Hunters of the First

[moxkaze]

(Greetings brothers here is my own personal interpretation on the inceptors, criticisms and advise are welcome. I do hope that this would turn out as an enjoyable story. )

 

 

Hunters of the First

 

Wearied eyes opened to a sudden torrent of pain, something sharp stabbed the living daylight back into an imprisoned astartes. Stripped of his armor, his captors found it amusing to stab him with a rusted blade in an unscarred portion of his chest, just above his beating hearts. Rising from the depths of unconsciousness, he would have screamed in rage if his parched mouth was not gagged by a heavy cloth that tasted of old blood and foul dirt.

 

By his own estimate, it has been days in this hot and emperor forsaken chamber. He was tortured heavily by sharp metal implements that burrowed deep into his black carapace and into raw flesh, leaving blasphemous ritual markings all over the front of his body. He would have wished that he had already died during the onslaught of the word bearers legion, after they fell on their patrol back at Orewell IX. His company, the glorious 5th from the White Consuls chapter was tasked with the sacred duty of bringing a rebellious mining world back into the imperium’s fold. All seems well that day after a weeks worth of uphill battles in the arid world capital, they were beginning to mop up for any rebel remnants before the arrival of relief elements from an imperial guard taskforce with an attached army of Administratum adepts who would glady pickup up the pieces after they quit the said world.

 

But all that seems like a lifetime ago and he does not know if his company was successful in quelling the chaos filth that now fills his eyes, all he remembered was his squad sergeant was able to lob a few krak grenades at a rushing chaos terminator, who in turn smashed the head of his sergeant to pieces using a large blunt weapon carved with a demonic icon, then being wounded and dragged into the maw of a warp portal along with two other neophyte battle brothers who were recently promoted like himself in their tactical marine squad.

 

Each sorry symbol on his flesh was a scarred reminder of the contempt that his captors have for his existence. For each torturous interval he was tied countless times to a granite post and flagellated heavily at his back as not to ruin the insidious text on his front. Then scalding or icy cold water, depending on the malice of his captors was splashed over his wounds before they clothed.

 

Lately he had been dosing in and out of consciousness due to the prolonged tortures and loss of blood. Trying his best to activate the sus-an membrane to no avail, either he still lack the experience to use it or his infernal captors have a way of disabling this emperor given gift of his. He prayed deeply in himself for a chance that the emperor may deliver him in his mercy every time he wakes up or falls into the stupor of fatigue. As the tortures continue he mentally recites the catechisms of his proud chapter to keep him sane and generously hating the traitors before him.

 

As the hours drag on to an eternity of pain, he was dragged by the neck by unforgiving chains that almost choked him to death on each mighty pull and bounded by unimaginably heavy adamantium shackles at the wrist and ankles, he was lead out of the accursed torture chamber into the pitch black recesses of stone corridors, bearably able to accommodate the full height of an astartes but wide enough for three to four men to march through abreast. Lead by the dark hooded forms of unarmored word bearers, each step he took was cumbersome due to the heavy iron balls chained to his feet. He could now hear the profane ritual chanting all around him as he was dragged further into the bowls of an evenly blasphemous ritual chamber, lighted by side torches with an unusually high vaulted ceiling. Marbled walls inscribed by gold letterings of foul symbols, incense stank with the mixture of blood and death. The place was filled at the sides by a circled formation of forty armored warriors in the dark crimson and gunmetal livery of the Word Bearers traitor legion, while eight that includes the two dragging him on are dressed in dark crimson robes with gun metal trims. In the center of it all was an elevated rust colored marble platform, inlaid with gold at the sides inscribed by the same hideous text that now scar his battered form. A large dark slab of rock elevated neatly by a pile of skulls sit atop this platform, some human others alien to his sight or simply shattered under it gruesome weight.

 

Encumbered by his restraints, he tried to resist but was surrounded and restrained by the robbed world bearers. The iron balls discarded, as they carried him off his feet towards the top of the platform, while still resisting their stone hard grip. The slab was fashioned into an obscene altar dedicated to the dark gods of chaos, as he can see from the sides on his approach the discarded scarred rotting corpses of two astartes with their chests and necks ritually opened. Now he knows what had come of the two battle brothers that were also captured along side him. Strangely the corpses were in an advance state of decay for him to make out their identities. His shackles where then secured on clamps found on the altar slab, the stone was sticky and rancid with the fouled blood of its untold victims over millennia that seemed to burn to the touch as if the tortured souls of the sacrifices cry out for release. The robbed figures surrounded him in a circle and joined the unnatural chanting of their armored brethren afterwards he began to loose consciousness once more.

 

***

 

On his reawakening the gag on his mouth was removed, it did not sit well for him as twelve new figures surround him in the devious forms of tusked chaos terminator armour, among their number includes the chaos terminator who lead the assault on his squad, still bears the same large demonic icon in a devoted grasp. The only reminder of the assault that can be seen on the chaos warrior was a cracked eye piece which he sports like a badge of dark honour and was quick to discern that this is the hosts icon bearer.

 

Still restrained, he tried to look around and found that the same forty chaos marines still surround the chamber chanting their incoherent blasphemy to the fell gods and the eight hooded figures now surround the base of the altar chanting a different set of fell words that seem to blend with the other chant in an infernal harmony.

 

Amidst the din of the chanting the largest of the chaos terminators came forward and directly faced the loyalist marine. Scripts from the book of Lorgar written on human flesh hang sparingly at the shoulder guards. The armour was heavily ornate with the legions iconography and was constantly reworked with the best material available. Spikes struck above the terminator’s backplate showing off a collection of helmets and skulls of fallen foes. Some were human, astartes, eldar, tau, ork and a lone tyrannid lictor. It was the dark apostle of the word bearer host, sporting an accursed crozius and held this bastardized symbol of office in a ritual stance over the bounded body of the white consul.

 

This one time chaplain was a spiritual officer who instills disciple and honour amongst the ranks of the XVII legion during the great crusade. Now he and his brethren of Dark Apostles lead the countless legionnaires of Lorgar in their long war against the imperium of man and their twisted worship over the warp-spawned chaos gods with an unrivaled fanaticism. The dark apostle that leads this host of traitors did not have his helmet on, as he whispered dark prayers over the rabble of the chanting. The white consul marine, filled with contempt tried to spit venom on the master of this dark host but found only a parched throat and pain as he made the effort. Only a low grunting sound was heard in his endeavor, bloodshot eyes of hate now focused towards the chief of his captors, causing the dark apostle to finally take notice of him and slapped him hard with the blunt end of the crozius to the face, causing some discolor to his already scarred left cheek.

 

A smile of malice born from countless millennia of total war and obedience to the dark powers came upon the fair yet almost lucid face of the dark apostle save for a devotional script tattoo on his left cheek taken from a passage in the final epistle of Lorgar, he finally spoke commandingly under the air of a majestic preacher of chaos, amidst the chanting and the stare of untold detestation by the White Consul before him,

 

“Brothers, we find our path of vengeance into completion upon the servants of the false emperor. Our numbers may have dwindled in the face of the enemy, but no greater glory of chaos can be achieved without a sound sacrifice in blood and devotion to our last breath. May we find strength in knowing that the gods of chaos smile upon us as we complete the last of the geneseed sacrifice in answer to our millennia old petition to wipe the galaxy clean of Guilliman’s blood. A blood sacrifice that would exceed the murder-make that befell on the misguided black and white consuls of old. May this remind them of their folly in striking a hand upon the favored servants of the dark gods and of the futility in serving a false emperor in face of the greater name of chaos!”

 

The chaos hosts paused with their chant and replied in unison:

 

“For Blessed Lorgar! For Chaos!”

 

They continued on with their vile chanting in renewed vigor and enmity towards their enemies as the air begin to sizzle, along with a dark wind blowing in an airless chamber, frost began to form on the walls as the chanting increased in fervor, the gold inlaid symbols around the chamber began to burst in flames as if the fell gods began the slow process of opening the gates of their warped domains to receive the latest offering of the word bearers.

 

From the high vaulted ceiling a thick mist began to form. Inside the mist grotesque silhouettes of winged creatures phased in and out of reality. The Dark Apostle raised his fell crozius over the chest of the sacrifice as the warp mist began to descend. The white consul, with all his strength; tried to trash his way free, but the metal bindings would not budge or spoil his position in face of the chaos warrior in his midst, the ritual scars on his body began to tingle in pain with an unholy acceptance to the proceedings of this dark ritual. Seeing the futility in his actions the loyalist marine finally whispered out from his cracked lips the words,

 

“Emperor preserve me!” as he braced his soul with courage for the coming doom.

 

***

 

A crackle of lightning began to disgorge upon the chamber, downing an armored chaos warrior to slag and plummeting two others across the chamber, A blinding portal of light emerged from the marbled wall and Astartes in black tactical dreadnought armour with blue trims emerged. Their amplified voices roared fiercely into the chamber like an angry tide of nature shouting the vox amplified words,

“Ora et Bellum!”

 

Their great weapons fired off bolts of vengeance upon their age old foes, who in turn with the same inhuman speed got to draw their weapons in retaliation, but not after ten of their number fell to bolter fire. Leading at the forefront of the loyalist deep strike is a space marine Chaplain in splendid dark artificer armour based from a blessed Mk IV plate; surged towards the center firing well aimed shots from his master crafted bolt pistol with his left hand, while griping his eagle winged crozius on his other hand which hummed deeply as the conversion field flickered to life, as his ancient skull helm glared into the forces of the enemy.

 

A terminator sergeant with a heavy flamer paced behind the chaplain, while the rest of the terminator combat squad marched a few paces behind them, as they fired rapid bolts of the emperor’s fury at their targets. A kraken bolter round from the Chaplain’s side arm grazed the check of the dark apostle who moved before mortal harm was to hit him, the bolt penetrated through the already cracked eye socket of a chaos terminator at his back, who happens to be the host icon bearer. The insides of the fallen terminator’s skull exploded within the confines of his helmet. Crashing with a mighty clang while still clutching the demonic icon dutifully in a death grip, the chaos marine’s blood and brain matter flowed out of the exposed eye socket. Causing the dark apostle to snarl in anger and engage the Chaplain, leaving the sacrifice still intact.

