Fear of Retribution

[Brother Nihm]

Moving this to the Liber where it belongs.

[Papewaio]

Sorry for the long wait folks, but the holidays are finally here and hopefully I should be putting brain to paper a lot more. In the meantime, enjoy.

 

Fear of Retribution Part 8 Section 1 - Malevolent Murmurs

*

'The Trasium Campaign was a disaster, not just to the 4th and 5th, but to the entire Chapter of the Lords of Retribution. The taint of Chaos was revealed to us and we failed to act quickly or decisively enough. It is impossible to know how many heretics live within the Lords at the moment; I have failed the Emperor.'

- Transcript form Captain Aleois to Chapter Master Relth

*

Feeling the subtle nuances of thought flow around the ship, the twisted and warped membrane of the Empyrean surrounding it, he straightened his hands and looked at them underneath their armour. They were the hands of a warrior; the hands of an Astartes. And, because of an accident of birth, the hands of one doomed to carry psychic power within him.

Isayos stood, heaving the bulk of his armour off a cot, and stayed standing, unwilling to move. To move was to accept the turmoil and change. The Epistolary did not feel any inclination to bear a heavier burden than what was carried already. But there was a way out, a way to be free. . . No! That is not the way! He shook his head to send the unhealthy thoughts on their way.

And yet. . . Ever since he had arrived on Trasium his power had been different. He was more in control, able to bring more complex and powerful streams of the Warp through his mind. He could feel them there now, close as always. When he had defended the CP, he had drawn too much, he thought. Certainly more than the Librarian had ever before. But he did not feel the whispers of Chaos, he did not lose control like the Marines he watched Darios execute. He was free of the taint.

With that realisation, Isayos moved out of his quarters, and went to the chapel. Inside, the dull grey of the rest of the Light of Redemption was not present, giving way to a rich red tapestry that ran all around the walls. The cloth was one of the most precious things the Chapter had; it detailed their entire history since the Lords' founding. As the Epistolary moved towards the altar, the scattered Marines inside slowly got up and left. He did not blame them for this. It had been the same ever since he discovered his gift. None wanted to be near him or know him as they did their battle-brothers, for he carried the corruption of psychic ability.

Isayos knelt before the plain steel altar, lowered his head and prayed. Prayed to be free of his curse, to be a normal Marine. To be able to remove the fear that hang over him, the cold terror that came every time he reached for the Warp.

'Epistolary.' Isayos opened his eyes, and turned around. Felian stood there, dressed not in his armour like the Librarian, but in plain white robes. 'Yes, Sergeant?'

'Captain Aleois requests your presence on the bridge.' He waited by the door as Isayos walked slowly over to him.

'I. . . wish to ask you a question, Epistolary. It is probably not of the kind you will be comfortable with, but I would like you to answer it anyway.'

Taken aback that Felian had initiated a conversation, Isayos replied, 'And what is that, Sergeant?'

Felian paused, seemingly unsure of what he was about to say. 'What. . . what has happened to the Chapter? Why did we abandon Trasium with such speed?'

'This is a question for Captain Aleois, and not a meet one to ask me,, Sergeant,' Isayos said, troubled that a soldier like Felian would go above his station to find out such knowledge. 'Have you not talked to him?'

'Yes I have, otherwise I would no be talking to you.' Isayos flinched inwardly at the unintentional slight in his voice, but gave no outward sign of his discomfort. 'But the Captain has not seen fit to divulge any knowledge amongst his advisors except for yourself and Chaplain Mydrin. My battle-brothers in the 5th are begging for any explanation as to his actions.'

The Librarian hesitated, wondering at Aleois's actions; if this was true, it was something that had to be remedied immediately. He did no think that Aleois would have succumbed to evil haunting Trasium III, but who knew for sure?

'I will talk to the Captain, and see if he will not talk to both companies. Wait for me at the chapel, and we will talk further then,' Isayos said, hardly daring to believe what was beginning to form in his mind.

'As you wish, Epistolary,' Felian replied, with a poorly concealed guarded expression. The Librarian noticed, but did not let it bother him. What he was about to do occupied all his attention. It was rash, and contained a great deal of risk to himself, but it was the only way he could be sure of what was about to happen.

