The Beginning of the End

[Kol Saresk]

Okay this is basically what I got written down. Hopefully I won't hit writer's block. *fingers crossed

 

Part 1

 

He climbed the wall letting the sharpened digits of his gauntlets sink into the stone wall of the fortress tower. It was agonizingly slow progress. He stopped moving to tighten his grip as mortar shells shook the tower. It was all he could do to hold on as the tower took a direct hit.

 

Bloody bastards! He thought. The Iron Warriors laying siege to this world had hired him and his fellow warriors to take out the watch towers on the fortress wall. It was well built, more than capable of withstanding a bombardment and seemed to have close to unlimited supplies as his employers had been laying siege to this world for quite a while. He had to smile at the idea that the Sons of Perturabo were being waylaid by mere mortals.

 

He focused back on the task as hand as the tower ceased its shaking. He cursed them under his breath in his native tongue. When it had ceased again, the climb was resumed. As he neared the top of the tower, the sound-sensors on the outside of his helmet began to hear voices.

 

"Hey, when do you think the reinforcements will get here?"

 

"Hell if I know. We might be lucky if the Powers that Be even decide to send reinforcements to this Emperor-forsaken grox-stye."

 

"Of course they'll send some! We're on a border world aren't we? Isn't the Imperium supposed to protect its borders? Especially from Traitors?"

 

"Supposed to ain't always. Besides, any reinforcements that do come have to break the blockade in orbit. These buggers came prepared remember?"

 

"Yeah I reckon you're right. Just have to see what tomorrow brings I guess."

 

"Great, now shut up and let me get back to my nap."

 

The climber smiled as he heard the conversation. There had indeed been reinforcements. And they all died shortly after translation. There had been no glory in the fight as the entire fleet of transports and their escorts had been too confused to actually fight back. He remembered how his master's strike cruiser had passed in and out of the confused mass of ships, like a knife being repeatedly stabbed into a body until the victim finally died.

 

He reached the lip that led to the sight chamber of the tower. He waited and listened. He could hear one mortal snoring, another pacing about and a third one tapping nervously on the rockcrete. He was disappointed that there was going to be so little challenge. Grasping the lip, he planted his feet between his chest and the wall, pushing with all of his strength while hauling with his arms. The result was fear and shock crossing the faces of his prey as their death perched itself on their own ledge. One of them was actually able to raise his lasrifle before the murderer grabbed his weapon and punched his face through the back of his skull. The second one managed to scream before lightning claws sent his severed head falling down the side of the tower to land on the battlements below. The third one pissed himself as the nightmare walked towards him. One swing of the lightning claws saw his intestines spilling themselves out of his stomach. He screamed as he saw his own insides. He continued to scream as the monster wrapped his neck with his own intestines and threw him over the side. He finally stopped when his entrails stopped short on the Renegade's combat knife that had been stabbed into the rockcrete. Alarms and sirens finally began to sound as the mortals noticed the dead on the walls.

 

***

 

Mikel paced nervously around the war-tent. His soldiers should have reported back to him by now. This was taking too long!

 

"You know sorcerer, I'm beginning to regret hiring you. And here I thought you were supposed to be some of the best mercenaries the Eye could offer." Toshimaru said as he looked up from his logistic maps. His burnished iron armor dully reflected the light from the lumen poles that surrounded the interior of the tent.  There were three other Iron Warriors as well as several mortal slave-soldiers. There was also... Something sitting on a throne in the back of the tent. Its warp presence was too strong to be even be called an Astartes yet it seemed to have a touch of the material realm about it that did not suggest an actual daemon was present.

 

"Well my lord, seeing that we were the only ones out of this entire force that could reach the walls and survive, we're already ahead of many of your forces. The only thing I'm worried about is that they have not checked in yet, but that might be because of your blind firing a waste of ammunition shook the fortress wall too much."

Mikel replied. Toshimaru had his sword halfway out of the scabbard when the blaring alarm sirens of the fortress cut through the din of artillery fire. Mikel smiled as the vox sizzled with static.

