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I’m pleased with how these guys turned out. They act as “Sergeants” to my battleline berserking units who play as Death Company. My chapter are non psyching rejects of Grey Knights with a Zen Buddhism vibe. I’m not a fan of the look of GW chaplains so these Inner circle companions with the Steampunk old skool knight helmets and hoods made from green stuff. To make them wysiwyg I added some aftermarket maces. I shaved off some of the more ostentatious bits of the models and glued those extra fripperies over the daggers on the chest pieces. I found that for some reason the figures were quite forward leaning. I like to see the faces of my figures from sitting or standing rather than having them looking at the ground so I used more green stuff to make them stand upright a little more.

A Combat Patrol Battle Report 14 August 2026 Sanguinary Spearhead (Blood Angels) v The Vardenghast Swarm. (Tyranids) A bloodbath. My mate @Peck and I have only played a few games of 10th edition ComPat and usually The Vardenghast Swarm v the slow, plodding Captain Octavius. Tyranids usually always won with a big melee presence, some decent abilities and the tanky Psychophage. We want to move on before we get too used to the rules of 10th, even though we still struggle with the rules. We used map layout B and although I don’t have the ComPat terrain we replicated it with Volkus ruins and some pieces from the Fronteris kit (vox antenae, walls, auspex shrine). In future I will cut up some of the enclosed Volkus ruins. On setup The Tyranids look quite daunting, they are great in number and have lots of fast slashy units. I was commanding the Blood Angels and neither of us had used them before. I attached my Captain to my 10 Assault Ints which left me with 2 x 3man Sang guard units. My Mission was to take and hold the centre of the map and gain expansion objectives. We weren’t really sure what that meant either take and move on or take any obj that isn’t home. We chose the latter. Tyranids were to get to the opps deployment zone and hold one or two or more objectives. I’m not going to go blow by blow but it seemed a poorly matched fight. The Ints took the nearest obj and camped. A Sang guard units took the centre. The Psychophage tried to shift the Ints but was killed quite quickly. The central Sang guards were confronted by the Leapers who didn’t seem to be a match for them. The flying Tyranid Prime took the furthest wing obj but was soon torn to shreds by my other Sang guard units. The Barbgaunts were pretty good at shooting at distance (as always) but the Termagents were a waste of space. The Sanguinary guard were just unstoppable with 2+ saves and 3 wounds and in melee their heavy bladed attacks with -2/-3 AP often making saving throws impossible. The Tyranids main units were taken out very quickly leaving the cannon fodder. Tyranids are very different now. You cannot attach a leader to any unit. Leapers have lost the ability to infiltrate (more on those later). The Psychophage is faster. Unfortunately the app showed her BS for Psychoclastic torrent to be 3+. It wasn’t until the post match debrief we noticed the keyword Torrent. Previously the sheet for The PsyP said BS N/A because it’s a torrent weapon. We noticed that the regeneration of Termagents has gone but we also noticed that there is a core stratagem for “Rapid Ingress” which means that you can hold ANY unit in reserve and pay 1CP to plonk them on the battlefield anywhere (i.e. into the enemies deployment zone 6” from the edge and not within however many inches of an enemy unit). We played Tyranids like the old ComPat. They were nasty slashy things. I think now they are gun and run units (Termagents having the ability to advance and shoot, always advance 6 with 1CP if needed). Or you keep them as a massive multi unit melee weapon. Conclusion…never take on Sanguinary guard toe to toe. We are still slightly confused by a few terrain rules where cover is concerned and the wording of counteroffensive makes no sense to us at all. But I shall post for advice with pics elsewhere.

THE REVENANT HOST Extract from the private journal of Rogue Trader Lord-Captain Lucian Josephus Vale XVIII, Warrant of Trade Imperator's Mercy. I have seen the dead walk. Not the shambling corpses of plague worlds, nor the witch-spawned things that crawl from the Warp. I have seen those thrice cursed horrors often enough that they no longer surprise me. These were different. They came without warning. We had been fighting on the surface of Karthax IXa for thirteen days when the Kroot mercenaries of the traitorous House Breckenridge broke through our eastern defenses at Port Caedus. My armsmen were exhausted, my enginseers were dead, and I had already begun calculating how much of my newly discovered Aeldari weapon cache I would be able to salvage before abandoning the planet. Then they appeared. At first I thought them a miracle. Prayers to the God-Emperor answered. Ornate armor. Guardian spears. The unmistakable stature of the Emperor's companions. Then I realized I could see the battlefield through them. They were pale things, their armor faded almost to grey, their forms surrounded by a cold, green spectral light. They made no sound. They did not acknowledge our soldiers. They simply advanced. The Kroot broke and ran. I cannot blame them. The strangers passed through our lines and fell upon the enemy with a precision I have never witnessed. They fought without hesitation and without fear. They did not retreat. They did not celebrate. They did not even seem to understand that we were there. They fought as though they were remembering a battle rather than fighting one. Then, after perhaps an hour, they vanished. No withdrawal. No teleportation. One moment they were there. The next, there was nothing. I have since spoken with three Navy officers at Port Wander who witnessed the same phenomenon on other worlds. Their accounts agree on the essential details. The warriors are always Custodes. They always appear near sites associated with ancient Webway passages. And they always disappear. We have begun calling them the Revenant Host. I do not know what they are. I do not know whether they are spirits, weapons, memories, or some fragment of the Emperor's will given form. I know only this: When the Revenant Host appears, something has gone terribly wrong. And when they leave, whatever stood against the Emperor has usually ceased to exist. There is one final detail I have never recorded in an official report. The first time I saw them, one of their number stopped before me. He looked directly into my eyes. For a moment, I thought he recognized me. Then he spoke. His voice was barely a whisper, "We failed Him." He raised his spear. And disappeared with the others. I have spent twenty-three years trying to determine what he meant. I am beginning to suspect they have been trying to remember.

Bought some paints and brushes today. Tomorrow, the priming begins!

To be honest, I don't really like this miniature; something feels off. I tried to make the metal dull and added dirt and grime. But I'm not sure how well it turned out. I'm generally not a fan of dirt on miniatures, as it usually obscures the model itself. Here, I tried to make the dirt visible without obscuring the main paint job.

Thallaxia Chapter 1 Flame was all around him. The transport slammed into the ground at rapid speed, and the undercarriage began to peel away as they dragged. Explosions rolled in series from the direction of the impact, before the ship caught on something, and began to tumble. On its third roll the ship came to a sharp halt, and Lukan became pinned in the wreckage. He was wounded, something pierced his armor. Fires grew around him. He only felt the pain as he looked down to see it, a jagged pipe emerging from his chest at an upward angle. His blood ran cold. His automatic injector sensed the injury and released a powerful pain killer. His thoughts swam through the red and dark and blood around him. He needed to free himself before the fire consumed him. The pipe wasn't that long, he could pull himself off and find a way out, he thought. He tried to raise his arms, and they didn't move. He tried to move his legs, and they didn't even twitch. He was paralyzed. The pipe must have severed his spine. He could just barely still move his neck, enough to keep his throat clear so he could breathe. He activated his emergency transponder via mental command that had been drilled into his psyche. That's all he could do. He couldn't even vox the rest of the Cell without his helmet. He hoped the rest of his Cell survived. He was in the belly of the transport, the worst place to be in this particular scenario. Lukan hung by the pipe, jaw slack, drool mixed with blood running freely out of his mouth. The smoke grew thicker and began to work its way into his throat. He couldn't even cough to clear it, and felt it settle on his tongue, and coat his uvula. He could still feel his limp body, through the painkillers. He could feel the heat of the fire on every part of himself, threatening to melt his uniform to his skin. His vision began to fade. He let his consciousness fall into the deep, dark heat. At least he was warm. At least he was sedated as he died, and did not have to go screaming in agony. He could retain some dignity, even if no one else would ever know. He had survived more than so, so many. He could die here with pride. Lukan heard voices. They sounded very far away. He might have rejoiced to be found, were he not so certain of his demise. Thank the Emperor that they survived, he told himself, as he closed his eyes. He could not see any more, he need not spend the effort to keep them open. He heard the shrieking of metal being torn apart, and fresh air flooded the wreckage. The comparably cold air rushed at Lukan and into his wound, sending an agonizing chill through his body. His throat and lungs began to spasm in response. Ripping facsimiles of coughs ripped out of his chest, worsening his wound and sending blood flying out of his mouth with every horrible exhalation. His eyes flicked open and saw the shape of an Astartes in front of him. Brother Decimus. His helmet was flashing with multicolored lights, and sweeping sensors. He was analyzing the severity of Lukan’s wounds. The lights snapped off and the marines deep vox grilled voice boomed “You will live.” Was all he said, before stabbing him with an injection, and pulling Lukan off of the pipe. The pain from the sudden movement was so agonizing that Lukan lost consciousness for a span of time. When he came to again he saw the sky above him, and could breath clean air. He was on the ground. He saw Decimus above him, holding a piece of hinged wreckage aloft. “Hide.” Decimus said, and slammed the transport door closed over him. “Salvation will find you.” Lukan heard him say from the other side. And then; “We bring the fight to them! Advance with extreme prejudice!” He felt the marines' footsteps pound into the earth as he ran away, and the sound of gunfire faded, leaving Lukan alone, in the dark. He wasn't in pain any more, not really. He could feel the injection Decimus jabbed him with working, coagulating the ragged ends of veins in his wound. He could feel his entire body, so abused and beaten and riddled with drugs, every inch of him was alive with tingling sensation. Lukan attempted to stretch his over exerted muscles, and a dread cold as ice water seeped into his gut. He had managed to forget that he was paralyzed. The inability to move even an inch sent him into a claustrophobic anxiety attack. His thoughts began to race faster than he could understand them. His brain honed in on the strained muscles that were set to burning from staying in one position too long. The sensation overwhelmed him. Noises began to emanate from his throat and Lukan realized that, if he tried, he could still scream. And so he screamed. Decimus told him to hide, but scream was all he could do, and he did so until he lost consciousness again. He woke in darkness. He had no way of telling how long he was out for, and after only seconds the panic began again. Whatever muscles he was still able to manipulate into a scream were now failing. Lukan attempted to master the panic. He was a member of the Vigilia. He was chosen because he is a survivor. Brother Decimus Batur is his bonded Astartes, and great friend. He has been serving with him for the better part of ten years. The recitation of facts calmed him. When his thoughts strayed to his broken body, he started from the beginning. I am a soldier of the Malum Vigilia. I am a survivor. Brother Decimus Batur is my bonded Astartes, and great friend. Lukan’s mind slipped into darkness again, but the facts repeated in his mind as he rested. He could no longer tell when he was awake or asleep until he woke, and he was somewhere else. There were voices around him. He was being moved. He was staring up at the steel ceiling of a voidship, or more particularly, the docking bay where two ships were connected. He could not move his head, or open his mouth to try to speak, as he was held in place by fittings on the gurney. After a few seconds, the movement stopped, and Lukan heard a woman’s voice, “Releasing patient for transport to the local Ordo Reductor facility.” it said. What? No. No he hadn't heard that right. +Thank you doctor. We will take him from here.+ Why were there tech priests? Oh throne. No. Emperor no. They were going to put him in the Lorica. He could see only the ceiling as he began to move again. Lukan’s mind was peculiarly silent. They were going to put him in the Lorica. The stories all came rushing back to him. The omens of the tech priest that he had promised his body too long ago, in the event its ceasing to function. Lukan found himself wishing to stay the way he was before allowing this. He wished he had died on the pipe, in the fire. His eyes recovered from their sightless glaze and Lukan saw one of the tech priests stepping to the side, closing a chamber door. He was in a stasis chamber. He tried to scream as the room began to fill with cold smoke. He craned his eyes to the side to meet the tech priests, hoping to plead for mercy, but saw none in its cold robotic voids. A second later the door opened again, and Lukan was still trying to scream. He was brought out of the chamber quickly and through a massive open ship's bay. Large medical lights came into view above him, along with servo skulls with blinking red recording lights. Then he came below a terrifying conglomeration of long metal arms with various cutting, drilling and welding attachments. Moments later he heard a tech priests start what sounded like a medical journal +This is Ternax Vex of the ordo reductor. Subject has presented with catastrophic lower cervical cord destruction and complete paralyzation. Limbs have succumbed to various wounds and have lost any viability upon arrival. I will now begin the transfer of the patient to his chosen Lorica Thallax chassis. Lukan heard a console beeping next to him, and he felt a liquid being released from somewhere. There was an IV in his arm, he didn't even notice it being put in. In an instant the painkillers stalled in his system during the stasis transit were canceled out, and Lukan felt all of his wounds. The tech priest long ago had told him that in this eventuality, he would need to remain conscious, and his nerves un sedated, in order to ensure their proper placement within their new host. Lukan saw the face of the operating tech priest come into view above him. I am a soldier of the Malum Vigilia, he told himself. I am a survivor, he told himself, as the tech priest began the process of removing him from his body. Chapter 2 Years ago Lukan watched as his transport drifted towards the space station. It had a large middle section, where the bulk of its activities must be handled. Above and below it were large spires with rotating compartments shooting off of them. Dozens of Mechanicus ships of varying sizes surrounded the station, entering or leaving docking bays. Lukan knew that the Vigilia had extensive ties with the Mechanicus, in order to supply the augmetics needed by its mortal soldiers. But he did not know what this station was. The Vigilias best kept secret, or best kept he’s been made privy too so far. None of his contemporaries knew the purpose of the trip he was on either, only that they, too, would make the journey one day. Lukan was to be inducted into the Malum Vigilias Astartes companion pool. The thought still gave him chills. He remembered being a child, and thinking Space Marines were a fairy tale. So much of the Galaxy was just a story back then. And then he was recruited to the guard. The horrors of the void soon became very real to him. But Lukan survived, where so many had not. And the Vigilia noticed. Before he could work with an Astartes, Lukan needed to receive his standard augments. That would be done aboard the response flotilla he is assigned to, however. Lukan saw a massive icon above the docking bay he was about to enter. A cog, with a tower, and a lightning bolt inside it. He did not know this order. The transport passed through the environment shield and docked in the middle of a large empty bay. The transport was automated, and only Lukan was onboard. The door opened for him regardless. Cold blue light seeped into the transport. Lukan stepped out, and saw his breath turn to frost in front of him. Throne, it's cold, he thought. He looked around for an indication of where he was supposed to go. Against the wall Lukan saw a tech priest. They stood at least seven feet tall, and wore a flowing mechanicus robe. The deep hood kept their face in shadow, save for one glowing red eye. +Lukan Wrenn. Congratulations on your promotion to bond cell applicant.+ The priest's voice was deep and oddly bubbling, yet entirely mechanical. Lukan nodded to them. “What ordo is that?” Lukan asked, pointing to where the icon above the bay was. +The Ordo Reductor. World breakers of the Un-maker.+ said the tech priest. “The Un-maker?” Lukan asked. +Omnissiah. Emperor. Un-maker. In times past the distinction carried more import.+ Lukan was surprised to hear such candid talk of the Emperor. If it were a subordinate of his he might have reprimanded them. “Very well…” Lukan said, un-sure. He continued; “You are quite the secret. A secret that everybody knows about. Why do recruits of the Vigilia come here?” Lukan asked. In response the tech priest took a step to the side, and gestured to the lift behind them. +All will become clear.+ The priest said. Lukan nodded again and made for the lift. The priest entered after him, and the door closed without any noticeable interaction. The lift moved up for around fifteen seconds, before opening into darkness. The tech priest stepped out of the lift before him, and the cold blue lights turned on as he entered. They were in a warehouse. In front of them was a sort of reception area, a large desk with hololiths and maps, terminals and cogitators. A dozen yards past the desk, and in either direction beside it, were huge arming racks displaying what looked like armor of some sort, though Lukan had never seen its kind. Cold fog rolled on the floor in between the rows of racks that held hundreds and hundreds of these mechanical bodies. They went on so far that Lukan could not make out an end to them in any direction. The tech priest reached the desk and turned to see Lukan's bewildered expression. They waited for Lukan to ask his questions. “What are these? Am I to be armored like a marine?” Lukan asked, grasping. +Only in the proper eventuality.+ The tech priest said, and continued, +The Lorica Thallax. A remnant of an age long past, to be resurrected by the order of Archmagos Bellisarius Cawl, and Lord Regent Roboute Guilliman.+ Lukan was surprised again to hear such names mentioned in his presence. The Lord Regent had ordered him here? The Archmagos had a hand in this technology? It was as if he were living in a legend. The tech priest turned about, and walked past the desk, towards the racks. +Come. Walk with me among them. You will want to see before you make your choice.+ Lukan was still slightly stunned. He had more questions, but felt no rush to end his wonder. He followed the priest to the racks. They were sorted by variations, hundreds of one identical model might fill a row of racks. The first they passed were polished bronze in color, with an oddly shimmering faceplate. The next they saw were slightly taller, and made of ceramite. The next were shorter, and made of another, darker material that Lukan could not name. Even more variations lay in any direction from Lukan, but he could discern a pattern. There were many models and many materials, but those seemed to be the only two variables. All of the machine bodies were bereft of weapons, and looked rather sparse, like they were missing components. As Lukan continued through the racks he noticed a commonality between them all. These did not appear to be suits of armor, as there was no discernible way to incorporate a soldier physically. They were solid pieces with, evidently, no hollow spaces. Some of them also bore ribbons, with names of Vigilia soldiers. Certain models had a ribbon on each one. Some had multiple. Other models only had a few, though every model type had some. The tech priest began to speak, evidently tired of waiting for Lukan to inquire. +The Lorica Thallax and astartes power armor were both born of the same principle. To integrate a subject with its armor, to provide a supremely protected, informed and empowered occupant. The level of integration ended up being the defining factor. The Lorica Thallax diverged from use with Astartes, due to its reductive factors, and instead became standard in the forces of the Mechanicum, and the Ordo Reductor.+ Lukan listened intently, trusting his questions will be answered in turn. +Once placed within the Lorica a soldier can live for centuries. One of The Lorica's most valued uses is in saving a catastrophically wounded soldier.+ Placed within the Lorica. That gave Lukan pause. “You’re going to put me in one of these?” He asked. +The Vigilia would not rob you of your humanity, regardless of the Ordo’s view on the subject. You are here today to select a chassis should your body fail, yet your mind can be saved. You will be given a new body, and a new chance to serve the Un-maker.+ Lukan paused in thought. Interesting. He was simply relieved that this entire ordeal was not a matter of immediate import, instead something for the future. A contingency. The priest continued walking through the racks, and told him more. +The Thallax are extremely durable, agile, and powerful. You will be tougher, stronger and faster than you could ever hope to be while still beholden to your flesh. Each Thallax houses a high energy compact reactor that can power devastating weaponry. You will have extremely versatile access to augmentation, and customization. You will be fitted with a jet pack. The list of practical benefits goes on.+ Lukan was wary already. Nothing a tech priest espoused so fervently was without a catch. “At the cost of my humanity?” Lukan asked. +Implantation within the Lorica is not without its difficulties. You will lose your vision, and hearing, given something else instead. Due to the intense trauma of being placed within a new body, your emotional centers will need to be dampened, lest you feel agony un ending. Your mind will need to be conditioned to function with its new body, and your psychological limits will be tested. However, due to The Archmagos recent applications of re discovered ancient technology, internment within the Lorica will no longer inevitably result in insanity.+ “That used to be a feature? Inevitable insanity?” Lukan asked with equal parts humor and horror. +The great crusade, and the eras that followed, were times of unparalleled urgency, and unpleasant practicality. A soldier may succumb to insanity within the Lorica, but only after centuries of superlative combat service in the ranks of the Ordo. An exceptional compromise in the eyes of many, even to those that may suffer the consequences.+ It surprised Lukan to find himself thinking that he understood. He was in the Vigilia after all. After his time here, he would be sent directly to receive his standard augments to serve as a Bond Cell Applicant, a series of no less than a dozen, highly invasive medical procedures, augmetic grafts, and mechanical integrations. This is a shade similar to the life and purpose he was already living. It occurred to Lukan that another Chapter in another time might have interred him without his knowledge or consent, and conscripted him to service regardless. Lukan stopped in front of a machine body made of polished steel. It was taller and wider than him. He tried to imagine the force capable of being summoned from its large mechanical arms and legs. “Does implantation hurt?” Lukan asked, not really able to think of a more pertinent question. +Affirmative. By design. Your receptors will be dampened enough to not burn out your sanity, but you will be brought to maximal awareness during implantation, to increase the odds of success. Each viable nerve needs to be mapped to a new pathway, and pain is the most effective method.+ Lukan paused. That did not sound pleasant. His nerves. That gave him shivers. “How much of me ends up in this thing? As much as you can salvage?” Lukan asked. +Negative. The only components of your body to be transplanted will be your brain, spine, and nervous system, regardless of the viability of individual components or organs.+ That sounded horrific. That sounded beyond horrific, like the worst pain that could be imagined. The possibility of capitulation crept into Lukan's mind. “What if I don't consent? I imagine that's what you have brought me here to gain.” He asked, turning to look at the priest. +The Lorica Thallax contingency is a requirement to be considered for work with an Astartes. The Malum Vigilia is investing a disproportionate amount of resources into you and your training. They will not waste the experience of a valued operative simply because their flesh fails.