*

[Lady_Canoness]

Nice to see that you're still doing it! I was afraid that you might have given up.

 

Keep going mate!

[Papewaio]

No chance of me giving up, Lady! I've got to get to the end so I know what happens to the Lords. :)

 

Fear of Retribution Part 8 Section 2

 

A great darkness hang over him, occasionally punctuated with flashes of colour. His deep subconscious felt some great hurt, but it was held at bay, sustained by something not fully wholesome. The pain felt different, and the sights replaying themselves on his eyelids filled him with a changed emotion than what he was used to. But without the dark presence lurking over him, he sensed that he would fall into the gaping abyss beyond, and he was not ready to meet that eternity yet. And so the darkness held him further, gripping his soul with a fierce glee.

*

With a great effort, Darios pushed his eyelids open and immediately shut them again, the shock of the fluorescent light above him too much to bear. Squinting, he let a crack of brightness through, until he could open his eyes completely.

An Apothecary - Virilian, if he remembered correctly - walked over and noticed his wakefulness.

'Praise the Emperor, Darios! How do you feel?' He tried to talk, but a dry rasping sound was all that issued from his mouth. 'Shh, don't talk. I suspect your throat hasn't quite healed from you trying to inhale a flamer's blast.' Virilian chuckled to himself as he moved around to check a myriad of beeping instruments and displays. 'Gave us a hell of a shock you did, aiming your pistol at us like that. Fortunately Jidairo had the sense to knock it away from you before you killed us as well.' He tapped a few screens, and then turned back to Darios.

'You should be fine in a week, I'd say. You've been out six days so far. I'd expect you'd like to know what's happened?'

The Sergeant managed a weak nod; even that small act racked him with pain.

'We abandoned Trasium. Captain's orders, and he hasn't explained them to anyone, except possibly the Chaplain. Both companies, what's left of them, is heading back to Ariosk. Again, Captain's orders. Felian's Acting Captain of the 5th until we find out who Master Relth wants to appoint. And you've been appointed successor to Aleois.' He walked towards one of the screens again. 'You need rest, Sergeant. I'm going to put you under again while I get your throat healed. Next time you wake, you'll be able to talk again.'

Darios tried to protest, to find out more than the brief summary that the Apothecary had provided, but the world started slipping down his eyes like rain down a window.

*

He was standing in a great hall, with marble pillars rising to a great arched ceiling overhead. The diamond-studded floor winked at him from beneath the piles of gold and jewels heaped upon the obsidian flagstones. Silver goblets were strewn about carelessly, as though the owner had no care as to their whereabouts. Golden statues of beings writhing in unholy ecstasy adorned the path that led directly ahead of him.

He took a step forward, following the inset diamonds leading him onwards. He passed numerous statues and uncountable piles of wealth and splendour. He walked over bridges crafted from the finest metals, shaped into flowing waves and beautiful faces, built over lakes of riches.

His eyes drank in the obvious power such wealth displayed, for who could leave such value lying around, seemingly unguarded, but those who would not care if they lost it? Passing one of the mounds of coins, he turned his head, to watch the glitter as the light danced off their golden faces. The shine exhibited by the large coins was broken only by the beguiling face that adorned the centre of the circle.

Continuing on, he came to a pile of diamonds, gleaming in the omnipresent light. Their clear colour acted as a mirror for him to see his reflected self, and the apparition he saw within the sparkling games shocked him. Here, in this palace of beauty and splendour, he was dirty, tarnished in the grime of war, with a bright red gash upon his left cheek. The blood contrasted sharply with the gaunt and haggard face that bore it. Turning away sharply, he quickened his pace, unable to bear the sight of himself. Such filth had no place in a palace of wonder such as here.

Quickening his pace, a crossroads soon presented itself to him, and he paused, noticing a creature amongst the piles of wealth. It was furiously polishing the coins and gems it could reach, muttering under its breath all the while. He stopped, watching it for a time. Once it had cleaned non-existent dirt off the coins, it scurried to the next pile, keeping a furious mumbling commentary up. It whirled suddenly, bringing an unexpectedly piercing gaze upon him. The face that housed the accusing stare was broken and misshapen, and yet conveyed a sense of majesty. He felt that he had intruded upon a sacred duty, but met the hostile look with one of his own. The creature gave a scream of rage, and flew at him.