 

+Master, it's done. The first tower has been cleared of its watchers and I am moving to take care of the occupants. Victor and Seratis should be finishing soon.+ As if to puncuate his words, there was a distant explosion as an Imperial ammo bunker was destroyed.

 

The vox crackled again as Seratis and Viktor reported in. Mikel smiled even more as Toshimaru's face glowed bright red with anger. The thing laughed as the shadows surrounding its form blared out in time with its booming bass.

 

"Well done Mikel. It seems you were worth the payment after all. You will be handed your slaves and supplies after we have taken the fortress." It spoke, its voice sounding of the quality of worlds grinding against each other.

 

"Mighty Warsmith, I hate to disagree with you but our contract was for us to open the way and then we would leave with our payment." Mikel replied.

 

"Ah but we do not yet know the way is open. True, there is now a hole in the wall and even now my armies rush to seize it, but a hole does not guarantee victory. When that is achieved, I will let you leave." The Warsmith's presence seemed to grow, exerting a psychic pressure that grated against Mikel.

 

"If that be the case, then you will not mind me going to join the battle." Mikel left the tent before anyone could reply. No one noticed the amulets that he had left on the lumen poles during his pacing.

[ANCIENT FALOR]

interesting. looking forward to see where this goes.

[Kol Saresk]

Okay, for those of you were waiting for this(looks only like Falnor) here is my next installment. Please feel free for C&C. Even the bad stuff. Enjoy! :)

 

 

 

 

 

Part 2

 

"Man the breach! Get your arses in there! This is your moment to shine! Don't fail the Emperor now!" someone was yelling to the Guardsmen. Viktor watched as the mortals scattered like insects whose hive had come under attack. It actually impressed him. The wall was still collapsing and yet already the soldiers were moving to hold the fortress. Even the Cadians hadn't moved that fast when Abaddon's last Black Crusade broke out. Parts of the wall's base were flying out into what would normally be a killzone, providing cover for the coming attackers. At last those who weren't crushed by the falling masonry. The very top of the wall sagged but amazingly still stood up, giving the appearance of a newly built archway.

 

"Hey Seratis, come look at this. I’ve never seen a group of mortals move this fast. Aren’t they scared?”

“Look, just because they’re moving doesn’t mean they aren’t scared. It just means we actually have a chance to get our blades good and bloody.” Seratis replied. Both Renegades were watching the mortal from a nearby bunker secured just behind the wall. Its occupants were littered all over the inside in a shower of blood, gore and body pieces. Until Viktor had distracted him, Seratis had been rigging demolition charges to several munitions crate. While not the size of the ammunition storage for the artillery, it would still make for a decent explosion. And while he excelled at this, he preferred to tear the enemy apart limb from limb. Or at least burn them to ash with his flamer. Adrenaline began to flood his system in anticipation, but he forced it down.

 

The task at hand needed focus. They would need five minutes to get clear and to the next objective so the explosion could provide cover. Too soon, they would be noticed. Too late, and someone might be able to disarm it. He chuckled at the thought of someone disarming one of his bombs.

 

“Alright Viktor, we’re done here. Let’s move out.” They slowly eased out through the bunker door. They could hear the sounds of battle taking place at the wall breach while Guardsmen were still running towards it, recently roused from their posts. Seratis imagined that he could hear the Imperial guns being sighted at their enemies as he felt them firing their ordnance.

 

The inside of the fortress was more like a city than anything else. Neatly ordered streets intersected each other while filled with barracks, storage bunkers and other buildings. A few belched smoke smelled heavily of metals and chemicals, most likely some sort of foundry. Seratis pointed to the closest one, Viktor nodded. They waited for a patrol to pass by before lunging out of the shadows. The building’s entrance was in reach when another patrol rounded the corner. Viktor was the first to react, drawing a combat blade and slamming it into the chest of the closest Guardsman. The next one was taken down by as a ceramite-encased fist grabbed his head and forced it into his chest cavity. The third, a woman, had her entire spinal column wrenched out through her stomach and used as a whip to break the neck of another victim.

