Anais felt grim as usual, he had led the civilian population through prayer time and again and now it was especially important. He turned to a group of fresh arrivals, death had visited them, keeping their souls safe until his return. But he would renew their faith, guide them toward the light of the emperor.
“Children of the Emperor! In the face of darkness there can only be light, it is Emperor’s light that guides us and delivers from those that would see you stray from the righteous path! We MUST stand firm in the face of the enemy! We must show them no fear, we must not give them the their pleasures, we must not break! Though your loved may be lost they move on to his side now! As will we all in time! But it will not be today! Be ever vigilant of our foe, fall not to the predations of the enemy for our lord only protects the faithful!! None can penetrate his light, none can cast shadows on his glory! Have faith in your emperor, for he is the one true power in this galaxy!!” He hoped to stir the light in the darkness within the emperor’s faithful. He knew what power utter devotion wrought and it was now it was needed most.
The Aoisaech would gaze on only in confusion. He did not give it thought; their worship was false and incomplete. They knew not the light of the emperor, such ignorance angered him, but he would save that for what was to come. He did not trust in the Aoisaech to uphold the pillars of the Emperor’s empire, but they may at least defend their homeland, for the little it was worth without the doctrines of the ministorum. He moved to the defence line.
The perimeter was set, casting his gaze over the field he eyed the traps the Guard regiments had set for the unholy. The Emperor’s deliverance ought to be brought personally, not by rudimentary traps and gunfire. He attended his weapons for but a moment, they were immaculate, the only possessions cared for. These were his tools; these items brought justice to the forsaken.
Taint filled the air, its arrival was imminent, the foul powers which corrupted this world would seek to claim their souls down to their last. The skies themselves recoiled at the presence of such invasion. It disgusted him. It was if the Gods of Chaos themselves spat insults at his Emperor. Such filth would not be tolerated, this defilement of his Emperor’s empire would be struck down by his hand. When the time came, he would bring the righteous fury of the only true god down upon the enemy.
Nearby a soldier received vox communications, she turned to face them all, an older woman, worn but defiant. “The dead approach! Ready yourselves!” The primitive horns of the Aoisaech drowned out the soldier’s noise. The enemy brought war to the Imperium and they would answer in kind.
Guardsmen and PDF forces rushed to the walls. It had begun. The Refugees flowing in to the City became panicked and began to surge through the gates. This wasn't his kind of fight he thumber over the power stud on his weapon, he desperately wanted to get to grips with the foe, no matter how numerous. These promethian traps and gunfire weren't the weapons of holy fervor and devotion. These were the weapons of mean who valued life above all else, the "tactical" minds of the Guard. True devotion was earned by the outriders. The men and women risking their lives in the face of their foe for the Emperor and his Imperium. The sky was sick, pale and bloated. Ready to explode the rot that infected it down upon them, there was thunder in the distance, then green lightning. As the hoard drew closer, the planet gagged. The hoard was endless, he had never seen such numbers. "Good!" he thought, it merely meant there was more of the foe to smite, more to purify!
Then came the blazing of guns, the hoard drew in to range and they opened up. He looked over the sea of bile and rot, those with little faith would surely falter and break. Those without devotion would serve only to halt the Emperor's fury. Then came screams from the distance, within the refugees. The disgust, the nerve, they dare bring the plague here? to smear corruption on the throne of their god? The Guard or PDF mounted units would be sent to investigate, but it was not enough. The refugees began to stir, they were scared. He must not allow them to turn away from his light.
He moved further along the line and turned to face the civilians, the troops not yet in need of the Emperor's guidance. "Sons and Daughters, faithful! You must seek his guidance!! Never falter! Never break!!" He bellowed, his voice as if echoed over the crown as if artificially projected. He knew they could hear him, but would his words reach them. "Join me, call out to your Saviour! A spiritu dominatus, Domine, libra nos, Love the Emperor, for he is the salvation of mankind, Obey his words, for he will lead you into the light of the future, Heed his wisdom, for he will protect you from evil!" He began to recite the Hymn of War, the favoured cry of the militant arm of the Ministorum. But he would have to compete with the thunder of guns, the moaning of the dead, the clap of thunder and the crackle of lightning. The refugees followed, reciting those wise words without him. They must have heard this prayer almost endlessly, but it would not be lost.
They drew in to mid-range, las-fire spat in thick beams from the Guardsmen. The words of their lord must ring in the ears of ALL faithful, they needed his guidance more than any. He turned back toward the stern woman who had alerted them of the enemies approach. "You! Hand the vox over to me!! The faith of all men and women must remain intact! We must pray!"
It was clear she was uncomfortable with this, "The vox lines should stay clear so orders can be distributed throughout the defensive lines" she replied. Angered he yelled "Should these lines break, such will be meaningless, DO NOT BE FOOLISH!" She refused, stubborn as all of the 375th were. He recognised the towering Sergeant Valentine close by and hurried to his position. Among the 375th Valentine was easier to tend, th "Sergeant." he roared over the guns, "I require access to the Vox network, the Soldiers must be led in prayer!" He awaited a reply.
Valentine replied "Now now father we both know its not the God-Emperor who is asking, my poor vox op is a very busy man you see but if you were I say pretty please with a frag on top I may see if he can fit you in his schedule"
"We have not time for your humour Sergeant, the enemy is upon us! We both know what that means!" He let the Sergeant’s remark slide, Valentine was a good, faithful man. They didn’t always see eye to eye but he knew he could be counted on when the foe drew close and that he would be the last to break if the unthinkable came to pass.
"Yes, Yes Father.. I will not hinder the holy work of the throne.." Valentine continued, handing him the vox bead and patting him on the shoulder. He set off as he had started, “A spiritu dominatus, domine, libra nos, from the lightning and the tempest, our emperor, deliver us, from plague, temptation and war, our emperor, deliver us, from the scourge the kraken, our emperor, deliver us!”
Hell had come to Faenchal's Stave and he would march in to its maw.