He met the assault with a hand to the throat of the beast, and squeezed. The thing squirmed and choked, but he did not relent until all movement had ceased. A casual toss into one of the statues alongside the path brought back signs of life, however. Furious squawks erupted from the broken mouth as it shattered the golden edifice. The anger in its voice soon changed to one of rapturous agony as gold started to spread from where it hit the statue. Soon the creature had become another of the adornments of the path.

What is this place? he thought, before diving to the ground. A scraping sound, like a sword being drawn, he heard behind him. Rolling to his feet, he came up, fists ready to deal with whatever threat was next.

What he beheld was a monstrous beast, easily twice as high as his seven feet. Two sinewy legs ended in cloven hooves, and led up to a body made of rippling muscle. Four separate arms extended from the main torso and ended with two hands and two gigantic claws. An ornate sword, about as long as he was tall, was grasped amongst the clawed fingers. And yet, out of all these fantastical and abhorrent mutations, the head was the most captivating feature of the beast. Jeweled eyes that glittered more than any of the gems he had seen so far watched him from beneath a crown of horns. The skin was stretched tight across its forehead; the alabaster colour giving off a faint sheen under the sourceless light.

'Hello, Adralamech. How like you the circle of our mutual master?' The voice was high and cold, but contained a joy, repressed but still noticeable.

He moved immediately, shock racing through his mind that something so unwholesome was in a place of such granduer. Running at the abomination, he swung as hard and as fast as he could. He knew he was quick, and strong, but the Daemon avoided every blow, seemingly without exertion. For an uncountable length of time he strove to place a mark upon teh beast, until it moved quicker than thought and slammed him against a marble pillar.

'I shall ask again, little Adralamech. Does this haven, this paradise of our master's, please you?' it said, the musical voice flowing over each syllable.

'You and I serve no same master, daemon, and I am not Adralamech,' he replied. the unreality of where he was finally being realised.

The Daemon laughed quietly. 'We do indeed serve a master together, Adralamech, and you do not know this yet. But you will; oh yes, you will, and before the damnation of Ariosk is complete. Our master does desire you, and you will serve him knowingly.'

'I am Darios of the Lords of Retribution, Daemon, not this Adralamech you speak of. I don't know which twisted faction of Chaos you serve, and I have know wish to. Where am I?' he demanded, bucking and rolling to try and break free of the inhuman grip.

'Little Adramalech, you have much to learn. You are permitted to call me Salashen, and we are here in our Lord's circle of Avidity. You have proven worthy so far, and have not seen fit to partake of that which is not yours,' the monstosity replied.

'What was that creature that was turned into a statue, that attacked me?' he asked, more calmly, though his struggling continued.

The Daemon paused, and then said, 'A lost soul, one who had not the restraint you have shown. He will stay here for the rest of time, a fate our master has not intended for you, Adralamech.' Salashen hesitated again, and continued. 'The time I was allowed to speak with you is up, and it is time for you to leave our master's paradise, and journey back to the Materium. I will see you again, little Adralamech, and we will talk further. Pass through those gates and you shall awake.' It waved its hand, dropping him to the ground, and a pair of pearl gates appeared between two of the statues.

He stepped towards the gates, knowing he lacked the speed to even offer a threat to the unholy creature. Before stepping through them, he turned back towards the Daemon, saying, 'Next time we meet, Daemon, I -', but Salashen had disappeared. He stared for a moment, and then continued through the gates.

*

I would really like to hear how this part played out, so please, tell me what worked and what didn't. I'm nearing the end of the first part of Fear of Retribution, with one or two parts to go, so thanks to everyone whose read this far, and more thanks still to those who'll read to the very end and find out where I plan to take all of this.

 

Edited to try and add more realism to Darios' encounter with Salashen.

[Lady_Canoness]

All things considered, Darios seems very, very calm when he is in the daemon's lair - almost as if he was just passing through a place that is of mild interest to him, or he is not at all distressed by seeing things he doesn't understand.