 

While the need for silence prevented Viktor from using his bolter, Seratis had no such handicap. His flamer hissed in a steady flame, the promethium burning the air inside their very lungs as it cooked the Guardsmen to ashes. It just kissed Viktor’s armor as his bloody rampage carried him a little too close. Too late, they realized a single Imperial had been too far from the violence. His shoulders heaved and his mouth opened as he started to shout a warning to his comrades. As the sound began to escape his throat, a tarnished blade burst through the back of his chest. The impact of the throw carried him off of his feet as blood gurgled in his mouth with his last breath. A shadow separated itself from the darkness clinging to the buildings to collect its blade.

 

“Hello Domitian, why aren’t you at the wall?” Seratis said to his brother Renegade. The former Eagle Warrior glared at him with eyes of pure hate. Where Seratis, Viktor and Mikel got along with relative camaraderie, Domitian preferred to remain aloof. While he was fiercely loyal to the Sorcerer for unknown reasons, he hated his fellow Renegades. Like a wolf that believed itself superior to the dogs that surrounded him, he carried his arrogance like a cloak and when he wasn’t acting as Mikel’s bodyguard, he was always going the missions solo. And it irked Seratis to admit that his level of skill at combat either surpassed everyone else or was just on par with their best fighters.

 

“Hmph. If this one had been allowed to talk, the wretched mortals would be raining down on your heads in no time at all. You’re lucky I came along.” He said matter-of-factly, ignoring Seratis’ question. Seratis grunted before moving to the building. There was the distinct sound of machines hammering, grinding and drilling. He nodded to Viktor who was on the other side of the door. While the Astartes were superior to mortals in every way both physically and mentally, they were not immortal and it was not impossible for a Guardsman with a heavy weapon to be able to kill them. And they had no idea what could be inside.

 

Viktor moved to kick down the door, but Domitian, who had been standing in the street way, burst in front of him and through the door with a roar pouring off of his lips. His bolter barked and bucked in his hands as mass-reactive rounds flew from its barrel. Sparks burst from the interior of the building as bolter shots banged off of metal gantries and anvils. A mindless servitor who had been standing behind the door spasmed as the hail of fire tore into it.

 

A slash of super white heat speared into Domitian’s thigh, bringing the haughty warrior to his knees. Viktor killed the assailant with a well-placed shot to the chest, silencing his hellgun. Seratis let out his own roar as he squeezed the trigger to his flamer. Working servitors burned along with screaming soldiers who had opened fire with their own weapons. Power cells cooked off as they overloaded and there were more than a few grenades that shredded the ashen corpses.

 

“Get away from me! I don’t need help from the likes of you!” He heard Domitian yell as Viktor tried to pick him. He struggled to rise by himself and had to lean against a support beam in order to stand. Seratis shook his head at the warrior’s pride before surveying his surroundings. They were in a repair shop for armored vehicles. A relatively pointless target. And because of Domitian’s blind firing, the Guardsmen now knew where the intruders were. He could already hear tracked treads rumbling across the streets outside before stopping. There was a clatter of booted feet. The three Renegades turned around facing the doorway, weapons raised. Their fingers began to squeeze the triggers.

 

***

[Kraull the Rampager]

Looking good mate. Keep it up.

[Brother Ambroz]

I echo Kraull. Going well so far. Still trying to identify some of the renegades though, where they're from. The one's from the Eagle Warriors.....but the others....or was that the plan, to keep it a secret?

[Kol Saresk]

The others are coming along piece by piece and a little twist about which Renegade is where is about to get thrown in. Part 3 should either be finished tonight or tomorrow.

[Kol Saresk]

Not as much as I wanted done and to be honest it isn't exactly my best work. But here it is, Part 3.

 

 

 

 

 

Part III

 

It was night when the Archenemy charged the breach in the wall. It was built in a forgotten age, by the great Ultramarines if half-remembered legend was to be believed. Artillery fire created a line of fire, smoke, light and explosions that connected the two sides. Maddened slaves whose bodies had been filled with drugs and steroids charged their way across the cratered ground. Many of them were crushed by the still falling rubble, but they simply ignored the shower of gore and body parts filled with small rocks that lacerated their skin and drove them even further into the drug-induced haze. The Imperials did their best to stop the incoming tide by massing all of their cannons and are burst surface-to-surface rockets at the incoming tide. And it was this move that had sealed their fate.

