Swords and Shadows

[Allerka]

This story is about my Renegade Chapter, the Shadow Acolytes (Index Astartes article can be found here). It's an on-going project, additional sections will be posted as they are written, and it's intended to serve as a prequel/segue into a planned future cross-over story between the Shadow Acolytes and my Lords of Oblivion. Of course, feedback is always appreciate. Enjoy!

 

 

SWORDS AND SHADOWS

 

Part 1

 

“All guns, open fire!” The call came across the line of Guardsmen arrayed on the wall of the fortress, and hundreds of lasguns and assorted heavy weapons roared to life. The bolts from the lasguns rained across the field, interspersed with rockets and autocannon fire. Coming across the field was a living tide of chitin and claws, swarms of Tyranid organisms coming towards the fortress wall like an ocean of death.

 

Every shot fired struck one of the creatures, wounding some, and killing others. Yet, despite falling in their droves, the onrushing swarm remained unabated. They rapidly approached the fortress wall, and began to climb it rapidly, using their talons and claws to ascend the rough rock surface. Guardsmen desperately adjusted their aim, firing down the wall, and felled the first batches of creatures, but more came behind them, and approached the top.

 

A smaller creature, its front two limbs made of talons the length of an arm, leapt the battlements, only to be shot a dozen times before it could land. It tumbled backwards into the swarm on the ground. Another emerged behind it instantly, and a Guardsman was impaled on one talon. His comrades shot the beast, which fell backwards, dragging the screaming Guardsman with it. As he fell into the swarm, he instantly disappeared amidst a spray of blood and flailing claws.

 

More of the creatures were coming over the battlements, tearing into the Guardsmen, and the weight of fire against the creatures slowly began to subside. After several more minutes, most of the upper bastions had been overrun, and those Guardsmen still alive were in full retreat towards the inner bastions. Some of the smaller creatures leapt from the upper battlements, impaling Guardsmen on their talons as they hit the ground.

 

Suddenly, the skies, previously overcast and darkened brown, became lit with almost blinding light. The clouds parted, and spears of pure light blazed down from the heavens, striking amidst the swarm of Tyranid organisms. Hundreds were instantly vaporized, and hundreds more burned horribly. The Guardsmen paused in their retreat to witness the spectacle, and a cheer arose at the sight of so many Tyranids being destroyed so quickly.

 

After several moments of the bombardment, it stopped, and slower trails of light could be seen descending from the sky. Unlike the beams of pure light, these contrails were a fiery orange, the traces of objects descending from orbit. Some of the Guardsmen quickly realized they were man-made objects, and another cheer arose as some began to shout that the Space Marines had arrived.

 

Renewed by the thought of the Angels of Death arriving to turn the tide, the Guardsmen renewed their defense in earnest as the swarm faltered under the sudden assault from above. The drop pods slammed into the ground, each impact smashing dozens of creatures and sending dozens more flying into the air. Within seconds of landing, the doors dropped down.

 

From within each pod emerged a series of missile pods. A moment’s pause came as the cogitators within locked onto the surrounding creatures, then the missiles were fired. Nearly two hundred frag and krak missiles struck out across the battlefield, exploding in a sea of fire and shrapnel, and hundreds more organisms were destroyed.

 

Before even the explosions had time to dissipate, another wave of drop pods emerged through the clouds. As these slammed into the ground, the swarm turned back to destroy them, ignoring the Guardsmen within the fortress. The doors lowered from the newest wave of drop pods, and armored giants stepped out, their massive guns blazing.

 

Knowing for sure that the Space Marines had arrived, the Guardsmen rallied to the outer wall once more, and fired into the withdrawing Tyranids. Some lost focus and were too intent on watching the Space Marines destroy the Tyranids with ruthless efficiency and skill.

 

A massive Carnifex, its four arms all gigantic talons, charged towards one squad of the Space Marines. The squad split in half, each falling back while firing, keeping their still-smoking drop pod between them and the beast. It roared and attempted to charge at them, swinging its talons in mighty arcs, but the Space Marines were too quick and easily dodged the attacks. Two of the Marines emerged on either side of the carnifex, each wielding a melta-gun. Their quickly aimed their guns and fired, each shot catching the carnifex at the base of one of its arms, shearing them off.

 

As the beast roared again and attempted to attack the Marines with its remaining arms, another ran behind the carnifex. This Marine was clearly the leader, for his armor was much more ornate, and a massive icon was mounted on his back. His left hand was encased in a massive power fist, and he swung it upwards into the underside of the carnifex. It punched clear through the carapace, tearing a massive opening.

 

Before the carnifex could turn to face this new threat, the Marine’s other hand punched upwards, a grenade clasped within. The hand disappeared inside the carnifex, and emerged a second later, now empty. The Marines quickly withdrew, and a moment later, an explosion ripped out from the carnifex’s torso. Its internal organs destroyed or heavily damaged, it staggered and sank to its knees, attempting to support itself with its remaining arms. The Space Marines quickly charged it and drove chainswords and blades into its eyes and cranium, and the carnifex collapsed completely.

 

Elsewhere, the Space Marines were destroying the Tyranids in their droves as they slowly moved towards the fortress. The swarm continued on, but their momentum had been all but halted by the staggering counter-attack. The Space Marines had destroyed thousands of the Tyranids, while only taking minimal casualties themselves.

Before long, a mighty creature arose from the swarm, and the smaller creatures swarmed around it in deference. The Space Marines suddenly halted their movement towards the fortress, and began to charge towards the mighty beast. It roared a challenge, and also charged towards the Marines, the smaller creatures around it making way. From the group of approximately thirty Marines emerged a larger one, clad in the most ornate armor of all, a pole with skulls protruding from his backpack, and wielding a glowing sword in one hand. He charged directly towards the hive tyrant, while the rest of the Marines continued to slaughter the smaller ones.

 

The hive tyrant’s lower arms were merged into a large gun, and it gave a violent spasm as it launched a massive glob of acid and parasites at the captain. The captain deftly leapt to the side, avoiding most of the glob, though a small amount grazed his left shoulder pad and smoke began to rise from the armor. He resumed his charge, and the hive tyrant swung a massive bonesword at him with impossible speed.

 

The glowing sword shot upwards to meet the bonesword, and though the Space Marine captain, holding the sword with both hands, bowed under the pressure, he remained standing. He shifted, and allowed the bonesword to slide down and impact the ground, and he swung his sword, striking the bonesword along the flat, shattering it. The tyrant’s other arm ended in a massive whip, and this struck towards the captain, wrapping around his leg and pulling him from his feet.

 

Another Space Marine leapt towards the tyrant, his melta-gun blazing, and the tyrant was struck at the base of the whip-arm, stunning it. The captain, halted in his drag, hacked and cut through the whip, freeing himself. Leaping to his feet, he grasped his sword with both hands again and struck the tyrant on one of its leg joints, cleaving through the joint, and causing the tyrant to tumble. Stepping behind the creature’s head, he reversed his grip and drove the blade through the skull, shattering the head, and causing the creature to lie still, save for sporadic twitches.

 

With that, the horde ‘s cohesion began to dissolve as the majority of the synapse creatures in the swarm were destroyed. The Space Marines resumed their march towards the fortress, picking off those few warrior organisms still standing, and began to quickly scale the wall.

 

Atop the wall, sergeant first class Graivus, the highest ranking survivor among the Guardsmen on the wall, dashed forward to meet the Space Marines as they climbed the walls. Before long, they began to vault the battlements, and the Guardsmen began to crowd around them in awe. Sergeant Graivus approached the captain, a fear unlike the one the Tyranids had instilled in him beginning to take over.

 

The Space Marines were far more imposing up close. Their armor was primarily a dark brown, though their shoulder pads were a sickly green, and their eyes a daemonic red. Upon the left shoulder pads was a symbol of a skull imposed above a red triangle. Many of them bore strange symbols and icons that hurt Graivus’ eyes to look upon. The captain’s armor had some gold trim, and sergeant Graivus saw the skulls mounted on his backpack were mostly Tyranid skulls, though a few humanoid ones also adorned it. The captain looked down at him and sneered slightly.

 

“You are in charge here?” he spoke simply and with authority.

 

“I am. Sergeant first class Graivus, Thorian 17th. That was incredible what you did, captain…?”

 

“Ikarus, of the Shadow Acolytes. We have spent a very long time battling the Tyranids. Where is your nearest supply depot?” Graivus was caught off-guard with the question, and stuttered for a moment before answering.

 

“Uh… about a kilometer that way,” he pointed in a direction behind him. “It’s the large warehouse on the edge of the courtyard with the statue of the Emperor in the middle. I’ll, ah, send word to our command that you’ve arrived to help us.” At this, Ikarus’ face gave a flicker of both surprise and amusement.