 

***

 

An orange wave of righteous flame cascaded upon the robed chaos marines who now held dark power blades hidden under their robes, but they were dead crisp in moments as the terminator sergeant fell upon them resulting in a wall of flame as their collective bodies burned in an improvised pyre. The loyalist sergeant then with the destructive force to atomize boulders sent his heavily ornate power fist down the face plate of a rampaging chaos terminator that burst through the wall of promethium flame. A titanic smash was heard over the hum of the archaic powerfist, as the machine spirit of the loyalist weapon screamed for the blood of the hated foe. The pinned chaos terminator able to withstand the rigors of drop pod deployments was momentarily dazed by the immense trauma inflicted to his head. Then with the speed of an apothecary’s carnifex, a small chain fist attachment sprang forth in a concealed compartment from the upper plating of the powerfist and whirled into life as it tore through the crushed faceplate with the high shrieked cry of retribution. Such is the hidden might of the ancient powerfist know as the “Fanged Flash” forged from pre-imperial technology which has been long forgotten by the adepts of Mars. The potency of the follow-up attacked was amplified further by the energy field of the powerfist to finish off the enemy. The word bearer still reeling from the initial blow did not have the time to react to this split second ordeal, with a dark grunt, another chaos terminator dropped to his fate at the cold granite floor with a pierced cranium.

 

The terminator sergeant reacting quickly to his autosenses turned to face another foul terminator of the dark host sporting numerous skulls dangling from the edges of his pauldron. The latest chaos warrior to face the loyalist was armed with an ornate storm shield laden with demonic iconography and a similarly decorated crimson power ax that can menacingly slice a power armored marine in half. The loyalist sergeant raised his heavy flamer with a streaming burst of fire; along with a vox amplified howl in answer to the challenge that he now faces, he then threw his heavy flamer’s reserve fuel canister at the chaos terminator’s torso, as his armoured foe rushed to his position. The chaos terminator swiftly sliced the fuel canister in half, as its highly pressurized promethium contents spilled forth, the chaos terminator noticed at the last instant a pair of armed krak grenades magnetically attached to the blind halves of the fuel canister as it turned in midair, while the terminator sergeant maintained to fired gouts of flame at his direction. The explosion that followed momentarily illuminated the battle ground which resulted in a super heated fireball that engulfed the chaos terminator.

 

 

The Dark Apostle and the Chaplain squared off, giving measure to each others form as the slaughter went on around them. Divided by faith and divided by the black and white lines of morality. The two warriors pummeled their crozius upon each stroke and counter stroke, in a macabre duel to the death. Their weapons power fields flicker in and out of existence as they tried to puncture the other to oblivion. Once locked in a struggle of strength, conversion fields crackled dangerously in an attempt to scorch their armoured forms, the servos of their ancient power armor screamed in pain as they wrestled to undo each other.

 

The leader of the word bearer host spoke in spite “You tire me with your antics false priest! Yield yourselves for after this night there will be none of your kin left to live.”

 

The loyalist Chaplain spat back, “There is no end to your lies foul traitor, even in defeat you tarry with your delusions of victory. Look around you fallen one, your lies and dark schemes are at an end. It is you and your insignificant host that should yield to the undying light of the emperor of mankind. Prepare yourselves as we vanquish you to the dark palaces of doom!”

 

As the two paladins of polar virtues fought on, the carnage around them was coming close to completion.

 

 

***

 

 

The combat squad of terminators ploughed their way towards the chaos band within their midst, still lead by their sergeant, who now sports dents and burn marks all over his terminator armour and kept on bellowing a constant stream of hot flame from his equally dented flame unit upon the chief traitors of the imperium. They were confronted head on by the remaining chaos terminators. Likened to the collision of battle tanks at war, these mighty warriors in heavy armour fought vigorously for the utter destruction of their foes. Shadows began to move in subtle succession in the grim dark recesses of the entrance way, enter the young scout marines laden with their deadly sniper rifles they aimed true and nicely done kills on their ancient foes. Backed by a cadre of sternguard marines they unleashed a deadly volley of vengeance bolter rounds and inferno bolts. Still exposed in the open the power armored word bearers were diminished in seconds.

 

Charred metal and flesh continued to burn in the dead silence of the chamber, the Chaplain stands over a dying Dark Apostle with his very own thrice blessed crozius deeply embedded in the traitor’s abdomen. The fell crozious of his opponent lay shattered and broken at his feet. Sparks spitted out of the exposed circuitry on the chaplain’s right thigh revealing punctured ceramite and a damaged augmetic leg were white smoke seem to seep out of its joints as internal backup systems kick in.

Dark blood flowed from the lips of the Dark Apostle who looks to be at peace and spoke in a weak silky voice, “This is unexpected, the visions from the chaos gods promised a slaughter deep in Guilliman’s blood, yet your kind came to diminish our thousand year efforts in a blink of an eye.”

 

The Dark Apostle gave a sharp look at the chaplain’s chapter symbol before replying again, “It is indeed quite the surprise to find out that you are the ones who oppose us at these crucial times. Also it is such a pity that those bastards of Alpharius did a very poor job in exterminating your line or are you all that’s left of that ragtag bunch of brattlings? Should have we’ve been informed correctly we could have come in to finish the job joyfully ourselves and offer up your geneseed to chaos.”

 

The Astartes Chaplain replied in an amplified hateful tone, “Silence! I gave you a few seconds of breath fallen one to reflect on your treachery, so that you will die knowing that your betrayal bears only the rewards of your own damnation. Know this that by your twisted teachings you have dragged your misguided followers to the death of the warp!”

 

The defeated chaos warrior only laughed in the outburst, “How foolish, spare your childhood propaganda to some other legion. Not ours, in Lorgar’s holy name… I take my rest…”

 

The Dark Apostle took his last look into life and closed his eyes for all time. His ancient body and ornate terminator armour crumbled to dust in seconds. The chaplain tried to sense for any remorse from his enemies soul as he expired and sensed none. Truly the warp has already claimed the dark apostle’s soul ages ago. Examining the ashes the Chaplain retrieved his badly used crozious and a small pouch made from human skin etch with blasphemous scripts, looking inside he found a few exquisite gems of different colors that gave off an eerie glow in the dim light. From experience the Chaplain quickly discarded the pouch and collected the gems and deposited them in an empty ammo compartment in his armour.

 

The terminator sergeant approached the Chaplain to report, “Lord Chaplain Ethos the warriors of the archenemy have been vanquished and our battle brothers are now securing the perimeter. Only one serious injury reported, but he will live to fight again in the emperor’s name. The rest of the squads are only reporting for some light wounds and armour integrity damage. Your command, lord?”

 

Ethos summoned his HUD display with the speed of thought and found the information that he needed. After communing with the machine spirit of his armour, which in turn communed with the other machine spirits of the rest of his command. One of the sternguard marines lost the lower half of the right arm due to a misfire from a vengeance round. Much care must be ensured in the future when using such volatile rounds as he mentally made a note on this matter. Next he saw that the rest of his force were securing the perimeter in an overlay map of the area of operation showing the icons of each power armoured brother, save for the scouts who reported in on their status over the chapter’s voxnet. It only took less than a minute to get all the tactical information he needed before speaking again.

 

“Veteran Sergeant Haraldr, take the scouts and some of the men to begin standard disposal procedures. As for the brother on the altar, take him down and identify for any corruption. Let’s do this quick within the hour before extraction.”

 

***

 

Once released from the damnable restraints the weakened white consul fell into a deep sleep, and was meticulously examined for any taint of corruption before being provided with medical assistance by his rescuers. He identified himself as Gaius Cicero and was much pleased when his power armour was recovered along with the rest of his deceased brethrens wargear after undergoing extensive purification rites. A day later he was debriefed by chaplain Ethos, aboard the strike cruiser, Turbulent. The chaplain’s private office was like a damp dungeon filled with shelved books, lighted dimly by electro candles and adorned by banners showing victorious events from the chapter’s history. Brother Gaius stood at attention in a simple white robe before the spartan desk of Lord Chaplain Ethos who was sporting a thick black robe with the rosarius of his office chained to his neck.

 

“Allow me to formally great you to the hospitality of my chapter, young brother. I apologize for the scrutiny but we can never be too cautions in matters concerning chaos. My name is Lord Chaplain Ethos Van and we trust that your stay here has been pleasant and once we are underway we can drop you off to the nearest Administratum base so that you may begin your journey home.”

 

The white consul smoothly interjected as if on queue, “Forgive me brother chaplain, but may I know the name of your distinguished chapter? I am not familiar with your heraldry and also may I know in which part of the imperium are we located?”

 

The Lord Chaplain smiled at the spunk of the white consul, as he gazed upon the chapter’s banner hanging above the door, it was three white mullets arranged in an equilateral triangle formation pointing upwards in a blue escutcheon.

 

“The current location we are at is near the abandoned world of Delta Rho 510 in segmentum ultima, near the Maelstrom. You were found at the said world during an operation done by my chapter to thwart the plans of the world bearers. As for our name it would be best to keep it secret for it would be better that the archenemy does not know of our existence in the event of any untoward… situations.”

 

Gaius looked at the Lord Chaplain’s facial features as he talked, which was very much the grizzled old veteran of countless wars with lots of old facial scarring accentuated by the fact that his whole head is hairless plus two service studs adorned his left forehead. His aquiline nose also stands out with his deep set blue eyes. Compared to his features he was pretty much the fresh rookie with a litany of questions to ask, with an air of calm and the verbal precision of a politician he asked again,

 

“The maelstrom? Remarkable, I was in Orewell IX when I was captured and that world was a subsector away from the Cadian gate. Truly the archenemy is quite fiendish in their ways and it was a blessing from the emperor that your brethren was in time to foil their folly. For that I am in your debt brother chaplain. I will not forgo in knowing your great chapters name anymore but would you indulge me to know more about your operation?”

 

The Lord Chaplain clenched his jaw at Gaius’ attempt to gain more intelligence on the situation. “Unfortunately brother it is a need to know basis, be assured that what we are doing is for the good of all and the destruction of chaos. To add you are still years too young to master diplomacy, and light years from Sabatine. I recommend that we make haste to drop you… ‘off’ as soon as possible to the nearest friendly base so that your chapter will not miss you long.”

 

Gaius made another retort and apologized to the Lord Chaplain telling him that he did not mean to be offensive only that he wanted to know more about the ways of his generous hosts. Lord Chaplain Ethos cut him short in a stern tone,

 

“Young brother, I may not look like it but at the end of the millennium a third service stud will be awarded to me and it is a product of my unwavering faith in the emperor. Kindly note that to have such a faith is to have honour and discipline as its primary components, so try to honour your betters and show discipline even when you are not on the battlefield. Who knows if you keep it up you may get three or more service studs in the future”.

 

Brother Gaius was then dismissed and invited to join their evening service at the ships main chapel should he want to know more about their ways.

 

***

 

After dismissing the white consul and locking his private office from the inside, Lord Chaplain Ethos walked to the right most bookshelf. Here lies a section of books steep in high level Xenos study and imperial tactica against these foul beings that are only allowed to be read by the upper echelons of the imperium. Anyone lower than a general will be shot should they read such restricted lore, exceptions to the rule imposed on these rare editions would still fall on members of the mechanicum elite, inquisition and the astartes. Normally his unit is more attuned in hunting against traitor marines, but it would never hurt to know more against such an unexpected enemy. He half pulled a thin unnamed volume from a collection of books on how to combat orcs, which are already gathering molds from misuse.