 

On every charge before, the Iron Warriors would send the tides of slaves forward under the cover of bombardment. Spotters in the now empty towers would report the source of the fire which would then be bracketed and destroyed by the howitzers and basilisks hidden further within the fortress, confident that the wall could hold its own. But the breach had forced them into desperation. And now the Iron Warriors were finally able to move the guns into firing range of the fortress itself, rather than the base of its wall.

 

And the defenders were also split between two fronts, one against the oncoming tide, the other turned inward towards the monsters in their midst. The Renegade Marines were reaping a fearsome tally, destroying some of the smaller artillery pieces while relating the positions of others to their Iron Warrior allies. Some of the Marines were bottled into many of the buildings of the hive-like fortress, forced to stand fight against the inferior, but more heavily numbered Guardsmen. Where before they acknowledged the fact that they were holding an enemy as powerful as the Iron Warriors at bay for months on end, their resolve was shattered in the single event of a hole in their mighty wall that even now still stood while the fortress' guns roared their fury at its would-be invaders.

 

***

 

"My Warsmith, the slaves are reaching the wall now. The mutant regiments are coming up behind them along with the other mortals in our service. If the scans are correct, the Sorcerer and his ilk are moving up with the second wave." Toshimaru reported, not looking up from the digital displays of the unfolding battleground. Where most warlords would prefer to be in the thick of the fight, the Warsmith felt it better to observe and let its tactical and logistical expertise coordinate the movements of his troops. Many of its warriors disagreed with its methods, but few ever dared to speak out against him.

 

"Something is bothering you Toshimaru. Speak." Its voice never rose above a whisper. But it carried the rumble of a mighty thunderstorm caged within a small mountain and could be heard on the other side of the war tent.

 

"Well my lord, why did we have to bring the Renegades? We could have taken this wall without them. We have taken greater fortresses to the iron so why didn't we take this one? We were there at the Siege of Terra? We broke through the walls built by Dorn and his cursed sons! So why couldn't we break these mortals?" the lieutenant ranted, turning red in the face while saliva hung from his lips.

 

"I will ignore such tone and questioning of my strategies this one time my Lieutenant." The Iron Warrior hang his head in shame at the rebuke, "But I will answer you. It is simple really, we were arrogant. We thought that we could beat the mortals in a single day and following that thinking, we brought an army meant to take a weaker fortress in one day. We are merely paying for our hubris. Too many Sons of the Great Perturabo have been lost on this wretched rock, their precious gene-seed lost with them. We are sadly a dying breed. So if I have the chance to let some low-blood mongrels die in the place of our true brethren then so be it."

 

"But what if they live?" Toshimaru asked, a sudden gleam in his eye.

 

"My fleet is in need of more warships. Sadly they will all die and I shall lay claim to theirs." The mountainous shadow replied as seemed to grow even larger in stature.

 

***

 

Viktor and Domitian opened fire with their bolters as the door blew apart in a razor cloud of metal shards and wooden splinters. The first Guardsmen who crossed the threshold were turned into a bloody paste that hung in their air for their comrades to run through before their own blood-drenched remains were added to the cloud.

 

They ducked behind support pillars as Seratis unleashed his flamer. Mortals screamed as their flesh bubbled and popped. They fell to floor burning, putting up a wall of fire between the Astartes and their assailants. Helllgun blasts carved through the flames to smash against machinery, half-hearted in its attempt to hit a viable target.

 

“So how are we getting out of this one Domitian?” Seratis asked. Domitian glared at him while trying to use temporary sealing agent on his leg armor to restore some of its integrity. As he turned back to his work, Seratis smiled. “What do you know Viktor, the great Son of Gulliman doesn’t have a plan.”

