Kashidaan pt. 5 The Blood of a Liar part 2

Day 68
“Siro Amador” A quick search of Battlefleet Medici’s records revealed all they needed and the Serlendor aide announced his findings rather dramatically.
“He was the leader of a Chaos warband that branched out into piracy terrorizing these worlds for several months until Battlefleet Medici caught up to them, this was roughly 150 years ago.  They were destroyed down to the last vessel. He was believed dead but his body was never found. Now we know why.”
“It seems he’s more subtle than most servants of the Blood God.” Omero commented with a certain amount of black humor.
“Not anymore.”  Major Van Eyck added a comment of his own. “Of course that begs the question of what we do now.”
“Chaos lies. How do we know that this man didn’t die 150 years ago? What would be keeping him alive?” Ballaseros and Van Eyck were with their men holding this conference via encrypted vox channel.  
“The ways of The Warp are mysterious.” Omero commented.  He would know better than most- Cadia sat next to the Eye of Terror and so they once again deferred to him.
Things were quiet for the moment but no one knew how long it would last. It had taken more than 2 months to get to this point but now that they had momentum they needed to keep moving. The Guard would keep up the pressure, turning east from the captured stronghold while the PDF would hold the captured ground.    They didn’t get more than a couple of blocks before they came under attack again, IIS seemed to have an endless stream of reinforcements.  
Another day, another battle but this one brought a new challenge. The cult had lost its major stronghold but all that meant was a change in tactics.
“Bloodletters.” Antioch’s voice went flat. “Even a single squad could kill us all.”  He was calm on the outside but to those who knew him best, they knew he was hiding his fear.  They were doing the same, all remembering the same terrible event.  They lowered their Hellguns and waited for the inevitable charge.
The Daemons led, charging at them gibbering and howling.  The sounds were impossible to describe and drove everyone to hear them close to madness.  The Kasrkins fought noise with noise, letting loose rapid fire blasts from their hellguns while mortars and Bolters thundered up and down the line.  If nothing else they would die standing, there was that at least for whatever limited comfort it gave. There was more comfort in seeing standard Chaos cultists bringing up the rear.  They were ordinary humans, vulnerable to standard weapons.  
This was not what was expected, IIS was supposed to be on its last legs and incapable of calling in this kind of help but Chaos was insidious, even devotees of Khorne were capable of wisdom. So were the servants of the Emperor.  The Serlendor were the first to call in air support sending a flight of Valkyries screaming overhead, tearing into the advancing mass of Cultists.  The Vatians were holding the line. Omero was right to use them to hold positions, they were good at it.  Suero found himself in command of this particular engagement but he left everyone to do as they saw fit.  That was how Kasrkins fought.
“Amador lives! Blood for the blood god!”   Their shouts were cut short by weapon fire that slammed into them.   “Focus on the Bloodletters!” Suero ordered, knowing that they alone were the threat here.  “Fix Bayonets!” He ordered knowing that they would eventually close. His other order had its desired effect, the first Bloodletter vanished in a puff of acrid smoke.  That drew a small cheer but he kept silent, turning his weapon on the next.  Concentrated fire was the key and the only way they had ever survived their last encounter.   One squad of Bloodletters subjected to that wouldn’t help the newly resurgent IIS but sheer numbers would.  
It couldn’t be that easy. Alexander thought, reaching for his combat knife when the two forces collided.  Never is.  “Thousands of these Frakking cultists and they show up on our doorstep!” He bellowed and slashed the first to arrive across the face.   The artillery slowed to a stop and so began a brutal struggle.
The Vatians proved their worth once again. Eske was a brutal martial art and combined with a knife they used like an extension of their arm, even the Kasrkins were impressed.     The Serlendor marksmen scurried for higher ground, trying to thin the ranks.  Lasguns still cracked, bolts still flew but the bulk of the fighting was done at the distance where they could feel their enemy’s hot breath and leave their blasphemies ringing in their ears.  