 

A soft clank was heard and the whole section of books lowered to the floor showing a hidden room, the electro candles inside flickered to life. The room is furnished with a weapons locker, an enclosed armour rack, a comms terminal and at the center a wooden confessional box made from rare nalwood. Compared to the items in this room the confessional box seems to be the latest addition to this secret chamber. The aged warrior entered the confession box and flicked a hidden switch inside, that in turn opened a console with arcane controls. One of those controls involved in hermetically sealing the room. Even the strongest psyker scans will not be able to scan the contents of the room while the controls are active. His vision seem to blur as if reality began to warp itself. Except for the control console everything around him fell apart, liken to a breaking mirror, reveling a white tunnel with a crimson robbed hologram bowing infront of him. Ethos let out a breath of annoyance,

 

“Enough with the theatrics witch I come here to trade for vital information.”

 

The robbed figure faced him and spoke in a strange feminine imperial gothic accent, the words are correct but somewhat slurred and the stresses used in pronouncing the words were way off.

 

“Salutations… ‘human’… I trust your sojourn was a success, may I see the required items for trade.”

 

The Lord Chaplain showed the jewels taken from the Dark Apostle to the figure in front of him. He deposited half of the jewels into a white glowing circle about the size of a space marine’s fist at the center of the console. After some moments the robbed figure showed her hand holding the now glowing gems in the projection,

 

“Excellent the rest of the trade will be made once we have divined your foes next move by the end of one human lunar cycle. See to it that the remaining items are still secured by then.”

The space marine chaplain bellowed, “Hold your tongue witch you are in no position to dictate the terms. We need the information at once, have it ready by the end of three terran solar days or see the crushed shards of these precious trinkets of yours by our next meeting. It is imperative that we know of the location of the next host. You have three days witch, make it count.”

 

Abruptly Ethos ended the meeting with much gusto, his sight returned back to the wooden confines of the confessional as the console in front of him disappeared. The Lord Chaplain contemplated in silence on the revolting meetings that he had to endure to complete his mission and thought of a new regimen for his penance that included additional fasting with ritual devotions to the primarch and emperor. Still it was in earnest that he needs to complete his sacred task for the 41st millennia was about to close. It was also the deadline by the foul chaos gods on a minor faction of the word bearers to complete the gene spell. Whereas the outcome would either lead to their end or salvation, for even if one host was to complete their quota of geneseed sacrifice the spell called, The doom of Guilliman’s blood, would be complete.

 

A soft alarm echoed in his hidden room it was almost time for the evening service. He gathered up his strength and mentally prepared his sermon for the battle brothers and chapter serfs who would be attending tonight’s service. Wishing nothing more than the total success of their mission, he left his private office for the main chapel found at the very heart of the ancient warship.

[astartes88]

very good! For a second i thought this was mainly a chaos sided story but alas that dread was not realised. Must say a interesting idea you have i hope to see it grow. However when referring the Emperor always use capital E same for Imperium.

[moxkaze]

Thank you for the comments, will try to make the next release even better :(

[huffstarBaallocks]

(Greetings brothers here is my own personal interpretation on the inceptors, criticisms and advise are welcome. I do hope that this would turn out as an enjoyable story. )

 

 

Hunters of the First

 

Wearied eyes opened to a sudden torrent of pain, something sharp stabbed the living daylight back into an imprisoned astartes. Stripped of his armor, his captors found it amusing to stab him with a rusted blade in an unscarred portion of his chest, just above his beating hearts. Rising from the depths of unconsciousness, he would have screamed in rage if his parched mouth was not gagged by a heavy cloth that tasted of old blood and foul dirt.

 

By his own estimate, it has been days in this hot and emperor forsaken chamber. He was tortured heavily by sharp metal implements that burrowed deep into his black carapace and into raw flesh, leaving blasphemous ritual markings all over the front of his body. He would have wished that he had already died during the onslaught of the word bearers legion, after they fell on their patrol back at Orewell IX. His company, the glorious 5th from the White Consuls chapter was tasked with the sacred duty of bringing a rebellious mining world back into the imperium’s fold. All seems well that day after a weeks worth of uphill battles in the arid world capital, they were beginning to mop up for any rebel remnants before the arrival of relief elements from an imperial guard taskforce with an attached army of Administratum adepts who would glady pickup up the pieces after they quit the said world.

 

But all that seems like a lifetime ago and he does not know if his company was successful in quelling the chaos filth that now fills his eyes, all he remembered was his squad sergeant was able to lob a few krak grenades at a rushing chaos terminator, who in turn smashed the head of his sergeant to pieces using a large blunt weapon carved with a demonic icon, then being wounded and dragged into the maw of a warp portal along with two other neophyte battle brothers who were recently promoted like himself in their tactical marine squad.

 

Each sorry symbol on his flesh was a scarred reminder of the contempt that his captors have for his existence. For each torturous interval he was tied countless times to a granite post and flagellated heavily at his back as not to ruin the insidious text on his front. Then scalding or icy cold water, depending on the malice of his captors was splashed over his wounds before they clothed.

 

Lately he had been dosing in and out of consciousness due to the prolonged tortures and loss of blood. Trying his best to activate the sus-an membrane to no avail, either he still lack the experience to use it or his infernal captors have a way of disabling this emperor given gift of his. He prayed deeply in himself for a chance that the emperor may deliver him in his mercy every time he wakes up or falls into the stupor of fatigue. As the tortures continue he mentally recites the catechisms of his proud chapter to keep him sane and generously hating the traitors before him.

 

As the hours drag on to an eternity of pain, he was dragged by the neck by unforgiving chains that almost choked him to death on each mighty pull and bounded by unimaginably heavy adamantium shackles at the wrist and ankles, he was lead out of the accursed torture chamber into the pitch black recesses of stone corridors, bearably able to accommodate the full height of an astartes but wide enough for three to four men to march through abreast. Lead by the dark hooded forms of unarmored word bearers, each step he took was cumbersome due to the heavy iron balls chained to his feet. He could now hear the profane ritual chanting all around him as he was dragged further into the bowls of an evenly blasphemous ritual chamber, lighted by side torches with an unusually high vaulted ceiling. Marbled walls inscribed by gold letterings of foul symbols, incense stank with the mixture of blood and death. The place was filled at the sides by a circled formation of forty armored warriors in the dark crimson and gunmetal livery of the Word Bearers traitor legion, while eight that includes the two dragging him on are dressed in dark crimson robes with gun metal trims. In the center of it all was an elevated rust colored marble platform, inlaid with gold at the sides inscribed by the same hideous text that now scar his battered form. A large dark slab of rock elevated neatly by a pile of skulls sit atop this platform, some human others alien to his sight or simply shattered under it gruesome weight.

 

Encumbered by his restraints, he tried to resist but was surrounded and restrained by the robbed world bearers. The iron balls discarded, as they carried him off his feet towards the top of the platform, while still resisting their stone hard grip. The slab was fashioned into an obscene altar dedicated to the dark gods of chaos, as he can see from the sides on his approach the discarded scarred rotting corpses of two astartes with their chests and necks ritually opened. Now he knows what had come of the two battle brothers that were also captured along side him. Strangely the corpses were in an advance state of decay for him to make out their identities. His shackles where then secured on clamps found on the altar slab, the stone was sticky and rancid with the fouled blood of its untold victims over millennia that seemed to burn to the touch as if the tortured souls of the sacrifices cry out for release. The robbed figures surrounded him in a circle and joined the unnatural chanting of their armored brethren afterwards he began to loose consciousness once more.

 

***

 

On his reawakening the gag on his mouth was removed, it did not sit well for him as twelve new figures surround him in the devious forms of tusked chaos terminator armour, among their number includes the chaos terminator who lead the assault on his squad, still bears the same large demonic icon in a devoted grasp. The only reminder of the assault that can be seen on the chaos warrior was a cracked eye piece which he sports like a badge of dark honour and was quick to discern that this is the hosts icon bearer.

 

Still restrained, he tried to look around and found that the same forty chaos marines still surround the chamber chanting their incoherent blasphemy to the fell gods and the eight hooded figures now surround the base of the altar chanting a different set of fell words that seem to blend with the other chant in an infernal harmony.

 

Amidst the din of the chanting the largest of the chaos terminators came forward and directly faced the loyalist marine. Scripts from the book of Lorgar written on human flesh hang sparingly at the shoulder guards. The armour was heavily ornate with the legions iconography and was constantly reworked with the best material available. Spikes struck above the terminator’s backplate showing off a collection of helmets and skulls of fallen foes. Some were human, astartes, eldar, tau, ork and a lone tyrannid lictor. It was the dark apostle of the word bearer host, sporting an accursed crozius and held this bastardized symbol of office in a ritual stance over the bounded body of the white consul.

 

This one time chaplain was a spiritual officer who instills disciple and honour amongst the ranks of the XVII legion during the great crusade. Now he and his brethren of Dark Apostles lead the countless legionnaires of Lorgar in their long war against the imperium of man and their twisted worship over the warp-spawned chaos gods with an unrivaled fanaticism. The dark apostle that leads this host of traitors did not have his helmet on, as he whispered dark prayers over the rabble of the chanting. The white consul marine, filled with contempt tried to spit venom on the master of this dark host but found only a parched throat and pain as he made the effort. Only a low grunting sound was heard in his endeavor, bloodshot eyes of hate now focused towards the chief of his captors, causing the dark apostle to finally take notice of him and slapped him hard with the blunt end of the crozius to the face, causing some discolor to his already scarred left cheek.

 

A smile of malice born from countless millennia of total war and obedience to the dark powers came upon the fair yet almost lucid face of the dark apostle save for a devotional script tattoo on his left cheek taken from a passage in the final epistle of Lorgar, he finally spoke commandingly under the air of a majestic preacher of chaos, amidst the chanting and the stare of untold detestation by the White Consul before him,

 

“Brothers, we find our path of vengeance into completion upon the servants of the false emperor. Our numbers may have dwindled in the face of the enemy, but no greater glory of chaos can be achieved without a sound sacrifice in blood and devotion to our last breath. May we find strength in knowing that the gods of chaos smile upon us as we complete the last of the geneseed sacrifice in answer to our millennia old petition to wipe the galaxy clean of Guilliman’s blood. A blood sacrifice that would exceed the murder-make that befell on the misguided black and white consuls of old. May this remind them of their folly in striking a hand upon the favored servants of the dark gods and of the futility in serving a false emperor in face of the greater name of chaos!”

 

The chaos hosts paused with their chant and replied in unison:

 

“For Blessed Lorgar! For Chaos!”