+ The tech priests said, meeting his gaze with his one red eye. “The flesh fails with age as well. Am I to be interred in one of these when I am too old to serve?” Lukan asked, wholeheartedly expecting it to come off as a joke. “Affirmative. To be a member of the Malum Vigilia is to embrace service without end. You will be kept at operational capacity until such a thing is no longer viable.” The priest said without humor. Now this shook Lukan. He had never really entertained the possibility of retirement, not much of the guard does. So in a way, Lukan thought this an improvement. He could live for centuries, if he played his cards right. He could serve with Astartes for centuries. He could never be one of the Emperor's Angels, but this felt like he might come close. The weight of a trillion human souls never given the opportunity to live a life of such purpose felt like it would crush him if he were to refuse. Lukan looked back at the mechanical bodies. So many more left to see. He wondered if he would find any that suited him in particular. Any with some personality. He looked back to the priest. “Then I suppose I should find one I like, eh?” Chapter 3 Lukan was changed. His brain was irrevocably and catastrophically altered by the pain he endured during transplantation. He was peeled open, and pulled by his seat of consciousness. His flesh was pared away around his nerves and discarded without ceremony. Any semblance of familiar sensation or identifiable senses quickly became a forgotten memory. The only experience left for Lukan to feel was agony, as his nerves become exposed to the near freezing air of the mechanicus operating theatre. “How?” was the only word he could manage to think. His brain was placed within his chosen chassis, a tall and thin body, made of a dark matte material. His spine was fixed into place. Then began the long, long process of the flesh welding. Every single one of his nerves was affixed into its new position with extreme heat. His already screaming nerves erupted in fresh torment, and his brain began to fight against the stimulants keeping him cognizant of the pain. This is when he noticed his emotions beginning to vanish. Lukan's mind was brought to its breaking point, and emotion of any kind that touched this threshold was chemically castrated by the tech priest currently watching his brain. He would never feel anything so deeply again. If he were to look back on the experience Lukan would not be able to identify when he began to feel his new body, rather than the insane mess of unidentifiable sensations from his raw, flailing nerves. He could feel the heat of his nerves being fixed, and then he felt the heat of the steel around the nerve. As more and more of him was welded into place, he began to feel a weight to himself. The sensation was dull now. Agonizing, but not fresh, and the layering and piling on of these dull flesh welds eventually coalesced into a facsimile of a body. The process of affixing his nerves took no less than eighteen hours. When all of his nerves had been placed, his chassis was closed, and he was fully inside his new body, for the first time. Lukan was lifted by a large chain hooked to his back. He felt the sensation of being moved. His center of gravity was shifting and he could feel the massive weight of himself pressing firmly on the rest of his body, and the hook in his back. He could not see, hear, smell, or taste. But he had a body to feel now, in a way. It did not feel the same as his old body. Or did it? If he was being honest with himself, he could not remember what it felt like to be in his old body. He just remembered that he could feel great pain like that. Less now. He felt something press into his new abdomen. It was very warm. It jerked and clicked and interfaced with his body in some way, before locking into place. Moments later he felt an extremely volatile… something, enter his body. It churned and rolled at his center, before sending waves of itself into his torso and limbs. He felt it begin to gather beneath the home of his thoughts, until the waves filled his body completely, and his polished blank face shape clicked on. Lukan would frequently be asked about the Djinn sight by his fellow soldiers upon returning to the ranks. He would often describe it as if his sight and hearing had become one sense, and he had neither individually any more. It would allow Lukan to see through walls and terrain around him, determine velocity and trajectory near instantly, and gain an exceptional amount of data about a target's physical condition from the unique combination of sensory capabilities. It would allow him to track seismic pressure, blood heat, and electromagnetic fields, over great distances. The human brain struggles to compensate when presented with a new sensory experience though, and Lukan would eventually come to refer to the Djinn sight as his “vision” because it was the closest approximation. When Lukan's new body became active, he did not understand the Djinn sight yet. His faceplate flicked on and Lukan's brain was overloaded with information instantly. He perceived a roiling sea of red, pulsing and all aiming directly at his face plate. The tech priests were chattering, but he didn't even know how he knew that. Words entered his brain as this new form of data; +Back away. Monitor the subject closely. Remove the ignition apparatus.+ a Tech priest spoke. Lukan looked down. He could move his head. He again didn't really know how, he just felt the machine being pulled from his new metal gut and instinctively looked at it. The storm of data in front of him became complicated, and then faded. He moved his head some more. Throne, it had been ages since he moved. He needed to stretch. Lukan immediately became overwhelmingly anxious. He needs to move his body right now. He began to try. Lukan's metal frame began to spasm. His arms began to flail and legs began kicking. He smashed his right arm through the rigging that was holding him upright, and the chain that was holding him aloft fell out. He landed with a resounding slam on the deck. He tried his hardest to stay upright, and he managed to make it a few loping gaits into the room before falling and slamming into the deck. Movement was not helping. He still felt still, and stiff. Like he had under the wreckage. He felt the dread again, cold as ice. He continued to smash the floor below him, attempting to force the aching dull whine from his nerves. It wasn't working, and he found himself emitting a machine sound of some kind. Is that how I scream? Lukan thought. Lukan focused on the physical sensation that created the noise. It was something he was controlling, he just couldn't make out how to do it on its own yet. Nonetheless, he forced his will into that section of his mind, and his body reacted by letting out a terrible, long and painful screech. It all hurt. Throne, it all still hurt so much. A tech priest spoke near him again. +Bond cell applicant Lukan Wrenn. You have endured much, and survived your ordeals yet again. You have a new body. We are capable of inducing a state of rest. Would you like us to do so?+ Nothing had ever sounded so pleasant in Lukan's entire life. He stopped his shrieking and stilled his limbs, for the most part. He did not feel entirely in control of his body yet, so full of energy and power it was. The tech priest spoke; +We will take that as affirmation.+ Somehow Lukan could perceive the tech priest approaching from his side even though he was facing straight down. He was an odd mixture of cold and hot spots with electromagnetism flying off of him at every point. The priest connected something to Lukan's back, and he fell asleep. Chapter 4 The tech priests re-booted Lukan. They attempted to do it slowly, with the application of sedatives to keep him from reacting violently again. When he came to Lukan was upright, back on the hook, but his feet were on the floor this time. There were three tech priests in the room with him. One in front and one on either side, behind him. Information slowly trickled into Lukan's mind. There was a field of some sort around him, around everything in the room. It was flowing constantly from one thing to the next. Machines. It was flowing from one machine to the next. The tech priests included. There is heat around him, though little of it. The tech priests contained the heat too, as well as the electromagnetism and environmental pressure all around. Lukans recalled the sensation from earlier when he screamed and tried to talk. “+Is this the noosphere?+” The words came from his body with unexpected ease. His voice bounced off of itself and rattled around the room like a coin in a beggar's tin. It bore no resemblance to Lukan's old voice. +You can perceive the noosphere?+ The tech priest in front of him said with surprise +I am going to transmit a large packet to the Magos, tell me when I have sent it+ The priest said. The tech priest did nothing for around twenty seconds before a large wave of the rolling information streamed in a million pieces to the Magos behind Lukan. “+Now.+” Lukan said. +Fascinating.+ The tech priest said with robotic wonder. Lukan did not know what to say to that. He noted that he was not in pain, and did not feel the need to stretch what used to be his limbs. “+The pain. Will it return?+” He asked. The tech priest shook his head and began to move towards him. +You must re-define pain in your new form. The sensations you felt are what it is to be implanted in the Lorica. Not pain. They will return, and you must master them.+ The priest said, moving to his side. “+I felt as though I needed to…Stretch. To express my muscles. I can not.+” +Ah. Well that is simply phantom body syndrome and will subside with time.+ The priest placed a mechadendrite on the hook in Lukan's back +You have regained the faculty of speech rather quickly. Shall we try walking next?+ He asked. Lukan affirmed his consent to the priest, but something strange happened. He didn't say anything, but he spoke to the priest. He essentially said “Okay” without the need for the mechanical step. The priest noticed. +We will train you to interact with the noosphere and other such networks before you return to your compatriots.+ His compatriots. His cell. “+Do they yet live? How long has it been?+” He asked. +You were the sole casualty of the crash. They eagerly await your return. It has been over four hundred terran cycles since you sustained your injuries.+ the priest replied, while pulling the hook out of Lukan's back. Over a year. The stasis chamber must have masked a trip through the warp, back to the heart of Ultramar. And he suspected it would be over a year going back. He felt something. The only feelings he had a notion of at the moment were agony and confusion, until this new one reminded him he could still feel more. He was excited to be reunited with his friends. Lukan quickly learned to walk again. It was more intuitive than he would have thought. Still, he felt that he was underutilizing his new body, and the priests took him through a full diagnostic of his new form. The process took hours, but the passage of time did not affect Lukan like it once did. He did not get hungry, or tired, or bored, or restless. He got lost in the diagrams and schematics of his body, and came away with a deep understanding of his systems. The practical application of these systems was another thing entirely, though. Lukan spent the first months of his travel back testing his new physical capabilities. He was capable of running five kilometers in under seven minutes, though he heavily damaged the track he ran on. He no longer needed to breathe, a great boon while running. He did not tire physically any more, and continued these benchmark tests for many days in a row, partially out of excitement, and partly because he had absolutely no idea what to do otherwise. He did not want to confront more than this, not right now. The priests offered him many chances to rest or recreate, but he was content to lose himself in training. He could lift over a thousand kilograms in a standing posture and more in various lifting positions. He could carry an intense amount of weight on his back. Still, he did not tire, only felt his metal body endure the stress without complaint. His reaction time was exceptionally improved, the djinn sight keeping him ultimately informed of all things around him at all times. He was capable of running obstacle courses and reacting to interference in ways that he never would have been able to when reliant on sight and hearing. His perception was three hundred and sixty degrees at all times, and physical obstructions no longer provided as much complication. He could sense the heat and electricity of all things, all around him, shooting off into every direction, forever, until it all faded into the background noise of reality. A wall in front of him existed, and so too did the things behind it. But they did exist behind it, and his perception of them was as such. He was taken to a shooting range. This… Now this excited him. He was a sharpshooter in the flesh, and he was wondering if he would retain his specialization after his transformation. He still retained many of the necessary qualities. Patience. Discernment. His reaction time was better. His physical control of his extremities was better. Lukan was beginning to think he actually might be a better sharpshooter in this form, although a bit clunky. They gave him a rifle that would have been comically oversized before, now it felt as though he might break it. They ran many servo skull shooting galleries that Lukan enjoyed, even if they were a bit easy. Eventually the trick became to recognize when the priests had released the skulls in a pattern that made it physically impossible to hit each target, and take the option that eliminated more. Lukan felt very good about his marksmanship. He spent days practicing with various standard long range weapons, until one day a tech priest approached him with a rifle. The priest told Lukan that he would have as much time as he wanted in their armory later, but brought him a particularly effective weapon to train with. He said it had been borne by the Thallaxii before, but did not elaborate further. The weapon was nearly two meters tall, with a long thin barrel, and a bulbous flared protrusion along its length. Near the grip was the energy chamber where the shots were charged. The handle and trigger came directly off the energy chamber, and a very sparse stock stuck out of the end of it. There was a large cable to connect to his own energy source, to power the weapon. The tech priest called it a photon thruster. When connecting a weapon to his power source the energy would run through the hand that he has affixed to the trigger and handle of the weapon, in this case his right. The feeling of connecting to the gun was something with no real human analogy. The sensation that he felt at all times, that gave his body the ability to move, his internal reactor, became split between the two reservoirs. The photon thruster came alive with his energy, and began to sustain itself within the chamber. It did not diminish his own energy capacity at all, except maybe momentarily, initially. Lukan held the rifle one-handed and let off an un aimed test shot. The shot made the reservoir of the gun fluctuate slightly. His own core was not affected. Nor was his arm, did this gun not produce any recoil? He fired another shot. No it definitely did, and if his sensory calculations were correct, it was actually quite strong. Not by his standards, any more, evidently. He could fire repeatedly one handed without moving a centimeter. The tech priest offered to run a special gallery to test its capabilities, and Lukan accepted. The wall moved half a kilometer back. Lukan shot bullseyes with no issue. He could shoot repeated bullseyes into the same scorched target mark. The targets moved and Lukan could track them with astounding fluidity, continuing with no misses. A barrier made of stone appeared. It was difficult to discern the skulls past it, but it was a simple scene with only one new variable, and Lukan continued to take his shots. He was surprised when his first shot pierced the stone wall cleanly. The bolts of energy thrust from this gun were extremely powerful. Lukan continued practicing with the rifle for many days, and eventually adopted it as his favored primary weapon. With half of his transit left, Lukan began noospheric and advanced systems interface training. The noosphere flowed through all things here on the mechanicus ship and was almost indistinguishable from baseline reality. They taught him to interface with it, though he had almost none of the information necessary to access any of its systems. He was not fully aware or in charge of the things he was doing. He suspected that is why he was not allowed access to the noosphere, he might interact with it in some erratic way. They taught him to connect to various cogitators and force them into submission in seconds, in a manner that astounded Lukan himself. It was as if he spoke directly to the simple machine spirits, and they listened. The technical jargon and rows of numbers were all transmitted to him, but he did not understand any of that yet. It was during this period of intense mental training that Lukan first truly looked inward, at what he had become. He was still Lukan. He remembered being Lukan. He had memories from throughout his whole life. Didn't he? He found his memories fragmented and missing something. Memories of being Lukan, without Lukan there any more. Lukan did not exist any more, or at least the Lukan that was. He thought of a cold cup of amasec, one of his most visceral pleasures. He had enjoyed it many times. He could not remember how it felt to drink one. He couldn't imagine the sharp bite of the alcohol, or the condensation on the glass. That was it. Lukan had endured so much pain, and been so quickly and effectively reconditioned, that he no longer had a viable mental model for what it felt like to have flesh. Lukan explored the ramifications of this. He explored his memories and found what they were missing. He no longer had memories of physical sensations throughout his life, as his brain had given up its old ways and fully adapted to the new. He remembered the raw agony of the surgery, but not even the pain he felt in the wreckage, on the pipe. Every memory Lukan had was torn apart into tiny pieces, and shuffled together in his brain, now bereft of the connective tissue of his flesh. He did not know what to do with this revelation. He thought he might start a journal. Record what he did remember somehow, but when he looked inward he found that he actually had the internal capabilities to create catalogues and organized repositories of his own memories. It would just take time, and be very confusing. It became a task that Lukan addressed in his down time. Towards the end of his trip Lukan was genuinely excited. Everything was so unbelievable. When he thought about what had happened to him and what he now was, he… Did not know how to feel. Maybe the feeling he should have felt was not there any more. Confusion dominated his life for so long. But he would get to see his cell soon. He went through training with a couple of them, and had memories with them. Above all else, he wanted to see what Decimus would make of him now. It had become somewhat of a tradition for the cell to test their strength against Decimus as training. They had never bested him, all five of them versus him, and they never really expected too. It was just fun. Decimus would want to challenge him when he got back, that much Lukan was sure of. A test of strength vs an Astartes. Lukan endured much throughout his service. He did not know what lay ahead for him, and he could not say whether anything was worth it. But one thing was certain. He was now living a legend.

The Malum Vigilia is my OC faction of space marines, and this is the codex! I will update it as I gather more and more detail and figure more things out about the chapter. If you like the vibe, have ideas, questions, or points of interest, please leave a reply, ill keep all of my content to edits. As you can tell from the numbers and gaps in logic, this is part of a much larger document, I'm just posting the pieces i have figured out and concrete. 1. Chapter identification Full Chapter name: The Malum Vigilia Common short name: The Vigilia Accepted translation or meaning: The Evil Watch Founding: 26th Founding Approximate founding date: Gene-seed lineage: White Scars Known gene-seed mutations or peculiarities: None known Chapter classification: Fleet-based; broadly Codex-adherent Current estimated Astartes strength: Approximately 1,000 Primary theater of operation: Ultramar and the Five Hundred Worlds Primary recruitment territory: Ultramar and the Five Hundred Worlds Formal Imperial designation: Prototype Astartes / Mortal Integration Chapter Common informal description: First responders / mortal liaisons 2. Founding mandate Who authorized the Chapter’s creation: The High Lords of Terra. Later selected for specific reformation by Roboute Guilliman. Why the Chapter was created: To exploit the unique advantages of Mortal and Astartes service members, as well as the unique traits that emerge from their pairing, in order to create a large rapid response network throughout the five hundred worlds of Ultra Mar. Why a new Chapter was considered preferable to modifying an existing one: Marines of The Vigilia can be created with the values of the Chapter in mind. What strategic weakness it was designed to address: Astartes often clash with the Imperial Guard or other forces that they are tasked to work with. The Malum Vigilia are a Chapter of Space marines in the heart of Ultra Mar that is uniquely trained to work with mortal forces. Astartes response time can often be slow, and only called for after a great tragedy has occurred. They maintain an active watch over the five hundred worlds and spread their forces wide in an attempt to respond to any threat with an Astartes grade response before tragedy strikes. Additionally, Space Marines are costly, and limited within a Chapter. Creating highly capable mortal members whose abilities pair and amplify with an Astartes is how the Vigilia maintains strength while spreading thin. Throughout the Imperium there are often individual Astartes grade threats that do not warrant an entire chapter's strength, and thus are never addressed. The Vigilia aims to respond to every threat. Why White Scars gene-seed was selected:They are a very stable gene-seed, whose carriers are not bound by tradition, or genetic variations. Carriers of the Khans genes are fast, independent, and used to decentralized or unusual command structures. 3. Development of Bond Cell doctrine Was the Bond Cell structure planned before the Chapter’s founding, or developed during its earliest missions: The Mortal and Astartes forces were constructed and developed separately, with the knowledge that they would be integrating with each other. Who designed the first proposed Bond Cell: Brother Leontes Ghanzorig. Who commanded the first experimental cell: Brother Leontes Ghanzorig in conjunction with [ ] How the first five mortals were selected: Brother Leontes Ghanzorig chose his Bond Cell members for Operation Hive Ganger. All of his initial choices agreed instantly. What the first Bond Cell mission was: Operation Hive Ganger When hounds were formally integrated: Once they fully embraced the system of widespread Astartes coverage they began to look for additional force amplifiers. Why permanent teams replaced temporary mortal attachments: A permanent team is made of members that want to be there. If a Space marine wishes to be excised from his cell, this can be taken into consideration. If a Mortal wishes to be placed back into the selection pool, this can be taken into consideration. 6. Chapter command Current Chapter Master: Chapter Master’s formal title: Vigilia Domini Founding Chapter Master: Master of Sanctity: Chief Librarian: Master of the Forge: Chief Apothecary: Commander responsible for hound breeding and training: Eli Voss 14. Panoply of war Astartes Preferred armor: Mk VI Corvus / Phobos armor Use of heavier armor:The Chapter uses heavier armors selectively, up to and including Terminator Armor. Standard primary weapon: A Marine of the Vigilias Primary weapon is his Melee Weapon. However, various bolter marks are assigned to marines that specialize in their use, as well as on a mission sensitive basis. Assault, stalker, and carbine bolters are all commonly used. Common ranged weapons: Bolt carbine family Common ammunition: Standard or suppressed bolt rounds. Common sidearm: Plasma Pistol or Bolt Pistol Common melee weapons: The Malum Vigilia maintains a wide variety of melee weapons and encourages each Marine to learn as many as he can, and find his own preferred weapon. Common among these are powered and chain variants of the sword, axe, hammer, spear, claw and gauntlet as well as more esoteric weapons like the gravity hammer, bo-staff and many more. Common shield patterns: The Vigilia maintains all shield patterns within their arsenal, though individual marines specialize. Specialist heavy weapons:The Vigilia maintains a suite of heavy weapons, such as the heavy flamer, bolter, and more. They also maintain multi-meltas, and plasma cannons, as well as solid projectile explosive launchers. Their selection of mounted weaponry is more sparse. Interference Pattern drop pod: The Malum Vigilia maintains a pattern of drop pods meant to accurately and discreetly deploy single astartes. Helmet and sensor-suite designation: Mk VI Corvus / Phobos armor. Helmet systems are extensive and tailored to each marine individually before deployment. 21. Bonded Thallax and Mortal Preservation Common informal name: Bonded Thallax / Thallax Veterans Nature of the process: A Thallax-derived preservation procedure that replaces most of a catastrophically injured operative’s body with a heavily armored mechanical chassis. Who possesses the conversion technology: A sect of The Ordo Reductor Where conversions are performed: Central Thalaxii precessing facility in UltraMar Whether the Chapter can manufacture chassis independently: No. How common they are within the Chapter: Common among senior mortal veterans by Vigilia standards, but extremely rare elsewhere. Is conversion voluntary: Yes, but opting in is also required in order to be considered for work with an Astartes. Can an operative withdraw consent: No. Whether age or terminal illness can qualify: Yes. Can anyone be ordered into conversion: No. Does the veteran retain their name: Yes. Does the veteran retain rank and honors: Yes. Does the veteran retain Bond Cell membership: Normally, where the original cell still exists. Does the veteran retain legal personhood: Yes; they are not servitors or Chapter property. Why the Vigilia preserve mortal veterans: Proven mortals are too valuable to discard after one natural lifetime or catastrophic injury. How the program supports the Chapter’s mandate: It retains experience, reduces permanent mortal attrition, and creates operatives capable of surviving closer to Astartes operational tempo.

This is going to be a mess. I haven't blogged in forever. Last time, I think, was in 2013, and that was just before I left Greece and migrated to the UK. My head feels like an open filling cabinet, who someone forgot outside during a tornado. And I think a kid swallowed the keys as well. A while back, I saw a video from a youtuber where he said something that resonated with me so much, that I am now carrying it with me as a scar. Very few things stay with me these days; when you grow older, you travel, you meet a lot of people, or when you are pretty socially active in your earlier years, you experience a lot of things, hear a lot of opinions and you pretty much become jaded, meaning that there are fewer things to sweep you off your feet. Yet, that unknown guy's comment, from half a world around, stayed with me: 'I am no longer interested in newer editions of Warhammer 40k, as I have more years in the hobby behind me, than I have in front of me'. I believe this happened because he hit home. This year will mark my 47th birthday. It is not a milestone age, nor a round number. However it is dangerously close to the 'half a century' mark, but it will also mark 35 years since I first got introduced to a company called 'Games Workshop'. Whether I like it or not, it is a milestone, albeit a personal one. There were large gaps in between, ignorance, lack of money, life got in the way. At some I might have been depressed as well. But I always returned to the hobby. This is actually what pulled me out from dark holes, more than once, and it is something that, as long as my body allows, I'll continue doing it. It gives me a sense of fulfilment and a serenity that only few other things can give me. And I take great pride to the results of my labour. I'm not sure I will continue with this blog. I'm not even sure why I am doing it in the first place. I guess I want to praise the hobby, write down some thoughts about it and share it with other like-minded people, in one of the last places that make sense to me.

Hi Folks, This summer of 26 is really to be marked as an awful era for painting. With all the heat waves (and no climatization), a large amount paints has dried out and my hobby productivity as dropped down. Over the past 5 weeks or so I have managed to paint from scratch a little bit less than 10 models: 5 dwarves for ToW and 5 Pteraxii. But wait a minute. 5 Pteraxii? Weren’t these a part of my pledge for CtA26? Yes, they are. And they also were the last minis still undone. It means I have finished that pledge! Hooray... But with limited enthusiasm though these models were as painful to paint as the previous ones I did a few years ago. A souvenir I had obliterated from my memories. What about these cyber psychobats? I might have pretended a small hesitation before building them with flamers or needle guns. But in the end the flamers prevailed as I find them more useful than needle gun that deliver as much shot for 5 Petraxii than 10 Skitarii. As the characteristics are not that different in terms of damage output, the Pteraxxi might become useful due to their increased M and with saturation of an area if numbers climb to 10. But I do not find these arguments to be sufficient as wingspan is such that most Pteraxii will die before making a useful back flip (LoS baby...). And no way that I paint 5 more of these lads. Flamethrowers for everybody then. The only change I have made vs. the previous unit is building up the alpha with the torch and making a few modifications on a body meant to be a standard trooper so that he becomes the alpha. Like that the 2 units are less similar. What is the result? Here is the full unit: I have some issues with metallics as these paints look like they suffered more of the heat than other, with lumps of metals flakes. So some of the most obvious areas where this phenomenon led to a lack of shiny metal will have to be corrected one day. Some details on the alpha and one minion: What else? Not that much. There is still 1 month for CtA26 and I may pledge something else. But I have to give it a though. After all I also have some ToW miniatures t paint before the end of the month for a game and I may give it priority… See you.