Alexander still had his bolt pistol, he drew and fired a single round. That was all he had time for before he was swarmed.  He was the living representation of all they hated, the very best of the army that had killed so many of them. His squad fought their way through to save him as they had before. Vekht was the first to arrive, standing beside him. Antioch stood next to him, Suero and Gabrius next to them.  They held the Izzies back.  They were nothing, just a rabble that had been seduced by empty promises and they started to waver, letting the Guard reorganize and find a better position.  Suero was still in charge and his call for reinforcements was met with a broadcast on all channels “Siro Amador lives” on an endless loop.
“Frak this. We have to hold! The Emperor protects! Serlendor, Vatia, Cadia! Throne guard us all!” No one who could tell who shouted that benediction over the crack of their lasguns
One of the Serlendor marksmen shouted “More Daemons inbound- 30 meters and closing!”
“The Emperor Protects!” Someone shouted as the Izzies rallied
….
The Imperial and PDF commanders were caught off guard and they were desperate for any information.  There was none. Omero tried to make sense of the sudden Cultist offensive and could arrive at only one conclusion. The previous 2 months were a stalling tactic. “Amador you clever…” He didn’t finish his thought but did explain it. “Cults need time to take root. This one has spread beyond Jurus Alpha- we just didn’t know it. The Cultists here have been stalling while those outside dug tunnels to reinforce them, down so deep the vessels in orbit can’t see them.  Smart but I still don’t know their reasons for acting now. We can find that out once we’ve won.”
He set about making sure they would. Cultist reinforcements poured into the city, flooding into the parts they still held.  That had to stop.   The 2 captains in orbit were already somewhat aware of the situation and turned their guns onto the planet. They succeeded in getting through to Omero and Sigmar’s captain asked what needed to be done.  
The answer was an easy one.   Medici Shadow scrambled everything they had, filling the sky with fighters and Valkyries.   Their mission was simple, search and destroy, if they could cut the supply lines running from the other cities, attrition would have a part to play in all this.  A pair of Thunderbolts broke off from the hunting parties to provide air support.   They concentrated their lasguns on the Bloodletters and their autoguns on the cultists behind and around them.  
They had faced down Valkyries time and time again, but this was different. They had nothing to match them and they scattered when the first bombs started to fall.   The fighters and bombers looking for the tunnels outside the city flew low, looking closely.   Omero watched all this happening from the Governor’s palace and he wondered why it had taken him more than 2 months to realize what was going on.
He was suddenly afraid he was losing his touch as he got older. He made a hard decision.   For the first time in the campaign the battle spread beyond Jurus Alpha.  The aircraft scouring the countryside tore enormous holes in the earth, finding the entry points.  The Garrisons in the other cities of Jurus had been on high alert through all of this but had never made enemy contact, IIS had not shown itself anywhere else but Jurus Alpha but now the fight had expanded.  Omero immediately reached for the Voxcaster requesting Valkyries to airlift them in.  He cursed himself for his blindness and arrogance.  
On the ground though, the men and women fighting cheered at hearing the roar of aircraft engines.
Omero collapsed into a chair “Emperor forgive me…” He folded his hands into the sign of the Aquila. He had been foolish not to use the heavy weapons sitting useless in the sky above him more and so had Sigmar’s captain. He had been foolish to be duped by the cult but leveling sections of the city would have killed innocents.  Sometimes there were no easy answers, and certainly not when every answer was wrong. Everything he did was risky but that was why he had the Kasrkins, their job was to take risks, no one else was better suited for it.  They weren’t too happy about it but they followed their orders.   The Vatians still held the tunnel and let them pass.  It was Antioch’s turn, he winked at the one female trooper and pulled his helmet on.   Gabrius took point, leading the way with his Auspex.   They half walked, half slid down the tunnel in a shower of loose dirt eventually reaching a point where they could actually stand up.
150 years was more than enough time to dig tunnels. The ones that the Kasrkins currently explored were big enough for an army to travel through, which explained quite a lot but there were still a lot of questions yet to be answered.
