Sword Bearers and the Unforgiven (Updated 1/07/23: Angels Redeemed)

[Legio Draconis]

Keeps getting better and better. 

[Brother Excedis]

Even in laziness your ideas are exquisite....jeese dude. Symbolism for the tears the Revanants cry for the sins of their legion? That's pretty hardcore.

[Spaced Hulk]

The Lords of the Chapter were waiting for him.

 

Deep within the bowels of the flagship, the vault was the most secret and secure chamber in the entire Sword Bearers fleet. It's location was not marked on any plan or structural diagram, it's integrity protected by metre thick adamantium, void shielding and psychic wards. The vast majority of the vessel's crew, both mortal and trans-human, were completely unaware of it's existence.

 

Aldous stood in a circle of light, surrounded by utter, impenetrable darkness. He was still clad in his battered, dust covered war plate; as instructed, he had proceeded to the vault the moment the Night Raven had landed. A hood covered his bare head, shrouding his features in shadow.

 

One by one, the Masters of the Sword Bearers stepped out of the darkness, forming a circle around him. Like the Mentor, their armour proudly displayed the marks of recent combat, and like him, their faces were hidden. It was a symbolic gesture, for their identities were known to them all, but the tradition was observed as a reminder of the secrets they each kept. None outside the Inner Circle must ever know of gatherings such as this.

 

As always, Torr was the first to make his presence known. Bold, brutal, bellicose: the personality of the Lord Penitent was a perfect match for his massive suit of Cataphractii armour. Elric Torr had been Master of the Terminator elite throughout the Mentor's service in the First Company, and had held the position for as long as anyone could remember. Beneath the hood that obscured Torr's ancient, battle scarred features, the Mentor could just make out the tell-tale red glow of twin bionic implants. The Lord Penitent had lost both eyes many years before. More machine now than man after horrendous injuries acquired fighting the largest Hrud migration in living memory, many in the Chapter believed that Torr was physically and permanently bonded to his archaic terminator plate.

 

To his right stood Mordrain, Lord High Interrogator and Master of the Reclusiam. It was a testament to the Reclusiarch's stature that he was not dwarfed by Torr's imposing bulk. Even in power armour, Mordrain stood almost as tall and as broad as a terminator armoured warrior. His pale war plate had been created especially for him by the most gifted of the Chapters artificers, utilising a wide spectrum of different armour Marks. The grinning skull helm, the symbol of his calling, was mag-locked to one hip while a huge tome, it's pages chained shut, hung at the other. Across his back was slung the Scipione Redemptionis, the massive, two handed crozius arcanum he wielded as his mark of office.

 

Next to the Chaplain, Reynard Crom glided effortlessly into the light. The Faceless, as he was unaffectionately known. Even in full plate, the Chief Librarian appeared skeletally thin for a Space Marine, the slightness of his build seemingly at odds with his gene forged constitution. It was all an illusion of course, a psychic glamour which Crom cast over his appearance to mask his true form. Aldous did not know why the Librarian should wish to be seen as weaker than he actually was, but he had seen the psyker in combat enough times to know that he should not be underestimated. Alone amongst the gathering, Crom did not wear a hood to hide his features, as his psychic gifts were able to shroud his image far more effectively than any cowl. No matter how hard he tried, the Mentor had never seen the Librarian's true face, his visage constantly changing to disguise his appearance. In truth, he sometimes wondered if anyone knew, or had ever known, what Reynard Crom actually looked like.

 

To the Mentor's immediate left stood Ivan Orbec, Captain of the Third Battle Company and heir-in-waiting to the Chapter Master. Of course, many of the Company Commanders believed that they should be next in line for succession, but with the full endorsement of both the Lord's Penitent and Revenant, there was little doubt that Orbec would be the next leader of the Sword Bearers. By ancient tradition, the Masters of the First and Second Companies were prohibited from gaining higher office, and as a result their backing was deemed essential to any who would lead the Chapter. To be fair, the charismatic Orbec was easily the most obvious candidate, his battle record exemplary and regardless of his relative youth, he was already renowned for his keen mind and analytical skill. Secretly though, Aldous had reservations about the future Supreme Grand Master. Although his tally of victories far out stripped his contemporaries, Third Company's casualty rate had also never been higher. There was a clinical, even cynical callousness about the young Captain. The Sword Bearers had never shied away from sacrificing themselves for the sake of glory or honour, but Aldous had long believed that this tendency needed to be tempered, not encouraged.

