A Valorous Heart, a Dauntless Spirit.

[Aqui]

Bravo, Bravo, a very good read!

 

A few recurring spelling mistakes in the first post though. Your spelling as Alter but you mean Altar.

 

As for too brutal? Seems spot on to me.

 

You know how the spiel goes...

 

'Only an eternity of carnage and slaughter and the laughter of thirsting gods.'

 

Sci-Fi references, hmm?

 

The moment the Amber Dragons' Terminator Captain walked onto the Navy ship reminded me in a way of Darth Vader's entrance onto the Corellian Corvette in Star Wars IV: A New Hope.

 

But that is just me.

 

More mistakes :) Mostly insomnia related - Ironically, I tend to write better stuff when it strikes, but my typing and spelling go out the window......

 

I hadn't thought of the way Ambustio leaves his ship is similar to Darth Vader. That one might have been subconcious :P

 

There are plenty of other references, but they might only be more obvious to Anime watchers (and even then those who are old enough to have watched stuff from the 80's and 90's :P )

 

Thanks for reading. More to come over the next week or so :P

[Aqui]

A short one today, as I wanted the next part to be a larger, more continuous one. I had intended this to be included in the last part, but I wasn't sure of a few bits... :D

 

The next part will (hopefully) be posted at some point this weekend (baring me being unable to put down Version 6, getting back late from the local festival, or writers block :D ) It will be a far bigger poster. Far bigger. I've taken on board comments from the last post, so hopefully part 9 won't disappoint :P

 

Part 8:

 

The area was strewn with blood. Polly’s body was already taken away to perform last rites. Annabelles was missing, but there was so much gore, it was possible that hers was pulped. Aethelfleda was in a coma. She might not ever regain consciousness.

 

Saffron Sera felt a loss that she couldn’t begin to express. Kneeling down where Polly had lost her life, she saw that she had written in her own blood a single word.

 

Traitor

 

Sera could only imagine that she was trying to write traitor Marine. No other being could have possibly created such devastation.

 

Standing, she idly touched the necklace around her neck. It was one of two that Polly had worn, the other given to Agatha. A small trinket in silver. A stylised letter “V” for Valourous Heart. With two of her squad dead, the third incapacitated, Agatha and herself were now tasked with administrative tasks, Canoness Cho unwilling to have them far from her sight.

 

Despite herself, she sobbed. Since joining the Sisterhood, they were as close to her as she had ever felt close to anyone. Even the memory of her parents was dull in comparison.

Tears of sadness streamed down her cheeks, as she made her way back to the Command section.

 

Two Astartes were guarding the entrance. Normally stoic and silent, both saluted her with a thump to the chest, their eyes the tell tale signs of understanding. Sera was speechless, and didn’t know what to say, but one spoke.

 

“The Amber Dragons acknowledge your loss today, Sister. We will do our utmost to make those responsible pay for their heresy.”

 

Dumbfounded, she nodded and made her way inside.

 

At the cogitator console, Brother Captain Ambustio was talking at length with Agatha and Cho. Seeing her enter, he turned his attention to her.

 

“I have heard the news, Sister.” He said, his low voice carrying in perfect baritone. “My condolences.”

 

“My thanks Brother Captain, but the time for mourning is at an end. If we dally too long with feelings of grief, not only do we fail the fallen, but the God-Emperor.”

 

“Agreed. We were just reviewing the information at hand. Having viewed the cadaver of the Traitor you encountered some time ago, I can confirm that it was a Marine of the Bahltimyr Reavers, formerly known as the Bahltimyr Rayvens.

 

“It is unknown why they have shown up here. What little is known of their movements does not make any sense, at least to any sane and hale individual. Whatever evil purpose they have for this world, it is certain that it will not be easy to deal with them.”

 

“Why so?” asked Sera, “They are traitors to the Imperium, and should be dealt with like any other.”

 

“True to a degree. But the Reavers’ are descended from the Raven Guard. They are specialists in guerrilla warfare, and infiltration as are their descendants. It is also known that since their turn to the Ruinous powers, they also delight in terror tactics.”

 

“Terror tactics?”

 

“They have a predilection towards spreading as much panic and horror as possible. There are rumours that many amongst their number have mutated substantially. That of course has not been confirmed.”

 

“Understood.” Sera got the warning. It would not do to allow such information to spread amongst the superstitious Guard detachment, who were already on edge after one of the guard squads found the other members of squad Lucia.

 

“So....what is our plan of attack?”

 

“The Citadel is heavily fortified. It will take a lot of effort to break inside. If we cannot get past the doors, we are effectively in a siege situation. One I do not want.” Cho stated morosely.

 

“We need to find a way in and fast.”

 

“I think I can help you with that Lady,” Colonel Vype stated, entering the room.

 

The holviewer showed a ruin of a building a half mile east of the Citadel. The guardsman who recorded the images, was walking with his squad amongst its dilapidated walls. Just beyond him the imager showed some rubble hiding a vault.

 

“It is here that we can make entry.” The Colonel explained. “It used to be a simple book store that sold hymn books and a historical treatise of Saint Eiko. It was an ideal way of being able to get in and out of the Citadel without causing suspicion.”

 

“Why would such a passage exist? Any upstanding Priest of the Imperium would not need to use such a thing!” Sera stated.

 

“We do not know why it would be used,” the Colonel replied diplomatically. “But it’s a way in and one the enemy seems to know nothing about.”

 

There was a pause. Now that the method of ingress was found, there was the question of who would lead the assault. Colonel Vype was unwilling to send his troops in first. And for good reason, superstition aside, they weren’t shock troops, their armour would not be able to protect them in a narrow space.

 

“I will lead the assault,” said Ambustio, “I have a few squads on Marines in Tactical Dreadnought Armour. It is designed for just such an attack.”

 

Cho could see the look on Saffron’s face. She shook her head.

 

“No. I will not allow it. I know you want revenge for you Sisters, but I will not lose any more needlessly.”

 

“But, I...”

 

“I will not have it so!” shouted Cho, almost sobbing, unable to keep her composure. “No, Sera. Agatha, yourself and I will follow behind our Brothers, but you will not be at the head of the assault. I forbid it.”

“I will comply Lady.”

 

Come the assault, two squads of Space Marines in Tactical Dreadnought Armour formed up at the entrance to the passageway. As bulky as they were, Sera knew that the wearers were adept at using such powerful suits. Many were equipped with a Storm bolter and Chainfist, but a couple had heavier weapons, and she noticed a heavy flamer and assault cannon. Captain Ambustio had tech-adepts change his own armour to be equipped with Lightning Claws. In the shadows they glowed with a brilliant blue-white hue.

 

Ambustio noticed her staring.

 

“Courage Sister. For today, we will extinguish the flames of rebellion from this Planet. It will return to the Emperor’s Light.”

 

Saluting, he turned and bade his Marines to advance.

 

Cho and Agatha formed up behind Sera.

 

“Remember Saffron. We stick together. No foolhardiness. We have no idea what lies before us, so stay sharp. I need you both to co-ordinate the other new recruits. For the Saints Eiko and Lucia.”

 

“And for Annabelle, Polly and Aethelfleda,” continued Agatha.

 

“And for the Emperor.” finished Sera.

 

Adjusting the grip of her Chainsword, she followed the others into the darkness.

[Dosjetka]

I'm really enjoying the build-up :lol:

 

Ludovic

[Aqui]

Part 9:

 

Ahead the passage widened, allowing the Terminator squads to move two abreast. The air smelled, merely stale at first, but the further they preceded, the stronger it got. A sickly, cloying feel in the atmosphere. Sera’s hackles rose instinctively. Looking around, she could see her other Sisters, their own reactions painted upon their faces. Cho turned, her hands moving in standard battle sign language.

 

 

Enemy ahead. Remain silent. Do not move unless ordered.

 

Sera strained to see what was ahead, but a warning look from Cho put paid to any disobedience. In her squad, she had fourteen Sisters, who had a small amount of battlefield experience, but have not encountered anything like a Traitor Space Marine. Cho had ordered her and Agatha to take command of such a squad each, hoping that their experience would be enough to keep them safe.

 

Sera hoped so too.

 

Catching the eye of one Sister, she motioned for her to come forward. Sister Rebehka was head strong, just as she had been, but not as wilful.

 

I want you to lead one half of this group. she signed. When we get the signal, we go in all weapons blazing, so I want Lina and Roberta to bring their Flamers in behind me. I will also take Samantha, Eva, Klara and Zoë. Our main objective is to get the main door open to allow the main force entry, but to do that we need to establish a firm area of control.

 

Rebehka nodded and was about to brief the others, but Saffron grabbed her arm gently.

 

Do not, I repeat, do not allow anyone to escape. We must do this as quickly as possible. Alerting the enemy will doom us all to failure before this even starts.

 

Ambustio observed a great hall beyond the wall he was behind. From the look of it, it was one that was built to hide the drabness of the stone of the Citadel itself. The mortar that held it together was substandard, cracking and loose. From a gap between two slabs he could see what awaited them. The hall was brightly lit, it’s decoration of rich tapestries defaced with sigils that brought bile to meet his taste buds.

 

There were guards, both Human and Supra Human. The humans were dressed in filthy guard regimental uniform, defaced with the hated eight pointed star of Chaos. More than a few were showing signs of mutation. Tentacles, bestial faces, and other more unsavoury changes were evident, meaning that this rebellion had been building up for some time. The Space Marines however, were not the same as the one encountered some time ago.

 

Their armour was painted the same Black and Purple, but was twisted, even beyond the one they had previously seen. Nightmarish arms, legs and heads bloated out of proportion, the heads especially. Almost all seemed to be daemonic, showing an unnatural hunger. Some showed evidence of meat and blood dripping off their fangs. They didn’t stand straight, having a hunched gait that made them seem simian, their arms dangling almost moronically at their sides. The armour itself seemed to writhe and ache, as if tortured, screaming faces appearing and disappearing at random. The stench of corruption was almost unbearable even from that distance.

 

They were guarding something, but was hidden from view by two particularly nasty examples of those Marines, their backs to them. Ambustio could hear a voice, one that was sibilant, soothing, almost sympathetic. The voice belonged to another Marine with the same Livery, but was not nearly as monstrous. He was motioning to two such hulking giants to take positions on the opposite walls.

 

Ambustio turned, nodding to his squads. Taking a step back, he swept his arms forward, the Lightning Claws tearing through the stone like paper. Two Terminators, equipped with a Storm bolter and Power fist followed, each punching their way through to the right and left to make the hole bigger and allow the others entry and take advantage of the element of surprise.

 

Immediately, the Traitors turned to face them. The guardsmen charged, unusually for in the past they had turned tail and ran.

The monstrous Marines paused, unsure what to do. The other Marine, hissed in an archaic tongue, spitting his words like a serpent. Raising his arm, Ambustio could see that he was carrying a power weapon.

 

A Crosius Arcanum. The leader of these creatures used to be a Chaplain.

 

The Crosius was buckled, the symbol of office deliberately defaced through repeatedly being struck against something. It did nothing to diminish its power however. The owner activated the power field, lightning crackling around its surface. Thrusting it forward, pointing at the tide of Imperial forces, he continued to hiss his commands.

 

The monsters finally took heed of his words and swept forward to meet them, their gait slower than the guardsmen, but their charge sounding out, the stone floor trembling with each step.

 

Running forward, Ambustio lunged, his claws tearing through the first creatures’ chest. Back handing the next, he swung around, his eyes meeting that of the former Chaplain.

 

The Marine stood defiant, brandishing his heretical symbol of office meaningfully. Knowing that this fight would be over quicker if this traitor was killed first, Ambustio charged.

 

Ansgar Hr’Boor could see the growing rage in the Space Marine before him. Deliberately showing him his Crozius got exactly the reaction he wanted. He had grown tired of skulking in the shadows. He knew his role of overseeing the preparations was paramount, but a thrill of anticipation filled him. It had been too long since he had faced an enemy face to face, to experience the joys of combat. Launching himself at the Loyalist, he swung his weapon in a high arc, hoping to strike the other’s unprotected head. It connected with his shoulder, making him lurch to the left.

 

Whilst he was unbalanced, he tackled him, pushing him to the ground. Ambustio’s right arm came up, to try to gut him. Rolling aside, he raised his Crozius, fixing to smash it into his face.

 

He failed, as the Crozius, so blasphemously used was cut to pieces. The generator, unable to contain its power exploded, throwing Hr’Boor from his opponent. Knowing that he needed to get reinforcements, he swallowed his pride and fled, running towards an arcane archway. Ambustio followed, knowing that he must be silenced.

 

The escape of the traitorous Chaplain didn’t go unnoticed. The creatures he commanded were disorientated, their attacks more and more unsure. Sera had to duck as one tried to disembowel her with a distended claw as big as her torso. It was just as well as Lina and Roberta engulfed it with flame, the target screeching unbearably, as it burned. Looking up, she could see that it was merely slower, the joints of its armour beginning to seize up. It was still able to fight.

 

Chainsword in hand, she made a pass at a knee brace, her arms juddering as the teeth met ceramite. Gaining purchase to dig in further, the teeth sprayed sparks that singed her hair. Finally, the armour broke, ichor and bone being forced through the tear. Sodden with unspeakable liquid, Sera twisted around to press her attack at another weak spot near the neck.

 

Trying not to breathe in the stench on her own armour, she pushed forcing the blade into it. This time the Marine-creature was ready. Grabbing it whilst the teeth still spun, it grabbed it. With unbelievable power, the Chainsword smashed, bent along its length. Sera let go, but didn’t release the hilt quick enough. Massive claws pinned her arms to her sides, her body raised higher towards that snarling visage, it’s jaws gaping, showing teeth as long as her hands. The smell was unlike anything she had ever experienced, overwhelming her senses as the creature brought her closer.

 

The teeth glistened, saliva gushing from its gullet. The void beyond yawning, as it spasmed in anticipation.

 

Sera closed her eyes, praying to the God-Emperor, to Saint Lucia for salvation.