The first was the question of how far down they were.  At least 50 meters, well below the sewers now. Not that it mattered. Gabrius was only concerned with the structural integrity of the place, frequently checking his auspex readouts.  They carried lasguns instead of Hellguns and now regretted their choice, they were going into the heart and soul of a Chaos cult. However they did bring as many grenades as they could carry to balance it out.
They still moved almost silently despite their loadout, they didn’t talk, using hand gestures and body language to communicate. They walked for what must have been Kilometers eventually reaching an overhang meters above an open area dug out in the shape of an 8 pointed star.  In its center sat the man himself
Siro Amador was less than impressive.  Yes he had somehow been able to summon Daemons, perhaps the blood of his many slain followers had been sacrifice enough. But he was in no condition to do any of that fighting himself.  He had been impressive a century and a half ago but now he was an old man with white hair to his knees and a face that was more wrinkles than skin. He was dead already but no one had realized it. He was missing most of his face, an eye, a hand and his right leg all replaced by bionics and even those were failing now. That seemed to be the answer to the question- why now? He was dying with nothing to show for his life and nothing to offer the Chaos Gods.
 Vekht lowered his rifle, ready to take a shot but Suero, who was wisely wearing a helmet now held him back.  Being impulsive here would end this but it would also end them and that was not how he wanted to go.
The others sat and waited. They saw this once proud servant of Khorne rise from his makeshift throne on broken bionics and heard him make some speech they couldn’t understand.  The voice came out in a raspy, broken half whisper with an undertone of metallic grinding. Not a pleasant sound at all and for a moment the Kasrkin sergeant considered shooting him just to put him out of his misery.  But he thought again. He was a servant of the Ruinous Powers, let him suffer.
Amador seemed to understand that and turned up the volume on his vocabulator. He rambled something no one but his followers understood.  The ragged cheering that rose up from the Cultists proved that despite having nothing left they would fight to the last man. There was only one solution.  Suero pulled a grenade off his belt, the order was simple.
The Kasrkins pitched their grenade belts over the edge and ran back down the tunnel.  The Cultists had never even known they were there.  Several dozen Frag grenades went off behind them, nothing could have survived that.  But the city above was still enemy territory and they were stuck right in the heart of it.  They circled up leveling their lasguns, ready to die standing.  There was no point hiding, the Izzies already knew they were here, they had just lost their head, would they lose their heart too?
The Kasrkins wouldn’t….
The Guard and PDF kept pushing into enemy territory, they were surprised to hear the sound of fighting ahead of them.   Serlendor armor led the way, the Chimera Sweet Anja carried PDF troopers and a medic but the Leman Russ Rechter carried nothing but artillery shells.   Her crew tore into the surrounding buildings and led the charge toward the Kasrkins.   IIS fighters got too close and simply died at close range, torn apart by Bolters and lascannons.
By the time help could reach them the Kasrkins were all half dead from exhaustion and injury. But 5 men had held out and circled by the dead and dying.   Omero did not order the intervention- the Kasrkin squad would never have asked him to but their allies took it upon themselves to help calling in air support.
A squad of PDF troopers jumped out of Sweet Anja and laid down covering fire while the Kasrkins backpedaled toward salvation using up the last of their ammo.   Their armor was badly damaged, showing skin marked by burns and scabbed over wounds.  They could barely walk but still they held firm, showing no weakness, showing no fear.  The PDF backpedaled too, looking up as a Thunderbolt unloaded its autocannons into the swarming Izzies.  
“Why?” Suero croaked out  “Why take the risk?”
The medic answered. “You’re worth saving Sergeant.  You’re a symbol of hope to the people of Jurus.  If the best the Guard can provide fights with us, we may just be able to win.”
The Kasrkin was already asleep…

Colonel Omero had no problem with ordering the Kasrkins to their deaths if he had to. He was grateful that he hadn’t had to and privately he was happy to see them back.  The news was already spreading through his troops and throughout Jurus Alpha the Siro Amador was dead.  The people of the city as a whole were rising up, flocking to the positions that the army fighting to free them held.