 

They continued on with their vile chanting in renewed vigor and enmity towards their enemies as the air begin to sizzle, along with a dark wind blowing in an airless chamber, frost began to form on the walls as the chanting increased in fervor, the gold inlaid symbols around the chamber began to burst in flames as if the fell gods began the slow process of opening the gates of their warped domains to receive the latest offering of the word bearers.

 

From the high vaulted ceiling a thick mist began to form. Inside the mist grotesque silhouettes of winged creatures phased in and out of reality. The Dark Apostle raised his fell crozius over the chest of the sacrifice as the warp mist began to descend. The white consul, with all his strength; tried to trash his way free, but the metal bindings would not budge or spoil his position in face of the chaos warrior in his midst, the ritual scars on his body began to tingle in pain with an unholy acceptance to the proceedings of this dark ritual. Seeing the futility in his actions the loyalist marine finally whispered out from his cracked lips the words,

 

“Emperor preserve me!” as he braced his soul with courage for the coming doom.

 

***

 

A crackle of lightning began to disgorge upon the chamber, downing an armored chaos warrior to slag and plummeting two others across the chamber, A blinding portal of light emerged from the marbled wall and Astartes in black tactical dreadnought armour with blue trims emerged. Their amplified voices roared fiercely into the chamber like an angry tide of nature shouting the vox amplified words,

“Ora et Bellum!”

 

Their great weapons fired off bolts of vengeance upon their age old foes, who in turn with the same inhuman speed got to draw their weapons in retaliation, but not after ten of their number fell to bolter fire. Leading at the forefront of the loyalist deep strike is a space marine Chaplain in splendid dark artificer armour based from a blessed Mk IV plate; surged towards the center firing well aimed shots from his master crafted bolt pistol with his left hand, while griping his eagle winged crozius on his other hand which hummed deeply as the conversion field flickered to life, as his ancient skull helm glared into the forces of the enemy.

 

A terminator sergeant with a heavy flamer paced behind the chaplain, while the rest of the terminator combat squad marched a few paces behind them, as they fired rapid bolts of the emperor’s fury at their targets. A kraken bolter round from the Chaplain’s side arm grazed the check of the dark apostle who moved before mortal harm was to hit him, the bolt penetrated through the already cracked eye socket of a chaos terminator at his back, who happens to be the host icon bearer. The insides of the fallen terminator’s skull exploded within the confines of his helmet. Crashing with a mighty clang while still clutching the demonic icon dutifully in a death grip, the chaos marine’s blood and brain matter flowed out of the exposed eye socket. Causing the dark apostle to snarl in anger and engage the Chaplain, leaving the sacrifice still intact.

 

***

 

An orange wave of righteous flame cascaded upon the robed chaos marines who now held dark power blades hidden under their robes, but they were dead crisp in moments as the terminator sergeant fell upon them resulting in a wall of flame as their collective bodies burned in an improvised pyre. The loyalist sergeant then with the destructive force to atomize boulders sent his heavily ornate power fist down the face plate of a rampaging chaos terminator that burst through the wall of promethium flame. A titanic smash was heard over the hum of the archaic powerfist, as the machine spirit of the loyalist weapon screamed for the blood of the hated foe. The pinned chaos terminator able to withstand the rigors of drop pod deployments was momentarily dazed by the immense trauma inflicted to his head. Then with the speed of an apothecary’s carnifex, a small chain fist attachment sprang forth in a concealed compartment from the upper plating of the powerfist and whirled into life as it tore through the crushed faceplate with the high shrieked cry of retribution. Such is the hidden might of the ancient powerfist know as the “Fanged Flash” forged from pre-imperial technology which has been long forgotten by the adepts of Mars. The potency of the follow-up attacked was amplified further by the energy field of the powerfist to finish off the enemy. The word bearer still reeling from the initial blow did not have the time to react to this split second ordeal, with a dark grunt, another chaos terminator dropped to his fate at the cold granite floor with a pierced cranium.

 

The terminator sergeant reacting quickly to his autosenses turned to face another foul terminator of the dark host sporting numerous skulls dangling from the edges of his pauldron. The latest chaos warrior to face the loyalist was armed with an ornate storm shield laden with demonic iconography and a similarly decorated crimson power ax that can menacingly slice a power armored marine in half. The loyalist sergeant raised his heavy flamer with a streaming burst of fire; along with a vox amplified howl in answer to the challenge that he now faces, he then threw his heavy flamer’s reserve fuel canister at the chaos terminator’s torso, as his armoured foe rushed to his position. The chaos terminator swiftly sliced the fuel canister in half, as its highly pressurized promethium contents spilled forth, the chaos terminator noticed at the last instant a pair of armed krak grenades magnetically attached to the blind halves of the fuel canister as it turned in midair, while the terminator sergeant maintained to fired gouts of flame at his direction. The explosion that followed momentarily illuminated the battle ground which resulted in a super heated fireball that engulfed the chaos terminator.

 

 

The Dark Apostle and the Chaplain squared off, giving measure to each others form as the slaughter went on around them. Divided by faith and divided by the black and white lines of morality. The two warriors pummeled their crozius upon each stroke and counter stroke, in a macabre duel to the death. Their weapons power fields flicker in and out of existence as they tried to puncture the other to oblivion. Once locked in a struggle of strength, conversion fields crackled dangerously in an attempt to scorch their armoured forms, the servos of their ancient power armor screamed in pain as they wrestled to undo each other.

 

The leader of the word bearer host spoke in spite “You tire me with your antics false priest! Yield yourselves for after this night there will be none of your kin left to live.”

 

The loyalist Chaplain spat back, “There is no end to your lies foul traitor, even in defeat you tarry with your delusions of victory. Look around you fallen one, your lies and dark schemes are at an end. It is you and your insignificant host that should yield to the undying light of the emperor of mankind. Prepare yourselves as we vanquish you to the dark palaces of doom!”

 

As the two paladins of polar virtues fought on, the carnage around them was coming close to completion.

 

 

***

 

 

The combat squad of terminators ploughed their way towards the chaos band within their midst, still lead by their sergeant, who now sports dents and burn marks all over his terminator armour and kept on bellowing a constant stream of hot flame from his equally dented flame unit upon the chief traitors of the imperium. They were confronted head on by the remaining chaos terminators. Likened to the collision of battle tanks at war, these mighty warriors in heavy armour fought vigorously for the utter destruction of their foes. Shadows began to move in subtle succession in the grim dark recesses of the entrance way, enter the young scout marines laden with their deadly sniper rifles they aimed true and nicely done kills on their ancient foes. Backed by a cadre of sternguard marines they unleashed a deadly volley of vengeance bolter rounds and inferno bolts. Still exposed in the open the power armored word bearers were diminished in seconds.

 

Charred metal and flesh continued to burn in the dead silence of the chamber, the Chaplain stands over a dying Dark Apostle with his very own thrice blessed crozius deeply embedded in the traitor’s abdomen. The fell crozious of his opponent lay shattered and broken at his feet. Sparks spitted out of the exposed circuitry on the chaplain’s right thigh revealing punctured ceramite and a damaged augmetic leg were white smoke seem to seep out of its joints as internal backup systems kick in.

Dark blood flowed from the lips of the Dark Apostle who looks to be at peace and spoke in a weak silky voice, “This is unexpected, the visions from the chaos gods promised a slaughter deep in Guilliman’s blood, yet your kind came to diminish our thousand year efforts in a blink of an eye.”

 

The Dark Apostle gave a sharp look at the chaplain’s chapter symbol before replying again, “It is indeed quite the surprise to find out that you are the ones who oppose us at these crucial times. Also it is such a pity that those bastards of Alpharius did a very poor job in exterminating your line or are you all that’s left of that ragtag bunch of brattlings? Should have we’ve been informed correctly we could have come in to finish the job joyfully ourselves and offer up your geneseed to chaos.”

 

The Astartes Chaplain replied in an amplified hateful tone, “Silence! I gave you a few seconds of breath fallen one to reflect on your treachery, so that you will die knowing that your betrayal bears only the rewards of your own damnation. Know this that by your twisted teachings you have dragged your misguided followers to the death of the warp!”

 

The defeated chaos warrior only laughed in the outburst, “How foolish, spare your childhood propaganda to some other legion. Not ours, in Lorgar’s holy name… I take my rest…”

 

The Dark Apostle took his last look into life and closed his eyes for all time. His ancient body and ornate terminator armour crumbled to dust in seconds. The chaplain tried to sense for any remorse from his enemies soul as he expired and sensed none. Truly the warp has already claimed the dark apostle’s soul ages ago. Examining the ashes the Chaplain retrieved his badly used crozious and a small pouch made from human skin etch with blasphemous scripts, looking inside he found a few exquisite gems of different colors that gave off an eerie glow in the dim light. From experience the Chaplain quickly discarded the pouch and collected the gems and deposited them in an empty ammo compartment in his armour.

 

The terminator sergeant approached the Chaplain to report, “Lord Chaplain Ethos the warriors of the archenemy have been vanquished and our battle brothers are now securing the perimeter. Only one serious injury reported, but he will live to fight again in the emperor’s name. The rest of the squads are only reporting for some light wounds and armour integrity damage. Your command, lord?”

 

Ethos summoned his HUD display with the speed of thought and found the information that he needed. After communing with the machine spirit of his armour, which in turn communed with the other machine spirits of the rest of his command. One of the sternguard marines lost the lower half of the right arm due to a misfire from a vengeance round. Much care must be ensured in the future when using such volatile rounds as he mentally made a note on this matter. Next he saw that the rest of his force were securing the perimeter in an overlay map of the area of operation showing the icons of each power armoured brother, save for the scouts who reported in on their status over the chapter’s voxnet. It only took less than a minute to get all the tactical information he needed before speaking again.

 

“Veteran Sergeant Haraldr, take the scouts and some of the men to begin standard disposal procedures. As for the brother on the altar, take him down and identify for any corruption. Let’s do this quick within the hour before extraction.”

 

***

 

Once released from the damnable restraints the weakened white consul fell into a deep sleep, and was meticulously examined for any taint of corruption before being provided with medical assistance by his rescuers. He identified himself as Gaius Cicero and was much pleased when his power armour was recovered along with the rest of his deceased brethrens wargear after undergoing extensive purification rites. A day later he was debriefed by chaplain Ethos, aboard the strike cruiser, Turbulent. The chaplain’s private office was like a damp dungeon filled with shelved books, lighted dimly by electro candles and adorned by banners showing victorious events from the chapter’s history. Brother Gaius stood at attention in a simple white robe before the spartan desk of Lord Chaplain Ethos who was sporting a thick black robe with the rosarius of his office chained to his neck.

 

“Allow me to formally great you to the hospitality of my chapter, young brother. I apologize for the scrutiny but we can never be too cautions in matters concerning chaos. My name is Lord Chaplain Ethos Van and we trust that your stay here has been pleasant and once we are underway we can drop you off to the nearest Administratum base so that you may begin your journey home.”

