"There were more arrivals than I expected: two hundred and fourteen White Scars, a full-strength company of Ultramarines, oh, and look at that, a pack of stinking Space Wolves."
On Sotha, within the Blackstone space at Alpha, the primary site.
The Warsmith watched as one Astartes warrior after another emerged from the pitch-black space. Lox had notified him in advance that a contingent of reinforcements would be arriving.
All of this relied on Pharos's miraculous teleportation mechanism. Dantioch knew that if the Necrons were the ones using this artifact, they would certainly have done far better.
Perhaps they could have used Pharos to transport colossal war machines or entire fleets of warships, rather than being unable to send over even a slightly larger Knight mech, as humanity was now.
Still, being able to transport people was enough. Lox's starship could provide a certain amount of material support, while more than a hundred Tengu Mechs stood ready in the Ultramarines' camp at the foot of the mountain.
Beside Dantioch, Pollux stood quietly like a giant, seemingly lost in thought.
"Why aren't you going back? Your battle-brothers are still waiting for you on Macragge." The Warsmith braced himself against Pollux's powerful frame, only to find that he could not budge him at all.
"Emperor, what exactly did you grow up eating? Or are Imperial Fists rations really that good?"
"Damn Imperial Fists. Those bastards stationed on Terra really do get different treatment."
The Imperial Fists and Iron Warriors were the two legions most skilled at building fortifications and fighting defensive battles. The former had received the Emperor's favor and the honor of guarding Terra, while the Iron Warriors could only be thrown into one bitter battle after another.
Dantioch grumbled under his breath. Perturabo had been among the shorter Primarchs to begin