 

“Who said we were here to help you?” Before Graivus could answer, Ikarus’ bolt pistol was leveled at his head, and the trigger was squeezed. An instant later, two dozen bolters roared to life once again.

 

---

 

The only source of illumination came from the glowing hololith display set into the table, displaying a crude map of part of the planet’s surface, with various runes and symbols marking major Imperial units and the larger concentrations of Tyranid organisms. Yet another world, was being consumed by the damnable beasts. Its name surfaced in his mind, Thoria. Not that it would matter before the end of the week.

 

The Imperial forces, overtaxed in this sector, had barely mounted any response at all, save a small task force dispatched to evacuate what parts of the planet’s populace they could before all was lost. It seemed an ideal situation to “acquire” additional supplies, as they were always in danger of running out, as well as deal a blow against the hated xenos.

 

Galerius smiled slightly as he saw some of the runes change to indicate Ikarus and his task force had been successful in their planned raid. The Thunderhawk transporters that had been dispatched were now en route back to their battle-barge, the Fatum Dator, and barely an alarm had been raised in the Imperial network. Since their excommunication, it had always been a struggle to keep themselves adequately supplied to continue their endless war against the Tyranids.

 

He still could not believe it had been already been over five years since the fateful battle which saw their Chapter, the Doom Knights, decimated. The entire Chapter command staff had been lost at the hands of the Tyranids, and half their fleet destroyed, leaving Galerius, himself only recently promoted to Captain of one of the Reserve Companies, in charge of the remaining four hundred Marines.

 

Then, before they had even been given a chance to lick their wounds and regroup, an Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus appeared, demanding command of the Doom Knights and for them to make way to some world twenty thousand light years away from the Tyranids, effectively running away without any recourse to preserving their honor. Galerius, out of rage, shot Inquisitor Morin dead, and fled into deep space.

 

But the agents of the Inquisition were many, and, before long, the Blood Eagles, a Chapter famed for serving the Inquisition and relishing the chance to fight other Space Marines, attacked them, proving the Doom Knights were, once and for all, no longer welcome in the Imperium. Making their escape beyond known space, they took up a new name for themselves, the Shadow Acolytes, for their lives were forever changed by this.

 

Before long, their supplies grew low, and they went in search of an isolated Imperial world they could raid. They discovered one, yet it was already under attack by Space Marines. The Shadow Acolytes attacked and defeated these other Space Marines, who were themselves Renegades, before turning their guns on the local populace. Sacking the Renegades’ cruiser, they discovered a variety of artifacts on-board, devoted to dark powers of the Warp.

 

It was then that the Shadow Acolytes learned of the existence of the force known as Chaos. Seeing the powers of Chaos used first-hand by the Renegades they defeated, the Shadow Acolytes elected to tap into this newfound power, to aid them in their battle against the Tyranids. They removed all traces of the Aquila and other symbols of the Emperor from their armor, and replaced them with the symbols of Chaos.

 

The next time they fought the Tyranids, they were utterly victorious, thereby sealing their commitment to the Ruinous Powers. Their armor grew increasingly altered as they added horns, spikes, and other accoutrements of Chaos.

 

Their greatest victory came, however, but a year ago, when they discovered and defeated another army of Renegades, this one led by the warlord Veleknos. The survivors of Veleknos’ warband pledged their fealty to Galerius, marking the first time the numbers of the Shadow Acolytes had increased since their excommunication. Bolstered by this victory, they had again ventured out in search of Tyranids to destroy, and Imperial worlds to plunder.

 

Galerius resumed his study of the map. The Imperials had two, maybe three days of life left in them before the Tyranids would fully overrun them. At that point, with the Tyranids having fully committed their resources onto the surface, Galerius would order the death of the world. Cyclonic Torpedoes would be fired, destroying the world in a planet-wide firestorm that would scour all life, annihilating most of the biological matter and energy used by this hive fleet.

 

With their resources depleted, the hive ships left in orbit would be severely weakened, and ripe for destruction by the Shadow Acolytes. They had successfully enacted this strategy a half-dozen times already, destroying an entire splinter fleet with each engagement.

 

Harvesting raw biological matter from their defeated foes, they had successfully been able to develop a variety of biological agents that could easily destroy the Tyranids from the inside out. However, the hive mind frequently adapted, so they were constantly forced to refine their serums to maintain effectiveness.

 

Though there would still be millions, if not billions, of Imperial citizens left on the surface when the bombardment came, he felt little concern. He certainly had no compunction against slaughtering Imperial citizens en masse. If anything, it only further gained them the favor of the Ruinous Powers, which would further aid them in battling the Tyranids. His primary concern was retrieving enough supplies from the doomed world to last them for the time being, and before the Tyranids made it impossible to do so.

 

The main doors to the chamber hissed open, and the sounds of booted feet clanging on the floor echoed against the walls. A massive figure clad in ornate Terminator armor strode through the doors. His helmet swept up in a series of spiked horns, and his left hand held a glowing staff as tall as himself.

 

“Ah, Phaeton, welcome,” Galerius spoke as the chief Librarian strode in. Galerius gestured for Phaeton to join him, and the Librarian approached the table, removing his helmet with one hand. Galerius was clad in plain leather clothes, and thus Phaeton stood over him, but still he maintained an air of deference to his Chapter Master.

 

“Ikarus’ raid is successful, and we continue to survive for another three months. We could easily make it six if we are able to raid another two depots before the Tyranids consume it all.”

 

“It pleases me to hear that, my lord.” Phaeton said in reply. “However, there is something else I have discovered.” Galerius arched an eyebrow in inquiry.

 

“I assume this has to do with your auguries that led us to this world to begin with?”

 

“Indeed. While I and the other Librarians were unable to properly ascertain why we felt a calling to this world, now that we are in orbit, we have been blessed with visions from the Warp. There is something powerful on this world, an artifact of the Dark Gods, which lies hidden, waiting to be found. I believe it has called to us, hoping we might discover it.”

 

“Interesting. An artifact, similar to the Rapturous?” Galerius glanced at the sword mounted on the wall of the chamber. He had taken it from Veleknos, along with his armor, and used it as his own. The sword was long and slender, almost toy-like in the hands of someone clad in Terminator Armor, but extremely potent. Its blade, made of an unknown alloy, was laced through with thousands of veins of another unknown material, and the slightest touch of these veins would cause ecstatic agony in the nerves of whoever was struck by the sword. Its pommel was mounted with a large jewel that glowed with an unnatural light.

 

In addition to the foreign materials it was made out of, the essence of a powerful daemon was bound within, further enhancing its powers, and Galerius still found himself struggling at times to control the daemon within, to keep it from exerting total control over his thoughts.

 

“The odds of that are high, my lord. Were we able to recover it, it would surely aid us in our eternal battle against our hated foes.” Galerius rubbed his chin as he thought about it for a moment.

 

“Do you know where it resides?”

 

“We have not divined its exact location, but we know it lies underground, beneath the Basilica Immortalis, within the capital city of the planet. As the Imperials face imminent annihilation at the hands of the Tyranids, a rapid strike will likely meet little resistance.” Galerius nodded in agreement.

 

“Very well, Phaeton. Take two squads with you, and retrieve that object. I’m afraid that’s all I can spare from our diversionary raids.

 

“You will have six hours at most, it would seem, before the Tyranids overrun the defenses of the city, and you with them. I will coordinate your efforts and our raids from here. Perhaps Chaplain Belarus should go with you, I’m sure he is eager to feel the thrill of battle once again.”

 

Chaplain Belarus was the only Chaplain left in the Chapter. The rest had been killed by the Tyranids, or in subsequent battles, but Belarus was particularly stubborn in refusing to die, shrugging off wounds on multiple occasions that would have made any of the other Acolytes fall.

 

When the Chapter was excommunicated, Belarus rallied the Chapter, and was instrumental in helping Galerius prevent it from collapsing into anarchy and destroying itself. After the Chapter began its transition into Chaos, Belarus was at first adamant in refusing it, however he was unable to deny its effectiveness in destroying the Tyranids, whom he hated as much as the rest, nor would have been able to stop the Chapter, for he was alone in refusing it. He had spent most of the intervening time in isolation, emerging only to do battle and rally his brothers.

 

“As you wish, my lord.” Phaeton’s face remained neutral. The relationship between the Librarian and Chaplain was amicable at best, but both were equally dedicated to the Chapter. Phaeton nodded and turned to exit the room.

 

“The Gods be with you, Phaeton,” Galerius said before turning to study the tactical map once again.

[Allerka]

Here's part two, our protagonists begin their mission.