 

Rebehka charged the creature, distracted as it was by trying to eat Sera. Grabbing Sera’s leg to gain extra height, she lobbed a Krak grenade into the monstrous mouth. Lodging in the throat it forced the Marine to cough, letting Sera go in the process. Rebehka grabbed Saffron by the shoulder, pushing her to the floor, lying prone on top.

 

Nothing happened.

 

The Marine-creature, unable to cough up the object had managed to swallow it. Roaring in anger it started to step forward towards the prone figures. Its second roar cut into a low rumble, a belch that shook the floor. Confused, it paused, lurching forward in pain. Screaming in agony, it reared back and was torn asunder, the Krak grenade finally exploding, showering everyone in the surrounding area with gore.

 

Unsteady on her feet, Sera looked around. The treacherous Chaplain’s egress, had allowed the others to destroy the others, but it had taken its toll. Five of Sera’s squad alone were killed.

 

Canoness Cho was talking animatedly to an Amber Dragon Marine.

 

“We should send reinforcements after Captain Ambustio. We can’t let that Chaplain escape!”

 

“Agreed Lady. My squad and I will pursue.”

 

Damn it! thought Hr’Boor. How could this have gone so wrong?

 

Running along a corridor, his own strength augmented by his armour, his musing dark with anger and humiliation.

 

He’s not going to like this. he thought darkly.

 

What won’t I like? interjected a voice in his mind. Hr’Boor winced at the pressure his master exerted by psychic communion .

 

Well?

 

Even in his own mind he could just tell the tone of voice he would have used. It was rare for the Leader to raise his voice. Even the Changed are afraid of him, and some of them could tear him apart if they only but knew it.

 

Maybe added the voice, But they will never realise it....will they?.

 

Hr’boor could hear the inflection in that sentence. There was little love lost between them both.

 

I won’t ask again the voice was irritable now, impatient. What has happened?

 

There has been an attack. The ritual you wished performed was disrupted before it could be completed.

 

It matters not Hr’Boor. The ritual was never one of high importance. Just an added guarantee. We can make do. Ensure you escape the Loyalist behind you. I have no wish to be interrupted.

 

Hr’Boor cursed. Lurweiss knew from the start and was just stringing him along to wind him up again.

 

However, he was right. The good Captain was getting to be a nuisance.

 

Turning a corner, he knew what he needed to deal with him.

 

Canoness Cho approached the dais with caution. It never bode well to delve into what heresies Cultists committed and Cho had no wish to become better acquainted.

 

On the platform was a statue, that of Saint Eiko. It had been torn from its mount and desecrated in the most foul fashion. There was a blood sacrifice covering it, a small child, but it’s features were that of an old man. Parts of the corpse was rotten through with decay. The body was also desecrated in other ways too.....

 

A sacrifice to the four foul gods of Chaos. Cho felt sick to the pit of her stomach. In the periphery of her sight, she could see the other Sisters were agitated. The attack in the grand scheme of things went well enough, although the casualties were high. Captain Ambustio had uncharacteristically taken off after the surviving traitor, and there was no word of his whereabouts.

 

After sending troops to allow the rest of the force waiting out side to enter the Citadel, Cho was unsure of what to do. Hold this position? Or risk taking a party to advance further, to gain more ground?

 

“Lady Canoness?”

 

She turned, Motoko addressing her.

 

“Yes, Sister?”

 

“What are our orders? Do we advance?”

 

“I...”

 

Looking back at the corpse, she knew what she had to do.

 

“Motoko. I will take a detachment further into this Citadel. I want you to hold this position. When the reinforcements from outside arrive, I want you to send more forward to follow me.”

 

“Is that wise? Perhaps we should consolidate our position first?”

 

“We have already taken too much time. The enemy know we are here. We must move whilst we still have any element of surprise left.”

 

“Understood.” Motoko paused. Stepping closer, her voice barely a whisper.

 

“Do you wish Agatha and Saffron to remain here with me?”

 

Cho looked in Saffron’s direction, knowing that she would never forgive her if she was left behind.”

 

“No. I will take them both with me. They seek righteous vengeance against those who killed their Sisters. I would not take that chance from them. In Sera’s mind especially, the need to heal that wound runs deep in their souls.”

 

“Then may the Emperor keep you all safe.”

[I-Seek-Knowledge]

My faith in the Emperor is unwavering, however my patience is finite! I WANT MOAR! Xp

[Aqui]

My faith in the Emperor is unwavering, however my patience is finite! I WANT MOAR! Xp

 

Apologies ;)

 

I've been trying to get some work done on my ETL vow and have also gotten caught up with my involvement in the Liber Astartes campaign. I am currently making a draft of the next part (albeit in my head than on computer at the moment).

 

I'm helping my brother move some stuff from the parents house tomorrow (well, later today - I should have been in bed by now, blasted insomnia :lol: ...), assuming I get home early enough, I'll get it started later today (Friday, UK time), otherwise it'll be Saturday.

 

If all goes according to plan, it will be significantly larger than previous ones, mainly I want to rap this part of the story and move on further down the time line (ultimately, this story will result in the creation of my DIY Order, but that's still a fair way off yet ;) )

 

I'm glad you want more though :P

[Lady_Canoness]

“Lady Canoness?”

 

Yeah babe? :lol: hahaha

[Aqui]

“Lady Canoness?”

 

Yeah babe? :P hahaha

 

:lol:

[Aqui]

Baring work, I've spent this last week hammering out the next Chapter as I mentioned earlier. However, whilst I had stated that I wanted to wrap up this particular part of the story in this part, as I wrote, the more I wanted to add in, more details, more threads to be explained later, and a (hopefully) epic ending to this part. In the end, I had a decision to make. Carry on and write until I got it all down, but have a post so unwieldy that it would be too much to take in, or relent and break it into smaller parts.

 

I've chosen the latter.

 

It's better this way after all, as I could feel myself wanting to rush to get onto the next part of Saffron Sera's life, but I didn't want to take a step backwards in the quality of my writing.

 

Anyway, enough waffle.....

 

Part 10:

 

Stepping out from his chambers, Rai Luweiss felt the titanic headaches return in force. Suffering them for hundreds of years now, it was a harbinger, a portent of pure malice. With them, messages, or more often than not, instructions from the Pantheon. It was rare for them to “speak” to him as such, taking delight in causing him physical pain, as well as yanking his chain.

 

This was one such time. The pain was dull at first, almost pleasurable, but it turned from a throbbing sensation to a lance of pure agony plunged deep into his cerebrum. Just as he thought the pain had reach a plateux, the Dark Gods, in their amusement pushed even harder. His scream chilled the blood of even the Changed who were currently cowering in a corner, a Ansgar angrily trying to coax them into some semblance of battle readiness.

 

One of his attendants, a Marine called B’kun Diff tried to help his stricken leader from the floor. Angrily, Lurweiss shook him off, punching the fawning Marine so hard in the face, he could feel the neck snapping.

 

Delays, always delays said one voice in his mind.

 

Yes, why do you delay?

 

Do you wish our displeasure? snarled another.

 

You wish to call our bluff? To experience our ire? asked the fourth voice, usually so soothing, but was not so this time. There was pure enmity in its tone now.

 

“I..I do not.”

 

Then you should not delay further, we have other tasks for you to perform. Or do you wish us to grant you more of the Changed?

 

Lurweiss’ disgust of those Marines who had become dubbed the Changed was palpable to the Pantheon, their laughter grating in his mind like finger nails across slate.

 

We did not think so. said the original voice. Complete your task with due haste. Time runs short. Do not fail us.

The words thundered into his conciousness, a hammer to a shattering anvil. Every inflection a new crescendo of pain.

 

As the vile headaches disipated, Lurweiss’ attention was fixed on the altar in the centre of the hall. Bigger than the one Hr’Boor had failed to protect, it was decorated with sigils of great power. Even his eyes did not linger upon them for long.

 

Regaining his composure, he motioned to a Marine.

 

“How soon?”

 

“Not much longer. The sacrifice is the only component we require.”

 

“That will be forthcoming. Ready our troops, Flah Kuo. By the Dark Gods this must not fail.”

 

++++

 

Captain Ambustio was no nearer to finding the traitorous Chaplain. Just as he had closed in on him, the route ahead split into three corridors. Straining his senses to the limit, he struggled to work out which one Hr’Boor had taken. Did he dare risk a guess? He had been stupid not to take some of his warriors with him, but to now risk losing the trail was galling.

 

Closing his eyes, he willed both hearts to settle, to calmly allow his hearing and sense of smell to lead him onwards. Stepping forwards he could see an imprint in the dust in front of the left passageway . A foot print, large. The way it looked suggested that the creator was in a hurry.

 

He was just about to leave, when a transmittion burst caught his attention. It was faint, the thick walls of this Citadel making communication difficult.

 

“...Tain? Respond.”

 

Turning to the route behind him, he could see the lights of a Terminator in the darkness of the corridor.

 

“I see you.” Ambustio transmitted. “Ahead 150 feet.”

 

“Captain.” Acknowledged a Marine as the squad approached.

 

“What kept you?” his tone was egded with dark humour despite the current mission.

 

“Nothing, but then I didn’t have a head start.”

 

“Split into two’s. Whilst I know that traitor has used the left tunnel, It will not hurt to check the others. Keep in vox contact at all times.”

 

“The others? They won’t know where we have gone.”

 

Ambustio turned, swinging his right arm, his claws cutting through the stone walls with ease.

 

“Understood, Brother Captain.”

 

“I have a feeling that we have barely scratched the surface of this heresy, Brother,” Ambustio murmurred “We must locate the source and destroy it. Go.”

 

Two teams, each with a close combat equiped Marine and a heavy weapons wielder made their way down the tunnels.

 

Ambustio and the remaining Marine watched them go.

 

“Now brother, we shall pursue our quarry. Be mindfull of anything out of the ordinary.”

 

The other nodded. He was carrying a heavy flamer and Chainfist.

 

“I shall take point.” and so saying, made his way into the darkness. The other followed, warily looking back at the space they

had just stood. In the distance, he could have sworn he had seen small pin pricks of red light in pairs.

 

He told himself it was just his imagination.

 

Just his imagination....

 

++++

 

Hr’Boor cursed his ill fated luck. In his rush to escape his pursuer, he had taken a wrong turn. Whilst he wasn’t lost, where he had ended up was not where he wanted to be.

 

Looking around, he stifled a shudder. The chamber was a used as a charnel house. The amount of bodies dumped there was on a scale that even he could scarcely imagine. Thousands, hundreds of thousands of bodies had been dumped here. The chamber itself was massive, stretching back over three hundred metres. The ceilings, barely visible at the back, hidden by the press of cadavers was over one hundred and fifty metres. In regular intervals above him, there were holes that bodies were dumped without ceremony or respect.

 

It was a horrible sight, even for him.

 

Despite the betrayal centuries ago, Hr’Boor still had lingering doubts, a ghost of an objection over what they were doing. But time and hate had eroded them, like the perpetual sea against a cliff edge. There was almost nothing left. He felt for mortal men once, had even tried to save a girl who had been left untouched by corruption. Pure, a symbol of hope that the world they had been sent to purge was not completely lost.

 

She was killed before his very eyes, by him. He flinched instinctively the instant he thought it, fearing that he would know of such treacherous thoughts. It was common knowledge, his hatred for him. The only thing that drove him further down the path of damnation was his hatred of them.

 

The Steel Wings. The Betrayers. The Oath Breakers.

 

Kin Slayers.

 

Relations between the two Chapters was shaky to begin with, but they had escalated beyond repair. The final straw was when the other Chapter deemed the planet irredeemable and withdrew.

 

Exterminatus. The screaming of missiles, some larger than a Landraider crashing down near where his Chapter was camped. The very Earth betrayed them, tectonic plates and the nearby Volcano which wasn’t as dead as it seemed, swallowed them whole.

 

It refused to spit them back out, no matter how hard they tried to escape. Some of their number had died instantly, some took a lot longer and the remainder considered that they had gotten off lightly, despite the screaming, a cacophonic symphony of agony that went on for hours.

 

And hours.

 

The Chapter Master was incensed. Screaming oaths at the top of his considerable lungs, his prayers of beseechment went unanswered.

 

The Emperor of Mankind had forsaken them.

 

Then, after days and then weeks, Lurweiss got an answer. A response.

 

We will give you what you desire....

 

Lurweiss took the voices offer with no thought of the consequences.

 

Fool.

 

Snapping out of his reverie, Hr’Boor turned back. Hopefully, the Imperial hasn’t used the time he wasted in catching up.

 

++++

 

Saffron Sera took the Chainsword offered her gratefully. It was ornate, old, but its teeth were as sharp as any newer model. Sharper even.

 

Brandishing it meaningfully, she followed Canoness Cho through the ever winding corridors. Approaching some stairs leading up and down, the group paused.

 

“We shall go down,” Cho declared, “I doubt whatever heresy is occurring is being down in light and airy chambers.”

 

It took twenty minutes to get to the bottom. Most of the staircases met a landing, but this was used for one sole purpose. The steps themselves were worn, most of it recent. Where ever this led, it was a common route.

 

Nearer the bottom chanting, distorted by echo rang out. It was a vile noise, one that dug deep down into a persons’ soul, to clutch at it with cold clammy fingers.

 

Proceeding, the chanting had repetition, a rhythm. Evidently, this was part of a ritual. One that must be stopped.

 

Finally at the bottom, the group paused, awaiting Cho’s signal. There was a door held in place by a simple latch. Suspicion in her heart, Cho decided not to touch it. Sister Oro was brought forth carrying a Melta. Bracing for the doors’ inevitable destruction, everyone else aimed their weapons. Oro fired, the blast nearly incinerating it. Beyond lay a room, decorated in torture instruments of so many types. The centre had a table, slick with blood. Five Female cultists, naked, save the blood of the victim they were torturing turned to face them. Each was branded with a different icon upon their forehead.