 

The final member of the circle stepped into place directly behind the Mentor. Although he knew who it must be, Aldous resisted the urge to turn around. A strict code governed meetings such as this, and he could not move, or speak, until his presence had been formerly acknowledged.

 

There could be only one reason why he had been summoned here, and as he waited for his instructions, he struggled to keep his emotions in check. Despite his many years of service, despite all the missions he had undertaken as both Penitent and Pathfinder, at moments such as this he still felt as apprehensive as a new recruit.

 

So much responsibility rested on his shoulders, so many secrets entrusted to his keeping.

 

Whatever his mission, whatever his orders, he must not fail.

Edited April 18, 2013 by spacedhulk

[recon0321]

I have yet to fully read the story but geez it's good

[deathspectersgt7]

Another great read brother.So is Aldous going hunting.

[Raven Angel]

Great stuff man! On the subject of putting a tear drop on the helm what you need is a 25/0 brush. The tip is small enough to do that kind of detail work. I use it on eyes and teeth.

[Spaced Hulk]

Cheers mate, and thanks for the advice. Painting really is the part of the hobby I struggle with the most, so all advice is welcome  I've decided I'm going to model all ten protagonists from Balian's story (eg: Balian (in progress), the 4 veterans, Orbec (nearly done), the Shadowcaster (done), and the 3 Revenants), and then paint them all before I build any more models. I really enjoy converting and kit bashing, so hopefully if I force myself to paint before building any more, eventually I might end up with a fully painted army. That's the plan anyway!

[elphilo]

Cheers mate, and thanks for the advice. Painting really is the part of the hobby I struggle with the most, so all advice is welcome

I demand less painting and more writing!

[Spaced Hulk]

The arming chamber was a hive of activity. Artificers, Chapter serfs and their servitor assistants bustled around Aldous, carefully removing his battered armour, plate by plate. It was painfully slow work; in addition to the battle damage it had suffered, the constant dust barrage in the Ashlands had clogged joints and even eroded some of the connection ports. The Mentor struggled to hide his impatience as his left vambrace finally came free. This was taking too long.

 

In the alcove to his right stood the armour he would soon be wearing. A heavily modified Scout carapace suit, it exchanged the protection of his Errant plate for a number of other benefits, particularly stealth. Power armour, despite all it's technological advances, could hardly be described as inconspicuous. The Scout suit would grant Aldous far greater mobility and clandestinity. They were advantages he would need in the hours ahead.

 

To his left, covering the entire far side of the chamber, was his personal armoury. Guns, blades and other, more esoteric pieces of equipment were arrayed in ordered racks across the wall. The huge collection of weapons, many of them unique and custom made, was one of the privileges of his rank and experience.

 

Glancing down, he watched the artificers struggling to remove the cuirass of his armour, the heavy, ash coated breastplate resisting their efforts.

 

“Faster.” Aldous sighed, his thoughts turning once again to his meeting with the Inner Circle.

 

He was running out of time.

 

***

“The Legion calls. A pathway to redemption has been revealed to us.” It was Mordrain who broke the silence, the Lord Interrogator's voice a deep, bass growl, the rumble of thunder in a hail storm.

 

“Our honour is compromised. Absolution must be sought. Retribution must be dealt.” Torr continued the ritualised words that opened the meeting, his speech a staccato, mechanical bark. Like his sight, the Lord Penitent's vocal cords were a bionic implant, a legacy of old, terrible injuries.

 

“Secrets must be safeguarded. Regardless of consequence, the sins of the past must remain forever hidden.” As was customary, the Chief Librarian spoke the final vow. Like his visage, Crom's voice was distant and ethereal, undefinable, like words whispered into the wind.

