The death of my Chapter Master

[Valdr Fell-fist]

Hail brothers!

After a game i played against a friend's eldar army, pitting my Chapter Master Helikaon (Calgar counts-as) and his honour guard against their points worth in Banshees, Scorpions and an Autarch (we gave them an equivalent to the without number rule), i found that i had been wiped out to a man. rather than simply shrug off the losses, i decided to write a bit of fiction based on the events that took place, and actually removed Helikaon from any future lists. Whilst i don't think of myself as an author, i thought i would put it up here, so i could get some comments and criticism.

Happy reading!

 

The Death of the Golden One

 

‘Brother-Apothecary Vaddon, report to the forward command bunker. Medical assistance required, urgently.’ The voice of Sergeant Hecular, leader of the Primus Sternguard squad voxed.

“Acknowledged, brother. ETA 90 seconds.” Pulsed Chief Apothecary Vaddon, appearing through the main door of the command bunker, his white armour discoloured around the calves with dirt from his swift passage. The 90 second run had taken him from the Apothecarion, almost two kilometres away.

He noticed first the blood. Three hundred years a medic and blood was as familiar to him as water, or air. Even before seeing the individual sprawled on the floor, he knew it to be the Chapter Champion, Sparhawk. Sparhawk had joined Helikaon that morning, on a pilgrimage out of the city, to pray at a shrine in the mountains, as this holy month was Emperor’s Blessing, and every warrior should make a pilgrimage at least once. If Sparhawk was this badly injured, then surely Helika… ‘No,’ Thought Vaddon. ‘The patient takes priority’. He immediately set about carrying Sparhawk to the Apotheacrion, bracing him from every step, removing the warrior’s holy armour even as he walked.

************************************

It was the most relaxed that any of the Honour Guard had ever seen their patron. Helikaon walked, a wide grin plastered on his face as he told one joke after another, each leading to more laughter than the last. He looked like a warrior prince from ancient Greeca, crowned with a laurel wreath, even more impressive than that worn by Sparhawk, his Champion. They reached the shrine, dedicated to St Pascal, and spread out to offer their prayers individually. Alas, it was the last time they would see each other alive.

**************************************

“What is wrong with him?” Asked Attalus, the hulking giant that served as First Commander, the second most ranking officer in the whole Chapter. “He should be healed by now!”

“Calm yourself, my brother.” Commander Theoparlis, Master of the Arsenal laid a hand on Attalus shoulder, despite having to reach up to do so. Attalus towered even above his brother Astartes, nearly ten feet high, even out of his armour. “I’m sure Vaddon is doing all he can.”

“Of course. The problem is that although his wounds have nearly healed, he appears to be re-living the events that brought him here. His brain activity is very erratic, akin to a mortal when they dream. We can only wait. He will awaken, when he is ready.”

**************************************

“Chapter Master! Cover thyself!” Honoured Brother Ixion screamed, pushing Helikaon to the ground. That was no mean feat, as the High Commander was clad in his Terminator armour, and weighed almost five tonnes thus armoured. A storm of shuriken fire ripped through the wall that the Golden One had been standing in front of but half a second before. Over the hill, charged dozens of Eldar. Howling Banshees and Striking Scorpions for the most part, but an Autarch lead them.

Helikaon climbed to his feet. He tried to pulse for reinforcement, but all he got was static. ‘Damn Eldar have blocked our voxs. Looks like we’ll have to take care of these ourselves.’

“Brothers!” He roared. “Choose your prey! For The Emperor!”

“For the Emperor!” answered his honour guard. Sparhawk and Brother Manorian advanced towards a cluster of Banshees, one of whom carried a blade nearly as tall as itself. Brother Strabo charged two other Banshees, but a Scorpion flipped from cover, its chain blade severing Strabo’s head for all to see. At the same time, the Banshee Exarch, screeching insanely, split Manorian almost in twain, from head to groin with one wicked blow. Both were avenged, as Sparhawk slew all who stood before him, before circling back to protect his liege.

Helikaon had led the charge, accompanied by Brother Ixion, veteran of a hundred wars, and Brother Argastes, bearer of the Standard Invictum, the symbol of the Chapter held proudly aloft. Ixion slew three scorpions and a banshee before he himself was killed, covered in dozens of wounds. Even as he fell, he reached out, grabbing a Banshee who stood, poised to strike at Argaste’s unprotected back. The dying brother pulled the xeno down, snapping it’s neck, before finally succumbing to his injuries. Argastes and Helikaon fought back to back, standing against foes many times their number.

Less than fifty metres away, Sparhawk was surrounded by aspect warriors. He cut them down where they stood with contemptuous ease, before he too fell, taken down by a flurry of attacks from a Scorpion Exarch and several Banshees.