 

The leader, branded with an eight pointed star snarled something unintelligible and the others darted forward, brandishing wicked knives, flails and swords.

 

They fought with unnatural grace, each instinctively knowing where the other was. Their own personal appearance disparate compared to the others. One was bestial, her face that of a snarling dog or wolf, her hands were claws and razor sharp. Another had a seductive quality, everything, even time, seemed to slow around her, a heady and intoxicating musk in the air, her eyes unnaturally wide, green orbs set in pastel skin. The next was wreathed by flies, her skin had a dirty green pallor. The sword she held was rusted and blunt, or so it seemed until it was shoved through Sister Maya’s shoulder blades with ease. The final one, hung back. Her skin was an iridescent blue, halo’d in yellow. Chanting, her hands formed evil signs in the air, shining, andthe room turned cold. The room itself was too small for ranged weapons, the flamers and meltas would cause them as much damage as it would their enemies. Snarling an Oath to the Emperor Himself, Sera had barged past the three, aiming to behead the azure hued witch.

 

The Sorceress smiled, anticipating her intent. Pushing a hand out directly in front of her, Sera hit an invisible force, winding her and dropping her to the floor. Standing over her, the Witch smile was taunting, beckoning her to try harder. As try as she might, she couldn’t get up.

 

Her Sisters fared no better.

 

Cho had been thrown bodily into the table, the prone figure upon it thrown clear, their bonds snapping as they fell. Cho tried to clear her vision, seeing the monstrous woman advancing, her yellow eyes wide with battle lust. To her left, the cultist who had ordered the others to attack, had herself made her way towards her. Bringing up her Chainsword, Cho grimly awaited her enemies blades, thrust into her chest.

 

It did not happen. The bestial woman roared in pain, arching her back, bones snapping, before finally, a dagger, long and slender forced its way through her skin.

 

Looking down at it, the woman looked confused for a moment, before falling forward, the blade slipping back out. Behind where she stood the torture victim, a woman barely able to stand herself turned her attention to the other. Hissing her anger and defiance, she leapt, hoping to use her body weight to topple her recent victim.

 

It succeeded. The torture victim was too weak to repel the attack or move aside, and was pinned. Raising her weapon, the Cultist hissed again, jubilation evident in her voice despite the intelligible sounds. Grabbing her wrist, Cho twisted sharply. Bones shattered, the noise like a gun shot. Squealing like a stuck pig, the cultist tried to roll away, hoping the sudden movement would force Cho to let go. It didn’t and the cultist howled even louder. With her grip even tighter, Cho raised her foot, looking the despicable woman in the eyes, before bringing it down, her skull caving under the pressure.

Her enemy dead, Cho turned back to the victim. Cowering in a darkened corner, she had curled herself into a ball, unwilling to let the Canoness near her. Stepping forward, Cho strained her eyes to examine the woman, cuts of all sizes made on her naked flesh.

 

There was a wound on the woman’s chest. It was one that hadn’t quite healed properly, but enough of it was scar tissue to rule out it being recent. It was an ugly thing to look at, Cho herself sporting many like it. But there was something familiar about the scar pattern though.....

 

Cho started.

 

“I...I can’t believe...!”

 

++++

 

Making his way through the dark, Hr’Boor was angry. After realising he had gone the wrong way, he had retraced his steps, but now he really was lost. Lurweiss was not going to be happy, but he was not going to suffer the humiliation he would receive should he call for help.

 

The Citadel was always easy to get lost in, despite taking residence some years before. Gaining entrance through hitherto unknown secret passages had been easy. Swaying the minds and souls of the denizens within, not so much. He had been the one to approach the priests, slowly chipping away at their faith, undermining their moral foundations. Seeing the truth of their souls.

 

To do so meant changing his armour’s appearance. That had galled him most of all. Like most Chapters, the heraldry and colours were sacrosanct. It was unthinkable to wear the colours of another. Hr’Boor reflected bitterly that it was yet another way of tormenting him, knowing how much it made him despair their lot. Lurweiss’ armour had fused to his flesh long ago, one of the many dubious “gifts” their patron had bestowed upon many of their number. Hr’Boor himself was relatively unchanged. His skin had turned a pale white instead of the duskier shade the natives of his homeworld were known for.

 

Home. There was no home now. It was destroyed, the Exterminatus made sure of that. In their absence, it was judged, and its citizens were found wanting. The Imperium, in its sanctimonious fury had struck their name from the records, their deeds erased, their very existence forgotten. When the Chapter had returned to their world in the vain hope of anything left worth saving, there was nothing, short of an asteroid field, the remnants of Bahltimyr.

 

It made it all the more the sweeter to impersonate a Marine from the very Chapter that had brought them low. In desperation for spare parts, the survivors of Ghiberti had taken to stripping the bodies of their former allies of their armour. Hr’Boor, as a former Chaplain had subtly warped the Imperial Cult followed within these walls, until there was no need to hide the truth from the local populace. Many of the pilgrims had shied away from the Citadel proper, preferring to praise the Saint in a smaller, intimate way, but the natives were far more gullible, their world relatively far from Terra, it was easy to convince them of....changes to Dogma.

 

There were even willing converts. Five women, were astute enough to know the truth from the start, petitioned him to learn more. Each of them had taken a path, four to a specific God. The fifth had given herself completely to the Pantheon. Their thirst for knowledge and power was insatiable, their abilities in torture, ritual sacrifice and hand to hand combat was second to none. Even Lurweiss spoke fondly of them, their unique skills appealing to his sadistic tastes. Why they had come here, to seek them out, only they knew. They were known collectively, as Eruditi .

 

The learnéd.

 

He needed to get to them as soon as possible. Their preparations should nearly be complete.

 

It would not do to keep them waiting.

 

 

 

 

More to come soon! :lol:

Edited July 15, 2012 by Aquilanus

[Lady_Canoness]

I like it, especially the creativity you have in making a story such as this. I yearn for more details, however <_<

Would it be wrong for me to want to be immersed? :D

[Aqui]

I like it, especially the creativity you have in making a story such as this. I yearn for more details, however :(

Would it be wrong for me to want to be immersed? ;)

 

When you say more details, could you give an example? Is what I write lacking scene descriptions, or Characters?

 

Whilst I know I've improved in this area, I know I have a way to go yet.

[Lady_Canoness]

What I'm getting at is that the story is very good at telling us what things are, yet no so good at detailing things and letting us find out what things are for ourselves. For (a far out) example, you might tell us that Canoness Cho is holding a basketball, dribbles it, and puts it through the hoop. Immersing us would be telling us what the basket ball feels like in her fingers, the sound it makes when it bounces and how it feels under her arm, and the satisfaction of hearing the *swish* as she gets nothing but net. ;)

 

The easiest thing would be to use the characters' senses in detailing your environments (texture, smell, sound, feel) such as the sucking noise made by Hr'Boor's boots as he trudges through the pools of congealed blood on the body room's floor.

 

Also, take the most basic thing and add the details.

For example, I am typing a response. My fingers brush deftly across the worn keys as I murmur the words my hands put on the screen.

 

Everything in moderation though, eh? :P

[Aqui]

Got ya :tu:

 

I'll bear that in mind for the next part :tu:

[Aqui]

It would seem that I have yet at least another part to go after this one, before the story advances beyond the campaign the Sisters are on currently. I've tried to bear the feedback I've recently received in mind. Hopefully, I've done better this time ;)

 

Part 11:

 

Hr’boor was too late. The Learnéds private chamber was decimated, their bodies a bloody ruin. Amongst their bodies, were those of their killers.

 

Sororitas.

 

Kneeling down at the side of one of the cultists, his soul despaired. The Tzeentchian was still alive, stoically clinging to life. Her body was missing an arm, her left one a ragged stump, and she had been run through with a blade.

 

“It is done, Lord. Our task was completed. Barely.” She managed, her voice gurgling as she regurgitated her own blood.

 

“Do they suspect your goal?”

 

The woman shook her head slowly. “Things will proceed until the due time. Forgive us Lord, for we have still failed you.”

Hr’Boor choked on those words, emotions swelling within him that he had not felt in decades.

 

“No, I have failed you.” Hr’Boor replied sadly. “I was not quick enough. I should have gotten here sooner.”

 

The woman managed to raise her remaining hand to his face, his skin as tough as leather, pitted by scars and cold, so very cold. Looking him squarely in those eyes, lightless orbs of obsidian, she smiled weakly, the hue of her azure skin fluctuating, like a guttering candle.

 

“Our deaths were foreseen. This was inevitable. We all knew this from the very time we sought you out, Lord. We served the Dark Ones, and now we shall be with them in all things.”

 

Hr’Boor smiled politely, knowing full well that the cultists would know no rest. Lurweiss had seen to that. In the fullness of time, the Learnéd would be resurrected, the knowledge of their previous fate nothing more than a dream to them.

 

After all, it’s not the first time they’ve died. And it won’t be the last either.

 

The Cultist, knowing she had seconds left, grabbed Hr’Boor by the neck and with all of her remaining strength lifted herself clumsily, to kiss him on the forehead. The touch of her lips was electric, he heard a sharp snap, smelling a strong smell of ozone, before feeling her body go limp. Catching her lifeless form in his hands, he could see her skin turn a dull shade of grey the very colour leeched, like ink to blotting paper, her body radiating none of the warmth she had but moments ago. She was gone.

 

For now at least.

 

Returning to his feet, Hr’Boor could feel a rising rage within him, slowly at first, but building momentum. From the deepest pit of his soul, he could feel the death throes of the cultists, cut down, each death stroke burning his mind. That kiss was a psychic imprint. The Tzeenchian must have known after all what lay before her and her Sisters in darkness and wanted him to share what they had felt when they died.

 

Despite himself, he felt an energy like no other. The anger burned, like Promethium made of the Dark Gods themselves.

 

Snarling, low and guttural, he picked up a Chainsword left lying on the floor near a dead Sororitas. It was a lot smaller than his own, but as his weapons were on the other side of the Citadel, he would have to make do. The Sister it belonged to seemed tiny in death, almost like a doll.

 

Disgusted by his fascination with the corpse, he kicked it hard, the body being raised clear of the debris hitting the far wall, any intact bones within pulverised with the impact. Taking out a bolt pistol, he turned from the room vowing vengeance.

 

He had had enough of running. He would seek those who would deny him his destiny.

 

And crush them. He would start with the Loyalist Captain.

 

Then he would make Lurweiss pay as well.

 

 

Rai Lurweiss paused for a moment, his mind feeling a strong burst of power far below. Grimly, he smiled, continuing his preparations for the coming battle.

 

Good He thought. Now he understands.

 

 

++++

 

 

“I don’t understand!”

 

Saffron Sera’s mind raced as she and the other Sisters hurried on their way back to the others in the main hall.

She had opted to take the rear guard of the party, allowing the two Sisters carrying the stricken body on a crude stretcher a modicum of protection against any would be pursuers.

 

Agatha looked at her Sister, her own face etched with both joy and sadness.

 

“Do we need to understand? Now of all times? We have lost Sisters today. Many of them. But the Emperor Himself has given us a gift. Do you wish him to take it back?”

 

“No,” Sera admitted. But to see what she had seen in that room, it would forever darken her soul. To see what those Cultists were doing to torture the woman was bad enough. But when they realised who it was....

 

It was more than she could comprehend.

 

Canoness Cho, was outwardly composed, but within her mind was in turmoil. To witness such a horrific scene of carnage, and to still find hope? It was truly a blessing of the Emperor.

 

So she kept telling herself.

 

She had seen the look in the eyes of the victim, her manic stare, the silent screaming and thrashing as she tried to fight off the very people she once called Sisters. Cho had also seen the wounds first hand, and knew.

 

It might have been more of a blessing if she had died after all.

 

Sisters Rebehka and Oro were further ahead, ensuring the route back to the Hall they had left the others was clear.

Sighting movement, Oro fired her Melta, the weapon belching a white hot stream as incandescent as her hate for this place.

 

Oro was unnerved by what she had seen and eagerly seeking a fight to push back everything her mind was thinking. Her target was a filthy rebel Guardsmen screeching as his arms and lasgun melted under the searing heat. Behind him, a heavy weapons team had steadied their weapon, a missile launcher, aiming it at her.

 

They fired. The missile swung wildly, the launch tube was bent, hampering a clear shot.

 

Screaming a warning to her fellow Sister, Oro willed her body to steady as she knelt to fire again, the missile shooting off over her head. It impacted on the ceiling behind her, a Stone archway pulverised by the ordinance.

 

Pulling the trigger her aim was true, electing to hit the weapon, as it was being reloaded. The explosives detonated, shredding the former guardsmen using it and peppering the remainder with shrapnel. Whilst their heads were down, Rebehka along with four other Sisters closed the gap, Chainswords at the ready. In the last ten feet, the traitors’ leader looked up to see a whirling, death approach him, Rebehka leaping to gain the height advantage. Swinging the blessed weapon down, the blade shredded his neck, his body violently spasming in sympathy with the swords teeth. Losing control of his arms in those last seconds, his trigger finger pulled involuntarily, firing a dull red light into his deputy’s face at point blank range. Moaning and pleading to uncaring Gods, the man tried to pull away, blinded and barely able to breathe through a ruined nose. Pulling the Chainsword from the corpse, Rebehka paused, knowing the traitor was panicked.

 

The revving of the weapon made the man flinch, sobbing and fouling himself in fear. He continued to mumble his pleas to evil beings, waiting for his death.

 

“Do you hear them, traitor?” Rebehka snarled, “Do you see them rushing to your aid?”

 

The guardsman pulled some measure of composure in himself.

 

“Spare me your diatribe woman!” He spat, drooling spittle and blood, his ire rising, perhaps even hoping beyond hope that his calls had been answered.

 

Thrusting the Chainsword forward savagely, Rebehka could feel the bones in his chest grind to dust, the teeth of her sword gnashing, easily cutting through the meat like paper.