 

“I answer the call.” It had been many years since Aldous had last spoken the Oath of the Hunter, but the words flowed freely from his lips. Once learnt, they could never be forgotten. “I will seek our redemption and protect our secrets, following the path until death or journey's end.”

 

Satisfied that ritual had been correctly observed, the Lord Interrogator looked across the circle and nodded to Orbec.

 

The briefing could begin.

 

***

“The situation is critical,” the Third Captain began, his voice as calm and measured as ever. “Six hours ago, I led an assault against the perimeter defences of the Necropolis. During the attack, we encountered three renegade Astartes, who appeared to be in command of the rebel forces.”

 

Instinctively, Aldous felt his body tense, his hatred and anger rising. Sensing the Mentor's reaction, Orbec continued quickly.

 

“The renegades are of no consequence, thin blood traitors from the Thirteenth lineage. However, before they were killed, the squad's Shadowseer was able to initiate a psychic probe. The information he discovered is...momentous. The renegades were part of a twenty strong group, inducted into the Secessionist armies as mercenaries. Although the traitors seem to be unaware of the significance, the leader of the group, a warrior named Barazadon, is garbed in the colours and heraldry of the pre-heresy First Legion.” Orbec paused, allowing the importance of this news to sink in.

 

“Omophagean analysis of the traitor's remains have confirmed the Shadowcaster's findings.” Mordrain added his support to the Third Captains words. For a second, Aldous wondered which of the Inner Circle had consumed such tainted, treacherous flesh in order to gain their genetic memories. He suspected it would have been the Lord Interrogator himself; he knew all too well that the High Chaplain would stop at nothing in his pursuit of redemption.

 

“For many months, members of the Librarius have been reporting visions and omens of this moment. The portents have clearly indicated the presence of our ancient foe here in the Iris Sector.” Crom joined the conversation. “It was not solely the will of the Inquisition that brought us to Phormia Prime.”, he added, with a slight hint of amusement. The Chief Librarian's disdain for Inquisitors was well known, and he made little attempt to hide it.

 

“Together, there is enough evidence to prove almost conclusively that a Fallen Angel lurks within the city of the dead.” Orbec continued, his normally calm voice becoming harsh and aggressive.

 

“Time is against us, Pathfinder” Torr's vocal synthesiser emitted a slight electrical hum as he spoke. “The final siege of the Necropolis is scheduled to begin in thirty six hours. Inquisitorial forces are already deploying to form a second wave of the attack. To postpone or delay the assault now would cause an unacceptable level of suspicion.”

 

“We cannot risk the possibility of the traitor escaping amidst the chaos of the siege. Equally, the possibility that he might fall into hands other than our own would be beyond calamitous.” Despite the hoods that hid their faces, Aldous could sense the scrutiny of the Lord Interrogator as he spoke again. “Should the Inquisition even learn of his existence, it would present a dire threat to all sons of the First Legion.”

 

“These are your orders Pathfinder” Mordrain continued. “Infiltrate the citadel and locate the traitor. From the information we have recovered, we can provide you with details of his probable location. Breaching the city's perimeter should be relatively easy. The Necropolis was not constructed to serve as a fortress and despite it's subsequent fortification, there remain several points of entry. However, until the city's void shielding is deactivated, you will be without both communication and teleport reinforcement.”

 

“When the siege begins,” Torr rejoined the conversation, “Second and Third Companies are tasked with assaulting the main power generators. Once they have been destroyed, the Penitents will be able to teleport to your location. Find the traitor, and when the city's power grid fails, activate your beacon. We will do the rest.”

 

“One last thing.” Mordrain spoke, his voice grave. “The Fallen must neither be allowed to escape or to be captured by the Inquisition. If either situation appears imminent, you must terminate the target immediately and destroy all evidence of his existence. Do you understand your orders, Pathfinder?”

 

“I understand.” Aldous answered, his eagerness to begin evident in his voice. “Whatever action is necessary, it will be done.”

 

“Then prepare yourself. A drop ship will be waiting to transport you to the surface within the hour. Redemptionem aut mortem.”

 

The briefing concluded, the Lords of the Chapter began to disperse into the darkness once more. Aldous found his mind racing, his thoughts focussed on his mission and the preparations that needed to be made. He took a first step towards the vault's exit.