 

The white consul smoothly interjected as if on queue, “Forgive me brother chaplain, but may I know the name of your distinguished chapter? I am not familiar with your heraldry and also may I know in which part of the imperium are we located?”

 

The Lord Chaplain smiled at the spunk of the white consul, as he gazed upon the chapter’s banner hanging above the door, it was three white mullets arranged in an equilateral triangle formation pointing upwards in a blue escutcheon.

 

“The current location we are at is near the abandoned world of Delta Rho 510 in segmentum ultima, near the Maelstrom. You were found at the said world during an operation done by my chapter to thwart the plans of the world bearers. As for our name it would be best to keep it secret for it would be better that the archenemy does not know of our existence in the event of any untoward… situations.”

 

Gaius looked at the Lord Chaplain’s facial features as he talked, which was very much the grizzled old veteran of countless wars with lots of old facial scarring accentuated by the fact that his whole head is hairless plus two service studs adorned his left forehead. His aquiline nose also stands out with his deep set blue eyes. Compared to his features he was pretty much the fresh rookie with a litany of questions to ask, with an air of calm and the verbal precision of a politician he asked again,

 

“The maelstrom? Remarkable, I was in Orewell IX when I was captured and that world was a subsector away from the Cadian gate. Truly the archenemy is quite fiendish in their ways and it was a blessing from the emperor that your brethren was in time to foil their folly. For that I am in your debt brother chaplain. I will not forgo in knowing your great chapters name anymore but would you indulge me to know more about your operation?”

 

The Lord Chaplain clenched his jaw at Gaius’ attempt to gain more intelligence on the situation. “Unfortunately brother it is a need to know basis, be assured that what we are doing is for the good of all and the destruction of chaos. To add you are still years too young to master diplomacy, and light years from Sabatine. I recommend that we make haste to drop you… ‘off’ as soon as possible to the nearest friendly base so that your chapter will not miss you long.”

 

Gaius made another retort and apologized to the Lord Chaplain telling him that he did not mean to be offensive only that he wanted to know more about the ways of his generous hosts. Lord Chaplain Ethos cut him short in a stern tone,

 

“Young brother, I may not look like it but at the end of the millennium a third service stud will be awarded to me and it is a product of my unwavering faith in the emperor. Kindly note that to have such a faith is to have honour and discipline as its primary components, so try to honour your betters and show discipline even when you are not on the battlefield. Who knows if you keep it up you may get three or more service studs in the future”.

 

Brother Gaius was then dismissed and invited to join their evening service at the ships main chapel should he want to know more about their ways.

 

***

 

After dismissing the white consul and locking his private office from the inside, Lord Chaplain Ethos walked to the right most bookshelf. Here lies a section of books steep in high level Xenos study and imperial tactica against these foul beings that are only allowed to be read by the upper echelons of the imperium. Anyone lower than a general will be shot should they read such restricted lore, exceptions to the rule imposed on these rare editions would still fall on members of the mechanicum elite, inquisition and the astartes. Normally his unit is more attuned in hunting against traitor marines, but it would never hurt to know more against such an unexpected enemy. He half pulled a thin unnamed volume from a collection of books on how to combat orcs, which are already gathering molds from misuse.

 

A soft clank was heard and the whole section of books lowered to the floor showing a hidden room, the electro candles inside flickered to life. The room is furnished with a weapons locker, an enclosed armour rack, a comms terminal and at the center a wooden confessional box made from rare nalwood. Compared to the items in this room the confessional box seems to be the latest addition to this secret chamber. The aged warrior entered the confession box and flicked a hidden switch inside, that in turn opened a console with arcane controls. One of those controls involved in hermetically sealing the room. Even the strongest psyker scans will not be able to scan the contents of the room while the controls are active. His vision seem to blur as if reality began to warp itself. Except for the control console everything around him fell apart, liken to a breaking mirror, reveling a white tunnel with a crimson robbed hologram bowing infront of him. Ethos let out a breath of annoyance,

 

“Enough with the theatrics witch I come here to trade for vital information.”

 

The robbed figure faced him and spoke in a strange feminine imperial gothic accent, the words are correct but somewhat slurred and the stresses used in pronouncing the words were way off.

 

“Salutations… ‘human’… I trust your sojourn was a success, may I see the required items for trade.”

 

The Lord Chaplain showed the jewels taken from the Dark Apostle to the figure in front of him. He deposited half of the jewels into a white glowing circle about the size of a space marine’s fist at the center of the console. After some moments the robbed figure showed her hand holding the now glowing gems in the projection,

 

“Excellent the rest of the trade will be made once we have divined your foes next move by the end of one human lunar cycle. See to it that the remaining items are still secured by then.”

The space marine chaplain bellowed, “Hold your tongue witch you are in no position to dictate the terms. We need the information at once, have it ready by the end of three terran solar days or see the crushed shards of these precious trinkets of yours by our next meeting. It is imperative that we know of the location of the next host. You have three days witch, make it count.”

 

Abruptly Ethos ended the meeting with much gusto, his sight returned back to the wooden confines of the confessional as the console in front of him disappeared. The Lord Chaplain contemplated in silence on the revolting meetings that he had to endure to complete his mission and thought of a new regimen for his penance that included additional fasting with ritual devotions to the primarch and emperor. Still it was in earnest that he needs to complete his sacred task for the 41st millennia was about to close. It was also the deadline by the foul chaos gods on a minor faction of the word bearers to complete the gene spell. Whereas the outcome would either lead to their end or salvation, for even if one host was to complete their quota of geneseed sacrifice the spell called, The doom of Guilliman’s blood, would be complete.

 

A soft alarm echoed in his hidden room it was almost time for the evening service. He gathered up his strength and mentally prepared his sermon for the battle brothers and chapter serfs who would be attending tonight’s service. Wishing nothing more than the total success of their mission, he left his private office for the main chapel found at the very heart of the ancient warship.

[moxkaze]

Running Time

 

Deep in jungle foliage under the glow of the stars the 8th Coterie of the Word Bearers 89th host were making a sortie, leading the squad was, Garuda a large aspiring chaos champion, wielding a relic chain axe and an ornate plasma pistol bequeathed from the previous leader of the squad who died an inglorious death at the hands of the vile Eldar. As Garuda mused on his former leader, and only thought of one word: weakling.

 

The Word Bearer, only a few centuries old, was far stronger compared to the veteran he replaced and has a taller stature compared to most of his dark brethren. Disregarding the memory of his one time leader, who apparently was a survivor of the Word Bearers force that assaulted Calth thousands of years ago.

 

Getting the scent of his quarry which was distinctly astartes, the foot prints left were light compared to the impressions left by anyone from their numbers, a space marine scout. He stopped to get the taste of the air as his Neuroglottis gland went on overdrive to help track his prey. From his experience in hunting for the gene spell sacrifices the target seems to generate a scent similar to Guilliman’s massed produced brats. A grin fell on his spotless face for they were near the target, as their power armour enhanced speed consumed the distance between them and the hapless scout marine.

 

Garuda, was enamoured with a renewed blood lust, for he knew for a fact that there was no need to capture the intruder alive, the host already has more than enough sacrifices to complete the gene spell. Questions on why an enemy scout is here will just have to follow later, after the kill. They now passed a clump of trees to his right, without checking his surroundings he pressed on the activation rune of his chain axe and raised it up in frenzied excitement. The blood hungry weapon whirled into life as the scout marine was now visible for a viable strike.

 

Garuda shouted as the rest of his Coterie where sprinting after him in a loose wedge formation, “For Blessed Lorgar and a new skull for the skull throne!”

 

Instead of hearing the normal response from his squad, a mass of bolter fire erupted from the trees on his right as the pursuing Corterie was enfiladed. Garuda sensing the ambush left his pursuit of the scout, who seemed to have vanished without a trace.

 

Enraged and humbled, he blurted out a short prayer to the four chaos powers for their blessing and dashed towards the direction of fire as his ancient Mark III armour pumped a cocktail of combat drugs into his system. There was nothing else to explain in his lapse of leadership, nor for the waste of good warriors under his command. There was only the simple need to collect a payment of loyalist blood for his mistakes.

 

***

Leading the loyalist ambush was Brother-Sergeant Anselm Junol, commander of the sternguard combat squad, an established veteran of many campaigns against the forces of chaos, He was the first to spot the rampaging Word Bearer, who was firing off bolts of superheated plasma from a pre-heresy Mars pattern plasma pistol at their flank. Ducking a shot that was intended for his chest, he laid low on the foliage as he prepared his chain sword and bolt pistol to meet the chaos brute on his terms.

 

He then voxed the marine near him, “Barin, give me covering fire at three o’clock!”

 

Disregarding the insulting nickname christened to him by the Inceptors, Brother Gaius of the White Consuls dispensed the Emperor’s rage on the incoming foe, as his bolter barked rounds of blessed ammunition made from the machine forges of Sabatine.

 

The World Bearer stopped in his tracks as a hail of bolter fire raked his armour, the resulting injuries were light due to the tech sorcery implemented by the dark mechanicus who maintain his equipment and not by some lowly tech slave as the lower rankers have to live with. He then pressed forward on his assault, with a new target in mind.

 

Brother Gaius cursed under his breath as the Word Bearer charged towards his position, while his bolter rounds made no serious injury on his target as if he was firing on a chaos terminator. Even the tree that he was using for cover was already burning and dotted with plasma burn markings. He then dispensed a handful of frag micro grenades from the grenade dispenser on his belt and threw it all at the direction of the chaos marine.

 

After a few solid impacts and amidst the smoke, he saw the chaos marine on his knees with heavy dents on his armour. The Word Bearer discarded his damaged helm, revealing a pristine face with distinct features from the gene inheritance of the traitor Primarch Lorgar and a bloodied nose. Gaius, raised his bolter for the killing shot, but found that his bolter was jammed. The Chaos warrior then took noticed of the situation and quickly raised his plasma pistol for a shot aimed at the White Consul’s head.

 

Before the shot could happen, a chain sword swooped down to chop the gauntleted hand off the joint from the Word Bearer , as his head exploded like a ripe grapefruit, from a bolter round to the head. Brother Sergeant Junol, whose ebony mark VII plate now drenched in the gore, stylized by the blue trims of his armour, raised his bloodied chainsword in salute at Brother Gaius direction, while standing over the remains of the traitor marine.

 

***

Another ambush ended swiftly as Brother Gauis and the initial force of the Inceptors drove on board a pair of Razorbacks. This time around he had switched his regular bolter ammo with kraken pattern penetrator rounds provided by Brother Sergeant Junol. The results were immediate as he gunned down chaos marines more efficiently compared to the ones issued by his chapter.