 

 

 

An hour later, Phaeton stood within the launch bay of the Battle-Barge, as servitors and menials rushed to prepare the pair of Drop Pods that would carry the team to the surface. Before him stood two squads of Space Marines, each numbering ten Marines, but the two squads looked wholly different from each other.

 

On his left stood Tactical Squad Cassius, one of the most veteran squads in the Chapter. Veteran Sergeant Cassius was renowned for his stoicism and ability to maintain a cool head in the heat of battle, and had led his squad through countless battles thus far. His Marines’ armor was the brown and green of the Shadow Acolytes, intermixed with red runes of Chaos and the markings of their Squad. Two of the Battle-Brothers were armed with flamers instead of bolters.

 

Cassius’ left hand was fitted into a massive power fist, which twitched slightly as he stood at the ready. Atop his backpack, instead of the regular standard, was a large rod which supported a razor-edged eight-pointed star. His helmet was already donned, massive horns which emerged from the sides and met above his head, between which was mounted a shrunken skull.

 

On the right stood the squad of warriors belonging to Drellach. These warriors were some of the additions to the Chapter from Veleknos’ warband. Phaeton knew they had devoted their services to the god known as Khorne, and their armor was a deep crimson, lined in brass. However, some segments of their armor still retained their original colors, and all bore the original markings of their respective Chapters. Phaeton smiled as he noticed the symbols of the Ultramarines and Black Templars among them. Even such revered and ancient Chapters were not immune from the lure of true power.

 

During the battle with Veleknos, the berserkers had attacked the Shadow Acolytes with unrelenting fury, reaping a bloody toll. Drellach, at the time the Champion of the 2nd Company, led his squad into combat with them. Though the rest of the squad was killed in the fighting, Drellach was able to strike down their Champion, and immediately demanded the loyalty of the surviving berserkers. Out of respect for Drellach’s martial prowess, the berserkers agreed, and followed him into battle against their former comrades. After that, Drellach led the berserkers in battle.

 

At Drellach’s side hung a massive-bladed sword, the metal glowing green from the power which coursed from it. Though most of Drellach’s armor was still the original brown and green of the Shadow Acolytes, some elements of it already had taken on the red and brass hues of his comrades.

 

Finally, between the two squads, stood Chaplain Belarus. His armor was the customary black, trimmed in gold. His breastplate was molded to look like a rib-cage, and a tabard the color of bone hung from his waist. His Crozius, still fashioned in the shape of a skull and eagle, was held loosely in his right hand. His left hand crooked his skull-masked helm, and his face was impassive. Phaeton raised his chin as he spoke.

 

“My brothers, I have summoned you here to aid me in a task instrumental to the survival of our Chapter. My fellow Librarians and I have divined from the Warp that there is an artifact of great power on this world.” He noticed the berserkers bristle slightly at the mention of sorcery. He knew followers of Khorne abhorred it, and that he would have trouble holding their respect, but he also knew they were aware of the importance of this mission, and thus would still follow him.

“It falls to us to retrieve it, and bring it back to the Chapter. Its power is immense, and will surely aid us greatly in our battle against the Tyranids. It lies beneath a chapel of our Imperial enemies, in a city that will soon die. We have but a matter of hours to get in, retrieve the artifact, and make our escape before the Tyranids consume it all. I will lead this mission, with Chaplain Belarus’ help. Make ready, we launch at once.”

 

With that, the two squads began to embark into their respective Drop Pods. Chaplain Belarus remained immobile, his eyes fixed upon Phaeton. As the squads moved out of earshot, he took several steps forward, until the two were standing only a pace apart. Belarus’ voice seethed with cold anger as he spoke.

 

“Just to make sure we understand each other, I am not here to aid you in your quest for dark power. I am only here to ensure my brothers remain alive.”

 

“As am I, Belarus. If we want to have any hope of defeating the Tyranids, we must obtain the resources we need to have a fighting chance.”

 

“So now consorting with darkness is merely obtaining ‘resources’ is it?”

 

“Don’t be foolish, Belarus. We are barely tapping into the natural power of the Warp, we have made no pacts with the Gods. We are in control.”

 

“As you say, Phaeton, but subtle is the road to damnation. I do not blame you or Galerius for the situation forced upon us, but I still do not believe this is the best course of action.”

 

“I know, Belarus, but what choice do we have?”

 

“There is always a choice, Phaeton.” With that, Belarus turned and walked towards his Drop Pod, donning his helmet as he walked. Phaeton sighed and began to walk towards the other Drop Pod, doing the same.

 

---

 

Down on the surface, swarms of civilians shuffled through the massive courtyard in front of the Basilica Immortalis, crossing the half-mile wide clearing under the unblinking eyes of a massive statue of the Emperor, on their way towards the space port, in the hopes of getting off the planet before the Tyranids consumed it all.

 

A full company of Guardsmen were scattered around the field, attempting to direct the flow of traffic, but it was a barely controlled stampede, and the soldiers found themselves struggling more to stay on their feet against the press of bodies than try to direct them in any meaningful fashion. The crowd was surging in the direction of the space port anyway, so there was little direction to be given.

 

The tension was palpable, everyone knew the Tyranids were relentlessly assaulting the outer walls of the city, and rumors had been spreading that the walls had already been breached, and the creatures were pouring into the city in their thousands.

 

Furthermore, some whisperings had spread among the soldiers of Space Marines being sighted, giving them some semblance of hope, but nothing official had been stated by command. Still, the soldiers clung to what hope they could find.

 

One of the soldiers, near the edge of the field, pulled his helmet off and wiped his sweat stained brow with his sleeve. Though it was late afternoon, the sun still punched through the brown sky and heated everything to uncomfortable levels. He glanced up into the sky, then paused in wonder.

 

Turning to his comrade, he pointed up into the sky to show what he had seen. A pair of lights could be seen up in the sky, fiery contrails following them. Something was coming towards the surface from orbit.

 

Some of the civilians, noticing their gaze, paused to look up as well, and soon others across the field saw the lights. The entire crowd began to slow in its surge as more and more stopped to stare at the lights. Even from this far away, the objects didn’t look like the mycetic spores that had rained down on the planet in the initial stages of the invasion. Words of speculation began to float across the crowd, and a few whispers of “Space Marines” were heard among the soldiers.

 

After several more minutes, the realization began to dawn upon the crowd of where the objects were headed. They seemed to be coming straight down towards the field, right where the crowd was. Wonder quickly turned to fear, and screams overtook the crowd as hundreds, if not thousands, of people began to frantically push and shove their way to the roads branching off from the courtyard.

 

With a massive roar, the pair of drop pods impacted the ground near the middle of the courtyard. Dozens of civilians and soldiers were instantly crushed, and dozens more were sent flying by the impacts. Even further away, the people were showered with rocks, dust, and debris. Silence descended momentarily as the shock of the impacts settled in, punctured by the moans and screams of the wounded.

 

The people began to shuffle around the steaming drop pods, staring with both curiosity and horror. After a moment, both pods simultaneously began to open their doors, and they slammed to the ground. Almost two dozen armored giants stormed out.

 

Their armor was various colors. One pod disgorged a batch of warriors whose armor was brown and green. Most of them bore spikes and horns upon their armor, and they bore symbols which caused many of the civilians to weep and vomit. Leading them was another giant that dwarfed even them, and his armor was a deep blue lined in gold. One hand held a massive staff, his other a large double-barreled gun.

 

The other pod released a band of warriors clad in armor the color of blood, and lined in brass. Leading them was another warrior, his armor black as night, and his head carved in the likeness of a fearsome skull with eyes of fire.

 

The warriors quickly disembarked from the pods, and took up positions, staring at the crowd with their baleful eyes, and aiming their guns at the crowd. Suddenly, the one in the blue armor made a gesture, and the guns of the Space Marines exploded with fire as the explosive bolts tore into the unprotected bodies. The two flamers present in the brown-armored squad also unleashed their fury, and dozens more civilians were burned alive.

 

Some of the soldiers tried to push through the surge of civilians as they attempted, mostly in vain, to get away from the Space Marines that were slaughtering them. The red-armored ones charged right into the crowds, their chainaxes and chainswords roaring as they tore through flesh and bone.

 

One of the soldiers pushing forward suddenly found himself face-to-face with a red giant, and stopped in his tracks. Before he could react and bring his rifle to bear, the berserker’s chainaxe was driving through his torso, splitting him from shoulder to waist. The berserker shoved through the tumbling chunks of body and fired several shots into the crowd before decapitating another civilian.

 

After several minutes of chaos, the crowd had finally either dispersed enough or fallen that the Shadow Acolytes were able to effectively move towards the Basilica. The Guardsmen still standing poured what little fire they could into the Space Marines, but their shots pattered harmlessly off the thick armor. Cassius’ squad laid down relentless counter-fire, picking off Guardsmen from clear across the courtyard, forcing their comrades to take cover.