 

Suddenly a voice spoke from behind him, the final member of the Circle making his presence known at last.

 

"A moment, brother, before you leave. There is one more thing to be discussed.” Although full of authority, there was a pained, wearied quality to the speaker's tone.

 

Aldous turned and faced the speaker, automatically dropping to one knee in reverence. Within the circle, rank and status were traditionally ignored, all the Legion's Sons considered equal in their shame and quest for redemption. With the briefing over, formality and obeisance instantly resumed.

 

The Supreme Grand Master of the Sword Bearers deserved such respect.

Edited September 1, 2014 by spacedhulk

[deathspectersgt7]

Excellent brother had a feeling . Another great read.

[Spaced Hulk]

Vid Capture: Subject's identity verified as Veteran Sergeant Balian, Sword Bearers 3rd Battle Company. Images recorded by servo-skull observation drone (designation INQ3478552), at the Crusades southern landing zone, Phormia Prime, Iris Campaign, 723.M41

Archivist's Note (Alpha): According to Imperial & Inquisitorial records of the Iris Campaign, in the aftermath of the Crusade, Sergeant Balian was honored by promotion into the Sword Bearers First Company.

Archivist's Note (Beta): At the onset of the Fatum II campaign of 935.M41, Captain Balian was recorded as the commander of the 8th Battle Company. The Eighth is believed to be the only Sword Bearer Company not included in the Expeditionary Force, due to a previous deployment against the remnants of Hive Fleet Behemoth. As a result, they were presumably absent from both the Fatum landings and the subsequent destruction of the Fenspire, and are officially listed as the Chapter's only survivors. It is therefore highly probable that Captain Balian was the highest ranking officer to survive the disaster. His current status is unknown.

Edited September 1, 2014 by spacedhulk

[elphilo]

I really like the Heraldry Shield as a combat shield!

[deathspectersgt7]

Same he on the shield also noticed the anvil torso and legs what is your opinion . But like to add great looking model

[Spaced Hulk]

The heraldry shield was an idea I'd seen somewhere else on the net (maybe Worthy Paintings pre-heresy DA?). After I'd hacked off the Grey Knight storm bolter I needed something to cover the damage to the arm, and the shield, especially with the sword icon to tie in with the Chapter badge, seemed perfect   

 

I love Anvil Industries kits to be honest, and can't rate them highly enough. What's particularly good about their robed models is that (unlike GW's versions), the legs and torso are seperate, allowing you to get more variety of movement.

 

Thanks for the comments, and glad you like Balian. Both when I was writing his story and building the model, I wanted to create a sort of archetypical Sword Bearer. Really happy with how he turned out. Hopefully I'll be able to do him justice when I paint him too!

Edited April 25, 2013 by spacedhulk

[deathspectersgt7]

Thanks brother so far had heard good things about the anvil robed kits .have just recieved  the bionic legs so have to make another order. 

[Spaced Hulk]

Amongst his brothers, he was known as Hektor Tiberias Talyn, although it was not the name given to him at birth. He had been born nearly four hundred and twenty years before, amongst the warring highland tribes of Mire's largest continent, and his first name, his birth name, was as lost to him now as the faces of his parents. Even with eidetic memory, the Chapter had been all he had ever known.

 

Over the long years of his life, he had accumulated titles and honorifics the way his fellow warriors collected scars and kill tallies. He became famous, and infamous, to both friend and foe alike. To the people of the Ferroja system, he was respected as both the Angel of Deliverance and the Blade of the Emperor, while their oppressors, in their fear, simply called him Executioner. Amongst the Deathwatch, his acts of valour led him to be known as the Lionheart, and the nickname returned to his Chapter with him. The Eldar of Alaitoc cursed him and named him the Buanna Dannan: the Death Reaper. For the Orks of Charadon, he would forever be Foe-smasher, the Crusher of Armies. His reputation and status grew, and eventually, there had been no debate when he received the greatest honour and title his kind could aspire towards.