Blood Spelunking Prologue The Veyrfall Temple of Water was still once. The waters came from cracks in the stone high up and tumbled down the many rings of walkways that lined the temple walls. It would flow so perfectly one might mistake it for glass. It cascaded down the stone work, gathering into scores of reflecting pools that filled and drained at a constant rate, giving the appearance of a rippling sheet. The flow continued to the grotto below that burbled with springs and geysers, spreading far into shadow and mystery. The Temple was still no longer. The bombardment of the surface began weeks ago. Now the water trembled. The once peaceful streams sputtered and spat angrily in erratic patterns. The reflecting pools showed shattered mimicries of the refugees that prayed in front of them. Those on the higher reaches of the temple rings were assailed by falling debris. There were too many of them here, and they could not stay much longer. The air was becoming toxic and thick. But the fact that they were still here at all suggested the Imperium did not know of this underground temple. They prayed, though they knew naught what to pray for anymore. Life would never be the same. They prayed for the next second, and the second after that. Veyrfall had never been given the opportunity to comply. Upon discovery by the Imperium, they were deemed tainted. The faith the planet was built upon was too virulent to allow it to fester. The people of the planet would be annihilated, or assimilated. For a short span of time the explosions abated. The quiet permeated the survivors, and then turned to panic. This was not deliverance. Hope for such a thing left them long ago. A massive kinetic weapon crashed through the roof of the temple and brought the end with it. The projectile detonated the ceiling like a mining charge. The shock wave was so powerful that many were killed instantly from the percussive force. As it ripped through the temple at an angle its supreme heat vaporized the water around it. The weapon embedded itself in the grotto below, and the temple walls collapsed inward. Within seconds all that remained was a steaming crater, littered with dead. The temple of water was the heart of Veyrfall's capital city, a massive sprawling flood plain with farm paddies and villages as far as the eye could see. Large city centers dotted the landscape at regular intervals, and shallow creeks with small river boats connected them. All now lay in ruin, obliterated from the days of relentless assault. The dead seed the landscape. The paddies and small tributaries turned pink with blood and changed their course to fill the crater that was once the temple. The compliance of Veyrfall was achieved, and so began the long effort of The Tithe. Veyrfall was a large planet, with rich soil and many complex hydrologic features that made it ideal for producing food for the Imperium. Farms that spanned the horizon were planted with mega crops that sucked the flood plains dry. Natural reservoirs of water both fresh and salty were turned into highly efficient mechanized breeding pools that required large freight ships to harvest. The Imperium, ever pragmatic, saw the ruins of the temple of water, and the large mass of remaining city infrastructure, and found it a suitable place to lay the foundations of a hive. They brought the dead from miles around and dumped them into the crater. And so the temple became a tomb. Over long centuries the crater filled with earth. The citizens forgot what little they knew of what it once was, and it became their own place for revering the dead. They entombed the deceased in ever climbing catacombs that soon met the surface and became a graveyard that spanned kilometers. Over centuries more generational crypts and tall mausoleums climbed into the sky, and at the same time sank into the soft earth. The planet's natural tendency towards uniformity would see the surface of the plains rise for generations to come, and crypts that once cast tall shadows saw their roofs covered in dirt. Eventually the great graveyard was connected to the nearby hives superstructure. Thousands of years of the dead now connected by plasteel and ferrocrete to the living. With the sweeping recognition of the ecclesiastical truth, plans to build the Basilica Sepulchra Imperialis were made. A grand cathedral that spoke of the Emperor's divinity from atop generations of the dutiful and honorable dead. The outer bounds of the graveyard were encircled by low defensive spires, creating a courtyard in which a massive burial slab was built, and on top of this slab the Basilica was erected, and the planet renamed Veyrfall Sanctus. The wealthy aristocrats of the hive invested heavily in the Basilica. Hundreds of years were spent on its creation. Generations of menial workers created communities and family lines around the production of the sacred stained glass that made up the entirety of the building. After its completion highways are formed leading to the great work. Parishioners and pilgrims came from every corner of the planet to see the magnificent tombstone of the planet's honored dead. As centuries pass, space below the Basilica becomes scarce, and the structure itself sinks into the ground further. The hive grows taller next to it, and the church must be raised periodically. Great ancient mechanisms of the Mechanicus attach the burial slab at the Cathedrals base to the spires that surround it, and raise it when the need is met. Now, in the era M.41 corruption unveiled sits at the heart of the Basilica Sepulchra Imperialis, and after ten thousand years, the dead it guards may not have been safe after all. CHAPTER 1 The Governor of Veyrfall held his head in his hands in disbelief. His office was a mess of velum and drained amasec bottles. Veyrfall had never missed a tithe. At least, not that anyone living could remember. Why, oh why did it have to happen during his tenure? The thought brought fresh pangs of apathy and depression. Someone would be along to kill him sooner or later. They would install a more suitable governor, someone who would claim this tragedy was avoidable, and that he was incompetent. There had never been a drought on Veyrfall before, and certainly nothing as strange as this. Not only had the rain stopped, but all of the features that made Veyrfall such a reliable agri-world had begun to fail. Mountain streams were diverted in odd ways counter to millennia of worn waterways. Vapor introduced to the atmosphere dissipated at a rate that did not make sense. Currents that maintained the livestock of the breeding oceans were failing, plunging the planet into a heat wave. He filled his glass again. He told himself this wasn't happening long enough to close his eyes and down its contents. The potent alcohol burned his throat and landed in his empty gut with a sickening splash that reminded him of the worst of it. The water the people of the planet did have access to had become tainted, somehow. Even the amasec that he drank made him feel sick. He was sweating and wanted to wretch, but the alcohol made it feel familiar at least. The drinking water of the planet began to have adverse effects on the population, though symptoms were rarely the same. Some were driven mad by it. Some claimed it boiled their tongue as they drank it. Unquenchable thirst, lethal dysentery, advanced dehydration. Some drank the water until it killed them, so parched they were. They could drink it, and needed to. But it was not without a cost, and always came with pain It has been six months since the rainy season should have begun, and the people of the planet were beginning to forget what it was like to live with drinkable, healing water. He opened his eyes again. The Inquisition had arrived today. If anyone needed proof that things were serious, this was it. He had heard of the cult outbreak in the Capital Hive, and took appropriate measures to ensure that it had not spread to his Hive. He was certain it had not. Even so, he would surely be meeting with the Inquisitor or an envoy soon. The thought actually made him wretch, and he aimed at the corner he had designated for the act. – – – “Come here! Where are you!” The door to the field house was kicked in by the foreman's strong mechanical leg. He was an extremely grizzled man, his right side mostly mechanized after various farming incidents. He paused in the doorway to look; the boys in the house all scattering from his sight. “You! You little :cuss! Think you deserve more water an tha rest of us?” He pointed at a young boy that had been caught stealing water rations earlier in the day. He stomped over to him with his pounding, lopsided gait. “Come here!” He bellowed as he grabbed the boy by his scruffy hair. The smell of amasec permeated the cabin as the old farmhand came for him. He turned and dragged the boy behind, screaming now for help. The others in the cabin watched, dumbfounded. The old man dragged him out of the door muttering “I know what'll do it... I know the stories...” The old man dragged the boy far out into the dry mounds of tilled earth that should have sprouted long ago. The screaming brought other workers out of their field houses with lanterns and torches. They saw what was happening and stood stock still, confused. The Foreman brought him out far enough that his cries could barely be heard, and the darkness began to swallow them. The watching workers edged forward and angled their lights attempting to see. They saw the flickering outline of the Foreman hold the boy up at eye level with his strong mechanized hand. The boy kicked and squirmed and flailed his arms to no avail. They could see the foreman pull something off of his belt, and in a brutal motion that allowed no resistance, ripped it across the boy's throat. The watching workers' desire to witness the event left them. One dropped his lantern. They saw the flickering man hold the now still body above the ground with both hands. After a few moments the watching workers became nervous. They needed to get to their bunks now or they would be next. They began to snuff their torches and shutter their lanterns in a rush. They turned and started to run to their cabins. As they ran, they felt something in the air. They touched the backs of their necks, and their hands came away wet with water. They looked up to the sky, and out of the smog filled sky of a near hive plantation, droplets were falling. It was raining. The drizzle became a shower, and the boys opened their mouths instinctively, their lips cracked, and their mouths filled with sores. They braced themselves for the pain that it would bring, that all water has brought them for the last half a cycle. But it did not come. The cool water soothed their wounds, cleaned their bodies, and nourished their souls. They became lost in an incomparable joy, and thoughts of the boy that got caught stealing water rations left their minds. The shower became a storm, and as the boy drank their fill from their own cupped hands, they saw the Foreman walking past. His head was down. He walked straight to his cabin, and shut the door. The boys watched him pass. Their jubilation faded. They had better just get to their bunks. There would be work in the morning. – – – – – – “The galaxy is vast and full of horror. Only by the Emperor's infinite vigil are we delivered in these strange decades. Xenos that infest and homogenize and ingest us as biological material. Long limbed, strange faced mockeries of the holy human form that feed upon your suffering, like a sweet honey. Spores that flood the air, and grow hulking monsters thirsting for blood." The preacher stood in front of a large golden aquila, planted unceremoniously in the town square. A small crowd was gathering from alleys and crowded townhouses around. “You are the Emperor's tools! Only by your endless effort does the Imperium survive! The Emperor's currency is human lives, and he is rich like no king has ever been or ever will be. Your efforts are not wasted. Your contributions do not go unnoticed.” The preacher moved to talk to the people in the crowd face to face, grabbing them each by the hands. “The galaxy is vast and full of horror. Screaming demons that expand your consciousness with new depths of terror. Vile rot that blooms in your soul and spews out of your mouth and on to all that you love. Winged creatures the size of star systems bedecked in skulls the likes of yours and mine. Incomprehensible horror that will leave you gibbering, only able to feel, and perceive.” “In times of struggle, in times of great cosmic horror, in the face of unbelievable, unfathomable suffering and evil. Strange tithings are needed. The Emperor needs you, fellow devoted. The laws of the cosmos do not bend to you or me! They do not bend to our reason, logic, and morality. They bend to the will of the Emperor, and no other!” With this the priest took a knife out of his robes and put it to his palm. “The galaxy is vast and full of Horror, and The Emperor will save us all. You have heard news of the neighboring hive and their good fortune. With man's holy blood comes healing rain!” The preacher opened a deep wound in his palm, and the blood landed on the ground with a splash. He went to a member of the crowd and gingerly offered the knife to them. “Bleed for the emperor.” he said The woman nodded and screwed her eyes shut. She closed her hand around the blade and screamed as she pulled it out. Her blood joined the preachers in the grass. He brought the knife to the next devotee. They said no words, only enacted the ritual. And on to the next. After the fifth parishioner had cut their palm open, someone in the crowd quietly said, “Look...” They pointed at the aquilla. It was covered in beads of water. The preacher left the knife with the flock, and walked to the statue. The moisture in the air was clinging to it, and forming streams down its fine details. A breeze pulled the air towards them. “The Emperor sees us! Fellow devoted, rejoice in his glory!” The crowd kneeled as one. Those with wounded hands held them over the ground, their offering made. They passed the knife to those waiting to pay tribute. The water from the aquilla was forming streams that reached the crowd. They dipped their hands in and drank the bloody water, and it did not hurt them. The preacher stood and turned to observe his flock. There was one person not kneeling. She was tall, wore a long leather jacket with a high collar and black hair. She held a pistol of incredible value in her right hand. “Heretic” A voice so loud it made the crowd reel in pain blasted through the plaza. The preacher fell back on his haunches in front of the aquila, gripping his ears in pain. The sound was so great his vision was blurred and he thought he was going to throw up. The figure approached the preacher, and once within easy shooting distance, unleashed a beam of red energy from her pistol that erased the man's head and shoulders. The woman turned to the terrified parishioners, and spoke in her harmfully loud voice. “Return to your homes. Planetary quarantine by order of The Inquisition is now in effect.” Chapter 2 Calpurnia watched the burned shrine district pass beneath her. She stood in the open doors of a transport that brought her from a hive halfway across the planet. She used the time to rest, and awoke to the planet's strange purple moonlight. It cast varying depths of violet coloration that made it difficult to discern where shadows began and light ended. On the ground countless Inquisition personnel and Mechanicus adepts worked with servitor teams to neutralize the district. The district was burned roughly eight months ago. It was Calpurnia's first order, her decision made before she made planetfall. The outbreak of the Khornate cultists had been an incident severe enough to condemn the planet in the eyes of the Inquisition. Calpurnia's intervention had saved the planet, but a stain remained on its soul. Calpurnia burned the district and anyone that remained inside. Neighboring districts were evacuated and now being demolished in order to create an impassable quarantine zone, disconnecting the shrine district from the hive. The only structure left for kilometers was the The Basilica Sepulchra Imperialis, and its protective spires. The transport flew along the grand processional highway, which led to a part in the spires encirclement, the entrance to The Basilica. Calpurnia had seen picts of the building in its glory, and it was truly one of a kind. Never before had Calpurnia seen such a large structure made entirely of stained glass. Now, coming to dominate her view was an ugly building smudged with endless layers of black. The Basilica was the epicenter of the outbreak, and for the time being held to much valuable information to destroy Corruption has spread planet wide, of that Calpurnia was certain. If the planet were to survive the wider Inquisition must never know this, Calpurnia also knew. This was an infection like none she had seen before. The water was tainted, and behaving strangely the planet over. Out of desperation the planet's devoted citizens had begun to lean on old superstitions and macabre rituals, and they were working. Blood sacrifices have been reported from every corner of the planet, and with the sacrifices came bountiful gifts of clean nourishing water. The planet was now under strict quarantine, and many perished daily. If the corruption could not be cleansed, it would be them all, through one means or another Calpurnia's transport landed in one of the many docking bays that crisscrossed the spires surrounding the Basilica. She looked out the interior. Here is where the blood priest Kayde had unleashed his tide of slaughter and revealed the corruption that flowed into the planet's heart. The Basilica stood in a burned courtyard big enough to hold millions of pilgrims, and a great sphere of absent material encompassed its pavilion and forward wings– the site of the blood priest's ultimate heresy. She boarded another smaller transport that would bring her to the entrance en route to her destination below. The craft flew around to the building's rear and touched down close to its base. It kicked up a flurry of ash and Calpurnia covered her face as she rushed out. The scale of the building was absurd. She tried to think how long it would take her to walk around it all. It could be done in under a day, she thought, if you stayed close to the building. There was an access hatch set at the Basilicas base. Calpurnia lifted it open and it was dark inside. The passage glowed with a warm amber light. She stepped down into the passage and saw the ceiling was marked with a line of lumen paste down the middle. The tech priest's way of marking paths. The catacombs of the Basilica first aroused suspicion immediately after the Malum Vigilia had managed to contain the outbreak. The priest's final bloody sacrifice was his flock, and any they had marked for sacrifice. Every cult member and captured citizen died an agonizing death as the blood left their bodies and fueled a torrential storm in the courtyard. At least, this is what compiled reports told them. The cult had been transporting the captives into the catacombs through the two entrances located in the district. Their exsanguinated corpses led them to the ritual chamber, Calpurnia's destination. She descended the stairs brushing cobwebs out of her face. She emerged into a wide open room lit by a scattering of low powered lumens. Dozens of tables layered with scrolls and maps filled the room. Passages lined the walls with diagrams beside them illustrating their paths and detailing their purpose. Calpurnia saw the path she needed to take marked on the ceiling above. It led past the sign that said “LIFT”. Calpurnia felt the tech priest might think her simple. But the markings were likely not solely for her benefit. The lights did not go far into the passages, and soon she was glad for the lumen paste, although she was never without light with her augmented eye and altered vision. She emerged into another large chamber. On either side of her were two roads big enough to drive vehicles down, and in the center was a lift large enough to carry them. If the diagrams she had seen before were correct, she was now at the center of the courtyard, and the roads were the two main entrances to the catacombs from the district. This was the corpse lift. Calpurnia stepped onto the massive lift and pressed the rune for the lowest floor. The catacombs were wider than they were deep, but even so Calpurnia lost track of the layers as they passed. The higher up layers were all man made. The mechanism for the Basilica's raising was detailed to her by some of the planet's older officials. When the Basilica is raised, empty space is left and a new system of dessicating shelves and lavish tombs would be erected. The wealthy tended to stay towards the top, while the poor were dried, and their bones brought lower. It was considered a privilege of the hive to be buried beneath the Basilica, and it gave many a sense of reward for a life lived in toil. The last layer that the elevator brought her too was different, now the walls were carved out of hard packed earth and clay. She had passed when the burial stone and Basilica were erected, into the massive city sized graveyard that it was built upon and cut into. The tombs and ossuaries at this level went deeper themselves, but the lift stopped here. From the tech priests' reports there were hundreds of passages at this level which obstructed the path to the ritual chamber, but as always, the ceiling was marked glow paste. Calpurnia followed the glow paste trail through many twists and turns that eventually straightened out to a long hallway. She could see the glow paste trail ahead end with a passage into a room filled with light. She emerged into a long wide room, filled with artificial sunlight from servo skulls above. The entire room was slanted slightly to the left. Dark passages lined the walls. Far to the right there were two sets of stone steps that led to a raised edge. Calpurnia could just see the teams of servitors that stood at the top of the stairs. In the middle of the chamber, from the space in the center of the steps, to the catacomb halls on her left, was a meandering depression in the soft clay, stained bright red. Calpurnia walked to the channel in the ground and knelt in front of it. The earth was still wet. Drops of blood glinted at her in the light. She followed the damp stream to its source up the stairs. As she climbed the servitors backed away, giving her space. Above them hummed hundreds of servos skulls waiting to be deployed. At the top of the stairs was the sacrificial cistern. A shallow depression in the earth with a lowered lip to form the mouth of the river. It was many meters wide and criss-crossed with walkways that sat stained in the blood. The many chains that had been used for the sacrifices were bound together and held in the center above them, and the long barbed poles they used were stacked in a pile against the wall. She walked further around the great mass of blood. It should have been hardening, congealing, darkening in color. Degrading somehow. But it was as bright as though fresh from a wound. In contrast, the walls and floors around the pool were stained by layers of blood from red to black. Calpurnia had ordered the pool left alone for now. Such things held power. As Calpurnia looked into the pool she considered how many must have died above it over the years. She did not want to think of a real number. So, so many. She thought of the sacrifices around the planet, and the drought. All signs pointed to this corruption having deeper roots than anyone knew. Perhaps Kayde and his line of bloody priests were acting as the planet's saviors, in the only way they knew how. There had never been a drought recorded on Veyrfall. Could the planet's history of trading blood for water trace back to its pre Imperial culture? Ten thousand years of blood. Longer. The thought was unbelievable. +It is good to see you again, Inquisitor Thorne.+ She heard a low robotic voice from behind her. Calpurnia snapped to attention. She was staring at her reflection in the pool. She did not know how long she had been there looking. She turned to see Pathfinder Drayvus Kern, the mechanicus adept she had chosen for this mission. He was... complicated looking. Every piece of his body was something else, a tool or appendage of some sort, tucked neatly into an average six foot male frame. The most plain piece of his body was his head, a blank polished head shape, covered by his single adornment, a ragged Mechanicus hood. He was bereft of clothing, but also flesh, and it did not come across as indecent. “Hello Drayvus” Calpurnia said, turning from the pool Upon turning around Calpurnia saw a cluster of machines against the wall of the cavern. It looked halfway between a bio chemical lab and a steel forge, though it was cold at the moment. She gave Drayvus a look and asked “What is this?” Gesturing at the equipment. +Do you remember when I asked your permission to take samples from the pool? I had an idea, I told you. This was the idea.+ Drayvus walked over to the chemical forge contraption. Calpurnia followed and saw the intricate system that Drayvus had created. On the left were many flasks and beakers marked with different anti-chaos runes of varying severity. There were piles of incense near the beakers, and mountains of candle wax under the material they heated. The system became enclosed at the point where it connected to the forge, which consisted of a major heating element and various dies for shaping. Drayvus walked to the end of the blood forge and picked up a tiny iron bracelet off an anvil. +We are still examining the properties of the blood forged iron. So far we have not observed corrosion, and we have not been able to break it, though it can be cut with extreme heat. No trace of corruption lingers after the sanctification rituals.+ Drayvus held it out to her. +Take it. It may offer protection+ Calpurnia took the bracelet and affixed it around her wrist. It felt strange. That was all she could note about it. +Come Inquisitor, you must meet Sister Cassandra.+ Drayvus led her to the far end of the pool, where a woman knelt with her hands in the sign of the Aquila, praying. She was in the traditional bronze battle plate of the Silent Sisters. She wore a gorget that covered the bottom half of her face. Funny, similar to Calpurnia's leather collar, she thought. Her head was shaved bald save for a short topknot that ended in a shock of blond hair. Beside her lay a large blade that could cleave a man in two. “Greetings Sister” Calpurnia said Sister Cassandra's eyes opened and found Calpurnias instantly. Her irises were bright orange. She stood and bowed to Calpurnia, again making the sign of the aquila. Calpurnia returned the gesture. +And if you will now follow me to our supplies. We can begin the expedition soon.+ Calpurnia nodded. The Tech Priest turned about and the Silent Sister followed. Calpurnia lingered a second. Something caught her eye in the pool. She looked near where Cassandra had knelt. The blood on the edge was darker. It had dried in her presence. Chapter 3 The nausea that came with the stench of this place was made worse by traveling with a silent sister. Calpurnia kept behind by a few paces when it was possible, both to abate the symptoms, and also to note any changes in the surroundings as she passed. This place was saturated with the Warp, and the Sisters' lack of connection could reveal many things, in theory. The level they were on was an Ossuary; a bone reservoir. The walls were covered in scenes depicted in bone. Internal walls were made out of human femurs. Skulls watched from every corner. There was no active decay down here, all the remains were completely dry after centuries in desiccation. They passed rooms with huge piles of bones, sorted by type, to be used throughout the tunnels as building material, or artwork. Calpurnia wondered how long it had been since this part of the tombs had been used. She knew it currently was not, the prospect of venturing this deep with remains no longer made sense when they still had vertical space to spare, with the growing size of the hive, and land surrounding. Drayvus led them, though not in person. He was manning a servo skull in their company while scouting ahead. Multi tasking was ever a specialty of the Mechanicus. He stayed roughly an hour ahead of them, carving a path with his teams of servitors, leaving them marked with high potency lumen paste. They had set out from the ritual chamber following the river, but this quickly proved to be a faulty strategy. The river bed itself was dry, but the places where the blood had pooled were not. Entire chambers were filled with the ever-fresh cursed blood. Passages were flooded where once the blood flow had forced it to continue further, but now stagnated. There were points where Drayvus was able to erect various methods of traversing the blood, but it often became more prudent to simply find a way around the flooded areas. As long as Drayvus could confirm that the river had still been flowing down, they just needed to go down as well. They came upon a passage that was flooded completely, but not for very far. Drayvus was able to erect a tense wire both on the ground and ceiling and instructed them to use them to traverse it. Cassandra hopped on to the wire and held the one on the ceiling with a single hand. Calpurnia admired Cassandra a great deal. She might have been the most confident person Calpurnia had ever met. Maybe all Silent sisters were this way. She walked with an aura that would make an Astartes falter. Everyone was changed when faced with a silent sister. The sister remained the same. Calpurnia attempted to follow her example when she could. So far the journey had gone by without incident, and it was easy to be brave. But the time was coming for them to rest for a period. None of the three of them needed much sleep, but they all did need some. They found a chamber dominated by an aquilla made of hand bones, and set the servitors to guard its entrance. They had not encountered anything living, nor any signs of active chaos infection so far, but they remained ready. They would stop for four hours. Drayvus would remain half conscious with the servitors and rest his other half. As Calpurnia lay down her bed roll she talked with Drayvus. “So, what do you think we've gotten ourselves into?” They had not talked much during the journey so far, both of them focused on making sure the expedition began on solid footing. +Speculation as to the nature of Chaos is inherently fallible, and leads to bias in preparation for any eventuality.