 

Phaeton looked towards the Basilica. The massive doors lay slightly ajar, with a handful of Guardsman firing from behind cover near it. Otherwise, their path was effectively clear. He fired a few shots towards some distant Guardsmen, then looked to his comrades.

 

“Form up, make for the Basilica! Drellach, disengage!” He saw the berserkers, true to form, had wandered much further from the Tactical Squad than he’d have liked, slaughtering civilians and Guardsmen with wanton abandon. Drellach looked back towards Phaeton and paused, his sword steaming as the blood upon it was atomized. Phaeton gritted his teeth slightly, expecting to have to force the berserkers to stick to the plan.

 

Drellach turned towards his warriors and shouted a command, and the berserkers disengaged, the last of the civilians fleeing into the city beyond. Phaeton exhaled, grateful for the amount of control Drellach had over both himself and his warriors. The berserkers began running towards the Basilica, where Cassius’ squad had set up outside the door, and was snapping off single shots at the few remaining targets.

 

Belarus appeared at Phaeton’s side, and spoke as they headed towards the Basilica.

 

“Librarian, if we are to proceed on our mission, we had best do so, rather than waste our time slaughtering people who will be dead anyway before long.” Phaeton nodded in agreement.

 

“I know, Belarus. Drellach’s warriors are hard to control, their berserker instincts are powerful.”

 

“Then why did you bring them?”

 

“Given we’ll be fighting underground, I reasoned their skills at close combat would prove extremely useful.”

 

“Perhaps, but not if you can’t control them.” The Librarian sighed slightly, and turned to reply again, only to be interrupted by Sergeant Cassius.

 

“Enemy armor spotted! Coming from the west!” A pair of chimera vehicles emerged from a main roadway, their multi-lasers firing towards the Tactical Squad. The Space Marines ducked behind cover, though the lasers tore great chunks out of the fallen masonry they were hiding behind.

 

“Into the Basilica, quickly!” Phaeton commanded. The Tactical Squad began to withdraw inside, forcing the large doors open, while the berserkers now sprinted across the remaining distance. Phaeton, in his Terminator Armor, began to lag behind, and he could feel several shots impacting against his armor, though they failed to breach it.

 

Turning to face the approaching vehicles, he paused, and slammed the butt of his staff into the ground. He opened his mind to the Warp, and allowed its energy to course through him as he chanted slowly. Funneling that power, he made a gesture with his free hand, and then swept his staff in an arc before him, the top pointing at the ground.

 

As he did so, a glowing line appeared on the ground where the staff was pointed, and it stretched across a distance several dozen meters. Phaeton raised his staff, and a thin wall of cold blue fire shot up from the line. The lasers being fired from the vehicles hammered into the fire, but dissipated harmlessly off of it.

 

Now protected from the incoming fire, the Space Marines all turned as one and fled into the Basilica. Phaeton looked above, to see the statue of the Emperor above the doorway. Noticing the rest of the Marines had gotten inside, he quickly made another gesture, and shoved a hand towards the statue. A massive bolt of lightning shot out from his hand and detonated the base of the statue.

 

Dashing forward as fast as he could, Phaeton stepped into the Basilica only seconds before the statue came crashing down to the ground, shattering on impact and completely blocking the entrance of the Basilica in rubble. Cassius directed his squad, and they closed the doors from the inside before barricading it with whatever nearby objects they could fine. Phaeton smiled at the irony of the Emperor barricading the path of the Guardsmen that might pursue them.

 

He turned to look around. The Basilica was empty. A massive altar stood at the opposite end, and several archways led to adjoining passages. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and pointed to one of the archways.

 

“That one. The artifact lies in that direction.” With that, he began to stride forward, then stopped when he heard several chainswords whirring to life. Turning, he saw several of Cassius’ Marines approaching the altar, their chainswords ready to tear it all apart.

 

“Stop!” Belarus shouted. The Marines paused and looked at the Chaplain. “We may not be slaves to the Imperium any more, but I should hope you still hold some modicum of respect for the Emperor.”

 

“The betrayal we faced was as much that of the Emperor as the Imperium,” Cassius retorted. “Why should we not strike back against both?”

 

“No, it was only the Imperium that left us, not the Emperor.”

 

“They are one and the same! Why do you think we turned to Chaos, because the Emperor would not guide us!” Belarus visibly bristled at this, and shifted his posture as if to attack.

 

“Enough!” Phaeton bellowed. “We don’t have the time to argue amongst ourselves. Leave the altar. The Tyranids will destroy it all soon enough anyway.” The chainswords fell silent, and the Marines rejoined their squad. Phaeton began to walk towards the archway again.

 

“We have more immediate concerns to deal with than whether the Emperor is still with us or not. We have but a few hours to complete our mission before we are buried alive here, I suggest we resume our journey.”

 

“That, at least, I will agree with,” Belarus said.

[Allerka]

And the next section. Apologies for the delay, got a bit hung up working on the current Librarium Debate issue. Anyway, enjoy.

 

 

They soon entered the catacombs beneath the Basilica, encountering no resistance beyond a few barred doors. The going was slow, the tunnels were low, clearly not meant for Space Marines, and they had to proceed at a crouch in single-file. Phaeton, wearing Terminator armor, constantly scrapped against the walls, and, on several occasions, had to force his way through smaller gaps in the rock.

 

After a half-hour of descending, they came to what appeared to be the end of the crypts. The Marines of Cassius’ squad in front began to search the walls for some sort of switch to open a hidden door. The auspex operator consulted his device, and looked up.

 

“I’m detecting a space beyond that wall, Brother-Sergeant,” he said, pointing at the end of the corridor. Cassius looked back down the line towards Phaeton.

 

“He is correct, our path lies beyond that wall,” Phaeton said. Cassius turned and slowly forced his way to the front of the line. He reared back and punched his power fist through the wall, repeating the gesture several times until the wall collapsed into a pile of bricks, revealing a much larger tunnel beyond. The Marines began to step through, and stretched as they came back to full height again.

 

“Looks like the sewers of this city,” Cassius reported.

 

“Indeed,” Belarus spoke. “The sewers are the oldest known part of the city, and some parts stretch deep underground.”

 

“Yes, I studied the mission briefing, Chaplain,” Cassius replied.

 

“I’m sure we will find even older structures before we are done here,” Phaeton interjected, sensing the rising tension between the Chaplain and Sergeant once again. He paused for a moment before pointing down one of the directions of the tunnel.

 

“This way.” As he began to walk, one of Cassius’ Marines spoke out.

 

“What was that?” Several more Marines turned in the direction their brother was looking. Phaeton looked, but saw nothing. He switched to his heat vision, but saw nothing except cold blues.

 

“I could swear I saw something move over there,” the Marine stated.

 

“A trick of the light, probably, or just a rat,” Drellach said, visibly annoyed at the distraction. Phaeton reached out with all his senses.

 

“I feel nothing. Let’s go.” They resumed their journey down the dark tunnel.

 

 

Another hour passed as they descended through the sewers into ever-lower levels. As they got lower, the signs of activity in the sewers grew less and less frequent, until their every step caused clouds of dust to billow up.

 

This far down, the only source of illumination came from the red glow of their eye lenses, and the light cast everything in a dark red, making the sewers appear to be made of blood. Inside their helmets, they still saw in full color, their vision enhanced by their helmets’ autosenses.

 

Additionally, the sounds of running water and creaking pipes had long since faded away, leaving only the whine of servos and the thuds of footsteps to echo through the tunnels, sporadically punctuated by hisses of steam from power packs or the crackle of energy from powered weapons.

 

The floor sloped downwards before ending in a dead-end. Shortly before the end, a small side-tunnel led into darkness on the right. Phaeton held his hand up, motioning for the Marines to halt. Cassius and Belarus walked up to Phaeton.

 

“Well?” Belarus asked. Phaeton once again reached out with his senses.

 

“Through that wall,” he said, pointing towards the dead-end wall. Cassius turned to his auspex operator, who nodded.

 

“I’m detecting a hollow space beyond the wall, Sergeant.” Cassius activated his power fist and made ready to smash through the wall once again. As he approached the wall, one of Drellach’s warriors gave a snarl and his chainsword buzzed into idle. The other Marines quickly turned, bringing bolters and pistols to bear.

 

“I saw something move back there,” the berserker growled. Drellach pushed his way through the berserkers and stared into the darkness for a moment before turning back.

 

“There’s nothing there, your eyes are playing tricks on you.” Cassius turned back to the auspex operator.