The blast had also revealed the network of tunnels linking the city to the outside world, allowing reinforcements to continually funnel in and allow the IIS to travel unseen and largely unharmed.
Siro Amador was dead but with Chaos cults one of two things happened- desperation bred further fury or complete self-destruction.  Omero hoped for the latter but knew to expect the former. So did Ballaseros.
His men were on high alert at all times, the army they fought as a part of had reclaimed most of the city but this was still a warzone and the fighting still carried on in places.  He finally felt safe enough to walk among the people of the city he helped save.  But always with his head on a swivel and always with a volunteer bodyguard.
Dolvan Omero though… He did not leave the palace, he was sure that there was something coming, either some self-destructive act of sacrifice to the Blood God or that they would melt away back into the shadows and try again.
That left him with one course of action.  
“We cannot allow any IIS to leave this city alive.” He calmly told the city council.  “If even one survives they will be able to rebuild the cult around themselves. Ballaseros…”
He turned the floor over to the Vatian commander.
“I have fought Chaos cults in the mountains and jungles of my homeworld and that is indeed the case. No matter which of the dark gods they follow, they are all insidious. We need to root them out now.  We have a chance to reorganize while they do the same. In time they will find a new leader, then another when he or she falls.  Best to end this now and we can.  I must speak highly of the PDF who have fought alongside us.  They are new to this, this sector is relatively peaceful except for a few incidents, and they’ve proven to be worthy servants of the Emperor.  They can finish the job.”
The speeches and politicking continued but the fight was not over yet.  There was another threat coming, something more insidious creeping at the corners of high society. The threat had always come from within.
“Great Architect of Fate, I thank you for your blessings. I offer your fallen enemies as a sacrifice and thank you for allowing me such tools.  I will keep my promise to you, allow me to rule this world and I will devote it to you. Give me knowledge to rule in your name. O Changer of the Ways the corrupted regime that once ruled here is no more, I thank you.  The reign of a single house ends and by your will I may rule.  Let the weak minded followers of Khorne fight once more, let them fight for me instead. Let them see the truth, that you are the greatest among your brother gods.”  He whispered his prayer
A man sought out the IIS survivors, using his status to call for a peace deal, not telling anyone he was doing it.  He had seen an opportunity, his service to Tzeentch had seen him rise high in politics, it made him hungry and ambitious, and he grew to resent the stagnation of the Imperium that showed itself in the politics of his world.  It made him willing to do anything for power, even turn his back on The Emperor. He had never truly believed and so he fell prey to the Ruinous powers.  This was deeper than the servants of Khorne and the servants of The Emperor. Both sides of this conflict were simply tools for him to shape the world of Jurus in his own image.
“Khorne failed you, your champion Amador is dead. You are scattered and leaderless. You looked for change, a chance to drive the Imperium from this world, your dream died before it was ever truly born.  There is more to warfare than bloodshed, there is wisdom and knowledge without these an army is merely a rabble. You still wish to fight, not all is lost but you must find a new champion and leader. You must find a new patron. Come join me and fight still for the change you seek…”
This man was not the greatest of Tzeentch’s followers but he was loyal and had knowledge and wisdom enough to be dangerous.   A rabble who once served Khorne now fell sway to another of the Chaos gods.  He had work to do and an army to do it with.  He sent his new followers out into the streets with a new weapon. They would put aside the lasgun and the autopistol and use words instead, this would indeed be a time of change, it would start small at first but would became a tidal wave that would sweep his lord Tzeentch into rule over this world…
It all began quietly enough and Omero was all for it.  The first posters calling for elections appeared within days. He saw no problem with the citizens of the Emperor having a say in their own destiny. They had earned it and the city council agreed. He just made a note about tasking his soldiers to ensuring a peaceful transition.
So far all seemed to be going well, there was no more talk of revolution and death, only hope and better days. The city would rebuild and continue on.  The PDF would hunt down the rest of the Cultists in their cities and all would be well.