 

“Hahaha. Not much of a surprise. He seems to have lost that creative spark in recent days.” He replied. A fallen rock slammed into his helmet as Domitian threw it but he only laughed more. Seratis started to look for a way out as he could hear some sort of armored vehicle moving outside. He saw a window towards the roof facing the opposite wall. He pointed towards it and they started to climb the rungs leading to the gantries above the forge.

 

“Why don’t they just blow this place already and kill us?” Domitian asked, pain evident in his voice along with his visible limp.

 

“Because, if they destroy every single repair shop that they happen to us in, they won’t be able to fix any of their vehicles.” He answered.

 

“So you’re saying they think they have a chance of winning?” The Eagle Warrior replied, a look of incredulity on his face.

 

“They think they can win. They’re about to find out that the only thing they can do is die if the Iron Warriors actually manage to carry the wall.”

 

“You doubt our Legion brothers?”

 

“I doubt everyone and you know it. Now let’s get out of here.” As soon as the words were out of Seratis’ mouth, the archway surrounding the broken door was sundered as a Chimera forced its way through. Its sheer weight extinguished the flames and massive abhumans climbed out of the vehicle, rolling their necks and stretching their shoulders. The tallest Ogryn looked straight at Seratis, and while as a subspecies all Ogryn were stupid, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t see some sort of intelligence behind those eyes.

 

Time slowed down as the Ogryn lifted its massive hand-cannon. He looked straight down the barrel. Normally, Astartes power armor, even armor as old as his Mk V Heresy armor, would be able to easily survive solid shot ammunition. But the ripper gun had 40 mm solid slugs made from hardened adamantium. It would have no problem tearing through him. He raised his flamer in a futile gesture, the distance between them was too great.

 

“Get down!” He heard either Viktor or Domitian shout, he wasn’t too sure which. The abhuman fired its cannon. The slug grazed his helmet and threw him off of his feet and onto the gantry. He heard bolter fire as his fellow Renegades returned fire.

 

“Go!. Take that oaf with you! I’ll hold them off for as long as I can.” Domitian ordered as Seratis moved towards the window.

 

“Are you sure?” Seratis asked, bewildered that the usually arrogant and self-centered warrior was actually risking his life.

 

“Yes! We must finish the mission! I must not fail Lord Mikel!” he shouted. Of course, he thought, it was out of loyalty to the sorcerer he was giving his life, not out of new found loyalty to his comrades. True, the entire warband wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for the sorcerer. Most of its members would have been killed at one point or another without it. Some had died anyway though. And out of all its members, Domitian and the Reaper had been the most loyal.

 

Without a backward glance, he shoved Viktor through the window, leaving the Eagle Warrior to his fate. Once on the roof, the two Renegades began to leap frog the buildings. There was a massive explosion and they looked back to see the repair shop collapse in on itself in a pillar of smoke darker than the night sky.

 

“He’s finally gone. Good riddance.” Seratis muttered under his breath. Viktor looked at him quizzically. He started to turn away but he noticed that the black paint on Viktor’s shoulder pad had been taken off to reveal the grey-and-black livery of his former Chapter, the Sons of Antaeus. It brought almost-forgotten memories with a grimace on Seratis’ face as he remembered his own past before the warband.

 

“What’s wrong? Miss him already?” Viktor asked, misinterpreting the look on his face.

 

“Nothing. Just don’t worry about. We need to get moving. The faster we get done, the faster we can leave.”

[Ace Debonair]

“He’s finally gone. Good riddens.”

 

I'm pretty sure it's spelt 'riddance'.

Might just be a UK spelling, though. ;)

 

Interesting story, for sure - I have no idea what's going to happen next!

[Kol Saresk]

Actually I think you're right so thanks. Spell check kept wanting to change it back to ridden, rid den and ride on. So thanks! ;)

[Kol Saresk]

For any who are concerbed, I've hit a writer's block. More like a train wreck simce I know where I want the story to go but I'm tripping over myself to get it there so it may be a very long while before an update is made.

[Brother Ambroz]

Kol- question for ya. How long does it usually take you to write this stuff up? Just the little fluff tidbits I write take a few hours each, I'm kinda curious if I'm slow or what. On another note as for your writers block, I'd recommend reading some other people's stuff for some inspiration.

