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The slaughter that was committed was something that only two superhuman geniuses would have been able to perform in such a perfect manner.
The Orks whose powers were robbed of them by the Blackstone Fortress quickly found themselves charged upon by the brutal onslaught of the Imperial Fists. The force that allowed the Orks to become even stronger when the fighting was at its greatest found themselves robbed of that insane strength which characterized their kind.
A route was easily forced upon them which the Orks found to be even worse than the fighting. The newly introduced Land’s Raider allowed the Astarted to quickly be picked up and thrown to other sides of the field. Knights and their steed were able to ride out the sides of the fleeing enemy with a brutal culling at every chance they could have.
Such a start of terror and misery was orchestrated and perfected because it was a means to an end. Terror was not inflicted upon the Orks because the Imperial Fists, the Proelitor, or the Knights enjoyed this state of affairs. No, the reason this was done to them was because these creatures were being shepard through the region to a large basion roughly ten miles out.
This movement took time for they were charging their enemy on foot. But in that half day of travel and destroying any attempts by the Orks to regain themselves and fight, did they arrive at the basin.
It was then that the rest of the Proelitor, Skitarii, and Titans fell on the other side of the valley.
It was a killing ground where Ork blood ran profusely across the ground.
Without the Blackstone Fortress this killing would have tapped into the warp. A perfect method of slaughter that would allow the Blood God a pre-emptive move to creating his empire of tyranny among those present. But he could do nothing, neither could the gods of the Orks, for their powers were nothing here.
Instead those souls lost this day were given to the only beings who were not of the Warp. And they enjoyed it happily.