 

“I would not waste my breath on one such as you.” Rebehka continued, twisting her sword as she pushed, realising that the man was still alive. The hilt reached what was left of his chest, smoke rising from it, as the sword had long since cut through him and was digging into the stone floor.

 

Pulling the sword from the corpse, the teeth caught on bone. Yanking abruptly, it came free, ripping out part of the man's skeleton with it.

 

“Spineless fool!”

 

Turning, she could see that the others had taken care of what little resistance was offered. Canoness Cho was kneeling by the stretcher, holding the hand of the woman cradled within it.

 

Sister Lyse, one who kenned basic battle medicine was beside her, administering what aid she could.

 

Even Rebehka could see the stricken woman was near death, her body thrashing incoherently. That the Emperor’s Mercy should be her just and deserving reward. But like everyone else, she was looking into her eyes, seeing the unimaginable terror in them, her lips wordlessly mouthing in agony, and despite it all wanting, willing her to survive.

 

Of all the symbols of hope the Sisters could have been sent, she was the most profound.

 

Sister Annabelle was returned to them, in body if not in soul.

 

 

More to come ^_^

Edited July 20, 2012 by Aquilanus

[Aqui]

It's been a hectic few weeks, what with work and E Tenebrae Lux. It also hasn't been easy today either, it being 16 years since a very close friend was killed. I wasn't in any mood to type anything today, especially as that friend and I share a Brithday in a couple of days. Way back when, she used to be very amused by my interest in 40k (herself being a Geek, but had little interest in 40k at all, although she did find 40k Orks....Cute :huh: )

 

However, I managed to shrug off the fethy feelings today and get something done. It's not my best, but I post it in dedication to her.

 

To Claire, my "Twin" 260875 - 240896 - May the Emperor smile on you forever.

 

Part 12:

 

Time was running short, Captain Ambustio knew. He had lost track of the traitorous Chaplain, and in frustration ordered the Terminator squad to regroup where they had split up.

 

“This is a bad omen Captain,” rumbled Sergeant Hues.

 

“I have faith in the Emperor and Vulkan. We will find the traitor soon enough. However, we have wasted too much time as it is. We must find out what the enemies’ ultimate goal is and stop it.”

 

“I have transmitted our situation to the Canoness, Captain.”

 

“And her reply, Brother Umino?”

 

“She reports activity at her position, four hundred metres south of us. She also reports the rescue of one Sister Annabelle.”

 

“Another survivor from squad Lucia?” Ambustio frowned at the news “Good news indeed. Did she state her next move?”

 

“Affirmative, Captain. She has decided to have her wounded move back to the initial staging area for treatment. She has commanded Sister Motoko and a detachment of Guardsmen to form on her position. A cultist revealed where the Bahltimyr Reavers are. There is another dark ceremony due to be performed. We do not have much time to stop it.”

 

“Where are they?” Ambustio, angered by his failure to capture Hr’Boor now wanted to make the traitors pay for their treachery.

 

“They are above us. Five floors up. The Canoness has stated that they will take the floor from the other side, to ensure that non escape.”

 

“Good. Then we leave now brothers. I have a score to settle.”

 

 

The fist came in fast, and whilst Hr’Boor knew it was coming, it was still faster than he could react to. Lurweiss, in his ire had already killed one of the Changed, which terrified the others.

 

“Why?” the question was not meant to be answered, as the former Chapter Master knew the answer, but he needed to get the question off his chest anyway.

 

“Well? Why?!”

 

Hr’Boor bore the blows, showing no resistance. There was no question as to who would win.

 

It wouldn’t be him.

 

All that righteous anger and fury he had felt after the deaths of the Learned had flushed away. This was not the time, nor the place for such considerations. But one day...

 

Flah Kuo watched the altercation with grim amusement. A stoic man of few words, everyone knew him to be utterly loyal to the Warband. Some mistook that to be utter loyalty to Lurweiss, but Hr’Boor knew differently. A former Terminator Sergeant, he was adaptable, reliable.

 

Unreadable.

 

“The question should not be why, Lord,” Flah Kuo stated shrugging, his bulkier armour rattling, the cavernous hall carrying his gruff voice clearly “But more...what now?”

 

Lurweiss spun around to face him, his face a pallid grey, eyes a deep burning red.

 

“That may be so, but there is too much at stake. The Gods themselves will have this fools soul as a sweetmeat if he ruins this task.”

 

“As you say, Lord. So. What now.”

 

Lurweiss stopped his last blow from hitting his erstwhile victim, anger and disgust warring across his features.

 

“Hr’Boor, take the Changed. All of them, and see to it that the Loyalists return to their ‘Beachhead’. If you accomplish this, I will spare your miserable life.

 

“Fail, and pray to the Foul Ones themselves that I never find you.”

 

Celestian Motoko was prepared. News of Sister Annabelle’s survival had spurred everyone to renewed heights of fervour. She herself had been lifted by the Canoness’ communication, but her own thoughts ran to caution. Should Annabelle survive this night, there would be questions, and they would not be asked by her kind. The Inquisition would be called, a summons

that would ultimately decide not only her fate, but that of everyone within the Convent.

 

But such thoughts must be kept to ones self. For now.

 

Leaving the Guard to cover their escape route, she approached her Canoness’ position with caution. In the last hour alone, the amount of encounters with the enemy had increased rapidly, slowing their progress. This was both good and bad. Good because it gave her Sisters something to pent their anger and ire upon. Bad because whatever the Heretics were planning was approaching completion.

 

They were within sight of the endgame. With everything to play for.

 

Canoness Eliza Cho watched the approaching vanguard with pride. Motoko had held them together well. Should they be victorious, she would ensure that she was promoted. It had been left for far too long.

 

“Lady Canoness.”

 

“Motoko. How fares the Guard?”

 

“Not well. Whilst the Colonel is hale, the rank and file are jittery. They will do their duty of course, but their fighting spirit is dampened. We require a victory. For all our sakes.”

 

“Never a truer word spoken Sister. According to Rebehka’s interrogation, we are but two floors of the Traitors ceremony. We must hurry.”

 

 

“We must hurry!”

 

Lurweiss had overseen the final preparations himself. The sacrifice was much diminished, the Sisters and The Marines both out of range now, but there should be enough to appease the Dark Ones.....

Chanting in a language that no longer had rational meaning, the sorcery began to take hold.

 

“What was that?”

 

Ambustio paused, trying to concentrate.

 

“I felt it Lord. The very ground trembles beneath us.”

 

“Indeed. And when one considers that we are far above said ground....”

 

“It spells trouble.”

 

Ambustio turned, recognising that hated voice.

 

“I see that you caught up with me after all. Pity.”

 

From out of the shadows, Hr’Boor approached the party.

 

“So, shall we begin?” Hr’Boor had armed himself with an ancient sword, and bolt pistol. The sword glowed with a yellow, sickly light, sparks crackling along the edges.

 

“This is hardly a fair fight, Traitor. We out number you ten to one.”

 

“So it appears....”

 

Hr’Boor turned slightly. Further in the gloom, many pinpricks of red light appeared, all hovering above his head. Distorted shapes became more distinct the closer they came. The trembling got stronger and stronger, each accompanied by shuffling footsteps.

 

Ambustio recoiled in horror at those shapes, realising what they were. Changed Marines. But these were not like those they had defeated below. Bigger, shambling creatures, with teeth that distorted their jaws to breaking point. Their arms were like massive tree trunks, bulging musculature merged with Marine armour. The faces were unmasked unlike their fallen Brothers, eyes swollen, like orbs of Obsidian.

 

There were over twenty of them and their full attention was upon them.

 

“Now, as I said. Shall we begin?”

 

Will post more soon...ish.

[Aqui]

Another fairly short one, but it's coming together fairly well now <_<

 

Part 13:

 

It did not bode well.

 

The horrifying creatures were too powerful in the narrow corridors, and his squad was unable to do anything except die. Anger choked Ambustio as he was forced to run, leaving the bodies and the blessed Terminator armour behind. He had risked a look back at his men's remains, but was disgusted to see that some of the hulking monsters had stopped and were eating them. He needed reinforcements, and fast.

 

The shambling Changed Marines gained ground with every step they took, their mutated bodies able to take steps twice as deep as a normal Marine. Turning a corner, Ambustio saw stairs and headed up them four steps at a time to try and outdistance himself. His Vox was non-functional, after a swipe to the head and ripped his helmet clean off, nearly taking his head with it, so he had little recourse but to hope that the Sisters were prepared for an attack.

 

One that he was drawing towards them.

 

She was unconscious. That much she knew. She had tried to wake up for what seemed to be an age, but the void kept her from heading towards the voices she could hear.

 

Familiar voices.

 

“Hold her steady! She’s convulsing! Get another Medpack! No, this one doesn’t have any Coag stim or sutures!”

 

“Emperor preserve you, Sister! Don’t give up now!”

 

“I’ve stemmed the bleeding in her chest, but she needs a transfusion now, blood volume is critically low!”

 

“The Canoness has gone on to find Brother Ambustio and his squad. She has a feeling that he won’t be too far away from where the Heretics are, but she still wants status updates on both our situation and that of Annabelle!”

 

The voices seem distant now, vague, as if they were heard from an old Vox unit and someone had turned the volume down.

 

She tried to make sense of her surroundings, if there was such a thing. There wasn’t darkness, just as much as there wasn’t light. There just....wasn’t. It was both reassuring and terrifying, something that made Annabelle feel even more rising panic, cloying, making her lash out wildly, her frustration from not being able to escape where ever she was. And that was only second to her anger from not being able to hit or shoot something.

 

Another, more urgent voice was trying to get her attention.

 

“Why do you delay?”

 

What?

 

I said: Why do you delay?”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

To Annabelle’s surprise, there was no irritation in the voice when it replied, “I mean, why are you still unconscious, when you Sisters are fighting? Do you wish to die, here, or do you wish to dispense the God-Emperor’s will?”

 

“I...”

 

“Your wounds are not what keep you here. You have seen much, more than a mortal should ever see and It has shocked you, frightened you. It dug down, deep into the very depths of your soul. It has taunted you, lauded you, tempted you, It even courted you. But I have seen more, far more, and It did not stop me from carrying out my Duty.”

 

“Wh..who are you?”

 

“Need you ask....Sister?” again that inflection, hinting at something so profound, so intimate. “You wear the colours of the Order of the Valorous Heart.” The last part was a statement, the voice prompting Annabelle to the answer she knew in her soul already.

 

“Your colours,” Annabelle was shocked to her core.

 

“Indeed, Sister. Rouse yourself now.”

 

It wasn’t a command, the timbre in the voice was friendly, reassuring, but it demanded obediance. In the nothingness, she thought she could make out a shadow, one that she knew as well as her own face. Despite her pock marked soul, sour and cynical, she suddenly felt elation, mild at first, like the whisper of an old friend’s voice. It built up further and further until she was filled with euphoria, soaring and soaring. Everything around her became bright, blindingly so, her vision seared with the after image of the voice’s owner.

 

“Sister, we shall take the battle to the Heretics and make them pay dearly for what they have done.”

 

Sister Lyse was working feverishly to stabilise Sister Annabelle’s condition. Her blood pressure was dangerously low, and although most of her wounds were treated, many were clamped shut with sutures, metal clamps, and indeed one was held shut with a hastily sterilised honour badge in the shape of an Aquila, the sharp pin holding the shredded flesh together like pieces of a patchwork quilt.

 

The metal resuscitator had been used four times so far, each time the voltage increased, every time her heart went into Fibrillation. A saline solution was introduced to try to increase the volume of the remaining blood in her veins, but it wasn’t working. She needed blood from a compatible donor.

 

“Motoko!”

 

The Celestian turned, her chainsword neatly cutting the head of a cultist clean off. She hurried over, knowing what her Sister would say.

 

“Take mine. Don’t argue,” seeing the look on Lyse’s face.

 

“I wasn’t going to argue about that,” snapped Lyse, her usual good cheer replaced by harried desperation. “I was going to say that she needs Alphi-Betacron type blood, it’s not a common blood type!”

 

“Haven’t you any synth type in your bag?”

 

“My bag is over there,” she pointed yonder to the very place the Cultists were holding their ground. “The impact from their last missile attack threw it over there. I’d have used mine, but its Alphi affirmative. It’s not compatible!”

 

Lyse’s mind raced. Think! Think! Think! her mind screamed. Annabelle was not that popular amongst the Sisters, her attitude grated on the nerves of many, but after seeing her lying on that bench in that room, she’d bend over backwards to save her now. No one deserved to go through that, especially so soon after that attack by that monstrous Traitor Astartes...

 

“Motoko, what is your blood type?”

 

“Omega.”

 

“Give me your arm. Your blood is a common type, but it’s the most compatible there is. We just have to hope and pray that we aren’t too late.”

 

“Rebehka, Oro! Form on me! Defend this area until your last breath!”

 

Lurweiss started, his senses attuned as they were to the Warp. One of his many...gifts allowed him limited access to the power of the Dark Ones, and he could feel something stirring there. He allowed himself a smile, one that chilled Flah Kuo to the bone.

 

Good. She is coming.....

 

More soon :)

Edited September 9, 2012 by Aquilanus

[Aqui]

Part 14:

 

The fight was getting more ferocious, both sides desperate to triumph over the other. Captain Ambustio had managed to regroup with the Sisters, but had a group of Changed Marines on his heels. Fortunately, Ambustio had arrived behind the Cultists’ line. Faced with a group of Sisters filled with a righteous fury and an even angrier Marine in custom made Terminator armour, they did not know which was the more dangerous. In their panic, they paused.

 

A fatal mistake. The sight of twenty heavily mutated traitor Marines did not make the matter any better. It made it worse, the Cultists broke to avoid them entirely, knowing what the monstrous creatures were capable of. The Changed ignored Ambustio altogether, instinctively knowing their terrified allies were much more suitable as a meal. In the midst of the battle they fell upon them, tearing the cultists asunder, all the while the sisters firing upon their new targets. With renewed vigour Ambustio turned, bringing his Lightning Claws to bear, seeing this distraction as the best possible way to dispense the Emperor’s Justice.