[Kol Saresk]

It all depends. I more or less rely on those moments of inspiration and creativity since I usually get a lot of them. And if I am able to, I either jump on my PC or grab a pen and paper. But most recently they have been popping up while I am driving on a major interstate on my way home so I have to reconstruct them which can take a while. So far this last bit has taken two weeks or so. I had actually planned for it to be part of the last post but since I couldn't reach the deadline I had set for myself, I cut and just now finished it after another couple of hours. But I would say a couple of hours to chug out a thousand words or so is normal. Unless you are A-D-B or some other God-equivalent. The other short story I put up here, Forsaken, I got lucky on. I had a whole six hours to sit down and knock it out and then post.

 

And without further ado, here is the next installment:

 

 

 

Part IV

 

“Come on men! We must stand strong! If we run, we will surely die! Better to die fighting than shot in the back!” Commissar Williams shouted. He was a tall, bullish man who wore the foreboding black uniform of the Morticians 8th with obvious relish. Across his back was strapped a massive, two-handed chainsword. He had no face to speak of, just a nest of scars that two beady, blue eyes stared out from.

 

The men of the Morticians feared him, just as they should. But his recent behavior had unnerved them somewhat. Normally, he wouldn’t think about shooting any Guardsman that showed even a hint of cowardice regardless of their rank or position. This massive breach in the wall had stayed his hand however, as pragmatism overran his normal methods of control.

 

“First and Second Ranks, reload! Third and Fourth, open fire!” The Guardsmen smoothly rotated between firing ranks, just as they had practiced so many months ago before this war had begun. More of the Archenemy’s slaves and mutants died as they charged into the hail of lasfire. The debris from the explosion provided cover from the guns on top of the wall while they crossed the killzone, but there was still roughly thirty meters of dead space that was rapidly filling up with bodies of the dead. Either they were too stupid to change tactics or they were running from something far worse than death. He prayed to the God-Emperor that it was the former. Even if they reached the wall, they could hold them long enough for the armor to get here from the citadel.

 

“Come on! Keep your rifles up and the triggers squeezed! Don’t let go until the power runs out! Change ranks! Keep firing! The enemy will build us a new wall in time with their bodies!” It was a bad attempt at humor, but some of the Guardsmen chuckled nervously.

 

The mound of dead stretched closer and closer.

 

“Third and Fourth ranks, fix bayonets! Then switch when First and Second run dry!” He drew his own chainsword and laspistol. Given his sword’s size, it was a bit unorthodox way of handling his weapons. But if it got the job done, then he wouldn’t care.

 

The ranks switched. A large mutant jumped the bodies. He could see its every moment so slowly, like a vid-recorder. He could see the saliva dripping from its oversized, ork-like jaws. Blood spurted from its chest and arms as las-shots burned into it. He could see its muscles tensing over several bulges in its gut. He didn’t think. His eye sighted down his laspistol. His finger tensed and squeezed. There was a small, intense flash of red-white. The bolt pierced his abdomen, hitting one of the bulges. The charges hidden within his body detonated.

 

The living bomb was only fifteen meters away when it died. The entire First rank and most of the Second Rank of the Guardsmen were killed outright by the fire and fragments made of metal and bone. Williams was lying on the ground, struggling to stand up. He put his hand to his head as a massive headache assaulted him. There was an incessant ringing in his hears. Smoke covered the battlefield. Slowly the ringing ceased and the cries of his men began to reach them.

 

“Hurry men! Reform the ranks! The enemy is attacking!” But they weren’t.

 

“Vox operator! Find out where that armor is!” he shouted. Did the enemy drop dead or something?

 

“Yes sir!” someone replied. He wasn’t sure who. This cursed smoke is getting everywhere.

 

“Medics! Get the wounded back behind the lines! Hurry! If you can’t move then just leave them!” It was callous, but sometimes sacrificing a few saved even more. He could hear thunder in the distance. It must be the artillery.