+ Calpurnia paused for a moment. “You could just say you don't know.” +What we are “in for” is the result of centuries of ritual Khornate sacrifice. The archenemy has already cast their gaze upon this planet.+ “Do you think we will be able to cleanse it?” Calpurnia asked, not liking the tone of his mechanical voice. +The planet may be cleansed by exterminatus. Purification can always be achieved. Our mission is to determine the severity of the infection, and formulate a fitting plan. We will be successful in this role.+ Calpurnia could not argue with the Tech Priest. She looked over to sister Cassandra, who responded with a dire glare, and set her bed roll out. They lay down with their backs against the hand bone aquilla, facing the entrance to the chamber. Drayvus sat on the large coffin that the room was built around, watching the entrance. Calpurnia closed her regular eye and set her augmetic to wake her in the case of movement. Four hours later Calpurnia awoke refreshed. Every time she woke she was extremely pleased with her augment to reduce her need for sleep. It did not only that, but gave her extremely high quality rest as well. She sat up and saw Cassandra was already in her waking meditations, and Drayvus was fetching supplies from the servitors. Even with her augment, she was last to wake. She thought herself lucky to be part of such a disciplined team. Drayvus brought her a nutrient bar and bottle of clean water from off world. +We will make much progress today Inquisitor.+ He brought a nutrient bar and water to Cassandra. +Take your time preparing yourselves, and let me know via the skull when you are ready for guidance. I will depart now.+ “Thank you Drayvus.” Calpurnia said, snapping open the bottle and taking a drink. “Do not get too far ahead. If we need you I don't want to wait for an hour.” +Affirmative Inquisitor, my apologies. The catacombs are fascinating.+ Calpurnia nodded to him and Drayvus took his leave, the majority of the servitors and a swarm of servo skulls going with him. Calpurnia looked to Cassandra. She had slept in her armor, but now seemed to think better of it. She removed her gorget first and drank some water. She stood and placed the piece of armor in the corner, and began to remove her gauntlets. Calpurnia was hot, near to sweating. She too had slept in her gear and thought to shed her long leather jacket. She rolled her long sleeves and tied her hair back, and affixed the hems of her pants to her legs with cloth to avoid catching on anything. She looked back at Cassandra and saw she was now in her simple under armor leathers, with her arms and legs similarly tied. They finished their morning rations and hailed Drayvus via the servo skull. “We are ready, Drayvus. We have some belongings left behind in the chamber, see that a servitor brings them back to the surface.” +Affirmative, Inquisitor.+ the skull said “Then let us depart” Calpurnia said, and the servo skull floated out into the hall +The next passage below is unobstructed, this way.+ it said. Drayvus was already a layer below them. Calpurnia sighed, and gestured to Cassandra to follow first. Her stomach turned as the sister passed. The nutrient bar had hit her gut. Calpurnia had almost tuned out the unpleasant presence of the sister, but felt it again now. A pressure built behind the eyes upon looking at her, yet it was hard to look away. The mind reeled in the presence of a Sister, certain that something is wrong. A feeling of perpetual readiness, and confusion. Calpurnia let her get a few paces ahead before she followed. They came upon the passage downward quickly, a simple staircase cut out of the corpse-fill. Drayvus' lumen paste was applied on the ceiling of every tight corridor that branched away from the stairs. The paths were getting smaller, more claustrophobic. There was evidence of structural sinking everywhere, bone structures jutting out of the corpse dirt, half submerged mausoleums pressed down by the weight of the countless dead above them. The layers were built at a huge scale and still gave them room to maneuver, but if the pattern continued they soon would not. They had not seen the river yet today, but Drayvus assured them it continued downward. The main obstacle now was cave ins or blocked passages. The next path downward was likely in one of the adjacent chambers that had been crushed closed by too much infrastructure, and they had no way to access it. Invasive construction endeavors were extremely risky down here, as well as time consuming, and would be a last resort. So far, Drayvus has been able to find non destructive paths downward. The path went through a mausoleum that spanned levels. It was smashed against the higher layer and pressed at an angle. It was made of dark black material, with sharp edges and no outer adornment. The door was cracked open, and Drayvus had pried the rubble aside. Stepping into the old mausoleum was like stepping out of the underworld for a moment. The inside was free of dirt and debris. The black marble gleamed in the light of the lumen paste. The walls were lined with matching black marble coffins adorned with busts and names of the deceased, written in shimmering gold. They followed the stairs downwards to find more of the same. The exit was a collapsed wall that led back into the underworld. They made good progress, and even though Calpurnia had not been watching her chrono, and there was no sunlight to tell them the time, she estimated it was roughly “mid day” by the time they cleared two more levels. “Drayvus, let us take a break. How long has it been?” +Ten hours Inquisitor. I am impressed by your endurance.+ Longer than she had thought. Calpurnia looked to Cassandra, who seemed significantly less haggard than her, and raised an eyebrow in response. “Yes, let us take a break.” Calpurnia said, motioning a servitor towards her to dig in its pack for a bottle of water. +Just the same Inquisitor, I believe we may have reached an obstacle.+ Drayvus' blue eyed servo skull said, hovering towards her. +Scans and preliminary scouting are not revealing a path downward after the next level. I will examine more while you rest.+ Calpurnia left it at that and walked a good twenty paces away from Cassandra. She turned to rest her back against the wall, and saw Cassandra watching her. ~Are you alright?~ She signed “I am fine, it is just warm down here.” Calpurnia replied, drinking more water. ~It is not warm here. You are pale.~ Calpurnia brushed it off. She was simply exerted. “ I am fine,” She said, and closed her eyes for a moment. She let her thoughts wander. She thought of why they were here. The cult outbreak had been severe. Millions had died. An entire district burned. A thirsty planet, in quarantine, dying in their hab units. Her thoughts turned to reports of the blood storm the priest Kayde had wrought. A hurricane of blood, blinding all caught in its path... swallowing them in corruption... channels of blood streaming from the throats of women and children into the sky... blood bursting from the ground in great geysers, braying cultists that offer their blood willingly to the storm, blood burning from the heat of the hell below it, forming great red clouds in the sky and slamming the earth with dark heavy fluid that carries exsanguinated corpses on great rivers of human essence. Blood is all there was and all there will ever be…Blood and a name…Valgaast. Calpurnia's eyes snapped open, and she stood with a start. Cassandra was by her side, watching. ~Are you alright?~ she signed again “Yes I am fine,” Calpurnia said. “Just thinking” Cassandra nodded, and slowly turned back to where the servo skull was waiting, near another corpse fill staircase. Calprnia drank the rest of the water and did some mental exercises to clear her head while they waited for Drayvus. It did not take long before his servo skull lit up blue again and began to speak +The layer below the one you are on is very sparse, with few passages, and large empty spaces. The builders must have stopped while this layer was under construction. The river travels through this layer, you will see how it saturates the ground. There is no avoiding the blood at this point, you must step in it for a time. There is no path downward, but there is a space beneath us. Sensors detect a large cavern. I believe we have reached the natural geology of the planet. I have the equipment necessary to bore through without disrupting too much terrain, but I must find a suitable weak point. It will not take long once I find it.+ “Very well. Let's go Cassandra.” Calpurnia said, attempting to regain control of the situation that she felt was quickly slipping away. Calpurnia led them down the steps, and into a low wide open chamber, etched with glow paste. She examined the ground before stepping off the stairs, to find she had already stepped in the blood. The floor here was different from the rest of the catacombs, like a spongy sand and it was saturated red. She looked at the walls and saw they were bleeding from porous spots in the stone. She could see Drayvus in the distance, the first time since they woke. He was at a far wall with his team of servitors and horde of skulls, smaller than when they left earlier, some having been assigned new tasks. Calpurnia made her way towards him and Cassandra followed. He was assembling some sort of apparatus against the wall, a half circle roughly a meter in diameter with what appeared to be a very powerful laser attached. As they approached Drayvus told them +There is a very solid structure behind this wall that goes all the way to the bottom of the cavern I believe. This laser will use it as a guide to bore a hole downward, and give us a structure to rappel off of.+ The thought did not excite Calpurnia, but she nodded and let him finish the assembly, and within minutes it was ready. They stood back as the laser engaged in a blinding beam of light and sickening cloud of smoke. It burned the hole in a matter of seconds. The cloud of acrid black smoke hung in the air for a second after the machine finished running, but then began to fall into the bored hole. The air around them was pulled into the hole, bringing the smoke with it.. The gust blew dust and debris in the air and the trio covered their faces while it died down. Echoes of the wind howling through the chambers above them made such a din Calpurnia was worried it might have a seismic effect. They listened to the howls die and felt the wind settle for minutes. Eventually, the pressure between the two systems equalized, and Drayvus detached the machine from the wall. +Permit me a moment to survey the chamber+ Drayvus told them once the machine was disconnected. A servo skull floated down the hole bearing Drayvus' blue eyes. +Oh well that is fascinating+ Drayvus said quickly. +Inquisitor, I believe we have found the point of infection.+ As Drayvus spoke the servitors began working above the bore hole. They shot long bolts into the wall and affixed a large roll of cable which they dropped down. “What do you mean Drayvus?” Calpurnia asked, enticed. +There appears to be a unique hydrological feature in this chamber that could be distributing the cursed blood through the planet. There is a waterfall. And on the cavern floor, there are geysers.+ Calpurnia was slightly lost for thought. “Well, alright then... Lets see it” Was all she could think to say +I will test the durability of the line and scout the location myself, Inquisitor. Let me fit you two with harnesses quickly.+ He walked to a servitor and pulled two harnesses out of its pack. The two of them stepped into the thick straps and tightened them. Drayvus attached the device that controlled descent. Before Drayvus attached himself to the line he sent down the servitors, first one, then two, then three, to test the weight. Not a budge in the bolt. +Wait for my signal to follow+ Drayvus said Calpurnia nodded to the Tech Priest, who put his hand around the cable, locked into place around it, and lowered himself into the hole. The rest of the servitors followed. Calpurnia and Cassandra waited for a tense fifteen minutes before Drayvus’ Servo skull lit up blue and told them it was safe to follow. And to prepare to get wet. They did not have any means to prepare for that eventuality, really. If this were to truly turn into a water based venture they would need to come back up to resupply. Calpurnia clipped herself to the line first and told Cassandra to wait a couple minutes to follow. Calpurnia looked down and saw a brightness that she had come to associate with Drayvus' artificial sunlight. He must be lighting the whole cavern. She lowered herself through the stinking scorched hole, around six feet of burned soggy blood soaked earth. She emerged to blinding bright light at the highest level, cursing Drayvus for that, and quickly lowered herself past it. As her vision cleared she found herself hanging by a cable in the middle of a cavern the size of a hive spire. The wall they were anchored on was an odd structure at an angle, and the farther she lowered herself the further away it got. It was like a massive beam that crossed the ceiling of the cavern, earth on all sides of it but the small angle of its circumference they were venturing in. Calpurnia could not believe they could not hear the sound of the water fall from above. It flowed from a crack in the stonework above and fell on one edge of the cavern floor below with a constant crashing. Calpurnia looked down and felt woozy. It was a long way. The servitors scattered along the floor appeared as small dots. She saw the water sparkling back up at her. It was so clear she could see through to the brown grey stone underneath, even from up here. She descended through a brisk chill that felt like fresh air and felt her flush skin cool at its touch. Soon she was at the bottom, and stepped into the water. It came halfway up her shins, and at another time she might have been irritated to get her boots wet. Right now she was mesmerized. She looked around her and saw that the cavern floor extended far, far beyond what she could see from above. The water from the waterfall spread out in all directions. Calpurnia walked to the overhang of the cavern ceiling. She could almost touch it. She heard the servitors splashing in the water as they followed her steps. She could see Drayvus in the distance. He hadn't applied any glow paste yet, and was lighting the shelf with a servo skull, a dot in a sea of dark in the distance. He was not that far away, and Calpurnia made her way towards him. She heard Cassandra land behind her and begin to follow. The sound of splashing footsteps filled the cavern as they made their way towards the tech priest in awe struck silence. After minutes of walking Calpurnia noticed the servitors had come closer to her. The light from the artificial sun was fading, and when Calpurnia turned her head to examine her surroundings, she saw bright red lights. Calpurnia stopped. The servitors had stopped as well. Their eyes were glowing red. “Drayvus!” Calpurnia yelled into the darkness “What is this!?” The lights from the servitors' eyes were getting so bright it blocked out the artificial sunlight. Their backs arched and their heads bent backwards in what looked like a silent scream. +Cogitating. Cogitating. Cogitating.+ Came Drayvus voice They began to choke as blood welled out of their mouths “Drayvus what is going on” Calpurnia yelled beginning to back away, but they were behind her too The servitors' eyes all snap towards Calpurnia in unison. Their muscles rapidly began to unlock. +There is a scrap code infection. It waited for you. Retreat Inquisitor! Cassandra strike them down!+ Everyone began to run at Calpurnia at once. The servitor nearest almost grabbed her but she was able to draw her Volkite pistol and destroy it. The red lights began to strobe. A blistering migraine erupted in Calpurnia's skull, making her recoil in pain. She screamed and attempted to regain her vision. A set of the splashing foot steps reached her before she could see through it. It grabbed the iron bracelet around her wrist, and ripped it away with such force that it sheared Calpurnia's thumb and small finger off like razor wire. Calpurnia screamed again, so hard it broke her voice. She could not see the attacker, her vision occluded by pulsing blood vessels, but she unleashed the pistol in its direction and assumed a hit from the sound. A third set of footsteps reached her and threw her with tremendous strength. Calpurnia landed in the water, face down, gasping. She began to choke. She struggled to get her mouth out of the water, but a hand pushed her face back under, scraping it against the stone floor. She thought it would crush her skull in seconds, when suddenly the pressure was relieved. She jerked her head above water with a gasp and tried to see again. She saw Cassandra's boots running past. She couldn't hear the footsteps splashing anymore. She couldn't hear anymore. Everything was red. She looked down at her three fingered hand through the bloody water. She could not feel the pain anymore. As her vision faded she heard a voice “You steal my birthright. You enter my home. I will have your blood.” The voice ripped through her guts, and Calpurnia wretched a fountain of red before collapsing face first into the water. Chapter 4 Cassandra ran as fast as she could through the shin high water. The darkness was absolute, but the lumen she took from the servitors had shown her there were patches of dry ground in the distance. The pack on her back was slowing her down considerably, but the Demon was not pursuing her, yet. Nor was it ignoring her. She heard it in the places she had been earlier, moving the water. Cassandra did not think it knew what she was. Cassandra lifted the lumen again to see she was nearing a patch of ground that sloped upwards, bringing it closer to the ceiling, close enough to touch. She stopped. Her mouth was filled with blood. She had made two marks already, this would be the third. She cupped her hands and spit the mouthful into them, letting the excess fall to the dry stone floor. She raised her hands to the ceiling and pressed them into it, smearing the blood out as quickly as she could, her blood and saliva dripping back down onto her bald pate. She finished the mark and lifted her lumen again. Thousands of tiny, drop-thin stalactites shone back at her in the distance, gleaming jewel red, each one pinning this world and the warp together like staples through vellum. She was looking for another dry spot, but could not see one. She dropped the lumen by its lanyard and fished out the container of glow paste she had taken from the servitors. She pressed some into her hand and made another mark on the ceiling and floor. It was dark for half a minute before becoming so bright that it forced Cassandra to avert her eyes. She stepped off the mound and back into the water. She took a second to reorient herself. She had been moving in this direction for at least an hour. There was no telling how far it went. She changed course so that she would be traveling perpendicular to the cavern entrance. Her sense of direction was sufficient, but also, in the far distance she could see the other two lumen paste marks. Despite the occasional rising or lowering of the floor or ceiling, this shelf was exceptionally long and flat, and light could travel for kilometers. Her lower half was completely soaked, her boots heavy and full of water. She needed to address this. She could persist in her mission for far longer than the average woman, but eventually she needed to find a place to stop. She needed to make as many marks as possible before that point. After another stretch of time she Cassandra noticed the ground and ceiling were getting closer as she walked in this direction. It was hard to tell if the floor was getting higher or the ceiling lower. As she shined her lumen ahead she saw what appeared to be a wall. This was good. Cassandra rushed towards it. It was not a wall, but rather the ceiling sloping down to the floor, leaving a gap of less than a meter, where the cavern's water flowed in and out in a perplexing pattern. This is very good, Cassandra thought. As she reached the lowered ceiling she spat what blood was left in her mouth onto it. The wound she bit in her cheek had ceased bleeding for the most part now. Cassandra bit where her thumb and wrist met on her left hand until she could taste the blood, a taste becoming far too familiar. She spat again on the wall, then placed her wounded hand on it and began to walk as fast as she could along it, dragging a trail of blood behind her. She raised her lumen and could not see where the wall ended, only the red stalactites that were getting thicker as she walked. As she ran she stopped when necessary to freshen and widen her wound with her teeth. The stalactites were getting much larger now, forcing her to break contact with the wall at points. Eventually they began to cover it and block the water below, raising its level again. Cassandra followed one up with her lumen and found herself in a forest of them. She paused. She looked in front of her, in the direction she had been traveling. The stalactites were getting thicker, in fact it looked like they were getting so thick she might not be able to get past them. She had been traveling in this direction for at least an hour again. She changed her course, and decided to cross the field here. Before departing from the wall she marked it with glow paste, and cursed herself for forgetting to mark the spot where she had started. She could hear the Demon moving the water again. It was splashing against the wall she had marked. Cassandra supposed the demon could wash the marks away, but that meant absorbing her blood into its water. She did not think the demon wanted that. She needed to move, regardless. The water was ankle level here, letting her dash quickly between the stalactites, touching as many as she could with her wounded hand as she passed. After the sounds of the Demon faded she slowed and worked the wound further down her wrist to keep the blood flowing. The stalactites were all dry when she touched them, but as she looked down with her lumen she noticed a peculiar phenomenon. Where the stalactites met the water, they bled, leaving various levels of expanding red rings. It was extremely slow, and the rings dissipated quickly with distance. She recalled when Drayvus had called this place the point of infection. Cassandra was beginning to falter. She had been moving at a strong pace for hours. The pack was heavy, she was soaked, bleeding and feeling light headed. She cleared her mind with meditation as she ran. She was capable of more than she knew. She believed this. She just needed one dry spot, and even thirty minutes to care for herself. Every mark she placed bought her time and a shadow in the warp to hide in. She slowed her pace and began to scan as far as she could in all directions looking for a dry spot. Eventually she saw another type of wall in front of her. As she neared she saw it was again a structure connected to the ceiling. It looked porous. It was hard to tell what she was looking at, and the stalactites were still in her way. The wall was hollow, shot through with hundreds of holes from the size of a fist to an extra large doorway. Water must have once flowed here, wearing through some sort of soluble mineral deposit. Cassandra approached a large oval shape in the wall and looked inside. It went up as well. She could climb this. She could fit in here, and it’s dry up above. Cassandra thanked the Emperor and made the sign of the aquila. She took the pack off and fished into it, looking for a blade in the medical supplies. She did not necessarily want to keep biting her flesh ragged. She found a scalpel, and put the pack back on. She brought the blade to her scalp and made a small nick, which began to bleed enough to drip instantly. Cassandra gathered the blood in her hand and wiped it on the top of the archway she was to pass under. She took extra care with this mark. Doorways and passages are powerful in the warp. Immediately after the entrance she marked, she could go either up or down, but the down being covered in water, she went up. She was able to pull herself onto a ledge. The darkness and her own bloody hands made it treacherous. She sat and hung her feet off the ledge. Even this much was a relief, to no longer be soaking in water. She pulled the pack off again and grabbed the glow paste. She dabbed a small amount of it on a wall, and after thirty seconds the bright light it emitted bounced and cast deep shadows in the hollows. She placed a few more daubs, and eventually was able to comprehend her surroundings a bit more. She had enough room to stand here. There was another, smaller hole leading up and away from the direction she came. She marked this passage with her still bleeding scalp, as well as the length in between the two doorways she has created. She repeated the process with the glow paste, and again marked a third doorway. She reached a low wide space, not big enough to stand in, but wide enough to lay. She could not hear the water of the cavern anymore. It felt as though she had escaped. A silly thought. She needed to remain vigilant. She returned to the pack and pulled out the small satchel of thermal cells she could use for heat. The temperature down here was moderate, but the time spent in the water and the soaking of her clothes left Cassandra chilled. She had only managed to grab a small amount of these from a servitor when she escaped, she would need to use them sparingly. Or return to the servitors' bodies. She imagined she would end up doing that anyway. This would not be a short ordeal. She cracked the cell and it popped on with an orange glow. Cassandra removed her soaked clothing and laid them near the cell to dry. Now she needed to tend to her wounds. She detached the medicae pouch from the side of the satchel and flipped the top open. Again, a small amount. Luckily, her wounds were superficial. She took the medicament applicator and simply laid the gel over the wounded areas on her hand and scalp. She spread it thin and within seconds it formed a waterproof seal, the color of her blood. She wrapped her hand with gauze and sighed. Now she needed to eat and drink. She reached to the bottom of the pack and pulled out two nutrient bars and a bottle of clean water. The heat from the thermal cell was getting too warm, so Cassandra scooted to the further end of the space. She kept her eyes on the light cast from the glow past below her, watching for any movement, any change at all. She could not risk sleeping here, but she could meditate. Cassandra sat with her legs under her, ready to pounce at a seconds notice. She ate the nutrient bars methodically, then downed the water. She could not close her eyes, but she did not need to in order to meditate. As she fell deeper into her meditations, counting her heartbeats, controlling her breath, she heard the Demon approaching again. The water moved in a distinctive way, like a sentient wave. She heard it slapping against the stalactites that she had run through. It felt impatient. The sound of the water reached a peak as it rushed underneath, and past her. Cassandra allowed herself a few seconds with her eyes closed. It worked. Her passage evaded the Demons notice. It must be continuing looking for the next mark. There were too many things to think about, and there was little that planning could do for her that resting her mind could not. The plan was to survive. Survive, until they came back with the iron. Chapter 5 Calpurnia began to thrash. There was water in her mouth, she could feel it, but she needed to breathe. She gasped through the liquid and felt it aspirate into her lungs making her cough violently. She was bleeding, she knew this, her blood was flowing rapidly into the water. The warmth of her body was leeching away. She opened her eyes and could only see blinding white light. Her heart beat pounded through her veins, and she screamed to settle the coughing. She heard tapping to her side. Click click. Click click. A machine of some sort. She turned her head to the sound and saw a figure through the light. She could hear a voice now, though very faint. It called her Inquisitor. A whooshing noise broke through the sound fog and Calpurnia felt her muscles relax. As she regained her vision she saw a dirt ceiling above her, and curtains around her. She was on a medical cot, and hooked up to a number of contraptions. Drayvus was by her side, communing with the machines and monitoring her status. He did not have eyes to look with, nor a face at all, but Calpurnia could see concern in the Tech-Priests polished steel face plate. She was still breathing too heavily to speak. She had to physically calm herself down. She closed her eyes again, the light was too much. She did not know how long it took to regulate her self, being so consumed by the act. When she found her self in control of her body again, she opened her eyes and said, “Drayvus, there is a Demon.” +Indeed there is Inquisitor.