Reavers: A Tale of Brotherhood

[Son of Rawl]

I am using this as practice as I want to become a full time writer, I love the 40k universe and I figured it was a good place to start as it is what I am most familiar with.

 

This will be updated, I have alot that I want to write on this Chapter.

 

Anyway Enjoy the Prologue to Reavers: A Tale of Brotherhood

 

We are and we do, someone had to be this way

- Librarian Aean in response to the pacification of Juro VI

 

You say we fight dirty and without honor, I say we make dirty look good and get the job done

-Torvald, Master of House Eagles Reaches

 

Prologue

 

It was cold and it felt strange, he had not felt cold in years.

 

Curiously he watched his augmented flesh begin to goose bump in an attempt to keep warm, he snorted in disgust at such a mortal response his body was taking and crossed his arms over his chest in irritation. It did not help that he was already frustrated, he had just now counted the eighth hour he had been standing before the gates of the chapter forge and his already short patience was beginning to wear thin.

 

Not that it mattered to them they had no interest with the world of flesh.

 

It was why they removed themselves from the surface and dug deep into the planet’s core, close enough to remain a part of the chapter, but far enough to remove themselves from prying eyes.

No one ever came to forge unless summoned, not even the House Lords were permitted entry.

The gate itself spoke of the power and authority they wielded, it was colossal, it could easily allow a warhound titan to walk though without impair, at its base were carvings of hundreds of humans that were either crying in despair or fighting over themselves to reach the robed figure that dominated the centre. The figure was a perverted image of an angel, metal wings spread across the gate while robotic hands held a loft a sun that was the centre of a galaxy.

The symbolism was obvious, without the machine the galaxy would be impossible.

 

It was then that he noticed that one of the humans was looking directly at him.

 

As if sensing his returning gaze, the carving’s head detached itself from the gate and floated lazily towards him, two blue orbs now shone within its terror etched features as it came within an arms length of him. +Who stands before our domain+ the head spoke, surprisingly him slightly as it had such a powerful voice for something so small.

“I do” he spoke remembering the ceremony he was taught “I am Mathun, a son of House Eagles Reaches.”

 

The head circled around him slowly and Mathun felt heat where ever it’s baleful glare landed, +You are not welcome here fleshling+ the head intoned +Only Baen of your House is allowed within these halls+the head began to move toward the gate, supposedly finished with him.

Mathun hated ceremony as did the rest his brothers. It was for lesser beings, for those who have the need to prove to any others that they were greater for an act that the viewer would never, ever see. He snorted again with fury at having to follow it here “Baen is slain” Mathun spoke and watched as the head stopped in its tracks “and through his broken body he choose me to carry on his task, I am to be the Keeper of the Past for my House”. The head turned and regarded him anew and Mathun stared unblinking into those blue orbs for an uncomfortable few minutes before the gate was split in two by a burning light.

 

Mathun watched as the gate opened noiselessly inward, the light was so bright it hurt his eyes for a moment before they adjusted. The head moved toward the portal without a word and Mathun took it as a hint that he should follow. He quickly passed through the gate and was filled with awe for what was before him, the forge was impossibly huge, a honey combed maze of machinery with sloped ceilings that formed a perfect dome, the heat was almost unbearable, even his altered body could not help to break out in a sweat from the first few steps he took on the melta-cut pathway.

Below him were hundreds of servitors worked ceaselessly on forges that were next to troths of magma, each were oblivious to the danger and heat as they forged blades and armour in the blood of the world before they hammered the almost melting metal into shape, it was then that Mathun noticed that all the servitors moved in unison, each strike of the hammer resounded a hundred times followed by the hiss of rapid cooling metal as it was plunged into water, he looked up to his right and saw one of the many great lifts that ferried the vehicles and supplies needed for the chapters many wars, this lift carried two land raiders and five predators, with crate after crate of munitions. What was impressive most of all was that even these mighty machines fitted with room to spare on the lift, it made Mathun think as to why such large contraptions and hundreds of forges were needed for such a small chapter.

 

+You will have your answer soon enough+ boomed the head as if reading his mind as it lead him to the forges heart, Mathun expected a grand throne or some great metallic edifice but instead there was nothing, only a circular cross road that led to all corners of the forge. His guide stopped in the centre and Mathun looked at it questioningly, “Do you even know where you’re going?” he said failing to contain the anger in his voice, the head spun slowly and regarded him with what he thought was stupidity.

 

The ground beneath his feet moved violently throwing him off balance, he looked around quickly and realised that the centre of the forge was a lift, +Steady fleshling+ the head intoned mockingly as Mathun regained his composure and shot the head an evil look, the lift descended with frightening speed making his head hurt from the blood that rushed to it, the lift came to a sudden stop making him shudder and almost sending him to his knees, a static chuckle emanated from the head as it floated onward into one of the many dark corridors, Mathun followed his guide closely as his enhanced vision could not pick out anything in the gloom of this part of the forge, he counted dozens of twists and turns his guide was taking and bumped into it as the head came to a sudden halt.

His guide emanated a pale light from its mouth revealing another door but this one was far less ornate and weathered, the iron was rusted in parts and Mathun spotted what seemed to be bullet holes and gashes in the door. Mathun was about to question why but the door began to creak open on corroded hinges, the bare rock around him began to crumble around which made him deduce that this door rarely if ever opened.

 

+Your duty awaits in this crypt+ the head intoned making his ears hurt from the close proximity, +I will return when you are finished+ Mathun was about to reply when might that be but it had already left leaving him in the dark, the smell of musk and age was overpowering from the portal, he trusted his other senses and walked confidently into the crypt.

 

His confidence was replaced slightly with nerves as he heard the door close behind him.

 

It was deathly still inside making it impossible to figure out any sense of how large the crypt was, all he could hear was the sound of his own steady breathing and the beating of his twin hearts. Mathun was half tempted to call out to the darkness but he was engulfed in a light as bright as the sun.

“Who enters my tomb” spoke a booming ancient voice that shook him to his core, his eyes easily adapted to the light and he saw the source, it stood twice the size of a man and resonated power of another age that was no more than a memory.

 

The dreadnought regarded Mathun with open hostility “You are not Baen”

[Dominicus]

Good job so far. Hope for another update soon