The Rensar VI Revolt

[Dominicus]

**PROLOGUE**

 

Galenus peeked over the top of the ditch, before ducking down quickly as rapid-fired lasbolts whizzed over his head, impacting hard into the dirt behind him. His command squad was huddled around him, each waiting for his to give the order to go over the top. Galenus bent over and reached into a leather pocket strapped to his calf armor, and pulled out a small carving of an eagle. The carving was exquisite, each tiny intricate detail carved with an amazing skill that only a woodsman on Macragge could learn. His father had given Caito the eagle the day before he was taken to the Agiselus barracks to be trained and tested for his ascension to the Ultramarines Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes. Caito had kept the eagle with him through every challenge in his long life, and he found that the tiny piece of wood gave him comfort. He clutched the eagle now, praying to the Emperor for protection in the coming fight.

He looked to his right at Fabian, his Company Standard-bearer, and gave him a curt nod.

"Raise the standard high, brother!" Galenus called out, and felt his heart soar as Fabian unfurled the great banner of the Fifth Company of the Ultramarines and raised it high in the air for all to see. Galenus turned the the other members of the command squad.

"Are you ready, brothers?" he asked, already knowing what their answers would be.

"Always, captain," they replied in unison. Galenus smiled. Trinian, a veteran of many campaigns, hefted his multi-melta, his bare head showing his dark grey eyes and stoic features, ready to take the fight to the foe. Beside him stood Kratos, the Company Champion. He was the only member of Galenus' command squad who had served since it's creation, and in that long period he had killed many enemy leaders and champions. Apothecary Valuis was next, prudently running a last-minute check on his narthecium. Lastly came Dercian. The newest member of the command squad, he had been elevated to the position after single-handedly stoppering a breach at the northen wall of the castle that the Fifth had taken shelter in during the Bloodborn attack on Quintarn. On his left hand, a power fist crackled with blue energy, and his right clutched an ornate and heavily modified combi-bolter.

Satisfied, Galenus switched from his squad vox to his Company vox channel.

"Brothers, for the Emperor!" he cried, before leaping out of the ditch and charging forward towards the enemy lines. His feet pounded hard on the gravel under him, rocks grinding to dust under his armour-shod feet. His bolter blazed away in his hands, bucking as it shot fiery death at the foe who dared to stand before the Ultramarines. Behind him, his Company rose from the natural trenches and followed their captain across the killing ground, walking through the hail of las-fire to slay their enemy with a righteous fervour. Further down the line, Galenus saw the five First Company Terminators marching towards the walls, their heavy Tactical Dreadnought armour turning aside the incoming fire as though it was rain. Their storm bolters blazed away, reaping a fearsome tally of enemy warriors with each controlled, precise blast.

Galenus locked his bolter to his hip as his clip emptied, and drew a broad power sword from his waist. The hilt was wrapped in gold, and the blade was carved with the deeds of the brothers who had carried the sword on a thousand battlefields and slain a million foes with it. Energy leaped around the blade, wreathing it in a sea of crackling blue. Galenus roared an jumped over the hastily erected barricade, rolling on his shoulder and rising to one knee, his blade held before him in a defensive stance.

Before him stood a being in full Astartes battle plate. The being looked to be an Astartes, but Galenus could tell instantly that whatever wore the armour was not Astartes; it was utterly alien, a member of the species Galenus and his forces had been sent to eradicate. The commander of the xenos forces was flanked by two of his warriors, each hefting an ornately carved sword in each hand. Their bodies had human features, but they were not human at all. Both stood at eight feet tall, with no armour on whatsoever. Their hair was shockingly white, and their eyes burned a bright purple. Their skin was pale, more pallid than even that of a son of Corax. Their bodies were heavily muscles, and they radiated psychic potential. Galenus felt nauseated looking upon the abominations.

The leader in Astartes plate cocked his head to the side.

"Who are you?" the xenos asked, his already strange voice warped by the armour's vox-speakers.