+ came his familiar monotone voice. She laid her head back against the cot and looked at the ceiling. She was extremely tired, and the sedatives that stopped her panic clouded her brain. Moments passed. +It would be wise to start with what you remember of the incident, Inquisitor.+ Drayvus said. Calpurnia thought for some time. “I remember the servitors... Glowing eyes and gurgling blood... I destroyed one... and then my head... exploded.” She said the word like there was no other way should could describe the feeling. “The pain blinded me. And then I was choking... and I was growing cold.” That was all she could remember. Except... Her hand, what happened to her hand? Calpurnia looked down at herself. Her lower half was covered in a sheet and her top half dressed in a medical gown. She looked down her left side and brought her hand up to examine it. She remembered what happened to it now. Calpurnia's thumb and small finger had been replaced by one of the most seamless augmetics she had ever seen. Made of filigreed silver as they were, it was still difficult to determine where her hand ended and the augmetic began. She flexed it and felt the fingers as they were her own flesh. +My apology to you, Inquisitor. Had I not been so foolish you may never have suffered the injury, and our expedition may not have failed.+ Calpurnia did not know what to say. Had Drayvus been foolish? Thinking back on things, Calpurnia felt foolish herself. She had not told Drayvus and Cassandra how affected she had become, she even attempted to hide it. Cassandra. “How is Cassandra doing? I imagine better than me.” She asked +I can not say. She did not return with us. She is still in the caverns.+ This brought Calpurnia out of her drug fueled haze. She sat up quickly and moved the blanket away. It was not easy. “Drayvus, how long have I been asleep?” +It has been nineteen days, thirteen hours, and twelve minutes since you collapsed into the water.+ Her head began to spin trying to rationalize what this meant. “You are telling me she has been down there for nearly three weeks, alone with the Demon? Why in the world would you allow such a thing, Drayvus?” +It will be more efficient to show you. I have recovered the pict feeds from the servitors, and servo skulls. Many of the skulls were tasked specifically with recording the expedition in its entirety, This playback will provide all the details necessary.+ A servo skull hovered over to them and began a projection on a curtain nearby. It started on a still frame of Calpurnia surrounded by the servitors. Their eyes were glowing red but they had not yet moved. The playback began, and she heard Drayvus' warning. It shocked Calpurnia how quickly she was disabled. The servo skull stayed stationary, recording the heightened movement. Cassandra ran into frame and cut down the servitor that was crushing Calpurnia's skull. As she lay gasping in the water, Cassandra moved passed to intercept the servitors that were running at her. She dispatched them with curious ease. They offered resistance, but too late, as though they were only aware of her when her blade had already struck the killing blow. The final servitor, the fourth, managed to grab her sword and break it in its crushing mechanical grip. Cassandra rammed the broken hilt through the cyborg's skull and it collapsed. By this time Drayvus had already rushed past, and was now plucking Calpurnia out of the water with long unfurling mechadendrites, moving at an incredible pace and not slowing for a second. Before his additional appendages had even fully grasped Calpurnia, he was shooting a grapnel into the ceiling and beginning the ascent. Once she was secure in his grasp, Drayvus looked back and saw Cassandra in the water, surrounded by the dead servitors. He shouted to her in a mechanically amplified voice, +Retreat Sister! I must cut the line!+ The loud voice caught her attention. She spared Drayvus a glance before returning to look at the servitor bodies, and the large packs on their backs. She looked back up to Drayvus, shook her head and signed; ~Return with the iron~ Cassandra spared no time and began to scavenge the supplies. She pulled on one of the servitors bags, grabbed some choice items from others, and then ran into the darkness. The playback stopped here. Calpurnia stared at the still projection for some time. Return with the iron. The blood forged iron that Drayvus had made. But why? She looked at Drayvus. “Why? All the iron achieved was to mangle my hand.” +I did not understand myself until reviewing the footage further. Observe.+ She looked back to the projection. The scene it displayed changed, they were looking out of a servitor's eyes now. Everything was bright red. +This is the point of view of the servitor that ripped the bracelet from your wrist. I apologize for having you endure the event a second time.+ The playback began. The servitor was rushing madly at Calpurnia as she destroyed its flanking counterpart. Calpurnia saw herself scream and double over as the Demon wracked her brain with agony. As the Servitor closed on her, its vision focused on the iron bracelet around her wrist. It was reacting to the light around it. It was drawing in the red light, and somehow leaving spears of regular space cutting through the red miasma. It flickered and sputtered as the servitor approached, and as the slave creature grasped it, the iron let out a quick, harsh shriek. For the second that the servitor held the chain in its hand, the red from its eyes flowed into the bracelet. The servitor tossed the bracelet through the air away from itself, before it was obliterated by Calpurnia and the pict feed ended, The scene changed again. This time from the perspective of a different servo skull on the opposite side. Drayvus was already in the air with Calpurnia. Cassandra stood tall and menacing, staring into the water. +Take note of where her gaze leads.+ Drayvus said. Calpurnia followed her gaze. The red light had dispersed at this point, leaving the water crystal clear, save for the section Cassandra was looking at. A swirling pool of dark red was forming. Drayvus zoomed in the projection to reveal the bracelet at its center. Thin tendrils of red spread out into the water and gathered in tight currents leading in to its fine woven chainwork. +This was not one of the effects of the blood forged iron that I had anticipated, but now having seen it, I again, feel foolish for not considering the possibility. The human toll of that bracelet is in the thousands. The people that died and became part of it died screaming into the warp. This agony of thousands has been burned away, leaving a void in its stead. A void that hungers.+ She had seen enough to spur her to action. Calpurnia began to move the sheets off of herself, and tried to swing her legs off the bed, but paused once she moved to twist her abdomen. She was weak. +Do not attempt to move too quickly Inquisitor. Your muscles have atrophied. With the proper application of stimulants you will be back to normal quickly, but we have not begun the process yet. It will take the course of a night, and you must sleep naturally. There is more yet to discuss, and it is prudent to do it now. I will leave you to dress. I will return with a mobility chair.+ Calpurnia felt frustrated as Drayvus moved behind the curtains. She vowed to become stronger in the future. Through whatever means necessary. Augmentation, intense mental re-structuring, and months of relentless training would be her future once this ordeal was done. She would never again allow herself to be brought so low. The frustration of her weakness blocked out all thoughts of strategy, or the plans Drayvus may have made. She saw her clothes in the corner and made herself stand to get them. The lack of functionality in her muscles burned like she was a newborn child attempting to don power armor. It took her far too long, but she eventually dressed herself in her normal clothes, though she skipped the leather coat, it was too heavy. She sat back on the edge of the bed, sweat dripping from her face. Drayvus returned with an old wheelchair humming from its anti-grav shock absorbers. She moved herself onto the chair. +Now is a pertinent time to address some of the capabilities of your new augment. You should see a new rune in your augmented eyes display. Activate it and leave it be, the software is mostly intuitive. Then touch the chair with your new hand.+ Calpurnia almost laughed "What are you talking about?" She asked, still slightly it of breath. She did as he asked. A small overlay appeared with the basic commands a machine spirit such as this one is capable of. Basically, faster and slower, but not in words. She began to understand what the augment was doing. "Aaaaah I see. You gave me a machine interface." She closed the overlay and willed the chair into movement. +Among a number of other things, yes Inquisitor.+ The tech priest said "Such as?" she asked +In that augment I have installed a rapidly rechargeable refractor field, high capacity electricity reservoirs for conducting charge, a substance sample analyzer, and a hypodermic delivery system. I will show you how to use them in due time.+ Calpurnia looked at her augmented hand. It only replaced the two fingers and the sides of her hand that had been sheared off. It wasn't a large thing. She was impressed it could do so much. “Very well.” she said. “You said we had more to discuss and got me a chair, I assume you mean to show me something. I am ready.” She continued. +Yes Inquisitor, this way.+ Drayvus said and led her to a passage leading out of the room. In the distance Calpurnia could hear a great roaring noise. It was far away, but still loud. The walls were lit by semi permanent structures here, more than glow paste. “Where are we?” She asked. +We are close to the ritual chamber, our current destination.+ Calpurnia thought of Cassandra's message as they made their way to the chamber. Return with the iron. What incredible bravery, she thought. “It has been a long time, Drayvus. Do you think Cassandra still lives?” she asked. +I do Inquisitor. Cassandra was with me for the forging of the first blood forged iron creation. She understands that it is not a fast process, and still made her choice. It might be more apt to say that the Demon is trapped with Cassandra, rather than Cassandra trapped with the Demon.+ The roaring was growing louder. “What is that noise, Drayvus?” +The crafting of the Blood Forged Iron was slow at first. I have improved the process.+ Calpurnia tried to do the math in her head. How much Iron could he be making? It sounded like a factory ahead. “Surely there can't be that much raw material? The amount of iron in human blood is minuscule.”she said. +You would be surprised, Inquisitor. Entire chambers lay flooded still below us. We have not run into any supply shortage.+ Drayvus said. Calpurnia could feel the air moving past her from what she now assumed must be exhaust fans. “What do you mean “we”” she asked. +I have brought down the majority of my acolytes from The Death Of Us All. Servitors are still utilized, but after the incident, their use has been limited.+ Drayvus stopped at the end of the passage, and waited for Calpurnia. They entered the ritual chamber, flooded with Drayvus' artificial sunlight. The great cistern was empty now, and surrounded by steaming machinery that climbed the walls of the chamber. +Inquisitor Thorne, welcome to The Blood Forge.+ Chapter 6 The Blood Forge consisted of three major sections. First, there was collection and holding. Large tanks connected to hoses that led into the cistern, and followed the rivers path deeper into the catacombs. Around the empty cisterns edge were giant centrifuges, and a massive furnace to eliminate byproducts. A long process of burning away impurities from the material follows, and the raw purified iron is deposited as dust at the metal working section of the forge. Intensely complicated pict feeds displayed above cogitator stations as automated machines worked the material into a highly versatile mono molecular structure. Where once there would likely have been dozens of servitors, there was now an acolyte of Drayvus' manning multiple machines with perfect precision, and looking rather bored. To truly kill a Demon was a difficult thing, and not quickly achieved. But to capture one was a much more feasible goal. The effect the blood forged iron bracelet had on the Demons essence was undeniable, as was its hatred for the material. This is how Drayvus and Calpurnia planned to force it to manifest into real space, with a body that could be trapped. Drayvus explained to Calpurnia that the servo skulls that accompanied them on the expedition had suffered no malady whatsoever during the event. Drayvus had proclaimed it a scrap code infection at the time, but this was not so. The Demon had gained purchase on the blood inside the servitors. It managed to force the simple machines into basic violent movements, as well as cripple Calpurnia. So naturally it followed for Drayvus to utilize servo skulls extensively in this situation. He had at least a hundred of them, equipped with a large supply of the blood forged iron to be applied via rapid heat extrusion in a mono-molecular jet. The proper application, dispersal, and concentration of these blood forged lines will force the Demon to either be subjected to it, or manifest physically, to destroy it, and stop further application. Once the Demon has manifested physically, it falls to Calpurnia and Cassandra to keep it in place while Drayvus builds the cage around it. Drayvus explained that he must remain out of the Demons reach, and that should the plan fail, he will potentially be able to retrieve her and Cassandra. Calpurnia was physically capable and had done her share of battle and killing, but she was not the type to wrestle a Demon into submission on her own. It did not escape Calpurnia's notice that they were, in fact, acting on a very small amount of evidence, and extrapolating it to extreme lengths. There was no telling how the Demon would react to further application of the iron, and no way to surmise that it will form a suitable cage. When Calpurnia shared these concerns with Drayvus he agreed that there were many unknowns, and that they were acting in the face of much uncertainty. But they also both agreed they had no choice. However this time, she would be coming prepared. Drayvus had fashioned an environment suit for Calpurnia. It was made of an exceedingly light material, and hampered movement only slightly. The helmet snapped back, and seamlessly connected with the augmetic portion of her skull. In the heels and wrists were powerful miniature propellers should she become submerged and need to move fast. Inside the suit there was an array of auto-injectors loaded with combat stimulants and emergency medicinal concoctions, as well as roughly an hour of air. Calpurnia had objected to the idea of the suit at first, instead requesting the augments that made Drayvus immune to the Demons pervasive influence, but he assured her it would take far too long. Drayvus had designed a number of weapons to be utilized against the creature. Shotgun shells loaded with blood forged iron shrapnel. Mono filament blood forged iron nets with hyper magnetic edges. Long chains with blood forged iron hooks and barbs embedded. A wrist mounted impact gun that shot foot long spikes of blood forged iron with massive penetrating force. Drayvus had focused on weapons that will aid the building of the cage in their application. Calpurnia needed to rest naturally, and Drayvus needed to apply her rejuvenate treatment. She awoke after roughly six hours, which was how long the rejuvenate needed to act. She did not feel completely whole, but persisted in her duties nonetheless. She addressed her hygiene, ate as much as she could and then some, and inquired after the status of the surface. Things were not well. Calpurnia expected as much and her resolve to solve this problem grew stronger. Calpurnia learned how to control the functions of her new hand. She was able to partially control the size and intensity of the refractor field, and when it absorbed kinetic energy it charged the electric reservoirs inside it. She could use this energy to power the refractor further, or discharge it in a number of useful ways. The route into the caverns had been expedited during Calpurnia's time asleep, and they expected to make the journey in around eighteen hours. They talked a little on the way. There were too many possibilities to give them all consideration. Calpurnia wondered if she was doing the right thing. Three people versus a Demon in its home. The odds weren't terrible, or rather they wouldn't be if they had any knowledge of said Demon. As it stood, they simply knew that it had a great deal of power over the planet's water supply. They did not know if it had a physical form in real space yet. Calpurnia had never seen something like the blood forged iron, so she had no experience to compare it too. When she inquired, Drayvus explained that the iron did not appear to have similar effects on other warp taints. He had tested it against various samples brought down from The Death Of Us All, to no result whatsoever. The iron thirsted for this Demon. Perhaps the will of its victims made manifest after such an unimaginable amount of suffering. As they neared the caverns they began to recite protocol. +Cassandra will not be hard to find,+ Drayvus said. +Hers will be the only heat signature for kilometers,+ “So you must send a skull to notify her as soon as we are revealed. It will be faster. You must begin the application of the iron immediately, and with full force. It will give us valuable information.” Calpurnia replied. +Affirmative Inquisitor.+ “And you must send skulls in every direction until we find a suitable location to build the cage. A place with dry ground if there is any.” +Affirmative Inquisitor+ Drayvus said again. They reached the spongy blood soaked chamber that led to the caverns. The old bolt they rappelled off of before was still there, but the cable cut. Drayvus fastened a new one and set it to the side of the hole. The procession of servo skulls that had been following them began to fill the chamber. +Again it would be wise for me to scout Inquisitor. If you'll allow me.+ Drayvus said. Calpurnia nodded and a servo skull flew down into the hole. After around forty five seconds Drayvus let out an odd jarring techno shock of noise, which passed for his laughter. +Inquisitor, I do believe Sister Cassandra is still alive, and I believe she may have done us a great service.+ “What do you mean?” Calpurnia said, before Drayvus tapped her new augmetic hand and transferred the feed to her. Where before there was only darkness, a sea of dim pink and red illumination scattered over everything in sight. It was nearly impossible to tell what was the ceiling, what was water and what was in between, but it was in all directions. +She has spit in the eye of the Demon, Inquisitor.+ Calpurnia moved the skull close to a mark, a spray of red dots on the cavern ceiling, glowing palely. “This looks like your glow paste Drayvus.” +Indeed Inquisitor, with some unique additives.+ He said. Calpurnia was perplexed by the thought. Her blood? How on Terra could she have so much to spare? “Spit in the eye of the Demon...” Calpurnia repeated as she thought. +The Blood of a Silent Sister would be... Quite offensive to a Demon. Especially one such as this.+ Drayvus said. Calpurnia closed the feed and returned to the chamber she stood in. “Then let's go. Cassandra is waiting.” Calpurnia said, snapping her helmet down. +Affirmative.+ Drayvus said. He took his large pack off and affixed the descent device to Calpurnia's suit. +Once you clear the aperture the servo skulls will follow. I will light the area from above as before. Five skulls will follow you with weapons, and to increase communication viability. The rest will either begin application of the iron or scout to the farthest edges of the caverns. I will locate Cassandra quickly and share her location with you. Then the work can begin.+ Calpurnia Nodded. She commanded her suit to begin the application of her combat stimulants. It was a three stage concoction that she had been honing for years. She did not feel the injection, but felt it enter her blood. The pre-meds brought heightened sensory perception, completely clear thought, and a dulling of fearful or trepidatious emotions. Drayvus neared the pile of cable, making to push it in. +Are you ready Inquisitor?+ He asked. “Yes. I will see you soon, Drayvus. Surely once we have it trapped you will want to examine it.” +Oh yes very much+ He said, and pushed the cable into the cavern entrance. The sound of the cable untwisting was swallowed by the surrounding earth, and they did not hear it land. Calpurnia watched the cable until it went slack, grabbed it, and clipped herself on. She gave it two tugs to make sure it was secure, and then jumped. She began the descent immediately and did look back. She heard the mass of servo skulls beginning to follow her. Calpurnia took stock of her weaponry as she descended. On her left arm she bore the pneumatic spike driver. On her right hip she wore a compact sawed-off shotgun that held four rounds of the blood forged shot. She carried six more in the straps across her chest. On the small of her back she bore her volkite pistol. She would have to remember the utility of her new hand as well. She cleared the aperture and immediately heard the sound of waves. Far off, but they were large, and hitting fast. The chamber lit with artificial sunlight from above. Calpurnia saw the five skulls that were to accompany her come into view. Two held chain weapons, one held a large net, and the other two simply followed. She looked above her and saw more of them flooding out of the opening. The exited in pairs, each taking a different trajectory than the last. One shot ahead on its scouting endeavor, the other followed at max speed while also applying the iron it held to the ceiling. The sound each one made was slight, the line it applied hair thin. Calpurnia looked below her and the first thing she noticed was that the servitor bodies were still there, but they were stripped of most things. No baggage or supplies remained in the area. The servo skulls, both scouts and applicators out paced her, and began disappearing from view onto the shelf slightly before she landed. Calpurnia's boots hit the water and removed the device from her suit. The light from above bounced far into every direction, but where it faded, the darkness bled back in, punctuated by glowing red. Calpurnia looked at the servitors around her. There were eight. She expected to see rotting piles of organic parts falling off of machine servos and hinges, but instead saw very little organic material at all. She looked closer and took a knee next to one. The flesh that covered its chest had been peeled off, tearing the strong corded muscle away from its iron skeleton. It had been disemboweled. There was viscera around it, settled into the water. Machinery from its guts, tossed aside like bird bones. She examined another servitor, and it looked much the same. Calpurnia was in a calm state of mind, with a clear head, thanks to the stimulants. This disturbed her regardless. There were few explanations for this, and one of them seemed exceedingly likely. The dedication of a Silent Sister is absolute, she thought. +I have located Cassandra Inquisito. Marking her on your systems now.+ Came Drayvus' voice both over the vox and the servo skull nearby. Calpurnia snapped to attention. Lidar pings and environmental readings showed in her augment, and then a small white figure in the far distance. It was directly on the other side of the mass of rubble and strange fixtures that she had rappelled down on. She would have to go around it. She moved under the waterfall, and around the central structure of the cavern. The light cast from Drayvus bounced in every direction and lit the shelf for kilometers. But it also obscured Cassandra's marks. “Drayvus, turn off the light. I need to see her marks.” Calpurnia said over the vox. +As you say Inquisitor.+ Drayvus replied, and the lights blinked off. Calpurnia's augment would let her see perfectly well in the low light cast by Cassandra's marks, as well as the glowing orange lines left on the ceiling. Servo skulls whizzed past her, filling in the gaps where trails from others had diverged. Calpurnia did not run at first. Drayvus would be making contact with Cassandra at any moment now, and that would inform her plan further. She examined the ceiling as she walked. There was a pattern of sorts. The marks were all splatters, like an artist flicking their paint brush. Calpurnia assumed it best to stay in the shadow of her marks for now. The water was halfway up her shins, and lapping at her endlessly in a random pattern. Calpurnia saw the blood forged iron lines cool on the ceiling. The lines the servo skulls made were actually dozens of mono molecular strands extruded simultaneously and perpendicular to one and other, making them visible to the naked eye. Calpurnia saw something else. A fine, dark red mist was rising out of the water, and into the lines. Impossibly thin, and hard to see, but in large amounts it became visible. She turned around. The dark red mist was rising to every line that had been placed. “Drayvus, it is working.” Calpurnia said over the vox. +Indeed Inquisitor, it does appear so. Stand by, I will make contact with Cassandra shortly.+ He replied. Calpurnia stayed observant. There was a sound other than the iron extruders. It was the sound of water, but it wasn't crashing any more. It was rolling, and very fast. She heard it peak, and continue past her. After seconds she saw the current lap forcefully against her legs from the shockwave. She waited until the sound faded. It began anew, back towards the chamber entrance. She listened as it passed her again, but closer this time. The current lapped against her stronger. It was coming towards her. It was sweeping the caverns hoping to hit something. It would hit her soon. Calpurnia determined the opposite of the Demon's trajectory from the sound of the two waves and began to run. Now would be a good time to start going faster, she thought, and initiated the second phase of her combat stimulants. Phase two gave her greatly increased reaction time, muscle output, and levels of adrenaline, letting her push her body to near damaging levels. It also released mild sedatives and tissue rebuilding agents to combat this effect. The clarity of mind from the first injection coupled with the adrenaline of the second kept her logical in the face of danger. +Inquisitor, I have made contact with Cassandra.+ Drayvus’ voice came over the vox. +She has located a suitable location for the cage and availed me of its location. Marking it on your systems now. Cassandra says she will meet you there.+ A blue mark appeared on her augment. It was further away from the entrance than her, but only slightly further out of the Demons trajectory than she wanted to be. It would hit her at some point. She changed course regardless. She looked to the ceiling for blood stains and marked them with her augment to follow. It would take her roughly thirty minutes at this pace she guessed. Longer for Cassandra, she was further away. The waves took minutes to run their course from start to finish, Calpurnia timed them. Once she determined that the current wave would not hit her, she continued to focus on running. “Drayvus, give me a status update.” She was concerned the Demon may be interfering with the operation elsewhere. +Indeed Inquisitor.+ He said in a slightly startled tone. +The Demon is launching a counter attack of sorts. I have lost an... inconsequential number of servo skulls thus far, but the threat persists. I accompany Cassandra as well. She seems fully physically capable. And very eager. She has also instructed me to direct the iron to the sight of the cage. The location has been prepared by Cassandra in a... Similar fashion to the shelf. Odds of success are rising, Inquisitor.