 

Keep it going!

[Papewaio]

I was trying to get across a feeling of dreaminess. You know, when you're dreaming and things don't make sense but you don't notice it anywhere near as much as you do in the real world. (Yes, I stole that explanation from Inception :D )

 

Still, you might be right about that. I may have to go back and edit it a bit.

[Iron Corsair]

This is a great story, Papewaio! Not only is the story excellent, you actual seemed to give a personality to each of the important Marines; the calm and collected captain and chaplain, the bitter veteran, the brash sergeant, etc. Overall an awesome job. Keep it up!

[Papewaio]

Hey guys, sorry about the wait. Life is being very inconvenient at the moment, and this is hot off the press that I've literally just finished. Just a spoiler, though, as homework is calling to me. :)

 

Striding into the bridge, Isayos shut the doors behind him with a mental flick, drawing attention with the titanic boom that they created. Gathering control of his mind, he held all the serfs at the ships computers to their seats, ensuring they would not interfere with what must happen. The Chaplain started towards him, asking what he was doing, but the Epistolary silenced him before the demand finished. Outrage shone in Mydrin's eyes, and Isayos was sure that he had officially confirmed teh Chaplain's suspicions about psychic ability.

The Captain, however, stayed looking towards the stars, and did not turn to see who was causing the great noise. Aleois was tall, and pride shone from every line of his posture. This was exactly was the Librarian had hoped he would not see. It proved that what he was about to do was necessary.

'Aleois!' he called, both with his voice and mind. While the captain could ignore the the verbal the psychic shout forced him to turn to face Isayos. The moment they made eye contact, Aleois was thrown across the room, slamming into the viewing window. Still holding everyone else still, Isayos walked to the crumpled captain, and brought him upright.

'What. . . What are you doing, Isayos?' Aleois wheezed, struggling to breathe, all traces of pride gone. There were dark smudges underneath his eyes, something the Librarian had never before seen on an Astartes. A deep worry was held in his eyes as he looked upon the single most powerful being on the Light of Redemption.

'I am doing all I can to prevent the self-destruction of my Chapter, Captain. There is a traitor still among us; I can taste the foul stench of Chaos. It would have to be someone high-up, someone who would have us abandon a world to the clutches of thirsty gods. Someone above reproach, who can play the part of loyal Imperial servant without fear of doubt. Someone who can command a potent force, one equal to none other in the galaxy. Someone like you, Captain Aleois,' Isayos whispered to him. 'This must happen, for both your sake and mine. There are only a handful of people in the Imperium who can do what I am about to, and this process entails great risk to myself. But at the end, either you will be dead, or doing your duty to your company and Chapter.'

Not listening to Aleois' mumbling reply, the Epistolary thrust his mind forward, into the Captain's, while keeping hold of his body and senses. On the edge of his vision, incandescent colours played alongside gibbering horrors, waiting for the break in his concentration. That will not happen, he vowed to himself. I am stronger than them, strong enough to do this.

*

[Papewaio]

I've scrapped the idea of breaking Fear of Retribution into two seperate stories, so as it stands we are nearly two thirds of the way through. The next part is likely o take me a lond time, as I have four major projecs due in the next six weeks, but I will try to make some time to sit down with Darios, Jidairo and the rest.

 

Fear of Retribution Part 9 - Outside Influences

 

'The involvement of my fellow Inquisitor may have only aggravated the situation that the Lords found themselves in; an understandable conclusion, considering his eventual fate.'

-Report upon the Ariosk Heresy by Inquisitor Grogan Helfaren

*

Inquisitor Elbrech Hastor sat at his ancient desk, sorting through various requests for aid, favours asked, and rumors of what was happening across the sector. One in particular had caught his eye; a hastily scribbled note, sent to the closest Arbites courthouse, and passed onto one of his agents. It was an eyewitness account of the Emperor's Finest fighting amongst themselves. He leaned back, considering the implications of a Space Marine Chapter going renegade in the Othrand Sector. He came to three possible outcomes, all of them bloody and undesirable.