 

He was the Supreme Grand Master of the Sword Bearers, Lord of Mire and Keeper of the Blades. For a hundred years, he had led his Chapter, protecting their interests, guiding their path and choosing their wars. His victories were innumerable, his honour unsurpassed, his name legendary.

 

For the last five of those years, he had been patiently waiting to die.

***
 

It was ironic, but the Scout suit was far less comfortable than normal power armour. His Errant plate, despite being considerably heavier and bulkier, felt much more natural once plugged into the connection ports of his black carapace, more like a second skin than a suit of armour. The Scout gear, although heavily customised compared to those issued to Neophytes, was still, fundamentally, a more primitive piece of equipment.

 

Aldous ran a final check of the suit's systems, then turned his attention to the wall of weapons. On the racks directly in front of him were a pair of modified Astartes shotguns, each bearing a silver inscription inlaid into the blackened steel. Most Space Marines discounted such simple weapons the moment they left Tenth Company, considering them ineffective and archaic compared to the boltguns they now wielded. After four centuries of battle, the Pathfinder had long since decided that simplicity was under-rated. He slid one of the shotguns into a holster strapped between his shoulder blades, then slung the second casually over one arm.

 

Moving further along the armoury, he contemplated the vast array of assault weaponry he had collected over the years. Broadswords, chain blades, power mauls, thunder hammers, energy flails; almost every conceivable type of close combat weapon was available to him. Eventually he decided on a slim armoured gauntlet that fully covered his right arm up to the elbow. Locking it in position, he connected the power feed to his suit's back mounted generator. Clenching his fist triggered the mechanism, and the short gladius blade hidden within the glove sprang forward and clicked into place. Touching the pressure pad built into his palm activated the power field, sheathing the entire weapon in crackling blue energy. Satisfied that the blade gauntlet was fully functional, he deactivated the field and retracted the sword once more.

 

As he began filling pouches with ammunition, grenades and other equipment, he found his eyes drawn to the far end of the armoury. The most powerful and devastating items in his collection were stored there: plasma weapons, combi-meltas, phosphex throwers and grenade launchers. Such weapons were usually restricted during hunting operations, where the objective was to capture the foe relatively in one piece.

 

Looking at the arsenal, he realised he still had a decision to make.

 

***

 

"Leave us." Despite the obvious weariness and strain in the Chapter Master's voice, there was still the same, underlying confidence, the same self-assurance that had defined his entire career. It was a voice that expected to be obeyed, but which somehow avoided arrogance or condescension and retained it's humility.

 

Silently, the other members of the Circle each gave a slight but respectful bow, before filing, one by one, through the chamber's narrow doorway. Aldous remained kneeling, his head still hooded and bowed. The Supreme Grand Master stood before him, his face similarly shrouded, his ancient silver armour partially covered by long black robes.

 

Talyn waited until the chambers door had sealed shut once more before speaking again."At ease brother. There is no need for such fealty between us."

 

Aldous rose to his feet, the servos in his battered armour protesting loudly as the Lord of the Sword Bearers continued. "I think we can dispense with these now as well," he said, throwing back the hood and exposing his features to the harsh light of the circle.
 

The Pathfinder followed suit, trying not to react at the sight of his Master's visage. There had been rumours of course. Even in a Chapter renowned for it's reticence, some secrets could not be hidden indefinitely. As their Liege had become more and more reclusive, avoiding even previously close companions and confidants, so the rumours of his illness had spread throughout the Chapter, eventually becoming common knowledge. It had never been officially stated though, and whenever Lord Talyn had appeared amongst them, he had always remained helmed. Thus it was a shock to finally see his disfigurement in person.

 

It had been many years since Aldous had last seen the face of the Grand Master, but he could still picture him clearly. The two of them were almost the same age, but while Aldous was as weathered and war beaten as every Astartes who survived so long, Talyn had remained remarkably youthful, even escaping any significant facial scarring despite a life time on the front lines. From his days as a Neophyte to his investiture as Supreme Grand Master, he had barely changed at all.