 

Hr’Boor was nowhere to be found.

 

“Brother Captain!”

 

Ambustio looked around to see the owner of the voice. Seeing Saffron Sera, he beckoned her to approach, weariness evident on his features. His Armour was damaged heavily, and was in the process of having it removed completely.

 

“Your brothers?”

 

“Gone. All due to my heedlessness! I must atone for my dereliction of duty once this is over. However, there is no time for remorse. I must be ready for the final assault.”

 

A Tech Marine, wearing a helmet in the shape of a snarling beast was preparing another suit of Armour. It was hued in a dull Orange as the other one, but this one was armed with a Hammer almost as big as Sera herself, and a shield.

 

“My preferred weapons, as they were my Primarch.” Ambustio tried to smile, but it would not come.

 

“Brother Captain. What do we do now?”

 

“We retrace my steps. That treacherous Chaplain had stopped me in my tracks last time. I feel it in my bones, that is where we shall find the true architect of what transpires.”

 

“The Lady Canoness has stated that when you are re-armoured, we will leave at once. We will leave a small group to protect the injured. Sister Annabelle is amongst them.”

 

Ambustio, who had been busy checking the seals on his suit, turned sharply to meet Sera’s gaze.

 

“Whilst I’d ordinarily be joyful of such good news, I find this revelation to be highly suspicious. The enemy we face do not take prisoners. Ever.”

 

“We suspected as much Brother Captain. We request that a few of your remaining Marines remain behind, to ensure of her....safety.”

 

Both skirted around saying it out loud, but both knew what the other meant.

 

Sister Annabelle, should she survive, might be dangerous. Very dangerous.

 

“I will see to it that one of the Tactical squads along with Brother Jurgrey remain behind. Steps will be...taken to ensure everyone’s safety.” Ambustio pointed to a Marine with an ornate hood carrying a staff that glowed. A nimbus of power emanated from the Marine. Sera had no doubt as to what function he gave. Whilst she respected the Marines she had fought with, what Jurgrey was made her hackles rise instinctively.

 

“Thank you Brother Captain.” Sera responded politely. Turning, she made to rejoin her remaining sisters, but Ambustio was not finished.

 

“Sister.”

 

“Remember, Jurgrey will do whatever it takes, should the need arise.”

 

Nodding, Sera rejoined her Sisters, a vast feeling of emptiness opening within her soul.

 

Sister Lyse was still tending to Annabelle when the call to move out was made. The Canoness had ordered her to leave Annabelle in the care of the Marines, but she refused to move.

 

“Lyse, I am asking you to leave her here. She will be safe.”

 

“Will she?” Lyse asked, bile and fury rising to her gorge. “I know what you are going to do.”

 

The Canoness stared at her with bloodshot eyes. “I have no choice, Lyse.”

 

“Don’t you?” snarled Lyse, “You think that because she was a captive, that she could corrupt us all?!”

 

“I do not know for certain. But think on this. You yourself have said that the transfusion she received may not be enough. We cannot take her with us into a battlezone. Moving her might kill her. And of course there is something else you haven’t considered.”

 

Lyse matched Cho’s stare. Being much shorter than the Canoness, Cho was nevertheless intimidated by the pure fury the little Sister emanated.

 

“The Inquisition. When this is over, do not think they would not get involved. Regardless or not whether Annabelle is corrupted, they will take her for...questioning. They will be...thorough. Do you not think that if something happens, that it would be far better for her soul if she was commended to the Emperor himself by one of His servants than be destroyed by them? Her soul deserves it Lyse. I have no wish for her to die. I do not. But I would rather help her on her way to the God-Emperor than let them have her.” Cho was shaking, barely able to keep her emotions in check. Lyse did not know of her past. Not many did, but this subject was one that Cho felt very passionately about.

 

“I...I had not thought of that.”

 

“I know. Annabelle has received all the help she you are able to give. Everything else is up to her and the benign spirit of Him on Earth. There will be other Sisters who will need your help.”

 

“Understood Lady.” Kneeling by Annabelle’s side, she gave her a kiss to her forehead.

 

“Fight it, Sister. Fight it.”

 

Sister Lyse turned to look up to see Cho was tearfully looking down at her stricken Sister.

 

Yes, Canoness Cho, definitely had personal experience of a situation like this. Whether Lyse or anybody else would get a chance to find out, was anyone’s guess.

 

 

Hopefully, the next part will be the er epic...ish conclusion of this part of the story. Stay tuned! :down:

Edited October 6, 2012 by Aquilanus

[Aqui]

Part 15:

 

She could feel the atmosphere, oppressive, cloying and she shrugged vehemently to shake that feeling away. Saffron Sera was near the front of the group, Canoness Cho, Motoko and Brother-Captain Ambustio alongside her. Like many of her sisters, she lamented having to leave Annabelle behind, but it was for the best. Saffron was watching the Marine in front of her with barely disguised distaste. As a Sister of the Order of the Valorous Heart, it was her duty to never beget the Witch, the Psyker and the Mutant, but there in front of her was a Psyker. A powerful one. The distaste she felt warred heavily with the huge respect she felt for Ambustio and his Chapter, but still.

 

The Marine was wearing blue armour, save a shoulder guard in the Chapter colours. Upon his left guard was an ancient symbol, a Crux Terminatus, reputed to have a minute fragment of armour worn by the Emperor himself contained within. Sera’s mind boggled by the revelation, but still her hackles rose instinctively at the sight of him.

 

Terminator Librarian Braddoch could feel the animosity of the Sister behind him, and whilst he could understand her feelings, knew there would be no way she could know the great responsibility he was tasked with. He would have preferred to have stayed with the stricken Sister in place of Brother Jurgrey, having had experience in what might yet happen, but his experience with Terminator armour required him instead to be here at his Captains’ side. Reaching out with his mind he could feel dark power all around, and for a brief moment thought that the source was actually behind them. A scant moment later and he could see the route ahead.

 

“Brother-Captain. We are very near to our target. Everyone should prepare themselves for combat.”

 

“Understood, Brother. Canoness?”

 

“We stand ready, Brother-Captain. Let us end this!”

 

 

Brother Jurgrey was wary. He had been told of Sister Annabelle’s plight and felt some sympathy in as much as an Astarte was able to feel it. However, there was a...pall, for want of a better word surrounding her. There was something trying to affect her. He couldn’t feel anything evil as such, but there was a presence. One that he could not readily identify.

 

Standing over her, his force weapon at the ready, he prepared himself for the worst. And hoped that it would never come.

 

Lurweiss was anxious and it showed on his face. Hr’Boor was getting back up off the floor after being assaulted by his Leader. Silently swearing oaths of vengeance, Hr’Boor picked up his weapons.

 

“You will follow my lead Hr’Boor,” snarled Lurweiss. “There can be no further mistakes. Too much is at stake.”

 

Wordlessly Hr’Boor nodded his assent, the other Traitor Marines taking positions around the altar, their nerves at breaking point. What followed could either save the Warband from a doom of the most horrific kind or propel them in the eyes of their Dark Gods.

 

What was taking so long?

 

 

Why is this taking so long?

 

Canoness Cho patience was nonexistent. She had endured much, seen Sisters fall and still there was no sign of the enemy. Her choler was rising and had to bit her tongue hard to stop herself from uttering a howl of pure unadulterated rage at her situation. The group had been warned by the Marine Psyker that they were close to their target, only to find that to target had moved. How was that possible? Was the Psyker being misguided by foul machinations? Or was there something else lurking within these walls bent on their destruction, but wished for some sport before delivering the final blow? Cho looked ahead to Saffron, her Sister had not taken her eyes off the Marine leading them since they had left Annabelle with Brother Jurgrey. She could just hear Sera whispering a prayer, the very one that had brought her to Cho’s attention in the first place. Hearing her recite it brought a measure of calm, Saffron’s voice taking on a pleasant, melodic tone. Instinctively, she found herself joining in, her own voice slightly louder wishing her other Sisters to join in, hoping it would salve their frayed nerves.

 

Ahead lay a door. From floor to ceiling, it was over thirty feet tall, of a dark wood, its rich grain having accumulated centuries of grime. The door itself writhed, the Imperial Eagle in a state of flux changing to a hateful eight pointed star and back again.

Braddoch turned, his eyes glowing in the gloom. In spite of herself, Cho silently cursed all psykers, ignoring Braddoch’s gaze upon her. Smiling grimly, he addressed his Captain.

 

“We are here. They know we are outside, and are waiting for us.”

 

“Understood, Brother. Brother Bombast, Brother Su’Mer, if you please.”

 

The two Marines stepped forward. Brother Bomast was armed with an Assault Cannnon, Su’Mer had a Cyclone Missile Launcher. Everyone else had withdrawn to a safer distance. Triggering his weapon, Bombast aimed at the bottom of the door hoping to destroy the hinges, Su’Mer aiming higher with the intent of blowing the door backwards the resultant smoke, noise and flying debris acting as cover for everyone to surge forwards. With a whine, Assault Cannon got up to speed, propelling bullets faster than a Mortal could see. Tearing the frame to shreds, just as the first of the Cyclone Missiles struck the door. Sera had to cover her ears from the roaring destruction allowed them entrance.

 

Beyond was a sickening sight. The room used to be a place of Worship defiled by every conceivable perversion possible. Offerings to all four Gods were laid out in patterns on the floor, its marble surface slick with blood, offal and rotting corpses.

 

“Welcome!” Bellowed Lurweiss at the top of his considerable lungs. “Welcome to your end!”

 

Surging forward, Lurweiss lead a group of Marines wearing similar armour. More ornate and twisted than that of the Marine they had first encountered, it was evident that the individuals were blessed by the Dark Gods. Hr’Boor had held back, catching sight of Ambustio who had been looking for the former Chaplain the moment the door had been destroyed. Realising that his subordinate had paused, Lurweiss sneered angrily. Concentrating on the job at hand, Lurweiss raised his weapon, an ancient Power sword given to him by the former Chapter Master hundreds of years ago. Once it had been a proud and noble weapon, pristine. Now it was warped, corrosion seemingly not affecting its ability to tear two Sisters in twain with but one sweep. Canoness Cho, witnessing the death of more of her Sistren cried out in horror and anger, a searing ache plunged deep into her soul.

 

“No more!” she cried. “No more!”

 

“I stand on the brink, the abyss between ascending and suffering a fate worse than even I can imagine!” snarled Lurweiss. “I have been forsaken, by Brothers of another Chapter and then by the rotted corpse you worship blindly. You, Lady Stand in my way. After I have cut you down and hold destiny in my hands I will bow down to no one.

 

“Nevermore!”

 

In so doing, he charged, heedless of the consequences.

 

 

More to follow! :(

Edited November 14, 2012 by Aquilanus

[Aqui]

Two posts in four days? Is it Christmas? :lol:

 

I had intended to not post until I reached a conclusion to this stage of the larger story that is Saffron Sera's life. However, as I wrote (typed) this part more and more ideas formed in my head, and it'll probably be another couple of posts at least until it's done. In any case, here is the next bit. Hopefully there still people reading as no ones posted for a while. Am getting a bit worried that the story isn't keeping readers interested :(

 

In any case, I hope you all like this installment! ^_^

 

Part 16:

 

“It was the incoherent screams, the smell of iron in the air and the stench of corruption, along with the cleansing balm of Prometheum that I will never forget. That, and those eyes. They burned, literally, with fury and hate. But behind them I could see something else. Fear, self loathing and a deep, deep sadness, the dull ache of betrayal that will never subside. I had never encountered such a foe before, nor have I ever since.

 

“The traitor Lord of Bahltimyr is to be both feared and reviled in equal measure....” – from the personal log of Canoness Saffron Sera, Founder of The Order of the Dauntless Spirit.

 

 

 

The Powersword crackled as Canoness, Elisa Cho countered with her own weapon, the force pushing her back. Jumping clear of another swing, she struggled to gather her wits. Her opponent towered above her, and as tall and powerful as she was in her own right, she briefly quailed at the raw savagery brought to bear against her.

 

Rai Lurweiss, Lord of the thrice cursed Bahltimyr Reavers threw himself to the fore, no thought given to defend himself, only to attack. Any rational thought within his own mind pushed away, leaving only bestial instincts, an urge, an overwhelming desire to rend his foe, limb from limb. Snarling an incoherent oath, he brought his sword forward, forcing Cho to sidestep again, the tip of the blade catching her right shoulder guard with a screech as tainted alloy made contact with blessed armour. Whilst the blade did not breach, it serve to knock her off balance. It was but one second, more than enough for a Veteran of countless battles to take full advantage of. Turning on his heel, Lurweiss pulled his entire body away from her in a macabre mockery of a pirouette, the momentum allowing him to swing the blade high, and then down. This time the armour could not withstand such force, buckling before being split asunder, the now stricken form of the Canoness lit in an evil light. The blade had cut off her left arm, the amputated limb still holding her weapon. Screaming in an agony she had never known, the Canoness fell, in full view of many of her Sisters. The onlookers wailed in horror, the sight stopping them in their tracks.

 

Standing over her body, the despicable traitor threw his head back and roared, the sound low and menacing at first, reaching into the very pit of the stomach, before hitting notes higher than a rational ear was able to comprehend. The other Sisters, unsure of what to do, had let their guard down. Five were slaughtered where they stood by members of the Changed who were far more interested in filling their bellies with such pure, untarnished meat. Through the haze of pain and humiliation, she had no choice but to watch as her Sisters were consumed by the horrific creatures. They were not killed first, no, for they were eaten alive, their screams only serving to whip their murderers to greater heights of bloodlust.

 

“No!” Whimpered Cho. “NO!”

 

Looking into the eyes of her assailant, she could finally see the truth of Chaos. To fail to stand against such a primal force was to be consumed.

 

Figuratively and literally.