Shifting his mind to the next report, a vehemently written appeal from a zealous abbot in the Choke system. A simple enough plea for assistance to deal with too many greedy businessmen. But life in the Inquisition did not ask the participants to take the simple challenges. A schism within a Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes boded ill for the Imperium as a whole. The Space Marines were a valuable resource, and every one that turned away from their calling as the Emperor's greatest warriors was a blow to their defences.

Sweeping his arm across the heavy oaken desk to create a small storm of paper, he stood up. He was quite tall for a human, at six foot four inches, with an elegantly trimmed goatee that was jet black in colour. His bald head shone underneath the fluorescent lighting tubes, and his clothes were of the finest make. A richly embroidered shirt was accentuated with a thin gold chain, on which hung the symbol of the Inquisition. His green eyes were flecked with gold, giving a deceiving appearance of a willingness to listen.

'Kryan! We have work to do,' he called as he left the room.

*

Striding into the bridge, Isayos shut the doors behind him with a mental flick, drawing attention with the titanic boom that they created. Gathering control of his mind, he held all the serfs at the ships computers to their seats, ensuring they would not interfere with what must happen. The Chaplain started towards him, asking what he was doing, but the Epistolary silenced him before the demand finished. Outrage shone in Mydrin's eyes, and Isayos was sure that he had officially confirmed the Chaplain's suspicions about psychic ability.

The Captain, however, stayed looking towards the stars, and did not turn to see who was causing the great noise. Aleois was tall, and pride shone from every line of his posture. This was exactly was the Librarian had hoped he would not see. It proved that what he was about to do was necessary.

'Aleois!' he called, both with his voice and mind. While the captain could ignore the the verbal the psychic shout forced him to turn to face Isayos. The moment they made eye contact, Aleois was thrown across the room, slamming into the viewing window. Still holding everyone else still, Isayos walked to the crumpled captain, and brought him upright.

'What. . . What are you doing, Isayos?' Aleois wheezed, struggling to breathe, all traces of pride gone. There were dark smudges underneath his eyes, something the Librarian had never before seen on an Astartes. A deep worry was held in his eyes as he looked upon the single most powerful being on the Light of Redemption.

'I am doing all I can to prevent the self-destruction of my Chapter, Captain. There is a traitor still among us; I can taste the foul stench of Chaos. It would have to be someone high-up, someone who would have us abandon a world to the clutches of thirsty gods. Someone above reproach, who can play the part of loyal Imperial servant without fear of doubt. Someone who can command a potent force, one equal to none other in the galaxy. Someone like you, Captain Aleois,' Isayos whispered to him. 'This must happen, for both your sake and mine. There are only a handful of people in the Imperium who can do what I am about to, and this process entails great risk to myself. But at the end, either you will be dead, or doing your duty to your company and Chapter.'

Not listening to Aleois' mumbling reply, the Epistolary thrust his mind forward, into the Captain's, while keeping hold of his body and senses. On the edge of his vision, incandescent colours played alongside gibbering horrors, waiting for the break in his concentration. That will not happen, he vowed to himself. I am stronger than them, strong enough to do this.

Aleois' mind was a curious thing; it thrummed with dark blue chords of weariness, resonating deeply in Isayos' consciousness. Every third note, however, held a red strand of determination, that gave volume and life to the multicoloured melody. The psyker could feel his physical body starting to sweat, the perspiration brought on by the strain his mind was exerting. It was all he could do to hold onto his sense of self as he further submerged himself into the Captain's thoughts. Deeper he pushed himself, looking for the tell-tale signs that would indicate that Aleois had fallen to the temptations of the Dark Gods.

A tendril of thought brushed against his, and Isayos flinched from the contact. As soon as it happened, he realised that he was being examined by his subject of study. He stiffened at this, and drove the intruder out. The Epistolary immediately realised it was a mistake, however, as he lost control over the Chaplain and several serfs. Releasing his probe from Aleois' mind, he whirled around, breaking all contact with the Empyrean.

He whirled around, and shouted with all his might, 'STOP!'

And to his amazement, they did.