 

It was the third Coterie that they have neutralized and based on the intelligence of the scouts it was the last of the night patrols deployed by the World Bearers. So if their estimates are right they still have seven or more squads to destroy. The Razorback that he was on belonged to the strenguard marines. While the other one was for the use of the scout squad. Sitting beside Brother Sergeant Junol , he was asked by an Inceptor in mark IV power armour facing him on the opposite side of the Razorback.

 

“So Brother Gaius, how goes your stay with us?” Not sure if it was a genuine question of concern or meant as a jest due to the distortion made by their vox communications.

 

The White Consul replied curtly, “It was fair, brother.”

 

“Fair?, Ha! Hear that brother Ignis, the young brother hear speaks of fair. Wait till you get your Grog rations, let’s see if you like it.” A chuckle was heard over the squad level voxnet.

 

“Oh pipe down Ulfr,” voxed the marine in mark VII plate sitting near to left of the rear exit ramp, who happens to be the heavy bolter specialist of the squad.

 

Looking slightly at Brother Sergeant Junol, Gaius did not sense any reaction at the slight ill discipline of the sergeant’s charges.

“What is ...Grog?” asked the White Consul to Brother Ulfr.

 

“You will find out barin, soon enough. Once you do, you’ll wish that it was part of a codex prescribed diet.”

 

The Razorback did an abrupt stop, as Brother Sergeant Junol addressed the squad, “Brothers we are now on objective Omega, you know of your places as previously briefed.”

 

He paused for awhile as he looked at some members of his squad, which includes Ulfr and Gaius, “Also keep your heads down when we move out, and may the Emperor preserve us. Fall out!”

 

The rear exit ramp opened up as the space marines fanned out in the cover of darkness. The same went also with the other Razorback as its payload of scout marines rushed forth. What looms in front of them still hidden in the dense jungle is the chaos temple defended by the despicable sons of Lorgar.

 

***

 

Inside a nebula, located at the north-eastern galactic fringes, lies an unnamed system with a dwarf blue sun. Orbiting the darkside of the lone moon of the fifth planet of this system, is a jet black hulled warship arrayed with sleek blue linings, this ship and its deadly contents heralds the doom of all who opposes against the emperor of mankind and his loyal agents. The Turbulent, an ancient astartes strike cruiser stealthy entered the system edges some ten hours ago, like a feline hunter stalking its prey. On the command throne sits Lord Chaplain Ethos Van, wearing a stern black robe with his rosarius chained to his neck brooding over the recent events that have affected their mission. It is has been a month and a half since he got a lead on the next host and three months left before the year is out, much of their time wasted in confirming on the initial intelligence provided by his xenos informant.

 

Through the ancient intelligence network established by their chapter with rouge trader families, astrophatic facilities and a few favours raised on allied imperial worlds they were able to counter verify the location of their next area of operation. They are to attack a chaos temple found on a jungle rich moon, orbiting the fifth planet of this unnamed system. Compared to the moon that they are to assault the fifth planet is a dead ammonia rich ice world.

 

An unhelmed astartes in full plate terminator armour entered the bridge room and gave a salute to the Lord Chaplain. The previous burn marks and dents to his armour already repaired weeks ago, his armour devoid of any company marking, sports a fresh spotless dull black paint with blue trims and to his left shoulder guard it proudly bears the chapter symbol of the Inceptors, a blue escutcheon with three white mullets arranged in an equilateral triangle pointing upwards.

 

As for his face, it sported fair blue eyes and classical features inherited from the geneseed of their beloved primarch, Roboute Guilliman. The difference he bears like a few of his brethren is that he sports an unkempt crop of sandy gray hair that covers his two service studs plus a short beard. A decorum slightly tolerated by the chapter from initiates recruited from the snow covered steppes of the great northern wilderness of their chapter planet.

 

“Haldr, what have you to report?” The Lord Chaplain commanded as he was interrupted in his thoughts.

 

“Lord Chaplain, our battle brothers are ready as they will ever be, but I do wish that we can replenish our ranks first before we go after the chaos filth. Since we are pretty near the East Edge sector and I’m sure a quick stop at a chapter outpost to resupply would definitely lighten everyone’s spirits. As for the matter concerning the barin, can he really be trusted?” The veteran sergeant replied.

 

“Unfortunately our ranks are spread too thin these days brother, as you well know logistics is not in our side at this time given the great distance we travel in search of the archenemy’s minions. Rest assured that we will get the needed reinforcements once we do get near the chapter home world. All we have to rely now is on ourselves and in the Emperor.”

 

The Veteran Sergeant anticipated the first response, in the past they have indeed been greatly reduced to small numbers but managed to acquit themselves above expectations due to sound tactics and experienced leadership. Still their current force is now quite small to engage even the smallest of Word Bearer hosts. Then he began to brace for the second reply to his other query.

 

“You know well that the young brother from the White Consuls swore a personal death oath in front of us all after one of my evening services, he will be loyal unto death within my command of the Hunters of the First and his vows of secrecy hardened by sacred oaths to the primarch and the Emperor above.”

 

Upon making the death oath, Lord Chaplain Ethos, clearly stated that the White Consul would very much be on a short leash, and any infraction deemed intolerable would result in death by firing squad and his geneseed never to return to his chapter.

 

“The brothers and I have my doubts on his sincerity lord, for he was quick to jump into something that he does not fully understand. He may be plotting something from the scenes or just plain naive, it would be best to confine him to quarters for the duration of this assault until we can get some level of trust from him.”

 

The Lord Chaplain with calmness still etched in his face, raised his palm in a classical pose for Haldr to stop, the Veteran Sergeant said no more and nodded respectfully as he knows pushing the issue any further would be a bad idea at that point.

After a few seconds of silence, Ethos said at last,

 

“Good to know that I will not have to repeat myself, since you have a keen interest with the White Consul, I am asking you to keep an eye on him. Now brother, assemble the men in thirty minutes time at drop pod bay two, we have the Emperor’s work upon us. ”

 

***

 

Gaius was now beside brother Ignis, next to him was brother Cneus, who wields a combi melta. As for brother Ulfr positioned his missile launcher at the other side of the temple with the other half of the combat squad. Looking out he could see pairs of Word Bearers patrolling the eight layered stone ziggurat. Some gun emplacements were also present, but were not that impressive to offer an effective deterrent.

 

“Steady now brothers, the hammer of the emperor is about to strike.” Voxed Brother Sergeant Junol.

 

A krak missile hit the east temple entrance and exploded with a spectacular blast as smoke billowed out from the entrance. Like a nest of angry hornets, the World Bearers filled out of the west temple entrance, only to be picked off by sniper fire from the scout marines, but those who get past are gunned down by bolter fire from the sternguard marines and supporting fire from the Razorbacks with lascannons and twinlink bolter fire.

 

Then the drop pods came, falling in before the stone steps of the temple causing a slight disruption in the enemy’s battle lines. The first to come out was the assault terminator combat squad lead by Brother Sergeant Varinus with the chapter banner implanted to his backplate.

 

They roared the words, “Ora et Bellum!”

 

As their reinforced storm shields were used to smite rushing foes and thunder hammers readily used to finish them off.

Deployed with them is Jokullon "The Elder" sporting the deep blue paint of a terminator librarian, save for the left shoulder guard that bears the chapter’s symbol. Warp fire engulfed all of the chaos marines that come in close proximity to him. He will also not hesitate to use his warp strengthen force staff to strike those who are found to be wanting.

 

Next came the vanguard marines, lead by Brother Sergeant Bragir "the dark howl" armed with lightning claws and the rest of his combat squad armed with an assortment of close combat power weapons that the armoury of the Turbulent can spare.

Assisted by their mighty jump packs, they flew in and out of the thickest concentrations of chaos marines or from the gun nests of enemy heavy weapons teams. They are like a dark scythe harvesting weeds for the fires of damnation and in their passing are the mangle remains of Word Bearer dead as their squad leader howled into the night.

 

***

 

Finally the terminators of Veteran Sergeant Haldr came into play, still lead by Lord Chaplain Ethos they made their way towards the temple entrance, slaughtering all that opposes them. Once inside it only took them under an hour to control the chaos temple after destroying the last pockets of resistance and traps hastily laid out by the Word Bearers.

 

Still the success of the assault was paid for by the valiant blood of loyal astartes, the Inceptors reported three casualties and five serious injuries that would cause sometime for Apothecary Voss to patch them up. Months if need be to rehabilitated the heavily wounded, where regular humans would have died out right from the extent of the wounds. One of the dead was brother Ulfr, who was cut down in half by a chaos aspiring champion’s demon blade, even after shielding himself with his newly installed augmetic arm from the previous mission.

 

So far they found dozens of wargear from different Ultramarine decent chapters and from the Utramarines themselves. These are the remains of the previous astartes sacrifices made by the Word Bearer host. The gear they collected will be reused once deemed free of taint by Techmarine Svenson "Ironcraft" who later joined in from the Turbulent, aboard a thunderhawk transporter to collect the Razorbacks and the drop pods. What they also found at the central chamber of the temple infuriated the Lord Chaplain.

 

“A warp portal! Those inbred dogs are damnable to the very end!” As Lord Chaplain Ethos paced around the portal chamber and kicked a defaced World Bearer helm to the other side of the chamber which resounded with an echoing clang.

 

The Librarian Jokullon presented himself forward, “Lord Chaplain Ethos, may I be of assistance.”

 

It was not a question but rather a statement as the aged librarian touched one of the stone columns supporting the warp portal and after sometime he laughed out loud. The rest of the assembled command staff of the Inceptors immediately raised their weapons in alarm at the Librarian for the possibility of warp possession.

 

Jokullon raised his hands for the rest of his brethren to calm down as he spoke, “Apologies brothers, I know I have been most aloof at times, but it has been a long time for something this rich to come out.”

 

“Well?” inquired the hulking Varinus, still not letting an eye off the librarian.

 

“The warp portal you see is actually not a long distance connection as you all thought, but rather a short one and quite necessary.” Replied the librarian.

 

“Explain, for our patience is thin” glared the Lord Chaplain.

 

With a curt bow to the Lord Chaplain, Jokullon said “The warp portal that you see is actually connected to a temple located deep into the fifth planet’s surface. This is the only way in and out of the temple. Unless any of you wish to dig into miles of frozen ammonia be my guest. Conjuring a stable portal this size is quite an effort unto itself. It would suggest that the Dark Apostle leading this host is well connected with the chaos powers. “

 

“When you mean stable brother librarian, it means anyone can go in and out?” asked Haldr

 

“That is correct Veteran Sergeant, but most likely the host already knows of our presence and has prepared a warm welcome on the other side.” replied the librarian.

 

***

 

After a brief planning the Hunters of the First sent their only pair of thunder fire cannons over the portal, lead by Techmarine Svenson and his retinue of combat servitors, along with two servo skulls that can provide a live data feed to the Techmarine.