 

Flah’Kuo watched his leader with dispassionate eyes. It was rare to see anything but measured calm in the former Chapter Master, but in those moments there was something...indescribable in his actions that made even him shudder. This was not one such time. However, it would not do for his illustrious Commander to lose all sense of self at a time like this. After all the main event was yet to come and Lurweiss would not want such events to become derailed. Setting off, away from the carnage within the Chamber, he set out to find what had forced the gears of destiny to fail.

 

And what he could do to ensure that he was the one who would be rewarded...

 

 

 

Saffron Sera bellowed orders to her fellow Sisters, desperate to regroup and salvage some ground against the Heretics. She had seen her Canoness fall, and had seen some of her Sisters eaten alive. Murder was a word that could not adequately describe what had happened to them. There was no word for it.

 

To her left, she could see the Amber Dragon Librarian, Braddoch seemingly beset by enemies surrounding him. He stood motionless, almost in repose, eyes shut as the Cultists closed in. As one, the group pounced, their dirty weapons thrust forward. Time seemed to slow, the Cultists movements almost stopping entirely, their bodies hanging mid jump, like Marionettes with their strings cut. A Halo of blue light emanated from his Force Hood, pale at first, but swiftly growing in intensity. His eyes suddenly snapped open, filled with a similar light. Braddoch brought his right arm up and out straight, his palm aimed at a Cultists’ face. Time and motion caught up in an instant, the Halo of light too painful for even the righteous to stand for but a moment. Every Cultist was thrown back, their bodies engulfed by the light, before being burnt to ash and blown away by a harsh wind.

 

Nothing remained.

 

Sensing her eyes upon him once more, his eyes narrowed, his lips uttering words she could not hear, before aiming his Force staff at her. Sera’s unvoiced revulsion of all Psykers came to the fore, snarling a mantra of hatred, a last form of defiance before she was sent to the Emperor by this trai...

 

The Force staff discharged a blast of energy, but it missed her entirely, instead reducing another Cultist behind her to component atoms.

 

Sera was thrown unceremoniously in a heap by the blast, face first into something unspeakably disgusting. Recoiling in horror and intense sadness, she realised that it was the remains of some of the Sisters eaten by the beast Marines.

 

Turning to face a shadow bearing upon her, she looked up to see Braddoch standing over her.

 

“I apologise Sister, for the lack of warning, but I had only but a moment to act.” Leaning forward, he offered her his hand. Sera looked at it with disgust, but after a brief moment took it. Rising, she could see that the Imperial forces were in disarray. Many of the Guard were slaughtered, those who were still alive were under heavy fire, or worse still, those closest to the Altar had either lost their minds, fallen under the sway of the Dark Ones, or both. The Marines fared no better either.

 

Ambustio swung his hammer around hoping to hit the treacherous former Chaplain and end the fight quickly. He had no wish let him escape again. Hr’Boor whilst outmatched in terms of strength, was faster and was deliberately hanging back, hoping to wear the Brother-Captain down, waiting for the ideal moment to strike.

 

Well, that was the plan.

 

One miscalculation, one step in the wrong direction, slipping on something that even Hr’Boor had no wish to know about and he fell, backwards. Landing on his shoulders, the wind was forced out of all three of his lungs. Seeing the Hammer, wreathed in Lightning , fall upon him he was barely able to move, the hammer’s head impacting on his armour, leaving a massive dent in his shoulder guard. It was times like this, he mused ruefully, that I didn’t have the chance to ever wear a Terminator suit. Raising his arm feebly to try to deflect the coming blow, he struggled to lift his Bolt pistol.

 

One shot in the face is all it would take...

 

 

Brother Jurgrey could feel the evil energy building in the distance, and knew instinctively that all was not well in battle. Looking at his stricken charge, he fought the urge to leave her behind, to put a bolt to her head, better to let her ascend to join the Emperor now, than to risk the possibility of her being enthralled by dark Magicks. Searching her mind, to try to sense any corruption, recoiled, savagely, as if physically struck. Something was within her, but he could not tell if it was Chaos or not.

 

All he knew was, whatever it was, it was dangerous.

 

And very angry.

 

More than you could possibly know.

 

The Marines accompanying him were knocked to the ground, as an unknown force tossed them aside as easily as a leaf upon a hurricane. Unable to react in time, Jurgrey was hit with a psychic strike, so potent and surgical in precision. He had sensed no build up, no sudden increase in power, but there was enough that his mind reeled, darkness rushing to meet him. Blacking out, he wasn’t sure if he had really seen Annabelle Chrysanthemum rise from the floor majestically, with an almost inhuman grace, her figure imbued with an inner light, her hair trailing behind her.

 

He had.

Edited November 19, 2012 by Aquilanus

[Aqui]

Another post and I finally reached the end of this part of the larger story. Hope you all enjoy it.

 

It also brings in the next part of the Saga of Saffron Sera and her journey to become the Founder of my DIY Sisters of Battle Order, the Order of the Dauntless Spirit.

 

 

 

Part 17:

 

Rai Lurweiss rejoiced. The battle thrilled him, almost overloading his senses. He had defeated the Canoness easily, and he had paused to shout his defiance to the Dark Gods. Not a sensible thing to do, but at that moment, he did not care in the slightest. Months, years of careful planning had been expended into this very moment and he intended to savour every second. Looking down at his stricken foe, he could see that she was slowly bleeding to death, the ruined shoulder ineffectually staunched with her remaining hand. A growing hunger gnawed at his soul, he so desperately wanted to tear her shattered armour open to reveal her flesh, to sink his teeth into her, and taste her blood. So strong was the urge, he nearly succumbed to it, yielding utterly to savage desire, heedless of the consequences. Seeing the look of utter horror in his opponents’ eyes shook him. In the battle as brief as it was, she had shown little weakness, no indecision. Indeed, she had shown no fear, instead her attack was almost as savage as his, but she had still shown restraint.

 

She had only shown any emotion when she bore witness to the Changed eating her Sisters alive....

 

Is that how it starts? He asked himself. Is this how one becomes one of the Changed?

 

Raising his blade, he used its pitted and patina’d surface to look at himself. There he saw his reflection, and did not like what he was shown. His had face was ashen, dark shadows underlining even darker orbs of obsidian. His mouth was snarling, teeth as sharp knives. On his forehead were vestigial horns, only slight, but very recent, his skin stretched to accommodate the changes wrought.

 

I nearly lost myself he mused darkly. I knew the path I walk would have consequences, but this...

 

He shuddered at what might have been, might still be. Like a whisper, he swore could hear laughter, that of many voices, deep in timbre and old, almost as old as time itself. Despite everything, despite all of his meticulous planning, he was still a pawn of Chaos. He would never be free, he might never see the revenge that consumed him above all else. Despite himself, he smiled. Now that he knew this, it allowed him a modicum of peace in a perverse way.

 

There was still the arrival of the last chess piece. Time to end the game.

 

Time to salvage what he could and get the hell off this miserable mudball. There were other ways to attain his goals after all...

 

 

Annabelle Chrysanthemum rose from the floor her, body lifted seemingly by an invisible force. She felt sluggish, slow almost as if she was merely a passenger in her own body.

 

You are replied a voice. This one was nothing like the other. This one was seductive, every letter of every word it spoke was pronounced in such a wilful, decadent fashion.

 

What do you mean? Annabelle asked impatiently.

 

The entity you spoke to, is not who you think it is.

 

Then who is it?

 

One of the Dark Gods. The one you fear most of all.

 

The other voice returned. Believe in me. I only speak the truth. The other speaks lies of the most despicable sort. It intends to ensnare you, enthral you, and make you its slave.

 

I have no such wish. retorted the first voice. However, I can show you how to save your Sisters. It would be painless, pleasant even. You need only let me in. I am the One and the only One. Be about your duty, Sister.

 

Annabelle paused. The God-Emperor?!

 

The voice ignored her question. You must do as I bid, for the sake of your Sisters. Do your duty Annabelle Chrysanthemum. Your duty.

 

Annabelle felt a shock run through her entire body. She felt sensations the likes of which she had never known. Her heart went into palpitations, every nerve ending, her entire body, open to what the voice offered her, cocooned in warmth and a sensual delight. Parts of her that had never felt such things, things that she denied herself, gorged themselves, her resolve, her iron will, were let loose, like water gushing from a breeched dam.

 

This continued the first voice This, is what it feels to open your mind to me. To feel everything, to experience everything; to know that love you and that you should share this love with your Sisters! Rejoice Annabelle, for you have found your true calling!

 

No! Screamed the other voice. Deny it, Sister! Love for the Emperor is a painful love. It is full of pain, of sacrifice, of never ending toil. I know this Annabelle, for I have experienced it. The Emperor’s love knows no bounds, but it is bittersweet, full of vigour, of righteous hatred! This... Love the other speaks of is cloying, befuddling, it is saccharine, ersatz, and false! There is no Love there, it is two faced, self serving and ultimately hollow. Believe in Him, Annabelle, believe and be His instrument again. Burn with His love. Use it to bring His enemies low.

 

In HIS name!

 

“Go forth and share my Love, Sister! Bask in it and never be alone again!”

 

In her mind the other screamed, and was drowned out.

 

 

 

Saffron Sera had managed to rally her Sisters to her, to make a final push against the enemy. She turned to Ambustio.

 

“Where is the Colonel?”

 

“Killed, by his own men. We can no longer rely on the Guardsmen. We have little choice but to cut out the cancer that afflicts them all.” His voice was tinged with sadness, of regret, but there was little time to reflect on this.

 

“Motoko, we must destroy that Altar! If nothing else, we must deny the enemy whatever foul sorcery they are planning. Let us sell ourselves dear!”

 

“For Saint Lucia!

 

Sera charged the Marine who had brought down her Canoness. He was distracted, and did not see her approach until she was within range with her sword. Swinging upwards, she connected the tip tearing power cables to her enemies’ armour. Crying out in pain and anger, he turned, his eyes burning with such enmity. Meeting her with his own weapon, he brought it forth thrusting it down. Sera parried, swearing an oath to Him on Earth.

 

“You wish to share your leaders’ fate?” he snarled. “So be it!”

 

“I have only one wish; to see your end!” but Lurweiss was not listening. His attention was aimed at the door. An ugly grin appeared upon his features, his sharp teeth reminding Sera of the aquatic predators of her home world.

 

“You will be denied your wish, girl.” He cooed. “My plan comes to fruition!”

 

The room was engulfed in a blinding light, forcing all to shelter from it. A shadow was brought forth distorting reality around it. Saffron strained to see what could do such a thing. What she saw made her weep in despair.

 

Annabelle.

 

Lurweiss turned, address all before him.

 

“At last! She awakes! I have accomplished that, which has been deemed impossible. The corruption of a Sister of Battle! She is the instrument of your deaths!

 

Destroy them!”

Sera looked into the eyes of the woman who used to be her Sister.

 

“Annabelle!”

 

“I have no further use for that name!”

 

“Then what...”

 

“I have used many names in my service to my God. She who thirsts, The debauched one. The Keeper of Secrets, all inconsequential.

 

“I may take another, if one suitable comes along...”

 

“Fight it Sister! Deny the evil. Deny it!”

 

“I...I.”

 

“Do not allow this thing to take control of you! It preys on indecision, on doubt. That is it’s only strength! You are stronger!”

 

”Be silent! I have fought Kings! True Champions of your Corpse God! My current vessel retreats, she has no stomach for what needs to be done, she wishes only to embrace Slaanesh. She only wishes to be Loved!”

 

“She is Loved! By her Sisters, by Him on Earth! Fight it Sister! Deny the evil!”

 

Deep inside her own mind, Annabelle looked upon Saffron Sera. Despite herself, she sobbed. The Daemon, she had realised that too late, had preyed on her weaknesses. She had been brought up in a privileged family, but unloved, jealous of those who were. When she was offered a chance to serve as a Sister she had taken the opportunity gladly, hoping to be rid of such hateful feelings; but the loneliness she felt grew stronger, as her spiteful manner made others resentful of her. That only made her feel more lonely and brought strength to her spite. The vicious cycle went on. Her own anger at Saffron, none of whom had ill feelings toward turned to hate. But to see her willing her, trying to reach her, was she wrong? Was she?

 

Yes. You are not alone. Take my hand and be free. Give yourself to Him on Earth again, and never be alone.

 

Annabelle opened her own eyes, and remembered.

 

She had spent hours on that torture table, the Learnéd had plied their trade with enthusiasm. Her cries to her Sisters and Him on Earth seemingly went unanswered, her pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears. And after what seemed like eternity, it stopped. Paralysed by arcane power, the acolytes gleefully told her that she was chosen like they were. That the damage to the pious rune on her cheek was deliberate, to lower her resistance to what they had in store. They had broken her, opened her soul and made it theirs. And when she thought there was nothing else they could do to her, they made her forget.

 

Until now.

 

She knew that she would die. After her weakness, at the table and allowing a Daemon to take her form, it was the least of her worries, but she knew that she must make amends.

 

But how?

 

The Daemon clad in Annabelle’s form, bore down on Saffron, her eyes alight with unholy power.

 

“I shall take you first.” She announced. Cradling her weapons, a long blade with nasty edges and a whip, she licked her lips.

 

“I will give your mind a taste of what Annabelle experienced, and then deny it to you.

 

“Forever.”

Saffron raised her sword, ready for the Daemon to strike. But it never came. Slowly, the creatures arm lowered, trembling as it did so. She could see its face change, maniacal mirth making way to righteous fervour.

 

“I. Deny. You. Fiend!”

 

Annabelle’s form was engulfed in flame. The Daemon screamed as the holy pyre that was its former host forced it to retreat back to the void.

 

Lurweiss shouted, his voice lost as his forces wailed in despair.

 

“Impossible!”

 

“Perhaps. But not today.” Annabelle charged, pointed her sword at the enemy, the tip of the blade shredding everything it met.

 

Lurweiss and the few remaining troops he had near him retreated, their defeat hung in the air like heavy smoke.