Isayos pointed to a computer. 'We are over Ariosk now, and we cannot delay our mission. Neither I nor Captain Aleois are traitors, a fact he will attest to. If you hear the truth in my words, Mydrin, announce to the entire ship their targets and get them ready for battle.'

Mydrin announced to the room in his flat, emotionless voice, 'He speaks the truth. Get the Light ready for full-scale planetary assault.'

*

Jidairo, squad behind him, entered the drop pod, garbed in his wargear. A bolt pistol sat in it's holster in the cross-draw position, beside three krak grenades. His armour still bore the scratches of Trasium III, but he had cleaned and polished it as best he was able. The other four Marines behind him had a similar appearance. The pod had room enough for another five, but there were not enough left to use all the Light of Redemption's drop pods, so each held between five and eight Marines.

As he took his place by one of the ramps that would provide the squad access to the surface of Ariosk, he reflected upon the fact that this would be the first time that he would wage war upon a planet he had walked on before. What had changed to his homeworld, that could bring it to this monstrous state of affairs, that it's very guardians were forced to combat the populace? Jidairo could see by the tense set of his squadmates' shoulders that they, too, were wondering at the Captain's orders. They had slaughtered civilians before, but not ones of their own world. Still, Jidairo was confident that they would do their duty. If they could fight against their own battle-brothers without flinching, they could certainly kill a few familiar faces.

'Jidairo? Which city is the 4th liberating, if the 5th has Orue?' Helyain asked him, voice low and controlled. Jidairo glanced over at him, but saw only his reflection in the younger Marine's helmet.

'We have been given Invarl as our primary objective,' he replied, and was then interrupted by another Marine, Pharos.

'When will Sergeant Darios be joining us?'

'Apothecary Virilian said he woke two days ago, so he will join us when he is able. I think it will only be a few days, given the skill of Brother Virilian,' Jidairo replied, suddenly unsettled by the sergeant's name. Did his squad not trust him? Did they not think that he could lead them for a few days, while they waited for the hero of the 4th to heal?

You are more worthy than that glory-seeker, a voice whispered silkily in his head. You have kept this squad together while he was off trying to exact the Emperor's revenge by himself. Why are you doubted so? Jidairo glanced around, looking for the speaker. All of his Marines were silent, checking their bolters or adjusting their helmet displays. See how they are bereft of speech in your presence, the voice said mockingly.

This is proper discipline, he thought, answering the obvious implication, determined to find out what the voice was. He had no need to be looked after by the Apothecaries because of some wayward thought. They are composing themselves for battle.

But why, then, is the atmosphere not like it usually is, before combat? Could it be that they believe that their Sergeant is necessary for them to prevail? Is it that your combat skills are not enough to reassure them, to provide them assurance of victory? Do they believe you inferior to Darios, when you are the one who keeps their skills sharp, their aim true?

He blinked, shocked that he could hear such things and not deny them. He knew he was the one who deserved to be the Sergeant, not Darios. He was the one who knew more about battlefield tactics, who could keep to a plan without having to put his mark on things. He would be better leader than the incapacitated Sergeant.

You must prove it to them, the voice continued. The taking of Invarl will herald the rise of a new hero from the Lords of Retribution: Jidairo, the Saviour of Ariosk.

The Saviour of Arisok. . . he did like the sound of that. And it would give him the recognition he deserved, to show that he really was better than Darios.

And what better way to prove your prowess than to take the life of the greatest traitor within your company?

Jidairo's head straightened quickly, glancing from side to side to see if any of the others had heard that statement. There are no traitors left in the 4th; Chaplain Mydrin and the Epistolary purged all of them! Surely there were no dormant worshippers of Chaos left in the Lords' ranks.

One you would never suspect, one above reproach, who would be followed in every order and command. You know the only possibility; the only one who would not be hunted if he ordered the hunt. There will be an opportunity in this forthcoming battle, where he will be shown for what he is, where you can prove your devotion and skill. You must be ready to seize the moment, that time that you will be elevated above all others. Do not fail.The consequences will be more dire than you can imagine.

Of course, the only Marine who would never be suspected, even after his equal demonstrated the same flaw. He, Jidairo, would kill Captain Aleois, the foulest and most vile traitor he knew.

