take up a position in the formation as Angelos began issuing orders. 

     The Space Marines reached the outskirts of the ork camp in less than fifteen minutes.  Several buildings stood prominently over the hundreds of orks milling around the encampment.  One of the buildings was obviously a Waagh banner, a structure that drew orks from all over the galaxy to fight of the cause.  Angelos quickly pointed out the nob, a massive, dark green ork bellowing orders to its underlings.  Angelos ordered his scouts to train their sniper rifles on the creature.

     Without having to be ordered the Space Marines were already spreading out in anticipation for the assault.  As both snipers acquired their target, Angelos gave the go ahead command.  A massive volume of firepower flashed forward, cutting down swathes of helpless orks.  The combination of this brutal assault and the death of their gargantuan leader sent the orks into disarray.  The majority of the greenskins fled from the charging Marines, seeking shelter from the wave of Imperial might descending on them.  The bolter Marines dived into the camp, combat knives and chainswords biting into ork flesh.  The Marines equipped with heavy bolters were keeping a steady stream of suppressive fire on the orks that were regrouping at the further edge of the encampment.  Orks were falling in steady streams from the buildings; the heavy bolters insuring the orks could not bring their massive defensive cannon to bear.

     The assault was flowing flawlessly.  The orks were fleeing in vast numbers, the majority falling victim to bolter shells or chainswords.  The Space Marines had already breached the camp’s outer walls, and were going through the motions of setting grenades inside the ork structures.  In a few minutes the camp would be reduced to rubble.

     A sudden padding sound behind Angelos barely registered until a swathe of high caliber rounds tore into a Space Marine not twenty yards to his right.  The Marines was pitched off his feet and thrown into the air by the sheer force of the barrage, dozens of smoking holes visible in his armour.  The Marine would never get up again.  With a roar of rage mingled with desperation, Angelos turned on his new assailants.  Arranged before him was a mass of shoota boys, orks that specialized in ranged fighting.
Angelos knew he only had one chance to act before he was brutally cut down.  The Brother Captain raised his chainsword and charged.  The orks barely had time to register the armoured giant bearing down on them until he was in their midst.  His sword swept in all directions, killing an ork with every swipe.  The orks reacted to this new threat with surprising speed, casting aside their machine guns for knives and cleavers. 

     Dozens of blows impacted on his armour, but they barely registered in his mind.  His sole purpose was to kill, and he could not die lest he fail this purpose.  The orks were bearing down on him from all sides, and not even Angelos’s superior physique could handle the stress he was undergoing.  When it seemed he could go on no longer his Marines came to the rescue.  It was over in seconds as five heavy bolters erupted at once, cutting the orks down like wheat.  Not an ork survived.  For Angelos, the battle was finally over…
 
     Angelos watched as his Marines finished placing their explosives in the ork camp.  Several Marines squads were out pursuing the retreating orks, but for now the victory they had just won would suffice.  Angelos had already lost two good men in the fighting, two good men that would be hard to replace.  With a sigh Angelos watched as the last of the Marines cleared out of the settlement.  Moments latter the camp went up in flames.  There was going to be a long fight ahead of them, and Angelos and his Marine were prepared for every eventually.  But Angelos could only wonder how many more good men were going to die before they were able to depart this cursed world…