 

“We must make chase!” Saffron shouted. “After them!”

 

“No.”

 

“What? We cannot let them escape!” Saffron shouted.

 

“No Saffron. They can wait. There is still an enemy here.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Me.”

 

“What do you mean? Annabelle, you cast out a Daemon! With your help we can finally free this world!”

 

Annabelle’s voice took on a different timbre, soothing, but forceful.

 

“No, Saffron Sera, daughter of Urstine and Magrat. Annabelle is correct. We banished the Daemon, but the doorway for its return is still open. It must be closed.”

 

“But, is there no other way?”

 

“No, Sister. There is but one way to close it. The vessel must be destroyed.”

 

“Vessel!” snarled Saffron derisively. “You make this sound inconsequential! A Sister must die in your name, when there is no need of it?!”

 

“You know who I am?”

 

“I know who you think you are!” Saffron cried in anger. “What makes YOU any better than that which was cast out?”

 

“Saffron, don’t fight this.” Annabelle pleaded. “This is the best way. The...only way.”

 

“I...I can’t!”

 

“You must. If you truly wish me well, Saffron, then do it. I will be free of the Daemon, and be redeemed to the Emperor. What more could I ask for?”

 

Saffron looked at the sword pro offered to her. The sword had reverted back to its original form. Untainted. Pure.

 

“Do not fear for me, Sister.” Annabelle placated. “It’s what I wish. It’s more than I deserve.

 

“End it.”

 

Saffron nodded to Motoko who wielded a heavy Flamer, and closed her eyes. Drawing the Sword back in a wide arc, she brought it forth. The deed done, Motoko bathed the body in cleansing fire, thoroughly incinerating any chance of the Daemons’ return.

 

Dropping the sword, Saffron dropped to her knees and wept, her tears gathered in pools, mixing with the ash.

 

Farewell, Sister...and thank you.

 

 

Epilogue.

 

It took another two months to ensure that the planet Syndar was completely cleansed. The Daemonic Altar the first thing to be destroyed. Lurweiss and his remaining forces had left the planet, but it was unknown how he escaped. Aethelfleda was still in a coma but was expected to recover eventually. Agatha had recovered enough from her own injuries to perform light duties, mainly to aid the Canoness in her rehabilitation. The Canoness herself had witnessed the last moments of Annabelle Chrysanthemum, and though it pained her to do so, had made a full report to her Orders’ headquarters. Saffron herself accompanied Motoko in purging the remaining heretics who were abandoned by Lurweiss and his followers. Without them, those leftover had no stomach for further conflict and were burnt to death.

 

On the day of departure, Captain Ambustio had met with the Order, to bid them farewell. At the space port, another ship was docked. It was black, and otherwise unmarked. No one knew to whom it belonged, or indeed how it was allowed to land without anyone knowing of its approach.

 

Waiting for its denizens to disembark, Ambustio had honoured Saffron and many of her Sistren with a mark usually reserved for Marines within his Chapter, a brand to the neck in the form of a snarling dragon. Saffron bore hers with pride.

 

“I am glad to have fought by your side, Sister.” Ambustio’s rich tones carrying easily despite the noise nearby.

 

“I thank you for all that your Chapter has done to assist us in returning this world to the light.”

 

“Indeed, the honour was ours. We have all bore losses, but we have prevailed!”

 

“Have you indeed?” asked another voice.

 

Ambustio turned, angered by the slight. Saffron looked at the questioner, enmity etched on her face.

 

Before them was a tall slender woman, who under no circumstances could have been mistaken for a native. Indeed on further inspection, it was obvious she was not of this world. Her hair was the darkest black, where as the populace of Syndar was mainly brown haired or auburn. She face was attractive, in a severe way, her cheek bones framing her eyes, as dark as they were. She wore lightly coloured robes, that seemed simple but were actually made from rich cloth, and well looked after. Behind her were two other women and a man. They did not smile unlike their leader, their faces were grim, showing that they were used to scenes of such carnage and destruction. They were armed in a manner that they thought discrete, although in truth was anything but.

 

“Identify yourself!” Rumbled Ambustio, still angered by the slight this woman had uttered.

 

Slowly reaching into her robes, the woman took out a wallet, black leather and richly decorated. Saffron’s eyes were wide when she saw the symbol branded on the case. Lifting the item in front of her, she let the front fall forward, revealing the contents within.

 

A gold icon, one that Saffron had seen once before when her parents’ death was investigated. She bared her teeth, hissing her anger at the woman.

 

The woman chuckled, “Your...Sister knows what I am.” Pausing for effect, she continued.

 

“I am Angelica Stenson, of the Ordo Malleus. And I am here to investigate the events of the last few months on this planet. You are to remain here until I am satisfied with the answers I seek. I will have your full assistance in this matter.

 

In HIS name!”

 

No longer smiling, the woman bade them to follow her.

 

Cursing silently to herself, Saffron Sera followed the Inquisitor and her retinue, fearful of the future of her Order.

 

Comments etc welcome! :tu:

Edited November 23, 2012 by Aquilanus

[Leonaides]

Still reading, still enjoying... Keep writing.

[Aqui]

Still reading, still enjoying... Keep writing.

 

I'm glad, thank you for commenting ;) I was starting to worry that I wasn't producing anything good enough to keep peoples interest.

 

I'm working on the next part at the moment, although it'll be a while before I actually post it as the story changes pace and I want to try a different way of writing. Without giving anything away, I really want to give the reader an insight into how a Loyal servant of the Imperium feels when accused of Heresy, and I really want to get a handle on what this new character is all about. I've been wanting to write stuff about an Inquisitor for a long time (mainly because of Lady Canoness' story arc, although Angelica will be a totally different type altogether), but I decided to take a slower, more definite approach to character building than "make it up as you go a long" :)

 

Thanks again ^_^

[Aqui]

It's been a while, and my computer is playing up so much that I've had to stop using it. In an awesome twist of fate everyone at the company I work for got a BlackBerry PlayBook for Christmas :lol: It's taken some doing, but here is the latest installment of the story. It might be a little slow to start with, but hope it hits the spot ^_^

 

 

 

Killing in the name.

 

The blood trickling down her face was her own, she realised. Relishing the tang, she tried to raise her head, to mock her tormentor and failed. Her neck was chained still, the collar rusted and coated with the blood of countless others.

 

"I shall ask again," the woman asked, her voice seductive now, soothing. A few seconds ago, it was full of rage, wrath and potent doom.

 

"Repent. Repent and tell me of your failure. Repent, and I shall grant you mercy..."

 

She knew what Mercy meant. A quick death, clean, but still, no actual mercy involved in the deed. She felt the sharp, invasive point of an energised knife in the base of her skull. Ironic, she mused, How I used to use such words.

 

And actually meant them.

 

"I tire of this." The woman muttered petulantly, her lips shaping a pout. "Brynt. Deal with...this."

 

The woman known as Brynt nodded wordlessly, stepping forward to take her mistresses place. Her face could not contain the joy she felt. The mistress had given her a tasty morsel to play with. A rarity these days.

 

She would not waste the chance to play again.

 

 

 

It was five months since the ordeal at Syndar, and whilst she was healed physically, Canoness Eliza Cho was still wounded where it truly mattered. Her soul. She had seen so many of her Sisters killed, many eaten alive by the stuff of nightmares.

 

Chaos Space Marines. And that wasn't the half of it. A Sister of her Order had so very nearly turned to damnation, so very nearly turned her back on the God-Emperor of Mankind, only to be the tool of the creator of the Order of the Valorous Heart herself.

 

Saint Lucia, or so it was thought.

 

Many Sisters decried Annabelle Chrysanthemum as a raving lunatic, a deviant who threatened the safety of the survivors of this small Convent. One who even now after her death, sows seeds of doubt in the fields of Faith. It had effectively split the Convent in twain, the Canoness and those who witnessed the events first hand on one side, the followers of Seraphim Carolle Crocus villifying Annabelle as a Heretic. A diligent Sister of the Order, but nevertheless a Sister whom never trusted Annabelle Chrysanthemum. Who was, in the eyes of some, jealous of her favour from the Canoness along with the rest of squad Lucia. No one would ever state such accusations aloud of course. But everyone had heard, everyone was watching, and now, an inquisitor, a Holy, Sanctified, Officer of Him on Earth was involved.

 

And it was her fault.

 

In her desperation to purge herself of self doubt, to be rid of the fear she felt, she needed to light the weight she felt. The only way she could do so, was to report everything to her superiors. If she had known it would cause her current situation, she would have bared the weight a little longer. She felt no malice toward her superiors, indeed, she would have done the same thing. How she wished she could explain to this servant of Him on Earth, make her feel as she did. To feel the depths of despair, the impotence to act, the sheer fury and rage that threatened to consume her near the end.

 

She wished she could make Inquisitor Angelica Stenson feel anything.

 

Her first meeting with the woman had not gone well. The Inquisitor had visited her in the Apothecarium, whilst she was still weary from surgery. The pain killers had made her confused, irritable and despite still being in pain she had torn off the wires monitoring her condition, attacking her perceived assailant.

 

The attack was feeble, her augmetic arm untested and almost useless. It was heavy, the weight throwing Cho off balance, her legs unused for so long had failed. Falling unceremoniously to the floor, she looked up to an attractive face, made harsh by a sneer of contempt.

 

"Is this your best? The fury you feel, the righteousness of a servant of the Emperor?"

 

"No, damn you. I would show you that, had my condition been better."

 

"Indeed." The sneer left her face briefly, replaced with amusement. "Perhaps another time then."

 

One of the Inquisitors retinue stooped to pick Cho up, hands reaching under the tall woman's armpits. Shrugging their help away Cho struggled slowly, painfully, to her feet noting the Inquisitor was as tall as she was. The other woman was wearing armour under a cloak, a deep red in colour and worn. A few areas were scorched or ripped.

 

"A Genestealer cult a few months ago," Stenson answered the silent question with a chuckle. "They were most...reluctant to surrender to His will. Needless to say, they regretted that reluctance for the rest of their lives."

 

Cho kept silent, her hateful eyes locked upon the others.

 

"You seem less than impressed to see me. We are both loyal servants are we not? Be honest with your thoughts. I can assure you, I am here to investigate previous events leading up to today. Judgement will be meted out to those who are deserving, and nothing more."

 

I'll believe that when I see it."

 

"I shall let you recover. Then my investigation will begin in earnest.". Turning, the Inquisitor strode from the room, leaving Canoness Eliza Cho fearful. Not for herself, but for her Convent. The fear was choking, bile rising to her throat.

Having survived many challenges in the past, she now faced that which she had no experience.

 

The wrath of the Imperium.

 

Climbing back into bed, she curled up into a ball, her mind drifting off back into the past.

 

 

 

Apologies for any mistakes that have crept in :sweat:

Edited December 21, 2012 by Aquilanus

[Aqui]

Part two is ready, and building up to the antagonists of this part of the story. I'll let you figure out who that'll be <_<

 

 

Enjoy!

 

 

Killing in the name - Part two

 

"They can't do this to us!" Saffron Sera was incandescent with rage.

 

"I rather think they can." Seraphim Motorola sighed morosely. "To the Inquisition, we're no less innocent or blameless than those we fight against. If anything, I feel that we are more suspicious than most other fighting arms of the Imperium."

 

"What?"

 

"Think, Saffron. We are soldiers, first and foremost. Willing to fight and die for Him on Earth. The foe we fought some months ago is the Great Enemy. The deceivers, the despicable ones. In most encounters, our kind have been fortunate to walk away from such encounters unscathed. But this time..."

 

"They suspect us of being tainted? Because of Annabelle? Preposterous!"

 

"Your love for our Sister does you credit, Saffron." Motoko continued. "But such loyalty can be misinterpreted by these agents. They do not think as we do. They do not feel as we do. They suspect everything, they have no concept of trust as we do. They do not even trust others within their own Organisation."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because someone has to. Like it or not, the Imperium needs suspicious people. To weed out Heresy, to protect our Galaxy from those who wish to destroy it."

 

"How do you..."

 

"I will not speak of it," Motoko interupted. "Suffice to say, I have had dealings with such individuals, and hoped never to again. Alas, the Emperor's will demands otherwise."

 

Saffron looked at Motoko sadly. The Celestian's usual cheerful, pleasant demeanour had soured over the last few months, her optimism ground away, leaving a bitter woman who rarely spoke, her words lacking the bellicose edge they used to have. Motoko seemed to have given up.

 

And the trend was spreading.

 

The Convent had officially handed themselves over to the Inquisition's jurisdiction months ago, but none of the Sisters imprisoned with Saffron had been questioned. No torture, no honourable execution. Nothing.

 

The room they were dwelling within was small, containing twenty Sisters. All had been stripped of their armour, and were wearing habits in their Orders colours. Prayer, and rededication to the Emperor continued daily, but for their confinement, it was almost as if their lives had continued anon. Almost. Doubt had crept in upon the minds of many, especially the younger members of the Convent. Other tensions had risen as well. Many gathered within the room were from different squads, unfamiliarity causing more than one argument. Despite Motoko and Saffron trying their best to keep everyone's spirits up, they were not the Canoness. Her leadership was needed more than ever before, but she had been separated from them deliberately, to break their spirit. And then there was of course, the one topic that no one was willing to discuss. Especially not in front of Saffron herself.

 

Annabelle Chrysanthemum.

 

For many in that room, that name evoked such emotion. Anger, fear, shame. Redemption, piety, triumph over seemingly unbeatable odds. Not one Sister was able to truly know how they felt of that day. Did their fallen Sister die a heroine? One who was sorely tempted, but ultimately gave her life that they might live? Or was she a canker within their ranks that was even now spreading, corrupting and subverting them all to the will of ancient and unknowable beings?

 

There was no answer. Nor was there any news of their Brothers of the Amber Dragons Chapter. The guards ignored their pleas for information of them and that of their injured Canoness. Did she still live? Would she still be able to lead her Convent in the future?