*

 

C&C much appreciated, and thanks for reading! :D

[Papewaio]

Hey all. I know it's been a while, and this piece is kind of short, but hopefully leading onto more installments coming soon. Enjoy!

*

 

Fear of Retribution Part 9 Section 2

 

'Through his denial of reality shall he be known, and forever walk amongst the shadows cast by those claiming to sit in the light'

-Guros, blind prophet of Heroundet VI, burnt as a heretic in 856.M37

*

The eight pods screamed down to the black spires of Invarl. Scratched and battered they might have been, but that did not stop the furious pace at which they ripped through the atmosphere, seeking to deliver their deadly cargo into the heart of the city. The descent from the Light took less than a minute, giving the shocked defenders no time to react before the ramps were let down and death erupted from them.

The Lords of Retribution lived up to their name as they scoured the streets underneath the slowly lightening skies, rebels scattering from them in terror. Yet it was futile, for the Lords always found them and ended the stain they carried.

Men screamed to gods they did not know as their comrades were cut down around them with merciless efficiency. Even for those who tried to fight back against the Marines there was no escape. They were but mortal men, and as such were outclassed in every way by the gods of war that conducted the clearing of Invarl. They were fighting the Emperor's Space Marines, and could not possibly seize victory from the ruthless foes they faced.

*

A swift stroke of his power sword sent the top half of the rebel flying, leaving his legs to collapse. Captain Aleois turned from the corpse in time to drive the point of his weapon through the chest of another, who died screaming for escape.

Having cleared the room of the living, Aleois stepped out of the building, letting the cries of the dying and the trapped wash through him, leaving him single-minded in his purpose. A las shot glanced off his chestplate, and he moved towards the terrified man who had fired it. The body was hacked apart in two vicious strokes.

He paused after discarding the dead, reading the data flashing in his helmet. 'This is the Captain. All troops proceed to the main chapel,' Aleois spoke into the intercom that connected all the Lords in the 4th together. After receiving a barrage of yes sirs, Aleois entered the building opposite, an baroque cathedral that reached skyward in search of more skulls to festoon the massive stone doors that the Marine Captain slipped through.

The air was musty, and coupled with the gloom that hung on the wooden pews, gave a sense of age, something to be respected and obeyed. Aleois walked up to the altar slowly, not wanting to give away his presence to any rebels that might have been hiding in the darkness. When he reached the stone carving of the Emperor, a low voice spoke from behind him.

'Captain, you should be more careful in these parts. Someone might want to hurt you.'

Aleois turned to see the Chaplain standing there, skull helmet gleaming ominously white in the murky haze. Mydrin's Crozius Arcanum, hallowed relic of the Lords, crackled with barely contained energies.

'Chaplain, I have no need to fear being harmed whilst you, and the rest of my company, surround me,' Aleois replied, slightly shaken that his advisor could sneak up on him so silently.

'On the contrary, Captain. You should be ever watchful, ever ready to see the taint of Chaos. It is impossible to tell who it will corrupt,' Mydrin replied, a trace of excitement creeping into his flat voice at the end. With that, he leaped at Aleois, his bulky Terminator armour sending the Captain crashing to the floor.

Aleois only just managed to roll out of the way of the Crozius' strike, his mind reeling. It can't be! Chaplains are the purity of the Chapter! The next swing of the weapon towards his face removed any doubts he had about where the Chaplain's loyalty lay. He scrambled to his feet, recovering his power sword as he did so. It met the Crozius, and soon started the elegant dance of combat. The weapons clashed again and again, neither of their owners able to gain an edge in the furious melee.

'When did you forsake the Emperor, Mydrin? When were you lost?' Aleois grunted as his foe batted his thrust to the heart away.

'Shut up and die!' the Chaplain snarled in return, his voice a bestial growl.

When the next attack came towards him, the Captain trapped the Crozius against the floor with an elegant flick of his sword, and kept it there with his foot. Twisting the Chaplain around, he forced Mydrin to his knees and prepared to run him through.

'Traitor!'