Mayhem followed as the thunder fire cannons coughed out their load of deadly antipersonnel shells, on the ambushing squad of chaos terminators and their accompanying detachment of power armoured Word Bearers. The chaos marines made short work of the combat servitors, but only to be annihilated by cannon fire. One servo skull got a direct hit while the other one was able to get out of the portal chamber to provide additional intel on the other side.

 

The surviving terminators from the Inceptors force stepped into the portal once the ammo of the thunder fire cannons have been expended. Veteran Sergeant Haldr took point followed by Sergeant Varinus,

 

“Brother Sergeant Varinus, let me soften them up for you. For I hear you like to mash chaos marines best when they are served hot “.

 

Haldr’s great heavy flamer erupted as searing hot flames washed over the chaos terminators and in the wake of the fires came the loyalist assault terminators charging forth with their thunder hammers to dish out the vengeance of the Emperor on his foes.

 

As Sergeant Varinus swiftly finished a downed a chaos terminator with a mighty blow to the head, he voxed a reply to Haldr before setting on a new target to destroy, “Much obliged brother, much obliged.”

 

The rest of Haldr’s squad brothers set up a firing line, lead by his second in command, brother Eligius who was just fresh out of the infirmary and was not able to partake in the last operation of the Inceptors on Delta Rho 510.

 

He had a lot of time on his hands to recuperate, contemplate and most importantly build up his reservoir of hate upon the traitors to bursting. Armed with his menacing terminator assault cannon, Eligius lead the firing rites as his thrice blessed weapon unloaded its deadly payload, while the rest of the squad fired gouts of righteous anger from their equally blessed storm bolters.

 

Deep in the caverns of the chaos temple that lies buried under tons of frozen ammonia, the surviving servo skull swooped fast and low to avoid detection from any Word Bearer patrols, using a special gene sniffer attachment to its nasal cavity it was getting close on its objective. On its last swift turn it caught a pic image of two bloodied astartes scouts laid on wooden racks like meat drying out in the sun.

 

It was the last recording gathered from the data feed as link was abruptly destroyed in a flash of warpfire.

 

***

 

Back at the other side of the warp portal, Techmarine Svenson stepped back with his Thunderfire cannons to inform the Lord Chaplain on the data that he was able to decipher from the data feed provided by the lost servo skull. Lord Chaplain Ethos immediately dispatched the Sternguard marines with him and left librarian Jokullon to command their reserve. Like a plummeting juggernaut Lord Chaplain Ethos and the five remaining sternguards, that included Brother Gaius of the White Consuls made a beeline as the loyalist terminators provided covering fire as best as they can.

 

The pursuing World Bearers where stopped at the chamber exit by Veteran Sergeant Haldr and Sergeant Varinus as their battered terminator armour braced the bolter barrage of their foes, for none of the Word Bearers can get near them as they are immediately downed by the pair’s martial strength.

 

Rushing with the best speed that their ancient power armour can provide the Inceptors lead by Lord Chaplain Ethos was now nearing the last known location of the recently downed servo skull. Strangely they were not challenged at each turn they faced. Steeling themselves the further they go, only fell shadows greeted them where an enemy would have turned out.

Upon reaching the dimly lit chamber the Inceptors fanned out to get to the best firing positions in the event of an ambush. Lord Chaplain Ethos was the one to inspect the astartes scouts as the rest secured the perimeter.

 

Brother Gaius was deeply angered at what he saw around him, from the stench of the room, littered torture implements, and the blasted heat from nearby furnaces that provided the only form of illumination in the area, for it all reminded him of the ordeal he had once endured at the hands of these traitor marines.

 

The first scout that Lord Chaplain Ethos approached in the Word Bearer torture chamber was in a sorry state. Frothing with rage as an iron emblem of the eight pointed star of chaos was embedded on his forehead. Unable to speak for his tongue was already cut off, his blood clothed body was shaking in his restraints. Bloodied eyes were in delirium and unfocused as Ethos gazed at the scout marine through the lenses of his grim skull mask.

 

Giving the scout marine a quick benediction, Lord Chaplain Ethos gave the Emperor’s peace with a bolter round to the head. The other scout marine also tied to another rack was in a better shape compared to his companion even though he too suffered heavy scarring on his body from previous tortures and had a gag over his mouth. He was somewhat immaculate in his restraints and waited for his freedom.

 

***

 

As the second scout was released, unearthly howls of pain were heard from the depths of the entrance way, followed by an unholy shroud of darkness that enveloped the torture chamber. The enhanced senses of the astartes were quick to identify the semi deformed shapes that were rushing towards them. It was the kind of enemy that was reviled and deemed unworthy to exist by the astartes.

 

“Moral threat! Stand firm my brothers and give no quarter. Look to the Primarch and Emperor for strength and thank them well for the chance to destroy such abominations.” shouted Lord Chaplain Ethos to the men.

 

It was a squad of possessed chaos marines. Their leader was a pink skinned parody of a space marine. He was bulgingly fat, skin sizzling with burning fat and pus. Pincer like arms mutated largely out of proportioned from his fatty bulk, as if they can smash a space marine in any engagement. He was then followed by another possessed marine who mutated with a snake like visage that spewed out balls of warp fire and has four clawed tentacles for arms.

 

The Inceptors wasted no time and unloaded their weapons on the rushing foes as their autosenses went into full gear. Because if one of them where to slip past the entrance it would become a tough fight for their lives. Brother Ignis was the first to fire a salvo of deadly inferno bolts on the rushing possessed marines from his heavy bolter and immediately downing the first kill as one of the possessed took in the full weight of his opening salvo.

 

Second to fire was brother Flollo with his combi-meltagun that quickly silenced the snake like chaos marine with a melta shot between the eyes. Only to be thrown off with an immense force, as if he was a rag doll by the rushing possessed chaos marine champion with the overly large pincers. Suffering a crack skull and ribs on impact on the far side of the torture chamber, he went into a self induced comma as his body begins its healing process, narrowly missing the scalding hot entrance of the largest furnace that can easily accommodate his bulk.

 

Taking up the challenge, Lord Chaplain Ethos smote the possessed brute, which had little effect as the fatty skin of the possessed Word Bearer seemed to have absorbed the lethal blow of the Lord Chaplain’s shimmering Crozius. The Crozius now lies embedded in the gut of the possessed chaos warrior as Ethos struggled to retrieve it while its conversion field flickered for release. The possessed champion then took the Crozius from the Lord Chaplain’s grip and raised him by the neck with his other mutated pincer and tried to break his neck.

 

In a reactive response, Brother Gaius raised his bolter and fired full automatic at the head of the possessed marine who was attacking the Lord Chaplain of the Inceptors. The possessed marine simply flinched as the kraken pattern rounds penetrated deep within his fatty skull and loosening his chokehold on Lord Chaplain Ethos. Giving Ethos the second he needed to use his augmetic leg to manoeuvre a remarkable roundhouse kick that went straight through the bloated face of the possessed marine, penetrating deep into his already damaged skull.

 

On the same instant Gaius continued to pound the flank of the possessed Word Bearer until his ammo ran dry, his fire was augmented by a wild melta blast from the combi melta of the unconscious Flollo, now held by the freed scout, which hit the backside of the possessed marine.

 

The overwhelming trauma that was inflicted on the possessed chaos champion caused the minor warp demon possessing the chaos marine to loose hold on his astartes host. Normally it would result in the host to painfully revert back to the normal stature of a chaos marine. But to loose possession in the middle of battle can be fatal, as Lord Chaplain Ethos reclaimed his blessed Crozius and bludgeoned the semi disoriented Word Bearer to death.

 

***

 

Things do not look well for the Inceptors as the possessed squad of chaos marines were quick to mutilate brother Cneus to oblivion, after a valiant yet brief resistance on his part, for he happens to be the one nearest them.

 

An injured Brother Ignis, who seem to have some ammunition left for his heavy bolter, was back to back with the more heavily wounded Sergeant Junol fending off the attacks by the possessed marines with chainsword and gladius. The same situation goes with Brother Gaius, now armed only with his gladius and the recently freed scout still firing off single bolter shots from the combi meltagun taken from the still unconscious brother Flollo.

 

As for the Lord Chaplain he was left to fend off two of the possessed marines. Like felines playing with their food, the possessed Word Bearers took their time to inflict heavy wounds at quick paced strikes with almost minimal damage on their part.

 

“Got a name brother?” As an exhausted Gaius thrust his gladius at an attacking possessed Word Bearer and kicking him at the chest to free his monomolecular edged blade. The warp possessed Word Bearer, freed from the blade, simply retreated to the shadows for another strike.

 

“It is Astlabor. Brother... why ask now?” firing a desperate melta shot from the combi meltagun that tore through the chest area of an attacker that was about to yank his head from his body, while the scout suffered minor burns in the fallout of the blast.

 

“So I can say, hit the dirt Brother Astlabor!”

 

Timing his aim Gaius threw a clump of micro frag grenades with both hands at opposite directions as the rest of their attackers where about to overwhelm them. The sudden action by Gaius caused the possessed Word Bearers to fallback temporarily.

The distraction offered by the exploding grenades was enough for Gaius and Astlabor to swiftly link up with the embattled Brother Ignis and Sergeant Junol to offer a better line of resistance.

 

“Good one barin, your beginning to learn the ropes on how to fight chaos.”

 

Yelled Sergeant Junol as he was able to dismember a spiked tentacle, using his heavily bloodied chainblade, as the offending tentacle just poked through his cracked shoulder guard. The Sergeant then countered by thrusting his gladius with his other hand, that went deep into the flesh between the collar bone of the attacking Word Bearer and spitted venom at the multilayered eyes as the possessed traitor retreated.

 

“I just hope my chapter does not disown me later, for learning all of these... unusual habits, Brother Sergeant.” Replied the White Consul as he took position between Brother Ignis and Sergeant Junol, while Astlabor took the other side between the Inceptors so as to complete a defensive box.

 

***

 

Lord Chaplain Ethos just finished off the last of his attackers when he finally took stock of the situation. His armour integrity was already compromised in a number of areas, a lot of internal systems close to falling or are about to go offline and his master crafted bolt pistol already depleted of its ammunition.

 

Judging from the current attack of the Word Bearers it seems like they were nothing but a diversion, because if they were serious his force would have been wiped out in minutes by the possessed marines.

 

“Scout marine! How many captive marines do these chaos filth have?” directing his booming amplified voice at the scout marine from across the chamber.

 

Scout Astlabor shouted out, “There were three of us, brother chaplain!” which was also relayed by Sergeant Junol via vox to the Lord Chaplain due to the din of the fighting.

 

Gritting his teeth under his skull helm, Ethos voxed a priority message to Haldr, “Veteran Sergeant Haldr are you still alive?”