"Captain Galenus of the Ultramarines Fifth Company," Galenus said. "I am here to kill you!" He lunged at the xenos, who simply stepped back and let his two bodygaurd block Galenus' attack. His sword came crashing down on the alien blades in a shower of sparks, and he twisted away before the xenos could retaliate. He backed away from the two bodygaurd, who angled themselves to come at his sides. He waited for them to first the first move.

Then, they did something that Galenus should have foreseen. They stood straight up and poiunted their sworsd at him. Their purple eyes glowed madly and the swords began to vibrate in their large hands. Galenus, backed further away, but there would be no escaping this. The two xenos warriors screamed, and twin bolts of purle energy shot from their psychic-conductive blades at Galenus, He took the full force of the blast and was thrown from his feet, flying ten feet backwards before crashing intop the brick barricades. He slumped on the ground, his sword two feet away from him. His pulled of his helemt and reached up to touch his face. It was badly burnt; the skin was charred badly, and he knew that he was wounded badly. He tried to stand, but he had no strength, no energy. He tried to reach for his sword, and he grasped the handle, feeling slightly comforted as his armoured hands wrapped around the golden hilt.

An armoured foot stepped down on his wrist, and he looked up to see the xenos leader standing over him. Galenus spat on the xenos foot, and glared at the eye lenses of the warrior.

"Who are you, xenos filth?" Galenus asked. He wanted to know who his killer was, so that he could curse his soul to the warp for all eternity. The xenos crouched down and lifted his helm from his head. Long, shoulder-length white hair fell as he did so, framing a warped face that held two deeply-sunken eyes. Those purple eyes bored into Galenus' own, and Galenus gasped as he felt the xenos creature reach into his mind, crushing any mild resistance Galenus tried to put up to stop the psychic invasion of his mind. The creature brought his face closer to Galenus' looking deeper in the captain's eyes, his purple eyes glowing brightly.

"I am Kurth," the xenos leader said. He stood up, satisfied that he had seen everything he had needed to see in Galenus' mind; battle plans, camp locations, squad deployments. He arched his arm back and swung a enormous armoured fist hard at the captain's face.

The last thing Caito Galenus saw before he blacked out was those glowing, purple eyes.

 

 

Let me know what you guys think!

Thanks!

[Yaj]

Good Work.

 

I hope 'Kurth' meets a nice and bloody end.

[Dominicus]

500 years earlier.

 

Marisina screamed horribly from inside the small shack. Her husband, Martus, clutched his head, covering his ears as tears streamed down his face. To hear the one he loved in so much pain tore at his heart. He wished dearly that he could feel her pain for her, but it was an impossible notion. Martus stood outside the hut and waited for the screams to stop. She's fine, she IS fine, Martus tried to convince himself, to no avail. 

As suddenly as it had started two hours ago, the screaming stopped. Martus rushed to the door and burst into the house to find his wife holding an extremely white baby. The child was very pale, and made the snow-capped mountains of Rensar V look dark in comparison. Even though the baby was only a few minutes old, he looked oddly large, muscular, in a way. His eyes were closed peacefully, and a shocking tuft of white hair crowned his small head like the victory laurels of a triumphant general. Martus walked over to stand beside his wife's bed, and exchanged a loving glance with her before taking in the sight of his first son again.

"What will we name him?" Martus asked, his hand reaching out to gently brush against his son's head. The baby's eyes opened at the moment of contact, and Martus flinched when he saw the vivid purple that they were. The small pinprick pupils in the center of the baby's eyes contrasted against the irises, and Martus  was mesmerized instantly.

"I think we should name him Kurth," Marisina said softly, her gaze also drawn to her son's unique eyes.

"Yes," Martus whispered, picking up his son and holding him close. "Kurth."

 

490 years earlier

 

Kurth ran down the alley between the huts and jumped athletically on top of a trash can, before leaping up to grab onto the edge of the roof, He hung there for several minutes, until a small boy wheeled around the corner and stopped, looking up at Kurth. 