 

“Sir, the tanks are two minutes away! They had to deal with some of the enemy troops that had managed to get past the wall!” He realized the thunder was moving closer. And it wasn’t artillery. In two minutes it will be two minutes too late.

 

He could see something emerging from the smoke. It was massive. At first he thought maybe it was a Warhound Titan but it wasn’t quite that large and there was something wrong with its body posture. As it came closer, he was able to make out the screaming faces of daemons in ecstasy trying to force their way out from the armor. One arm ended in a vicious looking claw that could have passed for a drill at a glance. The other ended in a barrel that light was gathering at the end of. May the Emperor enthroned on Terra watch over our souls.

 

It fired. There was the shriek of dying souls and reality being torn apart. The beam of energy constantly shifted through the color spectrum at a dazzling speed; blue to white to yellow to purple and back again. It went straight by him; close enough to knock him back a step and steal his breath. He covered his eyes with his right arm. Strangely enough, there was no heat.

 

“Anyone with heavy weapons, open fire!” A few heavy stubbers popped off with their rounds only to ping off of the construct’s armor. A missile streaked out from on top of the wall. The explosion forced it to a halt with a massive rent in its armor beside what served for its head. There was a mechanical groan that forced the Guardsmen to cover his ears. And that is when he noticed it. My arm! Where is my left arm?

 

It had been severed at the shoulder was pouring blood like a fountain. How could I have not noticed that?

 

He dropped to his knees and stared at the machine. It tore its energy weapon back and forth across the wall while missiles launched from racks on its shoulders straight into his soldiers positioned at the breach. The wound that had been inflicted was already healing itself, the metal bending back into place before moving like liquid mercury to seal it.

Speeding shapes flying on flames of death launched over the daemon engine and landed in the breach. All sound was lost to the boom of their bolt weapons, the whoosh of their flamers and the roar of their chainblades as they tore flesh apart and cut through bone. It’s over. We’re all going to die.

 

Scalding tears poured down his face. He tried to move. By the beloved Throne he tried! But all he could do was sit on his knees as everyone died around him. May the Emperor have mercy on my weakness.

 

Rhinos colored in a mix of dark blue and black came in behind the Traitor Assault Marines. One of them stopped right beside him. At this point he had fallen onto his back, staring up into the flames and smoke. A single Marine stepped off of the armored carrier. His armor was the darkest black with just a hint of blue. He could barely make out the insignia on his shoulder. It looked like a red wing that had been savagely scratched out and hurriedly painted over, but neither fully removed nor covered. The enemy carried a massive staff topped with some sort of malformed goat skull. Golden runes and leering faces that weren’t human by any stretch of the measure swam in and out of the dark armor beneath its ceramite and adamantium skin. The giant stood over him. Even though it was helmed, he could feel the condescension radiating from his eyes behind the red eye lenses.

 

“Hello mortal. I am wondering? Could you answer a few of my questions for me?” It breathed. He tried to curse it but all he could manage was to cough weakly. Too much blood loss.

 

“I take it you can’t speak. In that case simply nod. Where is it?” the Astartes asked. No! They couldn’t possibly know that the prisoner was here. His transfer had been top secret.

 

“So, where is he?” the fallen Angel asked again. His eyes widened in shock. Hurriedly, he tried not to think of the prisoner’s location beneath the citadel where only the Castellan could reach him. But it was too late.

 

The Astartes cocked his head to one side, as though straining to listen to a faraway shout that was being carried away on the wind. There was a faint glow in gems that had been hidden in the animal skull.

 

“Thank you mortal. That is all that I need. Reaper, you can have what’s left of him.” Another armored shape stepped out from behind his interrogator. It was roughly the same size as the monster that had sifted through his mind, but it was hunched over, as though it carried a great weight. Massive claws hung from its hands, dripping blood as though its gauntlets were filled with the liquid. He stared up a death’s head-faced helmet, horror in his eyes. The edges of his vision were starting to black out. He managed to smirk. Then the skull on the helmet grinned. And since he fell to the ground, Commissar Williams managed to found his voice. And he screamed.