Warhammer: The 11th Primarch - The Black Emperor

Jorginho roared as he burst from the boarding torpedo, plunging headfirst into the cobalt-blue murk. He twisted once in the chemical sludge, then broke the lake's surface with a splash.

A strange howl echoed out, and suddenly, countless massive xeno coiled upward.

The Jorgalls stood about 4.5 meters tall, with three legs and three arms spreading outward like flower petals.

Jorginho noted that all of their limbs had been replaced with dull metal and glossy black carbon curves, gleaming in the light.

Their three legs, like spokes on a wheel, allowed them to stand steadily in the chemical lake. Slowly, their three arms rose.

At the end of each arm, Jorginho saw six-fingered hands, empty of weapons.

Then the arms opened fire, revealing integrated projectors that discharged arcs of electrostatic energy.

Bolts of lightning struck several Shadows of Order stuck in the chemical sludge, toppling even their Astartes superhuman physiques.

Furious, Jorginho raised his boltgun, firing diamond-hardened rounds precisely into the xenos' joints.

Those joints still retained some biological features, reptilian skin, scaled plating, and tiny bony ridges.

With a loud explosion, the Jorgall's elongated head collapsed and slammed into the lake, sending waves surging.

Another xeno warrior lunged from close range, slashing downward with blade-like cybernetic claws aimed at Jorginho's head.

With a roar, the 'Folk of Rage' dropped his bolter, leaping straight from the water.

His beyonder ability "Raging Blow" channeled all his strength into a single punch, smashing the xeno's wet, sunken eyes with a devastating blow.

The creature's skull exploded, ending its life instantly.

As the Jorgalls focused on Jorginho, the Shadows of Order formed a tight combat formation, raising their boltguns for a synchronized volley.

The marksmanship of the Vostroyan-born Astartes, enhanced by their gene-father's heightened senses, was lethally precise.

Dozens of explosive rounds struck the xenos' sunken nasal cavities, obliterating their oval heads in bursts of blood and gore.

Most of Jorginho's squad had regrouped behind him, marching forward in disciplined ranks, water swirling around their armored boots.

Jorginho noticed every xenos, young or old, was augmented, with implants or mechanical replacements:

Spring-loaded piston legs

Wheels and rollers for feet

Subdermal armor

Cameras installed in eye sockets

He remembered the Primarch's notes: the Jorgalls were more radical in their mechanical modifications than even some Tech-Priests.

Leading his squad steadily forward, Jorginho found that these thin-limbed, clawed foes could not stop the disciplined advance of the Shadows of Order.

They attempted close combat, but were intercepted by brothers wielding power swords.

The Astartes quickly sensed that Jorgall's central nervous system were not in their heads, but in their torsos.

As one, they struck using the 23rd form of the Otsber-Vaya technique, targeting the xenos' true weak points.

Their blades shimmered with blue energy, cleaving through scaled torsos with ease.

They flicked their blades clean of the dark red, foul-smelling blood pumped from the enemy's ruined circulatory systems.

Jorginho brought his team to the lake's edge. He ordered suppressive fire from part of the force to halt the oncoming xeno tide, while the others rescued trapped brothers from the sludge.

His once-blue eyes, now blackened by Nareth's potent gene-seed, locked onto the zero-gravity corridor at the heart of the world-ship.

"Follow me."

He climbed a dune made of crystal grains, which crunched under his armored feet.

On the far side of the lake, Mikhaeli a 'Midnight Poet', slightly slower but more attuned, also spotted the zero-G corridor.

Just as he prepared to lead his squad up the crystalline dune, a swarm of Jorgall flyers descended.

They wore shining green armor with sashes wrapped around their limbs.

All these airborne xenos had undergone mechanical surgeries to remove two arms, replaced with razor-edged metal feather wings.

Their feet had become hooked talons, and their joints were mounted with multiple arc blasters, far more than their ground-based kin.

The Jorgall flyers dove with shrieks, casting flashing arcs of lightning across the blue lake.

"Open fire!"

A web of bolter rounds and high-energy plasma tore through the attackers.

Many Jorgalls fell, crashing into the lake.

But this was only the first wave; more green dots appeared overhead, diving rapidly and firing spine-launchers from their hollowed bones.

Mikhaeli watched in horror as one brother was hit with hundreds of needles, his armor riddled with holes, his body shredded.

Another brother was engulfed in crackling energy, the stench of scorched flesh thick in the air.

The "Midnight Poet" tilted his head back in fury and began to chant:

"Amber moonlight solifies in the pines;

Factory walls shed prayers of ancient nights.

Sleep, where Szczecin's strings rust into dust;

Each grain a letter home, never sent;

Beneath the Hive's riverbed, a knight's armor sleeps;

Let the Black Moon claim your final waking thought."

His psychic energy drained rapidly, but the effect was undeniable

The Jorgall flyers, preparing a second dive, faltered, they seemed to hear a lullaby, its ethereal echoes filling their minds.

Though the xenos did not understand the words, their spirits wavered, as if they saw tranquil moonlight and the gentle ripples of a serene lake.

The Flyers' eyelids grew heavy, as if even the rushing wind could no longer keep them awake.

Several crashed headfirst into the chemical lake, and the rest were torn apart by the firepower of the Shadows of Order.

With the enemy formation broken, Mikhaeli and Jorginho breached the defense, ascending into the zero-G corridor, cutting through the yellow chemical clouds on their way to the bridge.

At the same time, Nareth, leading his Honor Guard, had pushed through the Jorgalls' resistance, crossing the crystal dunes.

Ahead of them loomed a forest of towering trees woven from some coarse, fibrous material.

Gabriel checked his auspex; standard navigation was useless in the Jorgall world-ship. He switched to the tactical overlay, which revealed:

"Father, this sector shows heat signatures two orders of magnitude higher than anything else."

"It's the hatchery, not just for breeding, but also for modifications."

"You'll find armed adults there, and more dangerously, psychic hatchlings."

Nareth nodded, already aware of their location thanks to his senses, and advanced at the head of the column.

The deeper they entered the fiber forest, the more orderly the trunks became, and hanging from them were giant gray pods…

.....

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