“Yes, Lord Chaplain” came the heavily static reply of the Veteran Sergeant.

 

“Get what available force you have and scour the area, a sacrifice is currently in session. We are currently engaged with warp possessed marines and may the Emperor Preserve us.”

 

Cutting the channel the Lord Chaplain Ethos intoned the Litany of the Righteous over the voxnet as he ran with his Crozius Arcanum raised high, as its conversion field surged brightly in the darkness, towards his pinned men.

 

***

 

Veteran Sergeant Haldr, wasted no time as the rest of the loyalist terminators were busy fending off the Word Bearers. He tossing his heavy flamer to one of his squad brothers and immediately grabbing a charging traitor marine by the face plate.

Using the chainfist attachment of the powerfist, Fanged Flash, Haldr literally disarm the World Bearer which included his whole right arm and part of the lower left arm. As the traitor’s wound began to cloth he ran with his raging captive over the warp portal.

 

Approaching Librarian Jokullon , “Elder, we need intelligence and fast! The Arch-enemy is in the process of completing the spell and we have yet to find the fiends.”

 

The Librarian gave paused before speaking as he scanned the surface thoughts of the Veteran Sergeant.

 

“Very well, but what you ask of me is difficult, though not impossible.” Replied the librarian.

 

Eyes began to burn with warpfire, and using both hands the Librarian held the horned helm of the struggling Word Bearer who was still being held by Haldr in an iron bear hug.

 

Not long after the Inceptors got the information that they needed from the now unconscious chaos marine, he was promptly destroyed by Librarian Jokullon by burning him alive with warpfire while still holding onto the Word Bearer’s helm with both hands. The Third assault by the Hunters of the First was about to start.

 

***

 

Rearming the Thunder fire cannons and utilizing the under strength vanguard squad, Librarian Jokullon lead the force. While Haldr was able disengage the badly bruised loyalist terminators from the portal chamber and had them rush to the upper levels of the ziggurat and found heavy resistance as they went up a level. Still they made short work of the chaos defenders thanks to their blessed suits of terminator armour.

 

“Brothers once we are at the last level do what it takes to stop the sacrifice or we will never see the light of an imperial day!” voxed Haldr as acknowledgement runes flashed back to his HUD.

 

Haldr, using his armoured frame, smashed through the heavy wooden doors of the last level, an eight-sided chamber was revealed to them, occupied by a throng of Word Bearer marines. The traitors were quick to form four solid rows of firing lines as they protected the Dark Apostle who was administering the sacrifice.

 

A rain of bolter fire was received by the already damaged terminator armour of the Inceptors as the chaos marines targeted the weak areas of their armour.

 

“Brother Varinus charge forward with your squad and give me a clear shot of the Dark Apostle.” Voxed Haldr as he plugged the last of his fuel canister to his heavy flamer.

 

“Brother Eligius, split the rest and offer fire support to the sides as we attack.”

 

The four assault terminators formed a line as they rushed towards the center with Haldr at their back, firing gouts of flame when possible as their assault line moved. As for the rest of the Terminators they split into two pairs and offered fire support at the flanks.

 

One of the assault terminators was downed after a concentrated plasma blast to the weakened leg armour, in answer Haldr replaced the brother and fired a full burst from his heavy flamer that formed an opening for the assault terminators.

The Inceptors were quick to capitalize on the opening as they concentrated on the weakened part of the Word Bearer defences. Haldr was then able to smash his way to face the Dark Apostle of the host.

 

***

 

Facing the master of the host Haldr wasted no time as he fired a blast of flame directly at the Dark Apostle, who was only armed with his accursed Crozius. Wearing a unhelmed, heavily ornate plate of power armour.

 

The Dark apostle swiftly evaded the attack with his warped enhanced speed. The flames only consumed the altar and the astartes sacrifice, who simply nodded in thanks for his release from the vile ritual that was about to taint him to the warp. As the unknown astartes closed his eyes for last time, the flames consumed his tortured body in an instant.

 

“Do you think that by destroying one sacrifice would foil our plans... Sergeant?” Spoke the Dark Apostle as he continued to use his warped enhanced speed to run around Haldr in a circle as green flames began to form in the wake of his path.

 

“Why were you expecting a captain or a primarch to face you, foul wench? Look no further I am more than enough to foil your misdeeds vile one.” spoke Haldr.

 

“Foil? Look around you foolish Sergeant, I still have eight to spare before the night cycle ends!” Laughed the distorted mirth filled voice of the Dark Apostle as his accursed Crozius made swift jabs to Haldr’s weakened armour, some even penetrating into his flesh as his gene enhanced body immediately cloths out the new wounds.

 

“We will be the judge to that, Eligius, fire spread on me!” Ducking to the ground in a controlled roll, Haldr’s squad brothers momentarily disengaged the surviving World Bearers and fired their potent rounds of death in overlapping spreads on Haldr’s location.

 

As some of the rounds hit their mark they were not enough to down the Dark Apostle. But it was enough for Haldr to position a full burst from his heavy flamer as he gave out a howl of triumph. Burning through the soft parts of the Dark Apostles armour and fusing some of the joints, he still came jumping through the inferno and aiming a strike at the Veteran Sergeant’s primary heart with the pointed haft of his Crozius.

 

Not able to evade the strike, Haldr welcomed it as the weapon penetrated his damaged Terminator armour and wounding his primary heart. Enduring the pain the chainfist attachment of the Fanged Flashed was unsheathed and attempted to chop the Dark Apostle’s head off.

 

***

 

Unfortunately the Dark Apostle was able to see past the gambit laid out by the Inceptor and was lightly wounded across his exposed neck by the blow as he stood before the pinned Veteran Sergeant. The neck wound and the third degree burns suffered from the initial attacks began to rapidly heal, another gift from the vile warp powers, leaving his face spotless as ever.

 

“I’ve spent too much time with you little whelp, time to call in some...party favors.”

 

Still using his warped enhanced speed the Dark Apostle, retrieved his fell Crozius, twisting it as he lifted it off Haldr’s downed form and ran a safe distance to offer his prayer of summons to the warp.

 

Using the corpses and blood of his fallen brethren as payment the Dark Apostle summoned a band of Khrone Bloodletters to the field.

 

After instructing the summoned demons of Khrone, the Dark Apostle returned his gaze on Haldr, “Now as I recall I was about to sacrifice a bastard son of Guilliman.”

 

Rushing again with his warped blessed speed, the Dark Apostle stood before the weakened Haldr, who was struggling to get up, only to be struck down by the Crozius wielding Dark Apostle.

 

“Now Sergeant would you be so kind to be the last sacrifice?”

 

“Stay your tongue wench, I was just warming up to you.” spat Haldr as he tried to rise up again only to be downed by a second time by the Dark Apostle.

 

***

 

The Khrone Bloodletters where already upon the terminators as the Dark Apostle toyed with Haldr when a relief force from the Inceptors arrived. Which was very timely as Brother Sergeant Varinus busily fended off two of the demons, only to loose his shield arm as a blood letter hacked at the joint from behind his gaze.

 

“Demonic Incursion! Stand tall my brothers, faith in the Emperor brings us strength and it becomes our shield.” Voxed Librarian Jokullon to the Inceptors in his vicinity

 

Librarian Jokullon assisted the terminators, by assaulting the demons of Khrone with warpfire and faith. The four vanguard marines still lead by Sergeant Bragir clashed with the remaining Word Bearers. The scout squad was effectively stationed as their reserve at the portal entrance. Last to arrive was a badly beat up Lord Chaplain Ethos who immediately engaged with the Dark Apostle.

 

As for the remainder of the Sternguard squad, those who are still able to stand were ordered to stand down to non combat duties for the duration of the operation. They have been deemed by Lord Chaplain Ethos to have reached beyond the point of exploitation along with Brothers Gaius and Astlabor after the ordeal with the possessed marines.

 

“I see you are in better spirits than your subordinates, priest of the corpse-emperor, could I interest you in knowing the true faith?” jest the Dark Apostle.

 

“Silence, drink your lies unto yourself son of Lorgar. I have only come to collect your life in the name of the one who sits upon the Throne of Terra.” replied Lord Chaplain Ethos, still in a controlled voice, concealing the overpowering rage building up inside him, so as not to lose his fighting composure.

 

The battle with the Dark Apostle and Lord Chaplain Ethos was a short one. As the Dark Apostle circled around the Lord Chaplain using his phenomenal warp damned speed, Ethos was still able to fend off his enemy’s strikes with his Crozius but bearably. As the Word Bearer assaulting Ethos continued to taunt him on the fallacies of the Imperium.

 

Then with precision the machine spirit of Lord Chaplain Ethos’ augmetic leg was able to predict the exact time to execute a titanic calf kick which hit the chest area of the Dark Apostle plummeting him towards Haldr’s waiting powerfist that struck through the upper torso.

 

“I told you we will be the judge of things, and it is Veteran Sergeant Haldr the ‘Wolf Flame’. Remember that wench.”

Haldr enabled the chainfist attachment of his weapon, which swiftly gorged across the torso of the Dark Apostle as the traitor expired.

 

Even the warp enhanced healing ability of the Dark Apostle was not able to cope with the ferocity of the attack, as ceramite, flesh, organs and bone where shredded by the blade of the chainfist attachment, bathed in a matter disrupting power field that can atomize almost anything into dust.

 

The summoner destroyed, the demons of Khrone were no longer bounded to fight the astartes and just dissipated into the warp, making the mop up operations of the loyalist much easier.

 

***

 

Alone in the silence of the viewing deck, aboard the Turbulent, Lord Chaplain Ethos Van was contemplating amongst the light of ancient stars, as their venerable strikecruiser prepares to travel homebound for their chapter territory deep in the East Edge sector for a much needed resupply. He found out from a debriefing that Scout Astlabor was a Doom Eagle scout which pretty much adds up to his dour decorum and like Brother Gaius, he wishes to see this mission through before departing for his home chapter. As for the captured astartes that they failed to save, they were of unknown chapters for Astlabor was not able to communicate with them prior to their rescue and that they were all stripped of any chapter markings.

 

On the matter concerning his xenos informant, he bribed her to come up with the location of the final host within three days. In return she can have the whole cache of gems that was horded by the last host they had just vanquished. Noting the eagerness in the voice of his informant at the acceptance of his request, Ethos silently pledged that one of these days he would start a personal quest of his own and kill the greedy witch with his bare hands.

 

The Lord Chaplain's thoughts slipped towards the recent events that befell on his unit, much loss and sacrifice on the part of the Emperor's finest as they bled dry in these endless campaigns. He can nearly taste the end; for they were now close to completing their mission in thwarting the minor hosts of the Word Bearers, and on their diabolical gene spell that was designed to rid the galaxy of Guilliman’s blood. For now he prayed on his faith that the final battle of his sacred mission would be swift before time truly runs out on them.