 

There was little left of that youthful visage now. Talyn's face was literally eroding from the top down, the soft tissues rotting away even as he still lived. His bare, hairless head was covered with dark veins and weeping sores. Nose, ears, eyes were all gone, a single bionic replacement had been implanted in one hollow socket to enable him to see, at least until his remaining optic nerve decayed any further. For some reason, his tongue and vocal cords had so far been unaffected, but the blackened skin around his jaw and throat promised that this would not last much longer.

 

The air around them was full of incense and candle smoke, but even disguised by such pungent aromas, Aldous could discern the unmistakable charnal house stench. Over the years, he had experienced the same smell of rotten, corrupt flesh on countless battlefields, but never before from a being that still lived.

 

"Save your pity, brother". Talyn broke the moments silence. It had been impossible not to show some sort of reaction, Aldous realised. "I must endure this condition, I will not suffer compassion or condolence as well."

 

"Forgive me, my Lord. I had heard...rumours. But I had not expected..."

 

"For them to be so accurate." Talyn finished the Pathfinders sentence, his ruined face forming into a mischievous grin. Some things hadn't changed, Aldous thought to himself. In a way, that made it worse. "And just brother will suffice. There is no need for rank or title between us, not in private anyway. We've known each other far too long for that."

 

"I'm sorry my Lo....brother." Aldous corrected himself. "The Apothecaries, can..."

 

"Do nothing. Although it is not for want of trying." Talyn had always had a habit of finishing his sentences. He had been exactly the same during their training together, so many years before. "Whatever toxin the Eldar used to poison my blood stream, it is beyond the Apothecarion's knowledge to treat, or my own ability to heal. They tell me a mortal would have succumbed far more quickly. I must confess though, I find little comfort in that fact."

 

For a second, Aldous sensed the frustration in his Master's words. He could not imagine the pain that Talyn must constantly endure, watching his own body slowly, irrevocably decay. To know that your own genetic gifts were actively prolonging the agony, fighting a futile battle against the corruption, would have broken the spirit of most. There would have been no shame in seeking a quick death on the battlefield, or even in asking for the Emperor's Peace. But Talyn, despite his seemingly perpetual good humour, had never taken his responsibilities lightly. It was one of the characteristics the Pathfinder had always liked about him, in a friendship that had seen them both progress from Neophyte to Penitent and beyond. As Supreme Grand Master, Talyn was responsible for the survival of the Chapter itself, and Aldous knew that his friend could not relinquish such duties easily.

 

"The end draws near." Talyn continued, his voice steady and matter-of-fact even as he spoke of his own death. "The Apothecaries have not yet chosen to inform me of this, nor do they need to. I can hear the bell, even though it has not yet begun to toll."

 

"This will be the Chapter's last campaign under my leadership. The Sword Bearers deserve a Master who can lead them in battle, who can wield the blades he keeps. Not a blind cripple, who's rotten flesh is contained only by his own armour. Once the Necropolis has fallen, I will abdicate my responsibilities, and Orbec will be invested in my place."

 

Aldous remained silent. There was nothing he could say.

 

"This is the reason I wanted, and needed to speak to you. I have borne the blades for almost a hundred years, and fought for them three centuries more. While this is certainly not the ending I would have wished for, or predicted, I remain proud of my achievements. I do not wish my honour to be tarnished, now, at the end." Talyn sighed, the exhalation becoming a hacking cough.

 

"Your name will endure brother. The Chaplains will be reciting your deeds to the Chapter's last day." Aldous said earnestly. The Pathfinder watched in concern as Talyn removed a gauntlet and wiped bloody spittle from his face, his hand twisted and gangrenous, deformed into a three fingered claw.

 

"If that is indeed the case, my last wish is that it be for the right reasons."

 

"What do you mean, my Lord?" Despite their long friendship, Aldous had always found it difficult to ignore rank and title. The slip into formality was ignored this time.

 

"Your mission, brother. The Fallen One. I know you understand all too well the gravity of the situation, and I have no wish to further add to the pressure and responsibility already heaped upon you. But add to it I must. Whatever happens, the traitor must not fall into the hands of the Inquisition. I have reconciled myself with my fate, but I cannot be remembered as the Sword Master whose leadership led to the undoing of all the Lion's Sons. I will not be responsible for the downfall of the entire First Legion."