+ Calpurnia left it there rather than waste breath replying. She would be at the location soon. The water was getting shallower, very slowly. The wave passed her again, but this time its shockwave managed to knock her off her feet. She recovered immediately and persisted. She would have to endure the next one. The wave started again. She had roughly ninety seconds before it would reach her. She counted down the seconds. She could see something peculiar ahead. Like the glowing red that was all over, but much more intense. The marker had disappeared. That was the location. The wave roared so loud behind her that she doubted the ability of her new refractor field to absorb it. She could not give the demon an inch, she needed to keep moving as long as she possibly could. She trusted her count down to ten. She felt the waves edge touch her leg and turned around, left arm extended and braced with the right. She planted her feet and deployed the field in a semi circle around her. A second later the wave crashed into it and bathed the caverns in blinding white light. The water that hit the field rushed around and over her and the wave continued past her. For a second. And then the entire wave died. Calpurnia immediately turned about and began running again. The Demon had just seen her. Another wave began to build, this one in front of her. Calpurnia could see it crash into being against the silhouette of red, and rush at her. She ran into it with reckless abandon. If she could make it through this one she would be there. She waited until the wave was an arms length away and deployed the field with perfect timing. The white light flooded the cavern again. Before Calpurnia lowered the field, she was hit by another wave from behind, and flew a dozen paces ahead, slamming into the relatively shallow water. She reoriented. There was another one coming. Her hand was hot, and she couldn't deploy the field in time anyway. She managed to get on to one knee before the wave hit her straight chest, and sent her flying again. Calpurnia landed flat on her back and gasped for air. She reoriented. Everything was red. She was looking at the ceiling. It was marked with more blood stains, but they were everywhere, and they were not random splatter. They were anti demonic runes. She stood, ignoring her pain with the help of her stimulants. She stood in maybe two inches of water. Calpurnia looked around her. She did not know the direction she came from. She heard more waves, short and harsh but they were not near her. The Demon must have gotten misdirected. The area was not massive, but enough to run through. Where they were limited was the ceiling, it was very low. This had however allowed Cassandra to do her work most likely. As she looked around the perimeter of the cage she noticed the servo skulls that had already arrived, hovering silently. More arrived by the second, trailing their molten iron lines behind them. Calpurnia made for the center of the chamber. Cassandra had done a peerless job of setting the stage for her. Drayvus had saved her life, and seen them through this ordeal in ways only one of his kind could. Now it was Calpurnia's turn to perform her role. As bait. Calpurnia was short of breath as she gave the command; “Drayvus, let us begin.” Chapter 7 +As you say, Inquisitor+ Drayvus replied The servo skulls switched their jets on in unison and began to move in a clockwise pattern around Calpurnia. They formed a staggered wave, ensuring each skull could get as close as possible to the one before it. The circle they formed cut through some of Cassandra’s runes to make a complete perfect circle. Once the perimeter was established, the servo skulls split into individual tasks. They each carried their unbroken line of iron to the perimeter of a rune and began to trace them. As the cage began to take shape, more servo skulls arrived late, and followed the pattern, finding its missing lane amongst the lines and filling it in. The display of coordinated geometry seemed nearly impossible to achieve. Calpurnia listened for the Demon. It wasn't making noise any more. She examined the edges of the cage. The red mist began to drift upwards in thin sheet after sheet, quickly leaving Calpurnia surrounded by a curtain of blood mist too thick to see through. “How far away is Cassandra, Drayvus?” She asked over the vox. +At her current pace she will be there in two minutes and forty three seconds.+ “Lets hope the cage does not pose her an obstacle.” +Indeed Inquisitor.+ Calpurnia waited in silence, the only sound the humming of the servo skulls. “Ten thousand years…” Calpurnia turned to where the voice came from. It had come from somewhere, roughly ninety degrees to her right. It was the same voice that ripped her insides apart before, but it wasn't in the air and in her head any more. It was here. “And I have not needed to take a body…” There was a silhouette in the blood curtain. A tall dark figure, growing in size as it took steps that looked like a human’s. It held its hands out as they passed through, examining them. Its hands and arms were blue. They were formed out of some corded mass that was tied in long knots, and pulsed with every second. It was made of veins. The creature passed further into the cage, and its face was revealed. Its head shape contained only one feature, a giant, too round eyeball, blinking and swiveling constantly. The creature stood, examining itself for the first time, and then brought its gaze upwards. “But I will see you now, non-thing!” Calpurnia activated stage three of her combat stimulants. She felt the concoction fill her blood, and the involuntary smile formed on her lips. “What, not the one you were expecting?” Calpurnia said as she unhooked her shotgun. The creature's swiveling eye found her and seemingly had trouble staying still long enough to actually look at her. The creature leaned in, as if trying to see her clearer. “Thief…Interloper… Is that what you look like here?” It began to walk. It was nearly as tall as the ceiling, and its arms were too long for its body. A servo skull darted by, and the demon smashed it against the ceiling with incredibly fast reflexes. With her own amplified reflexes, Calpurnia responded by looseing a round at the creature's hand. They were still roughly twenty meters apart, but the creature's long grasp had put it just within range. The blood forged shot lacerated the veins of the Demon's hands, and the ones that did not stick in its flesh burrowed into the cieling. The pellets immediately began to drag essence out of the Demons body in thick red trails. “No touching those.” Calpurnia said, as she began to circle closer. Stage three of Calpurnia's combat stimulants tuned her body to peak efficiency, similar to the chemical composition sometimes experienced by humans in situations of great peril. The supreme feeling of confidence this instilled had the side effect of making Calpurnia rather cocky, and amusable. She did not make it a point to remove these effects. “You’re going to have to deal with me first.” She said, boasting. The Demon watched the essence flow out of it. Its quivering eye darted between the wounded hand and Calpurnia, getting closer. The wound seemed to have some pull on the creature. Not much, but Calpurnia noticed the change in its movement, slightly more strained than it had been a moment ago. The Demon began to stalk towards her. The damage from the first blast seems to barely have mangled the hand. Its vein-skin was tough. The Demon did not seem in the mood to talk any more. It began to sprint at Calpurnia. She responded by charging it head on. She could easily fit under any haymakers the stupid creature would likely throw at her, and then she could exploit the opening. Oldest trick in the book. The creature's quivering eye was a tempting target as it neared, but she did not want to risk destroying the creature outright, sending it back to the warp to haunt her another day. The Demon threw a lazy open hand swipe at her. Even with the creature's superior strength and agility, its strike was signalled far before it was thrown, and Calpurnia had no problem ducking under it. She swivelled underneath it and put a shotgun round through the creature's ankle. Blood sprayed from the hundreds of veins that popped on impact, yet there were more underneath, supporting the Demon. The pellets began to drag essence out of the Demon again. It turned its momentum and brought its other hand in a closed fist to strike her. She ducked the attack again, and was back in front of the Demon. It began to circle her. Calpurnia circled back. They locked gazes, both trying to discern the other's intention. Calpurnia broke first. Behind the Demon a figure had briefly moved through the blood mist curtain. Cassandra had arrived. Her arms and face were covered with the red glow paste, making her blend in with the markings and their reflections. The blood mist filling the cage was becoming thick and Calpurnia could not see much more in the split second she was in view. The Demon saw her eyes see Cassandra. “The empty one has arrived.” It said. It did not dare take its eyes off of Calpurnia. In the blink of an eye its vein hands and arms exploded into their many constituent parts, gaining tremendous length. They all shot for Calpurnia. She had been hoping to save this for a better moment, but now would have to do. She raised her left hand and activated the refractor. The Demons strike slammed into the field which exploded into white light. The strike had not forced her back, but Calpurnia used these precious seconds to put distance between her and the Demon. When the light faded she looked for Cassandra. Her orange eyes cut through the darkness and stood out from the red. She had acquired a barbed chain that she swung about her head. The Demon was facing her, but could see them both. Calpurnia moved to change that. When forced to choose it focused on Cassandra. As soon as its focus was split it launched its attack. It thrust forward at her, and Calpurnia charged at its back. By the time she reached it The Demon was reeling from missing Cassandra. It let out a deep roar of frustration. Calpurnia met its frustrated roar with a punch to the back of its chest from the spike gun. The impact and flared end of the bolt pushed it forward a few paces. Essence immediately began to flow and swirl around the bolt as it was drawn inside the metal. On the Demons third stumbling step forward, it shifted its visage. Its veins reorganized, and its eye moved to the other side. Its back became its front and it shot both of its arms directly at Calpurnia's chest. She was able to raise her field, but just barely, and the impact on such a small surface area sent her spinning. She used the momentum, attempting to put more distance between her and the creature. She rolled and scrambled back to her feat. She looked back up to see Cassandra had wrapped a chain around one of its legs, which bit into its veiny flesh and seemingly pressed it tight. The Demon kicked the leg out, and the chain came away freely, swinging towards Calpurnia. In a moment that seemed like time slowed down, Calpurnia managed to punch a spike through one of the chain links into the stone floor. Now we’re getting somewhere, she thought. Calpurnia looked back up and noticed something was different. The servo skulls whirred overhead, but the lines they drew now seemed to draw essence from the Demon itself, not the surroundings. More and more thick tendrils of red were leaking out of the creature every second as the Iron seemed to almost notice it, and prefer it. The small, nearly invisible lines of blood mist that were rising before now joined with others in what seemed to be an attempt at efficiently draining the creature. Even the curtains were beginning to thin, the more efficient path to the Demon being through the iron channels. The Demon began to run at Calpurnia, now hampered by the chained leg. Past it she could see Cassandra clearly for the first time since they parted. She was a mosaic of orderly wounds, still red and bleeding in some cases. Her scalp was covered in them, her face, shoulders, chest, arms and stomach. Covered in row after row of neat shallow wounds. She wore bandages over her chest, covering a strong bleed. She wore breeches and boots that were scavenged from the servitors. She had the other chain and circled around the Demon towards Calpurnia. Details were flooding Calpurnia's brain at a rate that was almost distracting. She was noticing too much. She focused on the Demon. The second it moved its arm to strike, Calpurnia shot both shells that remained in her shotgun through the Demon's non chained leg, causing it to buckle, and fall forward. Its arm still raised to strike Calpurnia and caught her by one leg with a long, thick vein, and yanked her off her feet. Calpurnia landed on her back and felt the air rush out of her lungs. She heard the Demon roar as she rolled away and back onto her feet. Cassandra had it around the throat with a chain and a boot on its back stomping it into the ground. Calpurnia ran with frantic speed towards them. They could end this now. The Demon reversed its proportions again, and threw Cassandra off of her with massive strength, bouncing her off the ceiling. But in doing so it put itself off balance, the chain tugging on its leg. Calpurnia threw herself bodily into the Demon, with her spike gun positioned to impale, and slammed the creature into the ground. As her weight pressed into the pneumatic driver it blasted an iron rod through the back of the Demons shoulder, and into the ground. Calpurnia immediately shot another spike through the creature. And then another, and another and another. The Demon had thirteen spikes driven through it when the gun went dry. When it did, she quickly stepped away from the Demon and began to load her shotgun. She racked four rounds and aimed at the squirming mass of veins pinned to the floor. She should have been more precise with her placement of the spikes, it was still able to kick its legs and flail its arms. Calpurnia kept a safe distance. “Drayvus, I think we have it. Hurry down. Bring more stakes.” Calpuria said into the vox. +As you say Inquisitor, I will be there shortly.+ He replied. The servo skulls continued overhead, filling the space between Cassandra’s wards with complicated recursive patterns. The Demon continued to thrash, and Calpurnia did not want to look away from it. “Cassandra, can you hear me? Make a noise if you can.” Calpurnia shouted. A loud slap hit the water in response. Cassandra was alive, and conscious. “One for yes two for no. Are you injured?” One slap. “Drayvus will be here in twenty minutes, can you wait for him?” Another lone slap answered her quickly. “Very well. You have done the Emperor a great service, Sister. Use these minutes to rest, if you can.” Calpurnia barely blinked as she watched the Demon. It had stopped thrashing by this point. It reversed its proportions again, so that its eye was facing the ceiling. The mass of veins writhed around the stakes but stood no chance to break free. The creature's fleshy material itself was being pulled into them. The Demon’s one strange round eye simply watched Calpurnia. She could not recall if the creature ever did blink, but it surely did not now, nor did it say anything, and Calpurnia did not goad it. The trails of blood mist were coalescing above the Demon. Calpurnia watched the mist turn from fine red to a pitch so dark it was almost black, emanating from the chest of the demon. The iron lines directly above it began to take on another color. They were turning the same color blue as the creature itself. It looked like it was spreading, although very slowly. The ceiling veins pulsed lightly, in time with the Demon. Drayvus arrived hauling a large sack brimming with complicated looking equipment. When he arrived Calpurnia summoned the remaining servo skull that was commanded to follow her, and took the net it held. Drayvus gave her the stakes she requested, and went to see Cassandra. Calpurnia loaded the spikes and placed them in a perimeter around the Demon. She then threw the monofilament net over the creature, and activated the magnetic nodes on the edges. The net snapped tight and pressed the Demon into the ground with an array of nearly invisible lines. She still did not want to take her eyes off of the foul creature. +Inquisitor, Cassandra will survive but the damage may be lifelong unless acted upon now. Her left side has been crushed by traumatic force.+ Drayvus' voice rang out. “Do it. We are in no rush.” Calpurnia said plainly. +We will move out of the immediate range of the creature, its presence does not do the body good.+ Calpurnia nodded, and for the first time took her eyes off the creature. Drayvus was carrying Cassandra away. Her entire left side was bruised, and many wounds had been reopened. He took her just outside of the rim of the cage. Calpurnia looked back at the Demon. It was still watching her. Calpurnia zoomed her lenses on the creature. Was it sweating? Beads of moisture were gathering on its veiny surface. Some were beginning to run, and fall into the shallow water below it. Calpurnia watched, perplexed. The drops were appearing quicker. They popped out from in between the creatures' knotted veins. It wasn't sweating, it was leaking. A cluster of veins on the creature's chest popped, making Calpuria jump. Water shot out of it, with the power of an arbiter's water cannon, and blasted into the ceiling. The creature's body began to quiver as small streams began to pop out of it. There was a noise, something very far away that sounded like wailing. “Drayvus! Something is happening!” Calpurnia yelled. +Interruptions are possibly fatal at the moment Inquisitor+ He replied. The wailing grew louder, and another cluster of veins popped, shooting another gout of frothing white water at the ceiling. “Drayvus we need to leave, now!” Calpurnia yelled. The space between the two ruptures on the Demons chest ripped open, a geyser pouring out of it, and the wailing was there. The water rolled and foamed against the ceiling in defiance of gravity. The roiling wave charged in all directions, and Calpurnia saw two eyes, black as the void rush at her before she was engulfed by the water. Chapter 8 Calpurnia tumbled through the water. The explosion of current pushed her far before she regained her senses. The air supply in her environment suit kicked on as she looked around for Cassandra and Drayvus. She could not see them. But she could see a break in the surface, there must still be air in the cavern. It would be absurd if the entire system were to actually flood. She whirled through the operations on her augmetic and attempted to gain a ping on Cassandra and Drayvus’ location, but nothing came back. She clicked on the jets of her suit and made for the surface. It was… Curiously far away. Too far away. And the surface no longer roiled, it swept in long waves. As she got closer she noticed she was bathed in light, but no longer red. It was the unmistakable strange violet of Veyrfall’s moonlight. The waves she saw above carried currents beneath that were getting stronger, but she needed to get to the surface, Cassandra and Drayvus would be heading there as well, hopefully. Calpurnia breached the surface, and her brain began to compartmentalize immediately. She was no longer in the caverns. She was in a large body of water, and a storm was raging overhead. Violent rain and painfully loud cracks of thunder stretched from horizon to horizon. Still under the effects of her combat stimulants, Calpurnia was aware of the impossibility of this, the insanity of this, but put those thoughts away until they served a purpose. Above her was the open sky of Veyrfall, this was an apparent fact. That meant she could request rescue by air via transponder. She blink clicked the rune, and moments later an ETA appeared. Under ten minutes. She must be close to the Hive, where the ship was docked. The Thunderhawk requested a communication channel, which Calpurnia opened immediately. “Hail, Inquisitor.” The voice of a familiar thunderhawk pilot came through. “In need of immediate extraction!” Calpurnia shouted. “Aye, Inquisitor. Keep your head above water and we’ll be there soon.” “Have Drayvus or Cassandra activated their transponders?” “Yes, Inquisitor, Pathfinder Drayvus has, though it will take longer to recover him.” “Why, where is he?” Calpurnia asked as a wave rolled her over “He is on the other side of the planet Inquisitor. Another ship has deployed, I am not sure of his status. Cassandra has not activated hers.” Less than two minutes ago they were twenty meters apart. She hoped that Cassandra was with Drayvus. She fought the water and pounding rain as the timer ticked down. Each flash of lightning stole her vision for a span of seconds. The drought had broken, that was a positive to draw from this. She remembered the eyes that rushed at her. Theories flooded the back of her mind as she focused on not being pushed down by the waves. Her stimulants were beginning to tax her. The halflife of the serum is far longer than would be healthy for any human to endure, and so she must end their effects herself with a sedative. The longer she spent under the full effects of the stimulants, the more she would suffer in recuperation. If she let it, it would kill her, but that would take a substantial amount of time. Nonetheless she felt each and every one of her muscles burn, a dull burn that told of deep muscle tissue damage. She needed air but the supply in her suit only released so much. Each breath felt like a quarter of the air that she needed, but it was sufficient for her body to continue to function, so she did not risk opening her helm. Her vision was starting to darken, or perhaps her brain was deciding not to register irrelevant details. On her lenses she could see the ETA of the thunderhawk. Thirty seconds. She looked to the sky, she would be able to see it soon. The Thunderhawk plummeted through the massive storm clouds dragging a dark trail of water behind it. “The weather's a bit touchy so we're going to come in low and pick you up as we pass, alright inquisitor?” Came the pilots voice over the vox. “Affirmative.” She replied curtly. A projectile shot from the front of the craft, aimed in her direction. A net that unfurled as it hit the water meters away from her. Calpurnia swam over and hooked her suit to it by the waist and chest. “Go!” She yelled into the vox. As she looked above she saw the thunderhawk shoot overhead, and its bay door open. The slack was pulled out of the rope and slowly dragged Calpurnia out of the water with it. The winch pulled her in fast, but the wind threw her at an angle the whole way. There were two fully outfitted Inquisition personnel in the bay doors that grabbed the net as it came near and hauled it in, Calpurnia with it. Calpurnia thanked them breathlessly. She unhooked herself from the net and stumbled into the open bay area, attempting to right the vertigo she felt. The bay doors closed behind her as she walked deeper into the ship. She went to her knees, then her side and splayed herself flat on the floor. She unhooked her helmet and tossed it off, and filled her lungs with air that almost tasted sweet. “Do you require assistance, Inquisitor?” One of the masked personnel asked. “No, thank you, I am mostly intact. Allow me some space, please.” The two personnel nodded and walked off towards the bridge. Calpurnia applied her sedatives. They returned her body to a normal state of functioning, and masked the pain of the over exertion. She would be very numb for a while. “Captain, supply me with a video connection to Drayvus when he is recovered.” She said into the vox. “Aye Inquisitor.” The Captain replied. “I don't mean to speak out of place, Inquisitor, but I will make the observation that you and Drayvus popped up on opposite sides of the planet in urgent distress in the same minute that the storms broke out. Is that a story I’ll ever get to hear?” Calpurnia scoffed. The Captain's name was Zane, a pilot of Calpurnias that had been working with her for many years. “Only if I can work out the details myself.” She replied. “You said storms. How many are there?” “Well, it might be more accurate to say storm. It's the whole planet. Last I looked the last scraps of sky were getting filled in by storm clouds quick.” Zane said. That was alarming to Calpurnia. A planet wide storm. That's not something that happens often on many planets. It would have immediate catastrophic fallout to the areas of the planet not accustomed to it. The crops would be watered though. And the people could drink. She hoped that the Demons influence over the water had passed, and it was no longer poisoned, but it was too soon to tell. Calpurnia took solace in the fact that she was no longer in danger. For the moment, she could rest her body and mind, and decide on what to do next. Even if what to do next was obfuscated through warp trickery and demonic influence. Firstly, she was concerned about the Demon. She hoped that Drayvus had planted cameras like before, and that they survived the flood. If the Demon was not still in the cage, there would be much more work to follow. If it remains trapped, still much work follows, but it need not be as frantic. Secondly she was concerned about Cassandra. Not activating her transponder could mean a few things. She could be dead, she could be incapacitated, or she could be below ground. Or she could be with Drayvus. Her ordeal had already been so great, and she was gravely wounded. Further trials in her condition were a death sentence. She spoke into the vox; “Aye captain.” Zane replied. Thirdly she was worried about the storm, and what caused it. Had the eyes in the water been the Demon escaping through the water, and now it intended to wreak havoc with its influence? Or was there another force at play? What other force could be at play? “Drayvus has been recovered, Inquisitor, servo skulls with the link are heading your way now.” Zane chimed in over the vox. “Thank you Captain,” Calpurnia replied, and stood up. The doors to the bridge opened and two servo skulls floated out and down the stairs to her. They hovered roughly eight feet in the air and began one to one projection. Drayvus appeared in front of her, apparently no worse for wear, although he was wet. “Hello Drayvus.” Calpurnia said with a sigh. +Hello Inquisitor.+ Drayvus replied, anticipating the question she was about to ask. Calpurnia could tell before the words left her lips, Cassandra was not with him. “Cassandra is not with you.” She said flatly. +No Inquisitor. Her transponder has not been activated. There are limited possibilities. However thanks to your warning I was able to administer the most vital medicament she required in time. Her wounds may not kill her…+ “All the same, we will spare no expense to find her.” Calpurnia said, feeling herself slip into her Inquisitorial professional mindset. “Did you emerge in an ocean as well?” She asked. +No Inquisitor. When the wave took me I found myself at the bottom of a frozen lake, in the planet's southern pole, high in the mountains.+ “I see.” She said, collecting the data. “Were you able to establish a video feed to the cage, Drayvus? We must know if the Demon remains trapped.” She asked. +Yes Inquisitor, there are multiple feeds to the cage still active, though I have not had a chance to view them yet.+ He replied. “Very well, let's see.” She asserted. Drayvus activated a skull of his own to display an image roughly a meter wide showing the caverns. It was from the ceiling down. The cavern was completely flooded. Through the crystal clear water they could see the creature made of veins. It was still nailed to the floor, and still covered by the net. Its strange eye flicked around the room frantically. Its chest was a ragged mess of burst veins that pulled through the net, towards the multicolored ceiling. There was the red of Cassandra's marks, but there was also the bright blue glow of the blood forged iron reacting to the creature. The colors shifted in the water, and mixed to create varying shades of shimmering violet where they met. “Intriguing.” Calpurnia said. “We will need to regain access to the creature. You will have authority over this endeavor.” +As you wish, Inquisitor.+ Drayvus said, and stopped the feed to the caverns. Calpurnia sighed. What next? The storm. “You have been briefed on the weather, yes?” She asked. +Indeed Inquisitor. Very curious.+ He said. “Did you see anything in the water as it took you Drayvus?” +No. I was facing the other direction.+ “Let me play my recollection back for you then.” Calpurnia summoned a skull of her own and accessed it with her augmetic hand. She sorted through her visual recordings and played the segment back for Drayvus. She paused it as the eyes filled her vision. Drayvus remained silent for some time before muttering in his mechanical voice; +Fascinating…+ “I’m sure you have theories. I have some of my own. We will meet back aboard The Death Of Us All to organize Cassandra's rescue, observe the storm, and seek wisdom, if there is any to be found.” Calpurnia commanded, and made the sign of the Aquilla, ending the conversation. +Very well, Inquisitor.+ Drayvus replied, and returned the gesture. The projections flicked off and the servo skulls floated back up the stairs to the bridge. In the coming months the rain did not stop, anywhere on the planet. The water was clean now, as safe to drink as it ever was. But it did not stop. The water saturated and ruined the massive planting fields. Lakes and rivers rose at a constant rate for days and days until they connected, and became something more. The farm houses and settlements that stretched between each hive and the next were swept away, and no one came to save the people that lived in them. Any form of travel between hives became impossible. Eventually the large bodies of water on the mainlands connected to the oceans, and the oceans polluted the world with briny salt water. Massive portions of every hive flooded. The dead filled them all. The most wretched, forlorn and forgotten of Imperiums citizens were the ones to perish first, their homes the deep passages underneath the hive. They drowned without a hope of escape, and now sat suspended and bloating beneath the survivors that pitied their own salvation. The lucky ones made it far enough that their corpses saw daylight again, and they were able to be remembered as having lived. The storms raged on, and each hive needed to devise a method of dealing with the absurd amount of dead that assailed them from the corpse sea that had once been their planet. Great tides of bodies washed against the Island hives and threatened to spread sickness and rot, and accumulate, if not handled in some manner. Two built massive incinerators and fed them the waterlogged dead day and night, bellowing acrid black smoke into the atmosphere. Another developed a corpse starch manufactorum, in an attempt to regain the planet's viability within the Imperiums designs. Another sank them at sea, to feed a large underwater ecosystem that provided many of the planet's aquatic exploitable resources. As for the Citizens of Hive Imperialis, they observed their long held tradition, and buried their dead beneath The Basilica. Thanks for reading! The story of Veyrfall will continue in my next work, Deluge: Three tales of horror from a drowning world.