Dolvan Omero held some nagging doubts at the back of his mind but overall rejoiced at the first good news in months.  The city council agreed to allow the election, secretly hoping to put one of their own into power.  They put forth a candidate, an experienced politician named Tor Martinus. Another of the cities, mostly undamaged by all the fighting provided their own candidate, a man named Pol Mercurius.
There were no other candidates.   Omero looked at both images with narrowed eyes. He didn’t trust either of them, they both seemed rather slimy.  
“They’re politicians Colonel.”  An aide commented. That was enough for Omero. He just shrugged and went back to work…
The first incident came somewhere around day 74. The Guard was still here, just waiting for the transports that would carry them wherever else they needed to be.   This was a world that wasn’t used to choosing its leaders, the governor’s position was a hereditary monarchy in all but name.   It all started with an argument. Tor Martinus vs Pol Mercurius. A pair off duty Serlendor were there to hear it and watched carefully in case this got ugly.
It got ugly.
As far as they could tell the argument started with a sort of misguided hometown rivalry. Two PDF troopers were discussing who they would vote for, one chose Martinus from Jurus Alpha the other Mercurius and they got the citizens involved.   One comment started a brawl “Where was Martinus when all of this started?! Where was he when Siro Amador was building an army under our feet?!”
Someone threw the first punch, no one was sure who but in a city where tensions were still running high an argument became a jostling mass of humanity. The 2 Serlendor troopers reached for their lasguns in a desperate attempt to control the crowd. They fought for space as it spilled over into the damaged streets.  They quickly called for backup but the sight of lasgun muzzles aimed at them was enough to stop them.  The crowd dispersed and the matter ended, but it was not the last. Tensions were still running high and there were other such incidents.
Someone in the crowd always shouted something that sent a crowd over the edge, always some critic of Martinus and so the blame always fell on them.  It was slightly suspicious to the Guard commanders but it smacked of dirty politics not treason or Chaos influence.  They would figure it out themselves but he would commit his men to tracking down the ringleaders and to ensuring the safety of Jurus’ people in case someone went too far.   No one really did, jut days of fistfights and brawls.  
Except on day 85.  Someone took a shot at Martinus.  Sloppy, amateurish, it hit the street rather than the target. The Kasrkins and Cadian snipers scrambled looking for the culprit only to find that he had vanished into the city.
On hearing about this Colonel Omero made a comment “I think we have our winner gentlemen.”
The wounded Guardsmen and Kasrkins had the same thought. The Kasrkins were finally able to think clearly, they slowly weaned themselves off their pain meds and were concerned more for their equipment than their new scars.  They left as soon as they were able, against the recommendations of their doctors.   They went right to the Palace and reported in.  Omero sent them right back to their hospital room. “Kasrkins…” He shook his head when news reached him that they disobeyed his orders and took to the streets anyway.
Day 140 saw Martinus win in a landslide. They didn’t question how he had won over the other voters in the other cities of Jurus, apparently his worldwide broadcasts had been enough but they just acknowledged that he did.  That was suspicious, all 3 commanders thought so.
“I don’t like this Colonel.” Van Eyck commented
“Nor do I.”   Omero noted that too.
Ballaseros could almost smell Chaos.  He said nothing concerned that he was just being paranoid.
“Whatever we think of the man, he is the new Planetary Governor.”  Colonel Omero’s violet eyes narrowed as he watched the crowds…
The new governor got up to speak, he rambled something no one remembered, suddenly no one was sure how he had gotten elected at all but the people all cheered, recognizing him as a hometown hero up until his speech ended.
“This world is yours Lord Tzeentch! Come and claim your own!”  He screamed from the rooftop as the sky appeared to tear open.  
Omero had never seen anything like this “How did he manage this!?” He pulled his laspistol, prepared to shoot the man himself if he had to.