 

Was there a future?

 

“I refuse to accept that our fate is to be decided by some paranoid bureaucrat, Motoko!" snarled Saffron gruffly. Motoko would have replied but for the presence of someone standing at the door of the room shrouded in shadow. Stepping forward, a woman, fairly stocky in proportion, pointed at her comrade. Her wild blue eyes, as deep as an ocean, were framed by blonde hair cut roughly in a long bob. Her lips were full.. She licked them lasiciously in anticipation.

 

"You. You will be first."

 

Months of confinement had taken their toll on Saffron. Headless of the consequences, she charged, her sudden acceleration taking the stranger by complete surprise. The fist to the jaw accompanied by a knee to the groin compounded the confusion. Straddling her foe, Saffron raised her hand to strike again, only to be restrained by a meaty paw attached to an arm of pure muscle. The arms owner pulled back, slowly, allowing numbness to grow in her wrist before twisting. Knowing that he could easily break her arm, she let the other woman get up. Saffron was bewildered to see that the woman was smiling, her eyes boring into her with a look that bordered on lust. She seemed to be willing her to attack again. It was most disconcerting.

 

The man snorted and rolled his eyes. "Slag it, Brynt! Wait until the boss tells you you can have yer sick fun!"

 

Brynt licked her lips again, savouring the sanguine taste. Winking at Saffron lewdly, she stepped aside allowing the man to drag the Sister away.

 

"You know me Kadeoche, I'm a sucker for a red head." The man looked down at the woman, her frame dwarved by his sheer size. We're it not for some subtle hints, Saffron might have mistaken him for a Space Marine.

 

Gripping the door handle lewdly, she turned to the other Sisters. "Don't ya'll worry now. I'll get around to seeing every single one of ya'll as well. Ah'm looking forward to it!"

 

With a grunt of effort, she pulled the heavy door shut.

 

 

"I will ask you again. Was Sister Annabelle Chrysanthemum an agent of Chaos?". The voice was prickly, barely able to contain its impatience. Saffron knew that the owner of such a voice had already made up its mind. Remaining silent, she instead took in the room she had spend the last sixteen hours being...questioned. Unlike the few others she had seen aboard this vessel, this one was opulent, the sheer scale of which disgusted her. Pictures of the Emperor in his magnificent armour, golden and pure lined the walls, making a stark contrast with the other furnishings. At the other side of the room was a desk, carved from a wood she was unfamiliar with. It was stained green, although it was old and had a patina of dirt within the grain. Intricate shapes were cut deep into the woods, almost mesmerizing to look at. The Inquisitor sat behind it, eyeing her carefully. Saffron had difficulty seeing much, her own left eye was swollen shut, and her mouth was cut, lips puckered . She was parched and could see a bucket full of fresh water nearby. Despite herself, she tried to pick her lips, but her tongue was numb having been bitten many times with the shock of a stern fist to her jaw.

 

"You are thirsty." It was a statement. Hating herself, Saffron nodded, the movement making her wince. Her body was suspended by chains, her arms and legs forced to form the shape of an X. Another chain ended with a collar attached to her neck chaffed her skin, dried blood forming scabs. To her right, she could see the woman, Brynt lick her own lips and wink at her. Such abhorrent behaviour sickened her to the core, having seen Cultists exhibited carnal desires in a similar fashion on Syndar. She shuddered, the bonds making her regret it.

 

"You show such disgust at my subordinates behaviour." the Inquisitor chuckled. "Why?"

 

"You really need to ask?" Saffron was incredulous, scarcely believing her ears.

 

"Yes."

 

"Such desires make you a slave to those who would enslave us! It is the first step on the path to damnation!"

 

"Such trite rubbish!" snorted Angelica Stenson. "Do you not realise that denial of such desires ultimately makes one a more willing slave in the end?"

 

Saffron could not contain her rage at this statement. Thrashing with what little strength she had remaining, she screamed at the woman, pulling at her chains, and was nearly successful in pulling one of the arm restraints from the ceiling. Angelica got up from behind the desk, and slapped her prisoner sharply, Saffron's cheek rouged by the harsh contact.

 

"Do not presume to make judgment on what you have no concept of!" snarled the Inquisitor angrily. "With but a word, I could damn you all! Your Convent, all of your lives, are nothing compared to my Holy Duty. I answer to Him on Earth and no one else! You would be wise to remember this in future, should your tongue wish to get you into trouble again.

 

"Now. About Annabelle Chrysanthemum..."

 

 

"Aethelfleda du Pont. Answer the question I asked." The Inquisitor knew full well that whilst the Sister hands were bound, she could not. Her throat was torn out many years ago by gangers on her home world, before she became a member of her Order. She had been given the chance to receive an augmetic replacement many times, but she had always refused never feeling it was necessary. She was unfortunate to have had her left arm torn off by a Chaos Space Marine, her injuries being so great that she was coma bound for a time. She had had enough recuperation from said injuries, but the guilt she felt not being able to help her Sisters and not being able to say good bye to Annabelle weighed heavily on her. She also did not tell the others of the horrible nightmares she started suffering as a result of her ordeal either. Physically fit for duty as she was, Aethelfleda was far from ready to fight for the Imperium again.

 

Angelica knew this and was fully prepared to take advantage of of it. Aethelfleda was defiant, keeping eye contact with her captor and unwilling to give her what she wanted.

 

"Annabelle Chrysanthemum. Was she a Heretic?" Sighing loudly, Angelica removed the Sisters bonds.

 

"Better?"

 

Rubbing her remaining organic wrist, Aethelfleda nodded reluctantly. Her distaste for the other woman was obvious on her features, her brown eyes almost covered by her dark brown hair.

 

"A question about you then." she continued. "Are you satisfied by your augmetics? Do you gain joy from them? Are they a badge of honour? Do you have an ulterior motive through them? Are you one who welcomes such...enhancements? Do you wish to remake yourself in the image of the so called "Omnissiah"?

 

"Are you a deviant?" relishing the words and the reaction they would garner, she took a large step back, the Sister pouncing upon her in a rage fit of rage. Aethelfleda's usual genial demeanour lost to the desire to attack this woman. Kadeoche stepped between them, his massive frame more than capable of soaking up the blows the Sister reined upon him.

 

"I see."

 

Turning to Kadeoche, she bade him remove the Sister and return her to the cells. Pulling out a communication device, she called another of her servants.

 

"Pacer. Stenson. Bring me the Canoness. I would have words with her."

 

The Canoness was brought before her wearing cuffs, her hands in front of her so that the Inquisitor could see any attempt to escape. Eliza Cho was able to walk, her left arm now was usable, but still took getting used to. The Inquisitor bade her to sit on a chaise longue, sumptuous in its upholstery.

 

"It is time I told you of my purpose, Lady Canoness."

 

Cho snorted angrily. "I know of your purpose. To judge my Convent and to destroy us. I will not assist you in that task."

 

"That is not my purpose and has never been."

 

"Then what..."

 

I have a more important task charged to me. One that you can help me with. One I have spent my entire career dedicating myself to."

 

"And that is?"

 

"I will tell you, if you will help me in this task.

 

"Please."

 

Taken aback by this revelation, and of the change in attitude, the Canoness asked what this task was.

 

"I will explain all, but first, let me remove those bonds..."

 

Saffron Sera was not returned to her Sisters after her interrogation, rather she was unceremoniously thrown into another cell, barely big enough for her to lie in. It was easy to lose track of time in the dark, and she decided that it was no longer worth worrying how long she had been alone. She knew that there other cells nearby, as she could hear whimpering, oaths shouted aloud and prayer. The latter helped Saffron remain calm. She had resorted to the very one that had gotten her into trouble all those years ago, the repetition soothing. She had finished her dedication to Him on Earth when the lock securing the door screeched open, revealing a familiar shape in the now brightly lit room.

 

"My Sister, rouse yourself. For we once again have a task given us to complete."

 

Shielding her eyes, Saffron gasped. "Canoness?"

 

"Indeed, child. Come."

 

Standing shakily to her feet, she followed her superior down the corridor.

 

"What are we tasked with? Why are we free? What have you done?!" the last part was spoken in anger, fear of what had transpired so that would convince the Canoness to capitulate with their captors.

 

"Our task is to hunt those who brought our Convent low, who brought devastation to Syndar. To be the instrument of His will again. However, for now, we are required for another, no less important deed.

 

"We are to accompany the Inquisitor to a Planet called Hanuah to destroy the most insidious threat a world can suffer.". The words hung in the air like smoke, Saffron unwilling to interrupt.

 

Cho passed Saffron a data-slate. The screen showed a monster like no other, it's hideous visage snarling baring many teeth, slouched as if perpetually ready to pounce. Stiffling a desire to shudder, Saffron followed her Canoness down the corridor, her mind unable to shut out the fear she was now feeling.

 

 

"Forgive our...deception, Saffron Sera." Angelica Stenson lamented. "And for your harsh treatment, but I had to be sure."

 

"Of what?"

 

"Your continued loyalty to the Imperium. The interrogations were designed to evoke reactions proven to indicate heresy. I can see you doubt those methods, but ultimately, you have all proven yourselves admirably."

 

"And of Annabelle? Your opinion of her?" Saffron asked bluntly.

 

"I admit that the evidence I have been given currently leads me to no conclusion. Simply put, I truly have no idea what to think."

 

I have no idea what to think thought Saffron, And I was there!

 

"What evidence?" asked Motoko. "You yourself admitted that we had revealed nothing to you."

 

"Indeed. However I do have certain...talents."

 

The room went cold suddenly, a tang of Ozone was overpowering, the hairs on their necks stood on end. Saffron snarled, rising to her feet ready to pounce.

 

Sit down! The mental command could not be denied.

 

"I am a Pysker. Something that many of you hate, and rightfully so. However, do not make the mistake that others have made. I am the instrument of His will. I have been Sanctioned by those whom are the purest of the pure.

 

"Fear those who have not been blessed as I have. Fear those who do not follow the righteous path. And fear those who would use their power for anything less than for the glory of the Imperium!

 

"There will be a briefing in one hour sharp. We will need every second available to us to be ready for the task ahead. That will be all."

 

Turning to leave, Saffron wondered if she would ever be ready to take on such a foe. She would find out soon enough.

Edited December 23, 2012 by Aquilanus

[Aqui]

Not a big update, but one that will hopefully set the scene for what's to come....

 

Killing in the name - Part 3

 

 

It had taken all of his cunning to remain hidden, which admittedly wasn't much. The creature had been following him for days, and he had wondered not for the first time, why it was so interested in him. He wasn't the only one to have seen the massive bright light in the sky, the streak of fire that followed and the sound of rocks being torn asunder. The group could not get anywhere near the crash site for some time, the heat was such that a man could have burnt to a crisp within seconds. Nabune had tried, and it was a slow grizzly fate he was met with for his trouble, one that Harand Tuttel had no intention of meeting. The three others, he only friends on this horrible mudball, were taken by those things, and were probably dead.

 

The creature had dropped back, he realised risking a brief look behind him. He was instantly suspicious. That monster had been tenacious, relentless, so where was it? It made no sense for it to give up now...

 

Turning a corner of the abandoned expressway he suddenly saw the reason why. The bridge he was on had been impacted heavily, leaving no way of crossing over to the other side. The gap was over thirty feet wide; absolutely no chance of being able to jump across successfully. Remembering the snarling visage, he shuddered. Perhaps jumping to his death was a preferable fate than what it had in store for him. Approaching the edge, he didn't stop, jumping up as high as he could whilst reciting a prayer to Him on Earth in his mind. Pushing his arms high and forward using pendular motion to add to the jump, he screamed as a claw from a stantion above him had clamped around his wrist. The force of the jump, added to suddenly stopping nearly dislocated his arm from the shoulder, forcing him to black out momentarily. Coming too, he realised how the evil creature was able to keep track of him.

 

There wasn't just one. Three creatures, all so similar in appearance, baring a few subtle markings he could see now stood in front of him. Crouching, their legs like coiled springs, ready to propel them forward into a meleé. It was impossible for their faces to express such human emotions as amusement, but they did their level best. Teeth that looked sharp enough to bite through steel were bared in a travesty of a smile, the eyes alien and unknowable seemingly hypnotic, inspiring both a unnerving calm and a rising panic at the same time.

 

The creature turned him around, still suspended and he was surprised to see a man walking towards him, his demeanour full of confidence, his manner measured.

 

"Well, Harrand Tuttel" the man spoke in clear tones. "It would seem you are exactly what we are looking for."

 

Harrand doubted that very much, but had no strength left to argue. He was completely spent, muscles aching beyond anything he had known before. The man stepped forward from shadow, allowing Harrand to see who had such control over these creatures. The man was tall, wearing robes, rich material in a dark red that Harrand could only dream of wearing. He was tall, lean with a sense of such bearing that he briefly wondered if he was a Noble.

 

Until he saw the mans' face.

 

It was bald, with a handsome visage, but there were elements that were...wrong. The man had piercing eyes, as black as could be possible. The forehead had a bony ridge across the brow and his teeth were needle sharp. His skin was a dark hue, quite unlike his own. It took him all of his remaining sanity not to be lost in those eyes. Mesmerising, fogging his thoughts, making it hard to think straight.

 

"Release him."

 

The creature restraining him let him go, falling to the floor unceremoniously in a heap. Struggling to stand, he looked at the man curiously, fear sloughing away. He was calm, completely without the mind-numbing terror he was consumed with before.

 

Why?

 

The man smiled, showing teeth like surgeons knives.

 

"Yes, you will do indeed." Looking to one of the foul beasts, he beckoned it towards Harrand.

 

"Welcome him, my brother. Let him know our benevolence."

 

Harrand turned to the creature, It reared up, gaining even more height, its jaws open revealing a tongue, sinuous, prehensile. Harrand was quiet, expectant even. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath.

 

And with its kiss knew that his destiny was no longer his own.

Edited December 30, 2012 by Aquilanus