This is my first Warhammer 40k story. Check out my profile for more of my writing, and if you like it leave a reply! Thanks for reading! RELICS PROLOGUE Isekander Kayde thought of his congregation as the ancient elevator descended. Hundreds of thousands of Imperial citizens came to hear his words daily. He taught them of the God-Emperor, and their role in His great plan. He told them not to fear the darkness of the void, for the Emperor protects. Surely. The Emperor protects. The sick and poor would come to him desperate for the salvation of the Emperor’s light. He would comfort them and give them courage, that they might carry on in His name. The local government held him in high respect and would often come to him for advice on matters of state. He would oblige, though the results were not his concern. The mighty lords who lived amongst the clouds in the highest reaches of the hive would come to him offering gifts, in hope that the Emperor might view them with favor, and bless them with more wealth. He would accept them, though they meant naught to him. Kayde never tired of the sensation he felt as he entered the catacombs. As he continued deeper into the darkness, the smell became thick, clouding his head. His senses distorted and twisted around the intoxicating aroma. It gathered at the center of his consciousness, right behind his eyes, and dripped down the back of his throat. It left a metallic taste that filled his gut, and rose back out of his mouth like bile. He heard it muffle the noises of the lift around him, the air now filled with a muting mass of particulate matter. The light above him faded away, leaving him alone with the smell. His thoughts strayed from the events of the day, a welcome reprieve. He became utterly relaxed, and all pretense of emotion faded from his face The elderly priest stepped off the lift, leaving his walking stick behind. He did not need it down here, while the smell suffused his entire being. The passage was in total darkness, but this did not trouble him. He felt the familiar faces of the long-dead on the walls as he passed, to guide him. Long minutes passed in silence as he made his way. He savored every second of his journey, as he did each and every day. He thought of the purity of his devotion. He thought about his sacred work, and how truly grand it was. Adrenaline began to flow through his limp and relaxed flesh, in anticipation of the ritual. Saliva pooled in his mouth, and spilled out in a thin trail He could hear the river now, a slow lapping current echoing off the walls of the catacombs, endlessly. Not even he knew how deep it flowed. His eyes found focus on the distant light of a torch. The entrance to the ritual chamber. He braced his mind to behold its glory, as it was never easy. A thing of such beauty could break the mind of one that was not prepared. Upon reaching the torch, and the threshold to the chamber, he shed his clothes. The chill air invigorated him, sending yet another surge of adrenaline through his veins. The time had come again. The ritual begins Kayde entered the grand chamber head bowed, his long gray hair occluding his vision, eyes focused on the dimly lit floor. He knew exactly how many steps forward until he would see the river beneath his gaze. He held his hands clasped behind his back in an act of supplication and moved with reverential slowness. The chamber was large and long, but he would reach the river soon. Sweat dripped from the priest’s face and stung his eyes, but he did not raise his hands to clear them. The stunted, staggered pace he walked with burned the muscles of his legs, but he did not change form. His neck felt as though it might snap, but he did not raise his head. He saw the river. He wanted to exult at the sight, to stretch his aching muscles and bask in the glory of the miracle. But he did not. He maintained his pace and posture, advancing onto the simple, splintered wooden board laid across the river. Without pause, he lowered one knee to the plank, and then the other, the rough wood digging into his skin. He now faced the river, and in front of him in the distance would lay its source. Head still bowed, the priest allowed himself one long, deep breath, to ready himself to witness its splendor. The river beneath him was modest yet, merely enough to wash one’s hands or feet in. Its flow was slow, and utterly calm. It had carved its path through the soft clay floor of its own intuition, forming small twists and turns. Behind him, the winding path of the flow continued into darkness, a path that none were to tread. It was a gift freely given, after all. His gaze followed the river upstream. In the distance—far enough that he had trouble seeing—was the source of the river: a great cistern that spilled from its lowered edge in wide, thin sheets, and fell below to gather and form the river. Long chains hung from the ceiling, lost entirely in darkness, above the cistern. And on these chains… Bodies. Hundreds and hundreds of bodies. Hung head down, and throat slit, each one slowly adding its due to the miracle. Blood. Around the great cistern’s edges were his acolytes: some handling large barbed poles to push or pull the sacrifices; some bore cruel knives to slit their throats; others transported live bodies out of the holding pens beyond, and yet others brought the bloodless dead back in. The screaming no longer offended him. Indeed, he only began to truly hear it now. It had escaped his thoughts before this moment. As the exsanguinated bodies were retrieved from the pool, new wailing sacrifices were loaded in their place. The acolytes worked with a feverish speed, always fearful that the river’s flow might dry up. Only one phrase was spoken among them, and only when new tributes were sent to spill in the pool: “Blood for the Blood God.” Such was Isekander Kayde’s great work. The blood must flow. Kayde became lost in its beauty only for a moment. Snapping back to his senses, he tightly closed his eyes and continued the ritual. He unclasped his hands from behind his back and slowly brought them in front of him. Leaning forward, he lowered his hands to the blood in a loose, cupped shape. When his fingers first breached the surface, agony pierced his soul. The muscles throughout his entire body contracted, forcing him into a pained hunch, threatening to send him toppling into the river. He wanted to fall in. He wanted to fall face first into the blood and lavish in its taste, its smell, and its sticky, hot touch. But he would not. Through an ultimate act of will, Isekander Kayde resisted, as he did each and every day. He controlled the descent of his hands through the blood, until they touched the bottom. No further. He would not defile the Blood God’s gift with more than his hands, which he offered as a beggar would a king. The current ran through and around his fingers, attempting to drag him in with its slow, inexorable flow. The weight of the blood held his hands beneath. The ritual was almost over. His muscles screamed to be released from the tension that threatened to tear them apart. A dryness had developed in his throat that threatened to choke him dead, and the rushing of the river had become so loud in his ears he thought it would deafen him. He began to pull his hands out of the river. It was never an easy task. The river did not want to let him go. It wanted his blood. The river became heavy and pushed against his cupped hands. He had never witnessed the blood in this stage of the ritual before, and did not let his thoughts stray to what may really be happening in front of him. Slowly, and with great strength, his hands emerged. Once his fingers had left it completely, the pain began to subside. He straightened his back again and returned to his kneeling posture. He sat back on his heels and placed his hands in his lap. His head still bowed, he allowed himself one more deep breath in and out to recover from the ritual. Kayde opened his eyes. In his hands was a small brass bowl. It had emerged clean, and empty. CHAPTER 1 Eli saw the blood in the streets moving. It had been getting stronger. When he first entered the district, the pools around the victims lay still. But as he walked further he noticed strange patterns—much of it had long since dried, but in odd tapering channels that all pointed the same way. The further he went, the more bodies he saw, and the thicker these channels became. Some had come together, forming a stronger, less resistant path. With the added mass of blood, Eli could now see the edges of these puddles still wet—and extending, glinting against the world's strange, purple moonlight. It rolled forward as though pressed from a vein, bubbling over itself in a fading, coagulating trail. Contempt bolstered Eli's spirit. Sorcery. Foul magics of the great enemy. Curiosity as to the intentions of the servants of Chaos was pointless, and laid one's mind bare for corruption. He cut short any such considerations. The killing began three days ago. It started in the courtyard of the Basilica Sepulchra Imperialis, Veyrfall’s most sacred and valuable treasure. At the peak of service, with millions of citizens inside and surrounding the chapel, the holy men and women of the Emperor unleashed a slaughter. Those that escaped with their lives told of horned heads, hoofed legs and forked tongues amongst the murderous. As the local military mounted a response, more dutiful servants of the imperium became seemingly afflicted, and engaged in the slaughter of those around them. Once it was established that the effect was spreading, the hive quarantined the entire district. Billions of souls, locked in, alone with the monsters. As Eli made his way through a cramped alley he could not see or hear the rest of his cell, but he knew they were there. They moved in a staggered approach to the cathedral, each soldier entrusted to keep his presence concealed. The Vigilia were all supremely practiced in the business of staying alive, and were chosen for that reason. As he walked, wind rushing through broken windows of the shattered district drowned out the sound of his footsteps. Great shadows cast by stacked layers of modest households cloaked him in darkness. A series of quiet clicks echoed through his vox—a minute-to-minute check-in from the members of his cell. All was well. Eli and his cell saw life signs—an impossible to miss mass of bodies on their scanners. They had noticed them long ago, and surmised it must be cultists with a group of hostages. They had been stationary for some time, and the cell planned simply to advance through the district around them and continue to the objective. On the wind Eli heard bells. Rhythmically, with monotonous precision, they chimed. ting-ting, ting-ting ting-ting, ting ting Eli climbed a set of rickety stairs into a small domed enclosure that connected to a string of homes along a higher tier of the alley. The cultists were on ground level, and the life signs were down the passage now, to his right, where that series of habs ended, opening into a large garden. Under the light of the moon, everything seemed to glow, edges catching stray violet light. In the center of the garden, around fifty Imperial citizens stood, utterly motionless and paralyzed by fear. ting-ting, ting-ting ting-ting, ting ting Eli was confident he would not be seen as he proceeded. He was covered by the shadows, and any line of sight the cultists might have was narrow and unlikely. He observed them as he moved past. Foul, detestable things they were, clothed in bloody rags, wearing trophies of horrific brutality on their bodies. They were preparing the hostages for transport—chaining them by the legs and waists, painting their chests with dark, disturbing runes of blood. Deeply hooded figures circled the crowd, swinging billowing censers of foul, noxious smoke. He did not see where the bells were coming from. He made his way past unknown to them. They were not his mission. ting-ting, ting-ting ting-ting, ting ting Once the district was quarantined the cult revealed itself. The citizens left abandoned were scattered and separated, forced into hiding by the monsters roaming the streets. The cult moved with no such trepidation, their wards of bells and smoke protecting them. There were two entrances to the catacombs outside of the cathedral itself, on opposite ends of the district. Once utterly forbidden ground, it was now swarmed with doomed processions of hostages. To what end was unknown. Foul, reprehensible. To proliferate beneath a site of such holiness. Eli felt rage burn bright in his soul at the thought of bringing the man responsible low. Intelligence told them that Isekander Kayde was near the cathedral. He spent his days and nights performing disgusting rituals in the shadow of its holiness, seemingly reverential and in supplication of a curious object. Mission protocols stated that Kayde was to be eliminated, and this object destroyed. The alley opened into a larger boulevard after the garden. The cultists behind them would not move for some time yet, sparing no effort in the preparation of their quarry. Eli looked down at the long, empty street. It was curiously free of the dead. As Eli continued along the long string of shrine-houses he saw a muted violet light pulse. Lumen and Olaf had found something. They alerted him with a pulse of Lumen's vest, matched to the moonlight. Eli blink-clicked the notification rune away, letting them know he was on his way, and he saw them go to continue their work. Eli made his way down to the street. The signal had come from inside a chapel on the right side of the boulevard. The stained glass windows were shattered, and the stacks of candles long since snuffed out. The tall double doorway had been smashed away. As Eli entered the chapel his shadow grew long in the moonlight, and the reason for the alert became clear Suspended from the rafters in a great tangle of chains was one of the monstrosities. Eli could feel bile rise in his throat. It had been human once. What was left of the uniform marked him as PDF. He was suited in fully enclosed tactical gear that had been ruptured from the inside out - sharp, irregular horns spearing through his helmet. The armor split at the seams, strained by an unnatural change in height and muscle mass. The thing’s skin was the color of a raging flame, stretched thin over too much bulk. Its mouth was a lipless, gaping wound, riddled with long, strong teeth. On the floor below lay the severed remnants of what had become of its hands - long, wicked blades, snapped short. The locals had trapped it here and finished it. Eli thought of the captives he had passed earlier, and offered a silent prayer to The Emperor. They had fought bravely. Below the monster was a large bloodstain where its throat had been slit. Eli's eyes followed the trail of blood. It was still liquid, moving in the direction of the cathedral, though the chapel wall was in the way. It bubbled and roiled at its base, ever expanding in search of a way forward. He had seen enough, and turned back towards the entrance. When he exited, he was greeted by Lumen and Olaf sitting patiently by the door, having determined that Eli had paused his advance. He gave Lumen a gentle pat on the head and whispered “Good boys,” To be a member of the Malum Vigilia was to meet horror face to face, with mind-numbing regularity. The souls of its mortal members had been tempered, and their minds filled with the Emperor’s truth. Every member of the Vigilia was a specialist of one kind or another—comms, wards, suppression, recon, infiltration, political liaison. Eli was a hound handler, and he chose Olaf and Lumen for their specific augmentations. Olaf had received extensive augmentation to his olfactory sensors to sharpen an already prodigious tracking gift. Lumen was outfitted for pursuit, and equipped with a prototype light-vest—subdermal housings that could pulse varying degrees and colors of light, strong enough to blind. Both hounds were subject to routine augments improving speed, durability, and inter-cell communication. Together they worked exceptionally well, and aided in the success of many missions. Eli was leading the cell on the ground. Of the ten mortals, Eli, at 73 years of age and 50 years of service to the Vigilia, was the most experienced. He drew near the great spires surrounding the Basilica now. The fortifying steel towers were as wide as an entire hab block, and packed together tightly, leaving no gap but small gated access tunnels, and the main processional road. The boulevard he was traveling down opened into a large, empty street, encircling the spires. Lumen and Olaf were already at the access gate they were meant to use, examining a thin current of blood that was trickling inside. One by one, from the alleys and houses, nine mortals emerged in silence to join Eli. Clad in black and grey, faces covered, each soldier bore the Chapter’s insignia on their left shoulder: a three-leafed apple in white. They had all received extensive juvenate treatments and augmentations designed to reduce their need for sleep or nutrients. They utilized bionics to increase speed, endurance, and situational awareness, and they had spent years training with mankind’s greatest defenders. They would not sell their lives cheaply, for the investment in them was extensive. “Spire Cell, report,” Eli voxed quietly. “The guns are ready to go down. We’ve taken up positions to assist in the assault. The cathedral itself is empty. Kayde is on the steps with the relic, surrounded by his cult. We have three angles on him, but he's moving and visibility is… Extremely bad. There is… a lot going on in the courtyard. The cultists have been funneling in hostages for the fiends to feed on. Some hostages have turned on the innocent and… begun to change.” Eli heard the man spit. “Vile heresy,” the voice said. “Your approach is clear at the moment, but the highway and the plaza are full of them.” “Maintain position.” Assassination from the sky had been ruled out. The chance of a miss was unacceptable, and even a hit risked the relic falling into his cultists hands and disappearing into the hive. The best they could do was shoot all their shots at once and hope to devastate any sense of organized resistance. “Armor cell report,” “We found a couple of nice ones to take with us, rigged the rest of the big ones, and we'll take out the small ones on the way. We'll drag a tail but they'll be slow. After drop we can be there in six or seven minutes.” Eli sighed “Maintain position.” Eli said and cut the channel. The shrine district had been host to a large array of the hive’s military assets in order to protect the priceless Basilica. Tanks and other armored vehicles were scattered along its massive highway, traveled by millions every day. The spires were integrated into the hive’s orbital defenses and mounted great skyfire batteries. Mission protocol dictated Spire Cell was to neutralize the skyfire targeting systems, and Armor Cell was to disable enemy ground vehicles, in order for the local PDF to make an organized push towards the cathedral, and to seal the two entrances to the catacombs. Spire Cell was in position to provide recon inside the courtyard, and long-range support during the assault. Armor Cell was to commandeer three vehicles and make for the cathedral as soon as operations went loud, in order to hold the Basilica entrance. Eli turned to his auspex specialist, Livia Serrin, callsign Naran. “How many are in the access?” “Fifteen, just regular life signs. The closest is about fifty meters down. They have a few fires.” Eli signed for them to get into position on either side of the gate. It was open. The cult did not have much of a mind for security. His cell had already guessed the call he was about to make and were adjusting their visors to prepare. Temur and Batu took the point, being the most heavily armored. Eli took the rear on the right hand side of the tunnel entrance. Eli looked down at his hounds, always ready to serve. He raised his fist in the familiar sign. Lumen – breach. Chapter 2 Eli lowered his fist. The hounds ran into the tunnel together. Temur and Batu led the cell in a sprint, barely able to keep up. For thirty meters the only sound was muffled foot and paw steps. Eli could see the heretics down the corridor on his multi-spectrum lenses, set to low light, and to reduce flash. The cultists heard them and moved from their positions around a fire to gaze into the darkness. Three targets. Lumen was the first to breach the perimeter of the fire’s illumination, and shot a blast of light down the corridor so bright that Eli could feel its heat. His lenses compensated, registering a bright flash and a spray of coals as Olaf smashed through the fire. He saw the cultists fall backward, reeling from the blinding light. Temur and Batu were closing on them as the hounds raced past to the next group. The two in formation behind took a step to the side, sighted the cultists, and brought them down in three muted bursts. Eli and Naran rushed past, giving the rear guard to them. The cultists down the tunnel did not understand what was happening, seeing only a bright flash, stealing what vision they had. Another flash, and five more were brought down. Over half. Eli and Naran rushed past four more of the Cell that had stopped to shoot. Eli smashed the brazier Olaf had thrown to the ground underfoot as he ran. The cultists were shooting back. Every shot went wide. They had grouped up, in an ignorant attempt at safety through numbers. Seven targets. Lumen's light went off again, this time in a strobing pattern as he and Olaf pounced on two of the cultists. Temur and Batu smashed two into the walls so hard with their crackling shock mauls that they fell limp to the ground. Eli and Naran finished the group with two bursts from her, one from him. “Life signs clear,” Naran said, in the now-darkened tunnel. Eli looked down at the cultists as his cell fell in behind him. They were a different strain of heresy than the monsters that roamed the streets. Eli wondered what made them different. Why had their minds been spared, and their bodies left weak and fragile? Were they the chosen few, or a tool meant to usher in a new age of bloodshed? He returned his attention to the present. Eli could not make sense of what he saw at the end of the tunnel. He blink clicked off his lenses to see with his own eyes. Long, chaotic rays of vibrant color pierced the dark. He attempted to parse the information in front of him by following the walls leading to the entrance, but his eyes lost purchase. The stone walls dissolved into dozens of overlapping patterns of light, color, and shadow. A far-reaching shard of yellow light touched Eli’s hand and illuminated something curious on the floor beneath him. He bent down to examine it. He plucked a strand from the ground to confirm it was real. Grass. Real green grass sprouting from the grooves in the blood-soaked stonework, growing thicker as they advanced. Eli heard Khorig, his warding specialist, murmur, “What is this place…?” Eli opened a channel to Spire Cell. “We’re approaching the courtyard. Give me an update.” “I’d double-time to the objective. The daemons seem drawn to the steps, but it’s been a while since the cult has released more hostages to hunt, and they’re starting to wander the grounds—looking. The cult’s warding priests fill the plaza on the other side of your approach, keeping the fiends off the stairs. There is one that’s likely to notice you on your way.” The man paused. “You seen the grass yet?” “Yes. And the lights.” “This place is expensive.” “Keep an eye on us as we approach, but do not give away your position,” Eli said, standing back up, letting the blade of grass fall. “Aye,” said the man, and cut the channel. The grass covered the ground now. They were almost out of the tunnel. The roof vanished from sight as they entered the field, revealing the source of the lights: the largest building Eli had ever seen, made of stained glass. Past a clear half kilometer of grass, the massive west wing of the cathedral loomed over them, displaying scenes of glory against daemon, xenos, and mutant. Beyond that, the central tower stood kilometers high, shining so brightly with purple moonlight that Eli could not make out the images - only the chaotic, tainted light they cast. He looked to the sky and saw the towers surrounding the cathedral disappear into the violet mist, several times higher than the church itself. He could just make out the massive mirrors that shot moonlight into the cathedral, covering every surface in sight with refracted light, shining as a mighty monument to the God Emperor of Mankind. “Khorig, you have point. Everyone spread out. Use the lights to conceal yourselves. No gunfire out here, we can't afford to be noticed.” Eli turned to Khorig. He bore many favors of the inquisition on this day. His armor was etched with hexagramic wards, and a rosary lay affixed across his chest like a belt of ammunition. Lashed to his left arm was a simple polished black bar; a null rod. In his right he wielded a power stake, long enough to plant like a staff, and humming with an invisible field of energy. “Are you ready?” “Of course,” Khorig said “Do not attempt to aid me unless absolutely necessary. Limited contact with the foul things is best.” “Agreed.” Eli said. Khorig began his advance. Temur and Batu fell in behind him at a safe distance, followed by Eli to the right, and the rest of the cell fanning out in a wide pattern, finding paths of darker light to follow. They sighted a red-skinned beast ahead at roughly two hundred meters, bent over examining a corpse. It was big. As they grew closer, Eli saw it no longer bore any clothing, now much larger than it had once been. Eli was surprised by how human it still looked, though it no longer showed any signs of gender. Great ram's horns framed its face, and a long tongue fell from its mouth. Its legs ended in huge, hairless hooves. Khorig stopped in a rare patch of white light fifty meters from the daemon, and the rest of the cell stopped with him. He stabbed his power stake into the ground and raised his hands in the sign of the Aquila, offering a prayer to the God-Emperor. The beast noticed