 

“I’m not detecting any movement, other than ourselves, Brother-Sergea-wait. I’m picking something up, faintly.” The Marines tensed and fanned out, covering both the tunnel behind them and the side-tunnel to the side.

 

“What direction?” Belarus asked. His plasma pistol whined to life, and a dull blue glow emanated from the power coils. Silence reigned for a moment, and Belarus asked again, irritated. “What direction?!”

 

“All around us, Chaplain!” the Marine replied. Suddenly they could hear a faint sound, echoing down the tunnels. A slight scraping sound, something moving along the stone. It quickly picked up in speed and volume, until it seemed to be all around them.

 

Suddenly, shapes burst out of the darkness, leaping towards them with multi-limbed frames and massive claws. One of Cassius’ Marines was cut down instantly. Belarus was the first to react.

 

“Genestealers! Defend yourselves, brothers! Cast these foul aliens back into the darkness!” His plasma pistol joined a score of bolter weapons all firing in unison. Drellach’s warriors gave forth a mighty roar and charged towards the genestealers coming at them from behind, while Cassius’ squad laid down covering fire. The sounds of more genestealers approaching came from the side tunnel, and Cassius directed his two flamers to the opening. They unleashed their flamers, filling the small tunnel with scorching fire, and inhuman screeching could be heard beyond. The flames filled the battle scene with a baleful glow, casting everything in stark shadows.

 

Phaeton unleashed sporadic bursts with his storm bolter as he cursed himself. The genestealers had been following him, no doubt honing in on his psychic auguries. And now they had led him and his Marines into a trap. Another of Cassius’ Marines was too slow to react, and his head was severed. The offending alien was instantly torn apart by counter-fire.

Meanwhile, the berserkers were engaged in a furious melee against the bulk of the aliens flanking them, pitting brute force and martial skill against incredible speed. To their credit, none had yet fallen, and they had exacted a heavy toll upon the genestealers. Drellach’s sword flashed and hissed as it cut through another genestealer.

 

A clang was heard above them, and Phaeton looked up to see a ceiling grate break free and crash to the ground. Several more genestealers quickly emerged from the opening above, leaping to the ground and setting into the Marines. Two more of Cassius’ squad were hacked down, and one of Drellach’s Marines was caught from behind. Phaeton had but an instant to notice that Marine bore the symbol of the Iron Lords on his shoulder before he was set upon by the aliens.

 

Using his warp-augmented senses, he was able to sense where their blows would come from, and was able to use his staff to parry their attacks before bringing it around and smashing one with a mighty blow, further amplified by his psychic might. Another used the interim to leap at his unprotected flank, but he brought his storm-bolter to bear and impaled the beast’s torso on the blade attached to it. As it flailed at him, trying to find purchase on his armor, he squeezed the trigger and the bolter shells tore its cranium apart. The figure went limp and Phaeton slid the alien off his blade.

 

Looking around, he could see Cassius’ Marines had managed to deal with the sneak attack with their own chainswords. Drellach’s berserkers continued to hold off the main assault, though it was clear they were losing ground. Cassius’ flamers continued to suppress the assault coming from the side tunnel, but he was sure their fuel levels were starting to get depleted.

 

“Cassius, we must break through this wall to the other side, and consolidate our defenses! Use your power fist to break through!” Cassius issued several more terse orders to his squad, and turned to begin punching through the wall. Phaeton channeled more of his energy, and allowed reality to shift in the wall, greatly weakening the structural integrity. Cassius found his task much easier as a result.

 

“Phaeton, look out!” The Librarian turned to see another genestealer leaping towards him, claws outstretched. Before it could reach him, however, a golden shape smashed into the creature from above, the crackling energy field shattering the carapace and slamming it into the ground. Belarus stepped onto the writhing alien and fired his plasma pistol into its head. He looked up at Phaeton and made a scowling sound.

 

“You should pay attention, Librarian, lest we lose you and our chance of finding this artifact.” His voice dripped with bitter sarcasm as he spoke the last few words. Phaeton nodded, uninterested in continuing the argument for the time-being. He turned back to Cassius, who was finishing his task.

 

“Fall back into the new tunnel! Covering fire!” Phaeton bellowed. He fired a few more shots at the advancing horde before stepping across the threshold. Cassius’ Marines tossed several krak grenades down the side tunnel before falling back. Drellach’s berserkers fell back slowly, hacking more genestealers apart. Another one was caught by the aliens, and dragged flailing into the darkness.

 

As the last of the Marines crossed the threshold, Phaeton channeled his powers one more time, and the thin blue wall of fire erupted, completely blocking the entrance. Several of the genestealers attempted to leap through, only to be almost instantly incinerated by the fire. The remainder could be seen through the fire, hesitating. After a moment they silently slipped away and disappeared, until only the bodies in the tunnel were visible.

 

Phaeton turned to look at the other Marines. They were in various states of action, reloading guns, patching minor injuries, and checking their gear. Belarus walked up to Phaeton, speaking over the helmet vox on a private channel.

 

“Six brothers lost, four from Cassius’ squad, two from Drellach’s. Some minor injuries, nothing debilitating.” His voice carried a hint of scorn in it. Phaeton nodded.

 

“Thank you, Belarus. We had best get moving before the fire dissipates. Ready our brothers to move out again.” He turned to begin walking, but stopped when he saw Belarus remain stationary.

 

“That’s it? No further comment on our lost brothers?”

 

“What would you have me do? You are the one responsible for their spiritual needs, it sounds like a task suited to you. I mourn the loss of our brothers, but we must complete our mission before we are all lost. The Chapter is depending on us.”

 

“The Chapter is depending on us. How can the Chapter live if all our brothers are lost to futile missions in pursuit of these false powers?” Phaeton sighed slightly.

 

“Belarus, I understand your view, but this is not the place to debate this. We are committed to this course of action, and must see it through to the end. Please, look after our brothers. I am weakened greatly, the constant use of my power back there has taxed me heavily. We must proceed while we still can.”

 

“Very well, Phaeton. I will save the debates for after the mission, if we make it to that point.” As he turned to walk back to the other Marines, he paused. “I find it amusing, for all your vaunted power you’ve gained by aligning yourself with the Dark Gods, you still have your limits.”

[Lynnean]

whew; nice story; but it is maybe a bit diffucult; when i read the name cassius; it remembers me of the freaky Smurf chaplain xD

serious, good stuff; we want more :devil:

[Allerka]

Thanks, glad you're enjoying it! I'll see if I can get the next segment up this week, I'm on Spring Break, but my family's visiting, and I'm getting dragged off to DisneyWorld every day, heh. Definitely sucks the energy out of me.

 

As for the name, pure coincidence, I assure you. I wasn't even thinking of Chaplain Cassius when I gave Sergeant Cassius the name, I just picked a random Roman-esque name that came to mind (Since the Shadow Acolytes are UM gene-seed, I wanted to generally stick with UM-type names, baring some exceptions like Phaeton and Drellach, of course).

[Allerka]

Alrighty, here's the next segment, a little longer than the prior sections, but I hope it proves just as enjoyable. The conclusion to the story will be posted hopefully soon.

 

 

The tunnels they found themselves in were significantly different from the ones of the sewers. They were clearly far older, and the stones seemed to glow with a faint inner light. The walls were also bare, without any pipes or grooves for directing the flow of water.

 

Before long, Phaeton no longer needed to use his powers to guide their path, the layout of the tunnels was surprisingly linear, and something unseen seemed to pull them further in, guiding their steps. They encountered no further resistance or obstacles as they progressed deeper into the tunnels.

 

As they continued on, a change seemed to come over the Marines. The berserkers spun their chainswords and chainaxes sporadically, as if seeking something to kill. The other Marines became visibly agitated, the silence punctuated by scattered arguments. Belarus seemed the most affected, almost coming to blows with one of Drellach’s Marines before Phaeton intervened.

 

Phaeton knew they were close, even without reaching out in the warp, he could feel the power emanating from ahead. He worried that their control would ebb too far before they could retrieve the artifact. Even he was feeling the anger well up inside him, threatening to take over. Surely it had to be coming from the artifact, whatever it was. If that were the case, he could easily guess a few things about the nature of it.

 

The tunnel ahead of them abruptly ended in an archway, and darkness was all they could see beyond it. Cautiously, they filed through the archway. As he passed through it, Phaeton could see the archway was lined with an elaborate series of characters, which he recognized as the Eldar language, from some of the artifacts the sorcerer Zivan had shown him. Where the stone seemed to have its own inner glow, the runes seemed to absorb all the light around them, making them difficult to make out exactly. Phaeton shook his head and proceeded on. Though he would have liked to study the symbols, they simply did not have the time.