"Ha, found you!" the boy shouted, sprinting towards Kurth's hanging form.

"You wish, Krast," Kurth grunted as he pulled himself up onto the roof, his abnormal muscles flexing as he exerted himself. He ran across the roof and slid to a stop as he came to the edge. He looked down and saw a roaming pack of wild richans, and backed away from the edge.

Behind him, Krast pulled himself up onto the roof and stalked toward Kurth, his eyes blazing with triumph.

"I've got you now, Kurth," the younger boy announced victoriously. 

"Little brother," Kurth sighed, " You have a lot to learn." Kurth ran to the edge of the roof and pushed off, his powerful legs propelling him through the air and onto the next roof, where he rolled and rose into a low crouch, looking back at Krast. His little brother stood with a gaping mouth staring at Kurth, then at the fifteen-foot gap between the houses, then back at Kurth. 

A lot to learn, Kurth thought, before dropping lightly off the roof onto the ground below.

 

Kurth hit the ground lightly, bending his knees to absorb the shock of his landing, and bounded off down the nearest alley, hurdling a cart being pulled by a grox down towards the village market. He ran hard, his bare feet slapping the dirt as he sprinted towards his home. As he passed an old broken mirror discarded in the alley, he skidded to a stop, and turned back, walking slowly to stand in front of the mirror. Kurth looked at himself, taking in every aspect of abnormal form. His build was very muscular, which was odd, given the fact that Kurth was only ten years old. He stood tall at seven foot six, with a short crop of white hair on his head, and brilliant purple eyes that blazed with unforetold power. 

 

Kurth looked around him, and saw a small pile of stones lying on the ground, leftovers from a building project. He focused him mind, tuning out the noises and sights around him. He shut his eyes tightly, and relaxed his hands. The stones began to vibrate gently, then shake violently, before rising into the air to hover several inches above the ground. Kurth opened his eyes. The purple irises were lit up like a fire, and small visible flashes of blue crackled across them. Kurth smiled, then clenched his hand into a fist. The stones shook even more violently, before exploding into dust and settling to the ground where they had been before. Satisfied, Kurth turned away from the dust pile and continued his long run home.

 

As he neared his house, he slowed his pace. In the distance, he could hear shouting voices, and cracks resounded through the cool evening air. Kurth jogged lightly, down the last alleyway, his footsteps as silent as a predator stalking it's prey. At the end of the alley, he crouched behind an abandoned cart and peeked through the broken splints of wood to see his house. But he could not have prepared himself for what he saw.

 

His father was tied to a chair just outside the house, a few feet from the front door. Soldiers carrying rifles walked around his, yelling accusations and questions at him, and when he refused to respond, or gave an answer the did not like, they would punch him, kick him, or slam the butts of their rifles into his face. Further off, a large vehicle sat idling on the roadway, another soldier sitting upright and alert in the gunner's cupola atop the vehicle, swiveling constantly, scanning the darkening horizon for any threats.

Or witnesses, thought Kurth sourly. He wished for nothing more than to run to his father's aid, but what would that gain either of them? It would just result in both father and son tied to chairs, being beaten and interrogated by the soldiers.

 

Kurth squinted his eyes, trying to look for anything that might identify the soldiers, and who they were working for. Kurth looked back at the personnel carrier on the road, and his sharp vision picked out a golden double-headed eagle emblazoned on the front, just below the driver's view slit.

These are Imperials. 

As the thought formed in Kurth's head, he remembered what his father had told him about these killers of worlds. He had told Kurth that he, his brothers, and his sisters, were "different" from everyone else. They were special, he had said, but the Imperials did not see that the way his father did. They saw Kurth and his siblings as freaks, mutants, and dangers to the rule they served under.

 

Kurth remembered all of his father's warnings in a heartbeat, and he knew why the soldiers were here now. He cursed them under his breath, and went back to watching the scene before, deciding to wait until they left before he revealed himself. Everything will be alright, he tried to reassure himself, but it was a vain effort.

 

The boy watched in horror as the commander of the force stepped from the tank and walked past the soldiers to stand face-to-face with Kurth's father, Martus. Kurth strained his hearing, and was able to listen in on the conversation.

"Where are the mutants, heretic?" asked the commander, his patience obviously long gone.

"I will never tell you," Kurth's father spat, his eyes betraying the fear that lay hidden under his mask of hatred.

"Well then," the commander said turning away from Martus and taking a few steps before turning back to face the man. " It seems we are done here." With those words, the commander drew a small sidearm from a holster that sat snug on his hip, and fired three shots at Martus. The first shot slammed into Martus' knee, the second his chest, and the third dead between the man's eyes, blowing brains, bone, and blood out the back of Martus' skull. 

 

Kurth screamed with rage and broke from his hiding spot, charging towards the gaggle of soldiers and their commander. Cries of "There's one!" and "Take him out!" filled the air as Kurth charged in a fit of berserker rage. Las-fire from the soldiers filled the air around Kurth, but anything that seemed to connect just bounced away off of his skin. As the Imperials clips ran empty, the desperately tried to reload, but it was too late. Kurth was among them. He swung his fists in wide arcs, connecting with every blow. Soldiers toppled to the ground, their faces splintered masses of bone, blood, and skin. As Kurth rampaged through the troops, he picked up a combat knife from one of the fallen soldiers, and, wielding it with the skilled of a practiced swordsman, decapitated three soldiers with one blow. The remaining troops tried to rally and parry his thrusts and cuts, but he was moving at superhuman speed, powered further still by his psychic prowess. His purple eyes glowed darkly with a burning hate, and as the last soldier fell, he turned to face the commander.

 

The Imperial Guard colonel stood still and silent, his mouth open in shock and the ornate auto-pistol in his hand completely forgotten. Kurth strode over to the commander and cut off his hand with a flick of his wrist, and picked up the gun from the ground. He leveled the pistol at the colonel's face.

"My turn," he growled. He pulled the trigger, and watched with satisfaction as the Imperial dropped to the ground, half of his face disintegrated into a red mist that hung thick in the air. Kurth turned and fired three more shots at the tank gunner, who was turning to face Kurth. All three shots hit, and the gunner slumped forward over his gun without a head.

 

Kurth dropped the pistol, but kept the knife, and picked up another, along with the colonel's master crafted power sabre. He ran inside the house and stomped on the rug in the main hallway. A passage opened up, and three figures ran out; two girls, followed by a small boy that bore a shocking resemblance to Kurth. 

 

Kurth looked over the three and pointed towards the kitchen. 

"Grab some sacks and fill them with as much food as you can carry," he ordered, before turning back to the door.

"Kurth!" one of the girls shouted after him. He turned and looked at her.

"What, Mariasa?" Kurth asked, his voice low and tempered.

"Where-Where is Papa?" the young girl asked, her eyes red. She had obviously been crying in the hidden room while Martus was being interrogated.

"Dead," Kurth said bluntly, before turning back to the door and sprinting out into the dark to look for his Krast.

 

When Kurth returned, with Krast right behind him, the five siblings, three boys and two girls, set off towards the Redicanosa Mountains. When they were well away from the village, Kurth paused for a moment to look back. He could see torches burning brightly as Imperial soldiers flooded the village streets, searching for Kurth and his family, burning houses as they went.

 

Krast walked up beside Kurth, and looked up at his older brother.

"Can we ever go back?" Krast asked, his voice not trembling even slightly at the notion of leaving behind the only life they had ever known.

"No," Kurth replied. "We can never go back. Not now, at least. But we will one day." Kurth paused for a moment, thinking.

"And when we do go back, we will make those Imperials pay for what they have done to us."