him and let out a throat-tearing scream as it burst into a sprint. It was easily a foot taller than Khorig, and must have outweighed him by a hundred and fifty pounds. Khorig stood ready to react. The beast came one stride away from striking range of him when the leg it stepped forward with failed, suddenly losing strength. The daemon almost fell to a knee, but managed to keep upright with one outstretched arm. Khorig reacted, stepping out of its trajectory and turning ninety degrees, ripping a long gash into its side. The wound began to spew smoke as if lit from a fire on the inside. The fiend let out a guttural exclamation, shifted its weight, and brought the arm it caught itself with up in a wild strike in Khorig's direction. Khorig threw himself under the beast's attack and slammed the null-rod into its elbow. The arm went limp and the beast's momentum carried it forward, sending it into a spin. It fell away from Khorig. He saw the opening and pierced the back of its neck with his power stake in one swift application of force. The daemons head burst into flames. Batu let out a scoff. “Bastard makes it look easy...” he said, Khorig removed the stake from its neck, letting it fall forward, “Would that you all were warded as I am,” he responded humbly. “I don't want that witch :cuss:.” Batu said as he began to move forward once more. The cell continued advancing to the cathedral wall. Spire Cell had said to double time, but Eli trusted Naran to watch for life signs in the courtyard. The wall was not far and they would be able to reach it quickly if anything appeared. Eli looked up at the massive west wing of the cathedral. It was all he could see, save the structures even taller behind it. It was difficult to not be awestruck by the scenes displayed on the cathedral. Beings of myth and legend doing battle with the vile and hated. Scores of Imperial saints. The never-ending battalions of the Imperial Guard. The Adeptus Sororitas and the winged Saint Celestine. Mighty witch hunters of The Inquisition. The enigmatic tech-priests of Mars. The royal Custodian guard. And the Emperor's ever vigilant angels of death—the Adeptus Astartes. All these and more were present, depicted in bold geometric cuts of glass, blazing in chaotic light. Eli felt relief as he stepped into the shadow cast at the base of the massive wall. A strip of darkness roughly two meters wide ran along the cathedral, and he could tell the rest of his cell was also put at ease, here, in the shadows. They had to reach the forward outer corner of the west wing, where they would turn the corner to see the massive highway and grand plaza. As the cell filed past him, Eli saw something out of the corner of his eye. In the other direction, the rear corner of the west wing, two humans walked into the field. Eli could barely see them, and blink clicked his lenses to zoom in. A man and a woman, both marked on the chest like the captives in the garden. They were filthy with blood and dirt. They must have managed to escape one of the hunts. But what were they doing? “Naran, give me audio on those two,” Eli commanded “One second. Ok, link up.” Eli heard the man speak as he backed away from the approaching woman “What are you doing? Stop, stop it!” The woman was carrying a shard of sapphire blue stained glass in a bloody hand, and slashed the man across the chest. He recoiled in pain and stumbled, falling onto his back in a patch of emerald light. “You're weak. You've always been weak! The things I've had to do so that we could make it... While you drink and gamble our future away!” The man put his hands out in protest, “Please, please! Don't do this! I love you! I've always loved you, since we were kids! Remember?” She slashed at his hand, cutting three of his fingers off. He shrieked in pain. “Shut up! I am not going to die here! If anyone is going to die IT'S YOU!” The woman pounced at the man's throat, and slammed the glass home. The body went limp beneath her, and she began to beat it with her fists. She craned her neck to the sky; “Blood for the Blood God!” She screamed in a horrible, breaking voice. She dug her nails into the man and ripped away bloody strips of flesh. Eli returned his vision to near focus. “Blood for th-” Eli cut the channel, but could still hear her finish it, faintly, even at this distance. “-e Blood God! Blood for the Blood God! Blood for the Blood God!” Eli turned away from the scene, grim determination now settled on his face. Time to end this. As the cell continued along the wall Eli opened a channel to all cells. “We're approaching the objective. Once we turn the corner we'll be seen. Spire cell, do you have locations marked?” “Aye,” came the reply “Armor cell, I need you here in five minutes once the operation goes loud.” “I'll drive faster then. I suppose.” “Interdiction cell, are you ready?” A deep, vox-grilled voice replied “Affirmative” “In the Emperor's name. Stand by. Go on my mark,” Eli said, leaving the channel open. They had reached the corner of the west wing. Eli returned to the front of the cell and placed his back against the wall. He exchanged looks with the rest of his squad. Around the corner were hundreds of daemons like that one, as well as the most dangerous elements of the cult. Eli looked down at his hounds, more enthusiastic in their duty than he could ever be. He took one last breath, and gave the command. CHAPTER 3 Hundreds of daemons filled the highway. Eli zoomed his lenses as he began the advance at a steady pace. They were all larger than the average human, some up to three meters tall. Some sported muscles so large they impeded the bearer's function. Others were little more than bones wrapped in skin. Some had maintained human hands and legs, but they were few. The daemons had been changed into disgusting implements of slaughter. Eli saw arms that ended in bloody blades, brutal hammers, and sinister lashes. They walked on hard crushing hooves, and sharp spears of bone shot from their skulls. Their skin was the bright red of spurting arterial blood. Eli saw now why there were so few victims on the approach. They had been brought here. The daemons were bleeding them. Those with hands held dripping corpses by the ankles, others held them speared aloft on their vicious appendages. Piles of bloodless bodies lined the highway. Eli returned his vision to near sight. Best not to view the foul things if not required. He heard explosions from the highway. Five thunderous cracks ripped through the air as the skyfire batteries burst into flames, showering the courtyard in embers and debris. Three shots rang from Spire cell’s snipers. No confirmation of a hit came over the vox. They had missed. Kayde lived. Four massive pods ripped through purple clouds and descended in a flickering cascade of colors. One shot out into the district towards Armor Cell. The rest aimed for the courtyard. The pods dropped into the plaza. Eli could not see them land, but felt the impact in the ground. Barely a second after the impact the courtyard shook a second time. A deep, gurgling voice filled the air with one low word; “Blood” Eli saw a massive figure blast into the corner of the east wing with the speed of a bullet, his drop pod following and breaking apart on impact. A wave of dark fluid slapped into the plaza and courtyard behind him. He ricocheted off of the wall and landed in the middle of the highway, far away, crushing daemons under him. A clutch of daemons surrounded him. The edge of the plaza erupted into blinding white flashes and roaring cracks of weapon fire. An assault bolter. Eli and his cell were nearly there now, and saw the smoke billowing out into the courtyard. Daemons began to charge into the plaza. A hulking figure clad in bone white armor emerged from the smoke. Brother Decimus Batur. Wielding a massive thunder hammer, crackling with white-blue energy, and a tower shield big enough to crush a mortal man. He ran to meet the first daemon, a short bulky thing with arms and shoulders so large it loped like a gorilla. Decimus slammed his hammer into the creature with a backhanded swing, sending it flying. Another approached on his left and he shoved his shield through it, embedding in the dirt beneath its split body. He raised his arms and let out a booming scream, amplified and made robotic by his helmet. Eli turned into the plaza. Dead priests lay exploded and broken, shattered by the assault bolter. Their decanters lingered, emitting growing clouds of shifting rainbow smoke. Ahead was the grand staircase, made of a dull reflective metal, shining back the cathedral's lights in muted tones. Landings and outcroppings broke the staircase's ascent at regular intervals, where sacrificial altars stood, surrounded by cultists. Eli understood where the blood had been flowing, all throughout the city. It flowed here, through the grass and up the steps, into the cathedral. At the base Eli saw Brother Gaius Sukh. He had tossed his spent assault bolter aside and was working to establish a cordon at the foot of the stairs. He ripped the gigantic doors from the drop pod assembly and planted them in the ground in a staggered formation. Small arms fire from the cultists pinged off of his armor to no effect. He saw Eli approach. “The hunt begins, Khasar,” he said, ripping another door from the drop pod's base. Eli heard Aurelius over the vox. “He opened a deep hole in his throat, the second I emerged. The relic is powerful but he is weak.” Eli and his cell took cover. Sacrificial altars and crude bloody shrines littered the plaza. Eli saw Decimus repelling the surge of daemons. They were drawn to his challenge and seemed to forget all else. In the distance he saw Aurelius slicing daemons limb from limb with his mighty power claw, making his advance back to the line. Ahead of him Gaius had finished placing the barricades and drew his power sword as he moved to intercept any daemons that made it around Decimus. “Temur, Batu, Khorig, aid the Astartes. Serel, Oron, smoke our approach. Everyone put your eyes on and get ready to push.” Eli voxed to the cell. Dozens of smoke canisters shot into the plaza and up the stairs. Everything was blanketed in smoke filled with multicolored light. Eli switched his lenses to compensate, and saw the cultists' heat signatures scurrying around as they began to panic and hide. Eli looked down to his hounds. “Go. Find him. Stay hidden.” Olaf and Lumen bolted into the smoke. Eli saw their heat signatures fly up the stairs and into the cathedral, darting past cultists completely unnoticed. Eli and his cell advanced, taking cover behind the doors, shielding them from the gunfire. Looking back through the smoke Eli saw the heat signatures of the three Astartes and three mortals maintaining a controlled withdrawal into the courtyard. The cell brought down the cultists that were not in cover. There were too many to bother counting. They needed to advance soon. Each second here was a second for Kayde to escape. “Grenades.” Eli voxed, “Flush out the first landing.” Four grenades vanished into the smoke, two on either side of the steps. The cultists did not seem to notice them land. Their cover was obliterated and the majority of them with it. The rest were killed as they emerged from cover. “Serel, Oron, remain and maintain the cordon. The rest with me,” Eli commanded as he ran. Eli made for the stairs. He could barely see the shape of the steps in front of him, his lenses illuminating them in blue with an accompanying ping of lidar detection. The cultists registered as bright red heat signals, ducking in and out of faintly defined altars and shrines. Eli knew their vision was worse, so he was not concerned with a direct hit. His armor could repel small arms fire, and he bore a momentary refractor field. Eli moved up the stairs with speed and confidence. Grenades flew from behind Eli and Naran, as they held their rifles trained on the groups ahead. They advanced on the right, opening lines of fire to those on the left. The cultists fired wildly. Some attempted to flee further up the stairs and were killed as they ran. Eli and the four with him had reached the dais at the top of the stairs. There was a force in the cathedral entryway, but they did not know the cell was so close. Behind them the stairs lay covered with cherry red heat signatures, slowly expanding, flowing into trails and following them up the steps. The cell tossed their remaining ordnance into the entryway, eliminating them without resistance. Eli began to cross the dais, his boots splashing through the rivers of blood that coalesced upon it. The smoke was clearing. He felt a breeze. There definitely should not be a breeze here. Eli stopped and turned around. “Something's wrong. Spire cell what's going on?” Eli said on an open channel. “The smoke must have got caught in a draft. Good thing you made it up the steps.” “There should not be a draft in here. Something else is happening.” Eli clicked his lenses back to unassisted vision. There was something in the air. Fine particulate matter. It was the blood. It was trembling and bubbling against gravity, breaking free in tiny drops and flying into the sky. “Sorcery. Be prepared.” He heard Gaius say, before the channel cut with a crack of static and pained grunt from the space marine. He looked down the stairs. The defending cell was behind the drop pod doors. Khorig was in the center, the Astartes surrounding him. Daemons stumbled as they approached the formation, the null rod on his arm suppressing their connection to the warp. Decimus was at the front, throwing daemons back with brutal swings from his hammer. Gaius and Aurelius were to his right and left, using their bolters with one hand and melee weapons in the other. Khorig lashed out with his power stake at opportune moments presented by the Astartes, gouging flaming holes in the daemons. Temur and Batu held their position at the opposite rear sides of the formation. Their shock mauls were overcharged and burst with loud cracks of energy as they disabled the fiends that approached them, for Serel and Oron to shred with automatic gunfire. Eli looked out to the highway. Even more were pouring in from the courtyard entrance at a full sprint. The screams and roars of the daemons had become a constant din, growing louder with every second. The plaza was nearly full of them, starting to crush themselves in the spaces between the drop pod doors. “We're losing visibility fast up here.” Spire cell voxed. Eli was as well. The blood had begun raining back down after being thrown into the air, whipping around in a growing flurry. It looked like it was centered on the east wing. He blink clicked his lenses, zooming in on the wall. There was an epicenter to the storm. Twenty stories up, the blood surged around a balcony. He zoomed in further. It was Kayde. He stood with the brass bowl held aloft, the blood rushing both in and out of it. Eli could barely see him through the storm. “It’s Kayde, in the wing! Bring him down!” Eli marked his location and transmitted it to the company, but it was too late. As the blood storm surged, sight of him was lost. Every available weapon fired on the location, to no avail. Kayde had moved. He was in the storm. “:cuss:!” Eli yelled. Eli looked down the stairs. He was losing sight of the defense formation. He clicked through his lens sensors. Nothing worked. None of his multi-spectrum sights could penetrate the blood. He turned to Naran. “Can you see him?” He asked, though he didn’t dare to hope. She was frantically working on her wrist slate, trying to find some way to see through the storm. Her lenses changed colors, cycling through every optical option she had. “No. Nothing.” She replied. “Armor cell! Where are you!?” Eli had to scream over the sound of the daemon horde. “We're here! What in Terra is happening?!” “You must sweep the storm! It’s the priest, bring him down!” Eli couldn't see Armor Cell, but could just make out the muzzle flashes of the mounted heavy bolter they brought. The trajectory of its fire turned upwards and riddled the storm with explosive rounds that slammed into the cathedral, raining fresh fire and debris on the battlefield. “Fall back into the Basilica. Aid arrives soon.” Brother Decimus' voice boomed over the vox. Eli and his cell needed to cover their retreat, but could see nothing from here. They ran down the steps. Qara slipped in the blood and fell down the stairs in front of them. Eli heard Batu over the vox, screaming in a last ditch attempt for help. “Get it off me, Serel shoot it!” before his vox cut off, and the rune indicating Batu's life signs went dark, followed by Serel's. Eli stopped. He took stock of his surroundings. He looked for the way out. There was always a way out. But Eli saw none. All he saw was blood. Eli saw a rune appear on his lenses. Olaf had found a target, and was transmitting it to Eli and Lumen. The transmission was useless to Eli, being an olfactory trace. But Lumen could interpret the information in a way that made sense. What were they doing? Another rune. Lumen was trying to get his attention. Eli couldn't tell which direction he faced anymore. He searched the blood hurricane for the vest. Eli looked up, and saw it. A beacon burning through the blood. It burned so bright it seemed almost golden. Eli blinked the rune away, letting Lumen know he saw him. The hound was high in the sky, twice as high as the priest had been. Eli didn't understand what Lumen was doing. He tried to figure it out when he saw the beacon move, and begin to fall in an arc. Lumen had jumped. Eli watched in silence as the hound fell. Lumen was the smartest dog Eli had ever worked with. There was a reason for this. Eli thought he knew, but didn't want to believe it “No...” Eli mumbled under his breath. The beacon stopped brutally halfway through its descent. The rune in Eli's visor began blinking rapidly. Target acquired. He had Kayde. Lumen had shown them the way out. Eli opened a channel to the company. He could not believe the order he was about to give. “Fire on the beacon.” He said into the vox. One second passed without response. Two. They had to do it now. Lumen couldn't hold on forever. “All units fire on the beacon! Do not make his sacrifice for nothing!” Eli screamed through the vox. Brother Gaius' voice replied. “He will be remembered, brother.” Eli's mind became barren, only two words left. The Mantra of the Malum Vigilia. “Malum Ruit.” Eli said. “Malum Ruit!” The company responded, and turned their fire on the beacon. The glowing light became the epicenter of a cacophony of bolter rounds, overcharged plasma shots, and assault rifle fire. Eli fired until his magazine was empty, the chapter's mantra repeating in his mind. Malum Ruit. “Evil Falls.” CHAPTER 4 The blood fell in a great sheet. Multicolored light bathed the courtyard again, punctuated by piles of burning debris. The blood was gathering in huge ponds. Brother Gaius smashed daemons out of his way as he ran down the stairs, towards the relic. Decimus and Khorig were at the bottom, bathed in vibrant pink light, trying to keep the daemons behind the drop pod doors. Brother Aurelius escorted the mortals down the steps, ripping the daemons open with his power claw. Eli took sight at enemies beyond his reach. They ran down the stairs, shredding targets that advanced past the cordon. Gaius landed in a gathering puddle of blood with a splash and slammed a containment unit glowing with hexagramic runes over the relic that had fallen beneath. “Objective secured.” Gaius voxed to the company. Super sonic sniper shots burst through the air in a steady rhythm. Spire cell was picking off targets in the plaza. Two rhinos crashed through the daemons in the plaza and took position forward center. On top of one was a mortal manning a heavy bolter, no easy feat. On top of the other was Brother Cato Erdene with an assault bolter. They turned their fire outward, at the hundreds of daemons that charged at the plaza. Brother Gaius moved to support them. Brother Decimus let out another bellowing challenge and ran past the barriers. Brother Aurelius made to join him as he and the mortals reached the bottom of the steps, letting out a cry of his own. The bodies of Batu and Sorel lay there, leaking blood from hundreds, thousands of open wounds. Eli looked for a creature capable of doing such a thing in the dead piles of daemons around them, but stopped short. His mind was wandering. They were not done. The remaining soldiers began to fan out of the blockade, firing in disciplined bursts. Five more exited the rhinos, and soon the plaza was clear. The four Astartes took positions to repel more from entering, aided by Temur and Khorig. The mounted heavy bolter roared without end, thinning their numbers and keeping them from approaching en masse. The rest of the mortals kept distance and took safe, effective shots. Everyone was covered in thick coagulating blood, only their eye lenses clear where they had managed to wipe them. Out of the corner of his eye Eli saw Olaf. He was the only thing in sight not covered in the dark disgusting fluid. He latched onto the throat of a daemon that was still crawling, despite missing its lower half. There was a quick snap and the creature went limp. “Good dog.” Eli said under his breath, as the hound continued searching the carrion field. EPILOGUE Tiber Qori passed through the quarantine zone that surrounded the district. Ash billowed in the wind. As he continued it grew thicker and coated everything in sight. His boots left deep prints as he walked. The district had been burned entirely, and was in the process of being burned further once the ashe clears. The corruption discovered underneath the cathedral was almost unfathomable in scale. A river of blood flowed deep into the catacombs, to unknown depths. Dead filled all its paths, sacrificed at the moment of the blood storm. The only thing that kept the Imperium from subjecting the entire planet to exterminatus was one particularly interested inquisitor. Inquisitor Calpurnia Thorne had arrived at the Basilica earlier that day. Librarian Tiber Qori was to meet her. The Librarian kept his senses of the ethereal sharp, searching for any sign of lingering corruption. He saw none. Only mounds of fine gray ash, shifting in the wind. He entered the courtyard. The cathedral no longer emitted rainbows of color, stained black by the fire. Only the very top escaped the infernos darkening touch. The plaza was now a sphere cleansed of material, leaving a crater in the ground and dipping the walls into bowled shapes. The Mechanicus had been thorough in cleansing the sight of the horror, and not even ash remained within the sphere. As Tiber Qori approached the cleansed plaza, the crozius he walked with struck something beneath the ash. Not even rocks or pebbles had survived the cleansing thus far. He knelt down to see what it was, digging his gauntleted hand into the powder. He lifted his hand and the ash fell away A canines tooth. Qori was lost for thought. He heard a voice from behind. “Curious.” it said. The inquisitor stood to his side. She wore long dark leathers that hid her face partially behind a tall collar. Black hair fell over her augmented eye in lazy curls. “It seems your hounds have a role to play yet.” Authors note Thanks for reading. This was the inaugural story for my homebrew chapter of space marines, The Malum Vigilia. The one thing that you need to know about the Vigilia is this; The astartes of the Vigilia operate and train with mortals more than any other chapter of space marines, in order to provide rapid responses over large areas of space with minimal required astartes involvement. They stomp out the embers before the fire starts. Calpurnia Thorne will return in my next story Blood Spelunking

I painted this guy not too long ago. I've had a bit of a love-hate view of the Death Guard. I like the body horror elements in spite of not actually being a "body horror guy", but I really don't care for the cartoonish dancing Nurgling vibe. Thus the slight compromise of painting the Marine minus the over-meme'd Sassy Nurgling. Anyways, here he is:

Continuing with my Tortuga Grey Knight builds I finally have my 1st squad built.....minus greenstuff for shoulder pads, attaching heads and back packs. Interceptor Squad I'm adding green stuff balls to the inside of the shoulder pads to give them more bulk, and the heads are off for the psychic glow effect, an back packs are not attached so I can get the backs done. As my gaming group is going to run 500 pt games, I am building my forces to that level or trying to I am planning on running my as this: +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ + FACTION KEYWORD: Imperium - Grey Knights + DETACHMENT: Fires of Purgation, Immaterial Interdiction (Searing Soulflame) + FORCE DISPOSITION: Priority Assets + TOTAL ARMY POINTS: 495pts + + WARLORD: : Champion of Titan [Crucible] + ENHANCEMENT: Predestined Coordinates (Interceptor Squad) & Boons of Deimos (Purgation Squad) + SECONDARY: - Assassination: 1 Characters +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Champion of Titan [Crucible]: Warlord, Personal Teleporter, Zealous Path, Nemesis force weapon, Storm bolter Strike Squad • 1x Justicar: Nemesis force weapon, Storm bolter • 3x Grey Knight: 3 with Nemesis force weapon, Storm bolter • 1x Grey Knight with Heavy Weapon: Close combat weapon, Incinerator Interceptor Squad Enhancement: Predestined Coordinates • 1x Justicar: Nemesis force weapon, Storm bolter • 4x Interceptor: 4 with Nemesis force weapon, Storm bolter Purgation Squad Enhancement: Boons of Deimos (+20 pts) • 1x Justicar: Nemesis force weapon, Storm bolter • 4x Purgator: 4 with Close combat weapon, Psycannon Champion of Titan model (Interceptor Champion- Update) Still WIP added Psychic Hood And took a brass Etch off of a non used Assault cannon arm for an old dreadnought Start of the Purgation squad Legs, Torsos and bases (need to set up pins in legs for base mounting) STR 10 Psycannons and STR 6 Stormbolter (Boons of Deimos) Champion of Titan model (Purgation Champion- Update) Still WIP The plan is to have him resting his hand on the Psycannon with barrel facing up. Champion of Titan model (Purifier Champion- Update) Still WIP