 

The chamber beyond was immense, and shaped like a dome. The top rose away to nearly a hundred meters above them, and its diameter was the same. Elaborate structures extruded from the walls, clearly Eldar in design. They seemed to flow towards the middle of the room. On the floor stood a raised dias, several steps leading to a smooth platform. Some sort of altar stood in the middle, circular in design. Four arms extended upwards, coming to a point over a meter above. Within the arms seemed to be a block of pure ice or crystal, and they could see a dark shape within.

 

Around the dias were two more intersecting archways, meeting directly above the altar. The symmetry of the entire chamber was perfect, far beyond anything humans could hope to achieve. Large, rounded gems protruded from the structures and archways, bathing the room in a soft glow. Another large crystal was set atop the intersecting arches, casting a pale beam of light down onto the altar. The ice block within seemed to shimmer with its own radiance.

 

As they approached the altar, Phaeton noticed three other archways leading into darkness, placed at the compass directions of the room. He studied them for a moment, trying to see into the gloom, before realizing there was total darkness within, artificially placed there by the archways, like a veil. He glanced back at the archway they had entered, noticing it too was dark.

 

The Marines approached the dias, and stood in a rough circle around it, some turning their backs to watch for attackers. The rest stood in silent awe for several moments before Belarus broke the silence.

 

“This seems too easy. Are we to just walk up to this thing and take it?” Phaeton took a step forward, and spoke as he continued to study the altar.

 

“This structure is ancient, and has not seen visitors in a very long time, probably longer than we can imagine. I sense the potency of the wards placed here are barely enough to contain the essence of whatever is inside this. They have no doubt decayed greatly from their original strength.” He took another step forward as he reached out with his senses, probing the item contained within the ice.

 

“There is a powerful essence trapped inside, probably a greater daemon. It knows we are here." Streams of energy erupted from the tops of several partial arches, coalescing into rough balls of energy. After a few moments, the energy exploded with a flash, and each of the four archways now stood over a half-dozen towering figures.

 

The figures stood almost a meter above the Marines, but their frames were far more slender. Their heads were simply large orbs with tapered out above them, and there was no sign of any eyes or faces. In their hands, they cradled massive rifles, and tabards with intricate symbols stitched into them hung between their legs.

 

After a moment, they began to walk forward, closing on the Marines. Their guns sparked to life, hurling bolts of energy towards the Marines, who immediately opened fire and sought cover. One of Drellach’s Marines was too slow, and was caught by the fire, his torso exploding in a shower of armor fragments and gore. Belarus raised his Crozius and charged with the berserkers towards the guardian constructs, bellowing in rage.

 

“Protect the Librarian, he must complete his ritual! Crush these aliens, and bathe in their blood!” He quickly closed the distance with one of the constructs, and swung his Crozius in a mighty arc, smashing one of the creature’s legs, and causing it to tumble to the ground. He brought his foot up and smashed it into the head, which shattered under the impact.

 

As the battle continued, the Marines began to hear a sound in the background which chilled their blood. The chittering of alien creatures suddenly roared through the chamber as dozens of genestealers burst out of each of the tunnel openings. The Marines turned to fire their guns upon the new threat, and some of the Eldar constructs joined them. However, the Eldar creatures were far too slow and ponderous, and several were leapt upon by the genestealers, and torn apart with their claws.

 

The Marines fought desperately in their shrinking circle around the dias while Phaeton scrambled to complete the ritual as best as he could without suffering a backlash of warp energy. The Eldar constructs, to their fortune, had mostly turned to bring their guns to bear on the Tyranids, and the genestealers had likewise shifted much of their focus towards the chamber’s guardians, but some were still charging towards the Shadow Acolytes. It would only be a matter of minutes, if that, before the last of the Eldar units were destroyed, leaving the Marines alone with the Tyranids.

 

“Phaeton, you must hurry! We cannot hold this position for much longer!” Belarus shouted. Phaeton grimaced as he continued the ritual. With his strength sapped, it had been difficult to muster the power to complete the ritual and overcome the wards around the artifact. But he neared completion, and the final steps should be enough to overcome the defenses and unlock the object within.

 

A shape smashed into the ground at his feet. He glanced down and saw it was one of Cassius’ Marines, his right arm all but gone. Still, the Marine fought on, firing his bolt pistol from his left hand as he lay bleeding. Another of Cassius’ squad was grievously wounded, blood pouring from several gaping holes in his torso, and one of Drellach’s remaining berserkers lay prone, unmoving. Their circle was beginning to crack.

 

“Phaeton, NOW!” Belarus screamed as he fired his plasma pistol into a genestealer’s face, vaporizing its head. Another leapt towards him, and he ducked to the side, smashing its torso with his Crozius. He took a step back and turned towards Phaeton. The Librarian was still proceeding with the ritual, with no sign of finishing. The ice around the artifact glowed hot, as if it was on fire, but remained otherwise unfazed.

 

Roaring, he charged towards the altar, and gripped his Crozius in both hands. He swung it in a horizontal arc, barely hearing the shouts from Phaeton as he did so. All he felt was rage and anger. Anger at the Chapter for straying so far from the Emperor, anger at Phaeton for placing power above the lives of his brother Marines, anger at the aliens they fought for even existing. But it didn’t matter any more, all that mattered was the anger, the rage he channeled into his strike.

 

The Crozius and both the ice shattered on impact, exploding with violent force. Belarus was thrown off his feet, smashing into one of the arches at the base of the dais, and falling to his feet. Getting up to his knees, he saw something clatter to the ground near him. It was the artifact.

 

The artifact was an ornate axe. The double-bladed head was made of a blackened steel, and grooved in an intricate pattern. The haft was made of bronze, the handle wrapped in an exquisite leather. Belarus inhaled sharply. He had never seen such a beautiful weapon before. He glanced to his side, and saw Phaeton staggering, the force of the explosion almost knocking him off his feet.

 

He reached out towards the axe, almost by instinct. It seemed to call out to him, longing for battle and the taste of blood once again. It had spent an eternity contained in this prison, and now it yearned for battle once again.

 

As he reached for it, he could feel crackling energy leap between his fingertips and the weapon, and red arcs of static tore through the small space between them. He could feel his vision fading, focusing only on the axe, and thoughts of anything except the weapon, and the rage within him, fell away, until there was only the weapon and his anger.

 

His hand wrapped around the handle, and he erupted with red and black energy. He felt himself be lifted to his feet. He leaned back, and gave a furious bellow of endless rage and hate, as the creature inside the weapon bonded with him and they became one.

 

The combat seemed to lull and fade at the sight of this transformation, but the genestealers quickly resumed their assault. One broke through the lines and leapt at Belarus from the side.

 

He reacted instantly, and the axe cleaved through the genestealer as if it wasn’t even there, cutting it in half. The blood of the alien filled the grooves of the axe, and seemed to be sucked into it greedily. Belarus chuckled slightly, and turned to face the remaining genestealers. He hefted the axe in his hand, and drew his plasma pistol back into the other.

“Blood… FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!!” he screamed as he charged towards the aliens, utterly oblivious to his fellow Marines or any sense of safety. The Chaplain, a living embodiment of the Emperor’s fury, was already one of the most skilled fighters in the Chapter. But, after his transformation, something seemed to have changed within him.

 

He charged into the mass of the genestealers without fear of death. Such an act would have been suicide for any of the other Shadow Acolytes, but Belarus acted without hesitation, constantly moving through the mass of aliens, slashing his axe and firing his plasma pistol with abandon. Each slash felled two or three of the aliens, and he expertly ducked and weaved through their blows, avoiding harm from their counter-attacks. The berserkers quickly followed him into the fray, though even their skill was no match for Belarus’.

 

After several minutes, most of the genestealers lay dead at their feet, and the few remaining withdrew once again in the darkened tunnels. Phaeton watched it all, standing motionless on the dais. Once the genestealers withdrew, he moved again, walking towards Belarus. The berserkers fell prostrate at his feet, giving praise to Khorne. Only Drellach remained standing. He came to a stop a few paces away from Belarus, who stood looking down, breathing heavily.

 

“Belarus?” There was no answer. He repeated the Chaplain’s name. “Belarus, it’s time to go. We need to return to the Chapter.” Before he could react, Belarus leapt and swung his axe, halting it an inch from Phaeton’s throat.

 

“Silence your tongue, sorcerer, or I will cut it out myself! So… is this what you wanted? Is this the power you sought? You rush headlong towards it, oblivious to any concern of what it might do to you or another of your brothers. Well, look upon me, and see what it has done.” Phaeton said nothing, for there was nothing he could say. He merely nodded slightly, and turned to leave. As he walked back, he heard Belarus and the berserkers follow them.

[Allerka]

And here's the conclusion of the story! Hope everyone's enjoyed reading.

 

 

They met no further resistance in their return to the surface. They made their way back to the Basilica through the tunnels beneath it. As they emerged into the cathedral, they could see the light coming through the windows was greatly diminished, yet tinted red. The faint sounds of war echoed through the empty chambers.

 

Approaching the main doors, they found the makeshift barricades from earlier smashed aside, but otherwise no trace of the Imperials. Phaeton guessed they had eventually broken through, but, seeing no sign of them, withdrew to deal with the Tyranids instead.

 

The doors were open, and they proceeded through carefully, scanning for enemies. The skies above were darkened as the day progressed into twilight, but turned red as blood from countless fires. All around them, the city was burning.

 

“The Tyranids must have broken through, even faster than our predictions. Worthless Imperials,” Cassius muttered. Phaeton ignored him and took several more steps forward, looking up into the sky. He activated his long-range vox unit.

 

“Galerius, this is Phaeton. Can you read me?” the vox crackled with static for a moment before he heard the reply.

 

“I hear you, Phaeton. It is good to hear from you again. Are you ready for extraction?”

 

“We are, my lord. We are holding position near our landing point. I advise haste, I’m not sure how long we will be able to hold this ground. It seems the Tyranids have already broken through.”

 

“Yes, they have. We’ve been monitoring the situation. The Imperials will not live through the night. I’m dispatching Thunderhawks to retrieve you now, stand by.” The line went silent at that, and Phaeton turned back to the other Marines.

 

“Set up defensive positions, Thunderhawks are en route. We must hold until their return.” The Marines quickly set themselves on the task of forming a defensive ring around the entrance to the Basilica with the piles of rubble readily available. Phaeton supervised the task, noticing Belarus merely stalked about, visibly agitated, or perhaps feeling impatient. He attempted to ignore the Chaplain, focusing on ensuring the rest of the Marines would be able to defend themselves adequately.

 

After several minutes, an explosion roared nearby. They turned to see what happened, and saw a building collapse as a flaming tank wreck smashed into it before exploding once more. Several Chimeras roared past, their turrets firing wildly behind them. A few seconds later, a living tide of creatures erupted from the road the Chimeras had just emerged from, pursuing the fleeing Imperials.

 

A massive carnifex emerged, towering over the smaller creatures. Two of its arms formed a massive bio-cannon, which shuddered and launched a large glob of hissing acid at the rearmost Chimera. The acid tore through the armor and shredded its right track, causing the vehicle to slew to a halt. As the rear hatch lowered and the soldiers inside raced to escape the dead vehicle, the other two vehicles came about, attempting to cover their comrades.

 

However, it was not enough. A cluster of hormagaunts broke through the fire and leapt at the fleeing troopers, severing limbs and heads, and felling the entire squad in seconds. The remaining vehicles, realizing their comrades were doomed, shifted gears once again and turned to withdraw.

 

As the Tyranids pursued the fleeing Guardsmen, Phaeton signaled for the rest of the Marines to take cover. He ducked behind a shattered pillar himself, the only piece of debris large enough to conceal his bulky frame. Peering from behind it, he watched the carnage unfold.

 

Glancing to his side, he saw Belarus was still standing, simply staring at the carnage behind his skull-faced helm. Phaeton cursed to himself, and activated a private vox link between the two of them.

 

“Belarus, get down! If the Tyranids see us, we probably won’t get out of this alive!” Belarus remained motionless like a statue.

 

“I will not cower from my enemies, sorcerer. Khorne demands blood, and blood I shall give him.” With that, Belarus launched into motion, easily vaulting over the barricade in front of him, and charged towards the surging tide of Tyranids. The creatures soon took notice of the charging form, and some of the smaller gaunts redirected their charge.

 

A dozen of the creatures bounded towards Belarus, moving as one larger organism. The Chaplain gripped his axe with both hands, and the runes encrusted on it began to glow brightly. Belarus, without breaking his stride, swung the axe in a mighty arc, cutting through the front row of creatures. Flaming energy erupted from the axe blade, ripping away from the axe and cutting through the back rows of the creatures, felling the entire group in a single blow.

 

At this, more of the Tyranid swarm redirected towards Belarus, including the mighty carnifex. Phaeton grimaced at the sight, and ordered the rest of the Marines to open fire and thin the swarm. He prayed the Gods were still watching them. Cassius’ squad advanced slowly, laying down deadly streams of bolter fire, destroying the smaller gaunts in their dozens. The berserkers charged forward, quickly closing the distance and holding the line against the advancing creatures.

 

Phaeton brought his hands together, tapping once more into the energies of the warp. He flung his hands and his staff out, and a screaming barrage of energy bolts erupted from them, smashing into the swarm and detonating the bodies of the Tyranids.

 

The carnifex charged towards Belarus, bellowing as it did so. Its upper arms formed a pair of mighty talons. It swung one horizontally towards the Chaplain, who ducked under it. The other came down vertically, attempting to impale Belarus, only to miss and pierce the ground. As the carnifex struggled to remove its talon from the ground, Belarus leapt upwards, grabbing the talon and vaulting himself atop it onto the creature’s upper arm. From there, he leapt forward, raising his axe above him, and brought it down.

 

The axe cleaved through the carnifex’s skull as if it wasn’t even there, neatly splitting its head in half. The beast gurgled loudly and collapsed to the ground, drowning out the sound of Belarus’ own impact. He sank to one knee from the momentum, paused momentarily, and leapt up over the fallen Carnifex’s arms, charging into the midst of the other Tyranids once again.

 

A pair of warriors emerged from behind the next wave of Tyranids. Phaeton drew himself up, unlocking the warp power once again. Chanting bizarre words, he drew upon the powers of the Great Changer, and thrust his staff towards one of the warriors.

 

At first, nothing seemed to happen, then the warrior paused as bubbles formed beneath its skin. A few seconds later, the growing bubbles burst into new limbs and talons, and the rest of the creature’s flesh seemed to melt as if it was turning to liquid. Within moments, the warrior was reduced to a formless creature with dozens of random limbs, snarling as it tore into the Tyranids around it.

 

Phaeton sagged as the spell was completed. He knew his reserves were depleted, he had taxed himself far beyond his limits during this mission. He had pushed through the weariness before with sheer force of will, but even that was flagging, and he knew any further use of his powers would likely invite possession, something he didn’t care to contemplate.

 

Looking into the sky, he could see several fiery contrails heading towards their position. A few more minutes and the Thunderhawks should be there. He turned back to the battle and loosed a few bursts of fire from his storm bolter.

 

A stray gaunt leapt over the rubble in front of him, launching itself into the air towards him. He attempted to dodge out of its leap, but his armor was too encumbering, and one of its talons sunk into his side. He gritted his teeth from the pain, and brought his staff around, smashing it into the back of the gaunt’s neck. The power field tore through the creature’s spin, and the body went limp.

 

Pulling the talon out of his side, he gasped from the pain slightly. He raised his bolter to fire again, but paused when he felt a rumbling below. He quickly turned towards the other Marines.

 

“Raveners! Take cover!” Cassius’ squad immediately leapt atop whatever large pieces of rubble they could, aiming their guns downwards. Drellach and his berserkers plunged themselves deeper into the swarm to get away from their previous positions. Belarus acted as if he hadn’t heard Phaeton, and continued to slaughter the Tyranids around him.

The ground erupted behind Phaeton, and he turned to see a trio of massive snake-like creatures emerge. Each bore a half-dozen arms ending in either talons or wicked claws. They immediately charged towards Cassius’ Marines, but they were ready and unleashed punishing cross-fires, their higher positions protecting them from losing their footing.

 

Two of the raveners were cut down almost instantly, but the third was able to close the distance to the squad. As its lower body was blown away from under it, the creature tumbled forward and one of its arms lashed forward, catching one of the Shadow Acolytes, and severing his leg at the knee. The Marine tumbled down and landed atop the fallen creature. One of his comrades leapt down to tend to him, and the rest tossed krak grenades down the newly formed tunnels to collapse them.

 

The Librarian looked back up again, and saw the arrival of the Thunderhawks was imminent. He activated his vox.

 

“Thunderhawks, this is Phaeton. As you can probably see, we’re engaged by Tyranids, and in danger of being overrun.” As if to punctuate his statement, he saw one of Drellach’s berserkers being tossed through the air, blood streaming from numerous holes in his armor. The reply crackled in his ear.

 

“Understood, Librarian. We’ll attempt to provide some covering fire.” A moment later, one of the Thunderhawks split off and began to approach along a different angle. It banked about, and began to dive sharply towards the ground battle.