The shout echoed through the empty chapel, and Aleois glanced up in surprise. During the fight, he had forgotten he ordered the rest of the company here. Seeing Jidairo standing there, hearing his shout of condemnation, he realised what it might look like.

'No, Jidairo! He is the traitor!' Aleois called, but it was too late. The bolt hit his hand, knocking his power sword away and freeing Mydrin. The last thing he saw was another bolt heading straight towards him.

*

'Well done, Jidairo. I had no inkling he was a traitor sworn to the Dark Gods until he called me here,' Mydrin said, shaking his head. 'You have done a courageous thing.'

Jidairo kicked the corpse that had once been his Captain. 'He was the one who turned all the rest. He deserves no recognition for that. Burn him, and this cathedral. Burn the whole city. There is no other cure for traitors and heretics.'

Mydrin nodded. 'We need to make for the Fortress-Monastery. The Chapter Master will know what to do about this.'

*

[Papewaio]

Fear of Retribution Part 9 Section 3

 

Inquisitor Elbrech Hastor stood on the bridge of the Hand of Truth, surveying the world that was before him. Arisok was not important to the Imperium in any way but that it produced exceedingly hardy fighters, due to the highly ritualized forms of single combat needed to settle any disputes. As a result, most residents were preoccupied with courtesy at the highest level, as to avoid any unnecessary bloodshed.

Other than the slightly unusual justice system, the rest of Ariosk was similar to a hive world, though without the population to support the derelict cities. Several centuries ago, the planet had been attacked by Traitor Marines calling themselves 'The Decaying.' They had unleashed a virulent cocktail of diseases on the citizens, crippling the workforce and ensuring that they would be victorious. According to the records, the Lords had fled back to Ariosk and wrested back control, killing most of the Decaying. Despite the purges that followed, the diseases were never quite eradicated, and could still affect those living today.

Hastor sighed, and turned away. Kryan came to him, bearing a sheaf of paper. The Interrogator had swarthy skin, and walked with a slight stiffness that told the Inquisitor that he still did not trust him completely. That's good. He'll live longer. Kryan's shaven head gleamed underneath the fluorescent lights, and his well-built frame had goosebumps all over it.

'Still not used to space travel, Kryan?' Hastor asked archly, raising an eyebrow.

'Yes, sir. I am just a little apprehensive about the fact we are going to land on a Space Marine Chapter's homeworld without any support,' the tall man replied, handing over the file.

Hastor flicked through it, deliberately ignoring his student's fears. Most of the information he already knew, but that did not mean that he was certain of what would transpire on Ariosk's surface.

'Any more than you and I, Kryan, and the Astartes will get nervous. Chapter Master Relth doesn't like Inquisitors poking around in the Lords' business. Make no mistake, this will be one of the most dangerous things you will ever do,' he said finally, after he finished reading the papers. 'Do not let your guard down.'

Kryan took the papers back and left the bridge, calling over his shoulder as he did so. 'We make planetfall in less than an hour, Inquisitor.'

Hastor turned back to the magnificent view he had been looking at before, mentally preparing himself for the task ahead. From what he knew of Space Marines, they were proud warriors, and would not take slights to their faith lightly. They would be nervous because of his presence, and even more so if the rumours he was acting upon were true. If they were not, than the only thing that would happen is that a merchant of Heroundet IV would experience severe pain for wasting his time.

If they were. . . He shook his head, not wishing to contemplate that scenario. If the Lords of Retribution were traitors, a great blow to Imperial morale would be dealt and another Chapter would have to be pulled in to take over the Lords' duties. The amount of secessionist governers had been increasing over the centuries, and try as he might, Hastor could not figure out why.

*

 

Unfortunately this is likely to be the standard size of continued installments, due to time constraints. Sorry about that, but that's life.

[Papewaio]

Okay. After spending four months trying to continue this, I've realised I don't like the way I have written Fear of Retribution, and so I will start again. Still the Lords, still the story of how they will fall, mostly the same characters, but not the same tale.

 

Hopefully I'll be able to make it work this time.

[Lady_Canoness]

It's a hard call to make, but I understand what your going through. Simplifying the storyline and then fleshing out the details could make easier to find your foothold.

 

Just a thought :lol: