A fell wind blows...

[Cpt_Reaper]

Hey all. While working on the fluff for my Chaos warband I came up with this guy. He is going to be an Abaddon counts-as, and clearly a contender for the role of top dog within the warband. Nothing special, just a quit write-up. I might redo it later with more detail.

 

Sulln slammed the blade of his axe down into the helmet of the Champion from the Iron Warriors, slaying the would-be usurper. The fight ended as the warrior let out one last breath, before falling to the ground.

Sulln was losing his grip on power, he could feel it. More and more of his forces were refusing to display his heraldry, opting to use their own. Even his Raptors were beginning to argue with him, even raising their weapons to his face.

'This is the last time Deus!' roared Sulln, tearing his axe free. 'Control your warriors lest I spill their blood upon my axe.' Deus stepped forward, his bionics-enhanced body allowing him to cover the distance easily between the pair. With a shower of sparks, the two warriors were locked together. Sulln's axe screamed under the pressure, ethereal flames surrounding the blade. Deus' growed with fury, his sword shaking under the strain of combat.

'You are not fit to lead us whelp!' Deus growled. 'I am a Warsmith of the Iron Warriors! I fought in the Great Crusade! I am unto a god!'

'Deus, I will end you once and for all!' cried Sulln, leaping into the air, his mighty wings lifting him high above the ritual combat arena. From his vantage point Sulln began to swing his axe, brilliant blue disks of energy flying towards Deus. The Warsmith was forced to roll and dive just to avoid being hit, all the while looking for a chance to counter-attack. As long as Sulln was in the air and shooting energy disks from his axe, Deus could only dodge.

'Coward! Come down and fight like a real warrior! You are only proving that you are inferior-' Deus was cut off as a terrible feeling swept over him, as if his body had turned to ice. Falling to his knees, the ancient Warsmith was able to catch a glimpse of Sulln falling from the air, his wings glittering as a coat of ice enveloped them. 'W-what is this?' Deus stammered, each breath rasping from his mouth.

'I...I can't...breathe' wheezed Sulln, struggling to stand under his own weight. The taste of metal crept into their mouths, a sign of warpcraft. All around the circle, their fellow Astartes were falling to their knees, some grasping their necks, others curling up as the unnatural cold gripped them.

'Rise...'

The feeling left, the cold retreating. Weakened, the Angels of Light began to stand. Every being there, Astartes, servant, guardsman and daemon felt their gaze being drawn to the throne high above the circle. There stood a warrior wearing a highly ornate suit of Tactical Dreadnought Armour. Horns of a daemon encircled the chestplate, while the Star of Chaos was displayed atop the suit as if in parody of an Iron Halo. His head was encased in a gleaming brass helmet, featureless save for a gash for the eye slit and a skull perched upon it's brow. In his right hand was a sword of black steel that seemed to suck in all light and warmth from it's surroundings; his left hand was an ancient Lightning claw with a twin-linked bolter built into the back. At first Deus thought that it was the Despoiler, but closer inspection disproved his initial assumption.

'Who are you?' asked Sulln, barely audible to Deus a few meters away.

'I? I am Dumah. Angel of Silence. Lord of the Frozen Citadel. The one whom you bow to!'

Deus exchanged looks with Sulln and saw the same thing he felt inside his hearts. For the first time since the death of Horus he felt genuine fear.