*********************************************

“Arrrgggghhh!!!” Screamed Sparhawk, sitting bolt upright in the medi-bed he had been in since his arrival in the Apothecarion.

Vaddon pulsed Commander Attalus before going to his patient.

“Honoured brother. I am glad you are awake. We are desperately seeking news of Helikaon. He, nor your brothers, have returned from their pilgrimage. We fear the worst.”

“You are right to.” Sparhawk answered his voice thick with emotion. Grief, at the death of Helikaon. Anger, towards the Eldar for taking his lord from him. More anger, at himself this time, for not being at his liege’s side at his last second. And something more. But, he couldn’t place that last one. He put it down to anger, once more. A Space Marine takes comfort in anger.

“So, is Helikaon…dead?” Vaddon asked.

“Yes. Slain before my own eyes. I saw the light leave his eyes. I saw the Eldar drag him away. And my brothers. They took their bodies. I crawled away. I had to bring news to the Chapter. Our liege is gone.” Once more, Sparhawk felt that last emotion growing, unchecked.

“Brother Sparhawk. It is good to see you live still.”

Sparhawk swung, and found himself staring at Commander Attalus. The giant barely fit through the door. He was clad in his armour, obviously fresh from battle. He had a scar, one that Sparhawk had not seen when he saw Attalus in the command centre.

“How…long was I unconscious?” Asked Sparhawk, almost afraid to hear the answer. If a Marine could be afraid, that is. Again, the emotion grew. This time, he thought it would wash over him, like a tsunami over a fishing boat.

“A week, brother. All the time, you dreamed. Now you are awake. We need to know the details, as well as you can remember them.” Vaddon put in.

“Now then, brother. We need to know this. We must both avenge our Lord, and recover his body so that we can name his successor.” Although, Sparhawk knew, there would be little deliberation on that last point. Attalus was an exemplary marine, as honoured and respected as Helikaon is…was, he corrected himself. He led from the front, his tactical mind second only to Commander Parmenion. As a warrior, he was unsurpassed, winning every sparring match with ease, even against multiple opponents. On the battlefield, he shone even more, slaying enemy champions one after another with his mighty hammer, the Fist of Attalus. “And then, with the Emperor’s blessing, we will continue the war against these damn xenos.”

At the mention of the Emperor, that emotion flooded throughout Sparhawk, he fell off the medi-bed, landing in a sprawling heap, unconscious before he hit the ground. Once more, he was in the past…

********************************

Sparhawk, his body wracked with pain, scarce able to move, let alone fight, watched as his brother Argastes fell. His left arm, carrying the banner, had been severed at the elbow. Before the sacred icon touched the ground though, he dropped his blade, grasping the banner pole in his right hand, fighting on with the spike at its base. Despite his tenacity, however, he was slain in less than a minute, the banner coming to rest above his body, bright arterial blood staining the cloth.

Helikaon stood alone. This, he knew, was the end. He would see his lord fall. Even a warrior as mighty as they Golden One could not stand against so many of the Eldar and prevail. And yet, Helikaon fought with all the confidence he would have of victory if he were sparring with one of the fresh recruits in the Chapters great ring of combat. His mighty fists, armoured and generating a powerful energy field, swung at those nearest to him, flinging xeno after xeno away. He picked one of the Scorpions up, and used it as a club, throwing other Eldar back by dozens of feet, before throwing the Scorpion head first at another. Their heads collided, both reduced to mush by the force of the impact. Then, the Autarch stepped forwards.

He was resplendent in white and green armour, covered in precious jewels of all shapes and sizes. He carried a sword of immeasurable worth. Its craftsmanship was flawless, it’s leading edge as thin as a feather, and it obviously weighed less than a single page in one of the Librarian’s tomes.

He spoke. Sparhawk could not hear the words. Not that he was too far away, more that his senses were dulled by the pain that filled his body. Whatever they were, they enraged Helikaon.

He roared, charging towards the Autarch. His left fist smote the enemy leader a dolorous blow upon its arm, snapping the bones, and nearly tearing it from its socket. The Eldar screamed in pain, and its sword flashed out, carving a deep cut into Helikaon’s shoulder pad, causing a flood of blood.

The two circled, both with an arm hanging useless, testing each other. Despite the speed of the Eldar, it was clear that Helikaon had the advantage, his strength as well as his greater vitality sure to carry the day. Until, that is, the Eldar cheated. Three Scorpions leapt into the combat, their chainblades distracting the Golden One. Although each was slain, the Autarch used the distraction to full effect, cutting deep into Helikaon’s thigh, just below the groin. It severed a hand off at the wrist, thankfully from the useless arm.