 

"What do you ask of me, my Lord?" The Pathfinder spoke the question, even though he knew, deep down, what the answer would be.

 

"Only this my brother. Find the Fallen, as you have been instructed. But unless you can be certain, one hundred per cent certain, that our extraction team will be successful, you must execute him immediately. Leave no trace of the traitor behind. Do you understand brother?"

 

Aldous felt his blood run cold. What he was being asked ran contrary to every oath he had ever sworn. The Fallen must be taken alive, if at all possible. Every member of the Inner Circle knew this. Redemption could only be truly earned through the repentance of the traitors. However, there was no way to completely guarantee the mission's success. He was torn between two conflicting emotions, between allegiance to his Chapter, Legion and Primarch; or loyalty to one who was both his Lord and oldest friend.

 

"I understand, my brother," he replied quietly, echoing his earlier words to the Circle. "Whatever is action is necessary, it will be done." Even as he spoke, Aldous wondered if he had just made a promise he could not keep."

 

Seemingly satisfied, Talyn visibly relaxed. "There is one last thing you should know, something omitted from your briefing. I have read the Shadowcaster's report, the account of his journey into the renegade's thoughts. He states that the traitor was afraid. In fact, his mind was practically consumed by fear."

 

Aldous smiled. "All who encounter the Revenants experience fear, my lord. Indeed, the Shadowclad would be disappointed were that not the case."

 

Talyn laughed, and for a second Aldous was reminded of the warrior he had once been. Then the laugh turned once more into the choking, convulsing cough. When it finally subsided, he continued, the grin fading slowly from his deformed features.

 

"Very true, my brother, but unfortunately, that was not what I meant. The Revenant states that the traitor was almost completely unaffected by the psychic aura. In fact he attempted to engage in close combat, forcing the psyker to use more...direct methods to disable him. No, the fear the Shadowcaster sensed was directed towards another. To the one you seek. The Fallen Angel known as Barazadon. Apparantly the emotion was strong enough to override even the effects of the Shadow."

 

The Lord of the Sword Bearers turned to leave, wiping blood from his mouth once more. When he spoke again, there was none of his characteristic mirth in his voice. They were the last words Aldous ever heard him speak.

 

"Be careful my brother. I do not know why the Fallen should be feared so greatly by his own warriors. Nor do I know what afterlife awaits me, but I have no desire to meet you there so soon."

 

***

 

Alone in his arming chamber, Aldous finished his equipment checks and walked the few steps towards the doorway. The Night Raven was waiting to return him to the planets surface. As the door hissed open, he hesitated, then turned back to the weapon racks. Taking a plasma pistol and holster, he checked the power cell, then strapped it to his side.

 

The decision made, he left the chamber and started on the path to redemption once more.

Edited April 27, 2013 by spacedhulk

[deathspectersgt7]

Wow this is good  the best to date brother.

[Spaced Hulk]

Thanks mate

[eetdestroyer]

Best homebake fluff I've ever read, period.

 

Keep up the great work man.

 

\m/

[Spaced Hulk]

Thanks mate, appreciate the kind words and support

[Spaced Hulk]

Vid Capture: Subject identified as Captain Ivan Orbec, Master of the Sword Bearers 3rd Battle Company. Images recorded by servo-skull observation drones during the final siege of the Necropolis, Phormia Prime, Iris Campaign, 723.M41

Edited September 1, 2014 by spacedhulk

[deathspectersgt7]

Looks great brother is the axe a kit bash I have to steal it

[recon0321]

Isn't that the axe from the sanguinary guard box? Looks great tho

[Raven Angel]

Yea it looks like one of the Glaive Encarmine. nice work

[Spaced Hulk]

Cheers guys! The axe is actually from two different kits. The arms and haft are the Frost Axe from the Space Wolves sprues. I then chopped off the original axe head (far too wolfy! ) and replaced it with a Glaive Encarmine from the Sanguinary Guard kit. Actually converted most of the model earlier in the year before I started on the Sword Bearers. Really pleased with how it turned out, so when I was describing Orbec in the first story, I decided to base him on this conversion.

 

Thanks again! 

Edited April 29, 2013 by spacedhulk