 

The cannon mounted above it, as well as the wing-mounted weapons, exploded to life and a rippling series of explosions tore through the advancing swarm. The Tyranids milled about in confusion for a few moments as most of the nearby synapse creatures were incinerated in the blasts.

 

One of the other Thunderhawks banked sharply and extended its landing gear. Finally, the third one revealed itself to be a Thunderhawk transporter, the heavy lifter variant used to ferry vehicles to and from the surface. While the one meant for the infantry prepared to land, this one extended several grappling hooks, latching on to the drop pods still sitting amidst the rubble.

 

As the Thunderhawk landed and began to lower its ramp, Phaeton shouted for the Marines to withdraw aboard it. Cassius’ squad quickly withdrew, and fired bursts of covering fire from aboard the craft. Drellach’s berserkers began to disentangle themselves from the battle and came charging across the field, pounding up the ramp. Only Belarus made no effort to withdraw.

 

Phaeton could see him standing atop a growing pile of broken Tyranids, surrounded by the swarm. His armor was punctured in multiple places, leaking dark blood, yet he continued to fight as if he was unhurt.

 

“Belarus, fall back! We must withdraw!” Belarus continued to act as if the other Shadow Acolytes didn’t exist, fighting the Tyranids with savage vigor, and bellowing praises to Khorne. He looked back towards the Thunderhawk.

 

“Cassius! Drellach! Give me a few Marines to come with me and bring Belarus back. We’ll drag him aboard if we have to!” Two Marines from each squad followed him as they made their way towards Belarus. By now, the swarm was heavily thinned, and few creatures remained to resist their advance.

 

They made their way up the mound of bodies, towards the bloodied Chaplain. Belarus paused as he realized he was out of enemies to fight. The other Marines approached him cautiously.

 

“Belarus… we need to go.” The Chaplain looked towards Phaeton, but gave no indication of recognizing him. He hefted the axe, as if he was prepared to strike back. The rest of the Marines slowly spread out, forming a circle around Belarus, who crouched low and looked from side to side, expecting an attack.

 

Phaeton reached out with his mind, trying to sooth the raging Belarus. He knew he risked death by doing so, but he needed to get the Chaplain on the Thunderhawk, or everything they had done would be in vain. Suddenly, there was a flash and he was lifted off his feet and thrown back. Flying through the air, he cursed himself again. The artifact contained the essence of a bloodthirster, of course it would be protected from sorcery.

 

Smashing to the ground, he struggled to his feet. Looking up, he could see the other four Marines rushing Belarus, trying to grapple with him and subdue him. The axe flashed out and one of Cassius’ Marines found his head tumbling away, the body joining it a moment later. The other three Marines managed to restrain Belarus’ limbs and drag him down the mound of bodies.

 

Phaeton returned to his feet, and stared at the snarling Chaplain. As the Marines drew close, Belarus looked at him, howling in rage. Phaeton holstered his storm bolter, drew his arm back, and punched Belarus square in the face. The impact shattered the skull face of the helmet, and Belarus went limp.

 

They walked up the Thunderhawk ramp, dragging the unconscious Chaplain behind them. The ramp raised up behind them, and a moment later they were airborne. Phaeton pushed through the press of bodies and stared out one of the small viewing ports, watching the ground fall away beneath them. Before long, only clouds tainted with acidic poison stretched along, broken by the specks of flying Gargoyles and other creatures. Now that they were withdrawing, with only the roar of the Thunderhawk’s engines, it seemed utterly detached to him, as if it was something entirely unrelated to him or his situation.

 

He suddenly became aware of a terrible weariness that threatened to overwhelm him. Leaning on his staff, he turned and slowly sat down on one of the large benches. After a moment, he raised his head and detached his helmet clamps, pulling it off his head. Inhaling deeply, he looked around.

 

Most of Sergeant Cassius’ squad was dead or injured, only himself and two of his Marines were uninjured, with three others sporting numerous injuries. Half of Drellach’s berserkers were gone, and the rest were battered, the red of their armor stained even deeper by their own blood and that of the Tyranids.

 

Finally, there was Belarus. The Chaplain lay prone in the middle of the chamber, unmoving. His helmet was shattered, and Phaeton could see part of his face through the wrecked helmet. Even unconscious, he could see Belarus’ face was twisted in a snarl of anger.

 

---

 

The only source of illumination came from the glowing hololith display set into the middle of the room, bathing the motionless face above it in deep shadows. The display had changed considerably in the last eight hours. The runes used to indicate the presence of Imperial units had all but disappeared, and the rest of the display was a veritable sea of runes indicating large concentrations of Tyranid beasts.

 

A gloved hand adjusted several controls, and part of the hololith display shifted, revealing a smaller display within the larger one. This one contained a number of lines of text, revealing the status of certain units under his command, as well as the status of various ships systems.

 

Their preparations to break orbit and withdraw were nearly complete. As they pulled away from the planet, they would fire a salvo of cyclonic torpedos, which would incinerate the atmosphere and everything within, trigger massive tectonic instability and, quite possibly, cause the planet to tear itself apart. The millions of Tyranids on the planet would be vaporized, crippling the fleet in orbit.

 

And then, selected units would board the hive ships and plant bombs to destroy them from within. Drellach’s berserkers were demanding to go, already hungry for battle again. He smiled slightly at the eagerness of the berserkers.

 

But there was still the matter of the Chaplain. The survivors of the mission had returned, more or less successful. Eleven Marines lost, but a weapon of immense power had been retrieved.

 

Following the fusion of Belarus and the creature within the weapon, he had slaughtered several hundred Tyranids in hand-to-hand combat, and still had strength enough to resist being dragged from battle, a feat no one else in the Chapter had ever accomplished.

 

Controlling him would be difficult, it seemed the anger the Chaplain felt towards the rest of the Chapter for their chosen path had been amplified into a truly berserker fury, and his newfound devotion to Khorne would make it difficult to direct that rage at the enemy always. But his skills and the power of the weapon were without question.

 

The door behind him hissed open, and the sounds of padded feet reached his ears. He turned to see Phaeton walking into the room, no longer clad in his armor. Instead, the Librarian wore plain cloth pants and sandals, and no shirt. An extensive series of bandages were wrapped around his torso and shoulder, faintly stained with blood. Galerius smiled slightly as he acknowledged the Librarian.

 

“Welcome back, Phaeton. I’m told your mission was successful.” The Librarian nodded.

 

“Indeed it was, my lord. Though I am somewhat concerned by our losses, and the results of the mission.”

 

“I understand your concerns. I mourn the loss of our brothers, and what has happened to Belarus was…unfortunate. However, I think the losses we have sustained are more than acceptable for what we have gained.”

 

Galerius turned back to the hololith and adjusted several more controls. Another smaller display emerged, revealing an interior pict-capture of a chamber within the ship’s armory. He could see Belarus seated at a workbench, a Tech-Marine standing nearby. They seemed to be working on fashioning a new helmet for Belarus. Galerius noticed they were creating crests for his helm not unlike those the berserkers had.

 

He turned away from the hololith, and strode slowly towards the mighty sword mounted on the wall nearby, as Phaeton continued to speak.

 

“I am also a little…troubled…about the path we are following. Before his…change…Belarus was convinced we were delving into things beyond our comprehension or control. At first I dismissed it as paranoia, or bitterness over our rejection of the Emperor.

 

“But, as soon as he took a hold of that axe, he became an entirely different person. If someone as strong-willed as Belarus could so easily be consumed by the creatures of the warp, who’s to say the rest of us can remain free?”

 

Galerius stood next to the sword, his back to Phaeton, allowing his eyes to run over the subtle curves of the blade. He raised one hand and gently caressed the flat of the blade. Even through the gloves he wore, the sensations of the veins worked into the blade trickled into his nerves, and he shuddered slightly. Giving it a moment to pass, he turned back to Phaeton.

 

“I realize this is a dangerous path we tread. However, I fear, we have little choice if we hope to survive. You know as well as I how dangerous this universe is, how all-consuming the threat of the Tyranids are.

 

“The Imperium has forsaken us, and we can look to no one but ourselves for survival. The Dark Gods may be capricious in the gifts they bestow, but they are not always unkind. There is power in the warp, we know that. It has already granted us numerous victories over our enemies. I cannot deny the effectiveness of that.

 

“I feel our loss. I feel the pain of every brother lost, of what has happened to Belarus. But to deny ourselves the opportunities to use that power to our advantage and destroy our foes would be foolish in the extreme. I will not have the sacrifice of those Marines be in vain. I hope you understand.” Phaeton nodded.

 

“I do, my lord. I find it hard to accept, though, that we have no choice. I believe that, in fact, we always have a choice.” With that, Phaeton bowed and exited the room, leaving Galerius by himself, his face partially obscured by shadows.