Helikaon had to end this, and end it soon. He jumped forwards, hoping to pin the Eldar under the sheer mass of his armour and body, but the Eldar leapt aside, his blade flashing once more. Helikaon continued onwards for another three steps before falling to his knees. His hamstrings had been cut, despite the protection of his armour, and he was unable to rise. The Autarch, and two other Eldar, senior commanders judging by their garb, walked forwards. This time, Sparhawk heard the words of the enemy general.

“Now you see, this world is ours. We claimed it millennia before you were even born, human.” This voice had a curious, singsong lilt to it.

“Never.” Helikaon retorted, through a veil of pain. “This world was claimed by the Emperor and the Primarch Gulliman ten thousand years ago. You have no more right to it than the Orks that we cleansed from it then.

“Foolish Mon’keigh! This is our world. Seeded before your ‘Emperor’ even left his cradle world. But, I have no more time for this petty banter. You go to greet your Emperor.” The Autarch readied its sword for the deathblow, with the blade resting above Helikaon’s secondary heart, knowing that would cause a more painful, slow death. Just as he tensed to thrust, Helikaon rolled to the side, grasping one of the other commanders, and ripping its torso clear of the rest of its body. As such, the blade of the Eldar splintered his primary heart in two. Helikaon just had time to spit in the face of the Autarch before the light fled from him, his life with it.

Sparhawk managed to control a vengeful outburst, and decided that the best thing to do would be to inform the Chapter. And so, he began the long, agonising crawl to the command base back inside the city.

*************************

“And that is how the Golden one died. He took many with him to the Hall of Heroes, but his slayer still walks. And so we must slay him, and avenge the death of our High Commander.” Anakha finished his tale. Half an hour after his collapse, Sparhawk had risen, his eyes filled with a new purpose. He declared that he would seek out the Eldar Autarch and slay him, taking his head as a trophy. He would find the body of Helikaon, along with those of Argastes, Strabo, Manorian and Ixion, and allow the Chaplains to lay them to rest in the Gallery of the Dead back on Darshiva, the Chapter’s home world. He had then told them that he had received a vision from the Emperor. The Chief Librarian Chiron and the Chief Chaplain Alexandros had examined this ‘vision’, and declared it true. He saw himself, garbed in black armour and carrying his relic blade, fighting against the Autarch, killing it, whilst in the background, Helikaon’s shade nodded its approval. He said that the Emperor had revealed to him his true name, and that he should be henceforth known as Anakha. He declared that he had seen Attalus ascend to the rank of High Commander, and the Council agreed.

***********************

“And so do we, the Chapter Council, do declare that, from this day forth, Attalus will lead the Chapter as High Commander, Master of the Vengeful Brotherhood. Long may he lead us to glory in the name of the Emperor!” Spoke Master of Sanctity Alexandros, placing a laurel wreath upon Attalus’ head.

“For Glory and the Emperor!” Shouted the assembled brethren, some four hundred warriors all told, but numbers do not define an army of Space Marines.

All the while, Lord Commander Parmenion, now First Commander, stood and plotted, his daemonic patron whispering sweet corruption in his mind….

 

And that marks the end of my tale. Whilst i admit that several characters names were obviously purloined, they are only there as 'place-holders' unitl i name them myself.

any thoughts?

[Primarch Corax]

This is quite good. However, I doubt that the Apoth. would say ETA 90 secs, when he is just walking there. He would say' "I'll be right there".

[Brother Captain Andrecus]

I like the ETA thing, makes him sound like a modern medical technician or a pilot...

 

Anyway, excellent story. Very nice, very gothic and Space Marine-y. How often do you write stories like this?

[Primarch Corax]

Err, people say ETA when they're quite a way away. Not a few minutes walk. Anyway, as before. Good story.

[Terminatorinhell]

ooh kind of cool I was thinking of killing off one of my commanders but never my Chapter Master ;)

[Valdr Fell-fist]

Thanks for reading, brothers.

@Corax and Andrecus: The idea was that it would sound a little more professional than a simple "gimme a sec, i'll be there" or anything similar. Oh, and this is only my second short story. The first was much shorter than this, and i ended up leaving it unfinished. I wasn't as happy with it as i am with this one. It concerend Attalus and some veterans reclaiming an Orbital Station from the Black Legion. As i say, it just sort of stopped, and never went anywhere. I might post it up later (if i can find it!) And if you'd like?.

@Terminatorinhell: I hadn't exactly planned his death. It was just the way the mini-game went, and i decided to make it mean something other than just my opponent being able to say he won.

 

Any thing else?