“He brought a world to the brink of civil war Colonel and has the support of an entire city... How much blood has this planet seen in the last couple of months?” Major (now brevet Colonel) Van Eyck asked and scurried off to rally his men. There was no way Medici Shadow couldn’t see this and so all her hangars emptied to combat whatever threat The Warp would pour forth.
“Frak.”  The Kasrkins swallowed their rising panic quickly passing around a bottle of Amasec to calm their nerves.
The amplified voice still rang out across Jurus Alpha with no help from voxcasters.  The men of the Imperial Guard were more than a little overwhelmed.  There were no Daemons yet but there were men, a new cult dedicated to Tor Martinus and to Tzeentch.
Just because those dedicated to Tzeentch preferred not to fight did not mean that they could not.   Ballaseros stood with his men fighting men he had helped train.  Many PDF troopers of Jurus Alpha had been corrupted and lost to Chaos, following Martinus but others kept their loyalty and their faith.  The cities of Jurus saw war once again, the skies erupted into battle as Daemons poured into reality.  They had never seen Screamers before, no one here had but they did their best.
Those who stayed loyal faced one overwhelming question above all “Why here?” Amador had just been geography. He had happened to be here 150 years when he faced Medici and lost.  Why here? Why did the most treacherous and deceitful of the dark gods care about a minor Imperial World. Didn’t matter, here they were.
They had no time for battle cries or anything but firing and reloading.  The people of Jurus, forced to take up arms once again rallied behind the Kasrkins and the Blade Runners fixed their knives.   No Daemons on the ground this time, just cultists tainted by a man obsessed by power.
A hundred small scale battles took place all over the planet and somewhere the dark gods laughed.  The 2 warships in orbit held back their fire, afraid to hit their own or kill countless civilians, such an act might allow Jurus to fall to Chaos entirely.    They could do nothing.
Those on the ground felt the same way.  The whole situation, the sudden attacks from nowhere and everywhere at once left them hopeless and confused but despite all that they would stand and fight.
Omero tried to make some sense of all of this, he just couldn’t.  There was at the same time too much information and not enough.  The vox channels were clogged by a whole world’s worth of messages and comm static, he was frustrated at the lack of information and angry enough at being outwitted by a civilian.  He slammed down on the desk hard enough to leave a bloody handprint and let loose a string of the worst language his staff had ever heard. It did make him feel better and he suddenly felt no shame in being outwitted by Martinus’ patron Dark God.
He ordered his personal Leman Russ and all armor into the fight…
“Gatekeepers!” Van Eyck himself roared and his men roared right back.
“None shall pass!”  
One of their snipers added a single snap-crack to the call and response while Omero’s Leman Russ trundled into place.  He would fight like his men, nothing else was acceptable. His presence was enough. They were dazed and confused but suddenly hopeful…
The Kasrkins knew better than to look for hope.  It was an unfair universe, they saw the worst of it on a regular basis.  They would simply have to do their best against an enemy they had no idea how to deal with. The traitors were not that hard to deal with but the sky was almost black and filled with Daemons.  THAT was the problem.  They couldn’t really do anything about it, they would stand and fight anyway.   If they could clear the streets then the Daemons filling the sky would have a planet’s worth of lasguns and heavier weapons aimed at them.
That might be a problem too, Petros Alexander checked the charge pack of his hellgun, used up the last 2 shots and with no time to reload switched to a lasgun.   A shadow fell over their position and he almost shut down entirely.  Fear held him in place and kept his finger from moving.  The moment passed, the daemon continued on its way and he kept fighting.   An unstable homemade explosive blasted a hole in an enemy formation and sent them scurrying away.
“Nothing like a little fratricide.” Suero’s grin was absolutely feral. There was madness in his eyes.  The others had the same look but they hid it beneath their helmets. The shadow returned and it was their turn to scatter.  
“BREAK!”   The Kasrkins stayed together but the PDF ran everywhere.   “The Emperor Protects” Gabrius murmured folding his hands into the sign of the Aquila.  They knew their city and where best to hide, most escaped and returned to the fight. The Kasrkins did too, moving from position to position…
The PDF assigned as a bodyguard to Tor Martinus were…Frozen, shocked, panicking, and unsure of themselves and what to do as a city tore itself apart. One of them just acted. Martinus was just as lost, intensely watching the confusion and terror beneath him.  He died without ever knowing what had killed him.  The PDF squad scattered to join the fight while one of them pressed his laspistol to the back of Martinus’ head and fired.  The man’s headless body fell from the building and into the street and with his death his followers panicked.   They questioned their allegiance to Tzeentch, or to their previous commitment to Khorne.
Some simply shut down, staring to nowhere.   The minions of the Warp seemed to question why they were fighting on some minor Imperial world that held no real importance to anyone but their master.  The old hatreds remained though, all that those who were once IIS were sure of was that they hated the Kasrkins with all the fury Khorne had granted them, The PDF they fought alongside had scattered and they stood alone.  Even as badly hurt as they were they could still fight and did.
Their lives were at stake. They were the Guard’s finest but they were just too few and were already wounded.  They had to fall back.  Vekht didn’t make it, a las round shattered his right femur and he collapsed he dropped to his one good knee and tried to keep fighting. He couldn’t and the Cultists dragged him down under weight of numbers.  His last words hung in the air “Just go!” He screamed at his brothers in arms. Antioch tried to rush in and help him but Suero held him back, “Nothing we can do! Keep moving!”
Xander Vekht kept fighting as long as he could, when he ran out of Hellgun ammo he used a laspistol when that ran dry he used a knife. His brothers saluted him, folded their hands into the sign of the Aquila and found new cover.
Isagani Ballaseros was with his men but the chain of command had vanished and so he fought once again as one of them.  They stood in front of the Serlendor Chimera Bottoms Up, its art of a female guardsman draining a tankard of beer was mostly burned away leaving only the mug and a nice pair of legs.
The lascannon scored a direct hit on a mass of IIS fighters surging toward them but they kept coming.    They closed the gap and he pulled his Kutsi.  He shot the first point blank, blasting a ragged hole through him and the next died with a knife blade through his throat.  
The Kasrkins, still reeling from the loss of one of their own arrived to help, a PDF squad trailing behind.   They held the line but Cleos Antioch joined his friend and brother at the Emperor’s side.   He lost a tattooed arm to a grenade and bled out in seconds.
The rest held, the tears would come later, but for now there was only survival….
The Guard was fighting in pockets and Dolvan Omero could not make any sense of any of it.  Too much information, not enough, he had nothing to work with…  One small ray of hope, the Daemons were beginning to vanish, he kept that in mind when the Serlendor Russ Gothika let loose with a burst of Bolter fire.   This one day was harder than months of fighting. At least in the months of combat before all this he had known who his enemies were, his allies hadn’t mysteriously turned on him and had fought in one solid unit not as scattered pockets across a city.
As the Daemons faded the Cultists and rebels lost heart. They had done enormous damage already but their will began to fail and they broke into scattered pockets, easily beaten down by the Hammer of the Emperor. The rift in the sky closed and Medici Shadow recalled her fighters. The vox channels became less cluttered and reports slowly filtered in that the fighting in the other cities was dying down too.   Dolvan Omero just smiled, happy to be done with another battle…Van Eyck and Ballaseros made their way back to the palace while the fighting died down and the medics and civilian volunteers looked to the wounded.
None of them had anything to say, they were just too tired for words. They had only work to do.
The 3 surviving Kasrkins felt the same.  They yanked off their helmets and armor and without a word, headed to the nearest medics. The job was done and only now could they look for medical help.
Sigmar and Medici Shadow left on their own to rejoin their Battlefleet while the transports headed to some unknown destination. They left behind smoking cities and a people demoralized but victorious.  There was always a price, the people of Jurus had paid it, it had cost much but they lived and so did their world.  The Guard left in time, sent to other battlefields after receiving their replacements.
But Chaos still had a presence here…  Tzeentch alone knew his plans for Jurus…