Ascension

[TalonofHatred]

Hey guys I'm writing a 3 part short story about the Word Bearers. I hope you enjoy it and I'd welcome some feedback and critiques as I am working on improving my writing. Regards.

Ascension

 

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Part 1 - The Acolyte

Tawal knelt within the dark confines of his chamber, eyes tightly shut as his lips moved to unspoken words. The pitch black of the room was kept at bay by the dim glow of red light extruding from lamps hidden at each corner of the octagonal room.

It was bare and empty, no bed or drawers, rather a simple mat for laying and twin racks for weapons on either side of the praying warrior. Each rack was adorned with archaic bolters, massive guns that would be difficult for any normal man to wield effectively. Aside them were broad chain-swords, the snarl of which shot terror into the hearts of lesser beings.

Directly ahead of where Tawal knelt was an altar, where several skulls rested in various positions over four golden icons.

Tawal knew each of the icons well, the first was the Skull rune of Khorne and placed over it were eight skulls. Beside it the fly rune of Nurgle, seven skulls some with flesh clinging on and maggots writhing within. The serpentine symbol of Tzeentch was beside that, nine skulls above his symbol each showing strange deformities such as an extra eye socket or far too many teeth. Last was the twisted icon of Slaanesh, six skulls of the most elegant and noble bearing.

Above this macabre altar was the silver icon of Chaos; the eight pointed star. The dull red light reflected from it's clean sheen and shone upon Tawal as he continued in his prayers. Deep in thought the hulking warrior pondered his mission and wondered whether it could ever be accomplished. Suddenly he detected the patter of feet just outside his door.

The deep silence of the room was broken as the great iron door of the chamber groaned open. The sound of soft footsteps slowly crept their way into the room and Tawal grunted in irritation, to disturb an Acolyte of the Word Bearers in meditation was to invite death. What held his hand at the moment was that all aboard were aware of this law and would not trouble him were in not urgent.

'My lord...' the voice was soft, and low, working hard to present itself as humble and respectful. All Tawal could sense was fear, and it brought a smile to his face.

'Forgive the interruption my lord,' continued the man, 'but we have found it.'

Tawal's eyes flashed open though he remained motionless, letting the words hang in the air. A sudden rush of adrenaline forced his pulse to quicken and he listened on.

'Our navigator, the psyker, he is dying, struck by a vision gifted from the gods themselves! He has given us the coordinates to where he has seen the weapon,' concluded the man.

Tawal's expression hardened and he finally stopped his prayers nodding in thanks to the altar before him. The great warrior slowly rose, the whine of his active power armour accompanied him and the human slave couldn't help but edge away.

Tawal towered over the man, a giant clad in deep crimson and steel armour. The mutilated heads of men and women were tied or nailed to his form. Their expressions filled with anguish and pain, an eternal testament to the misery they had felt before they became one with their bearer.

Upon his left pauldron there was a black daemonic face, the device of his kin, of his Legion: the Word Bearers. It was an unending source of pride for him to be able to bear such a badge, and a symbol of terror and threat to almost every other being in the dark galaxy.

The great warrior turned to the man, his menacing expression unable to hold back a smile of anticipation. Though he was far older than the human slave could guess he appeared the same age as any mid-aged adult.

His face was deeply scared and pale. Hideous deformities struck out such as the trio of horns protruding from a skull that was brutish to any human eye. His tired eyes were by far the most unnerving for the messenger; deep yellow with a reptilian glare, there was no humanity left in this being, the slave had told himself.

'Take me,' stated Tawal, his voice deep and filled with power, the sound of grumbling thunder.

The man hadn't realized he had backed into the corner until the master spoke, his human heart racing in his chest and his eyes ready to stream tears, fear forced him to shake but respect bade he speak clearly.

'Yes, great one, this way,' he replied as he crept out of the room.

Tawal had followed the man through the confines of his vessel: the Mala Voluntate, a battle barge that was once in the fleet of Lorgar, both his commander and father, the same to every Word Bearer across the length of the galaxy.

The Vessel was a massive thing and on board was a host of some four hundred Astartes warriors and a large crew of human cultists and slaves. The Astartes, his brothers, were usually in the fighting pits the prayer halls or the armories while they were off the field of battle. As he followed the human slave all he saw were the lounging forms of frightened mortals.

He despised them knowing humans were inferior and loathed being related, even distantly, to such creatures. Even so he knew the Long War required bodies, more than all the Legions of Chaos could provide, and that hordes of cultists and renegade guard battalions were more useful than some gave them credit for, even if they were destined to die. The slaves showed proper respect, never rising their heads or making eye contact with him or the other Astartes, unless spoken to directly. He smiled, knew they were maggots.

Finally the Acolyte and the slave came to the great mechanical doors of the command deck where the psyker had his vision and was passing out. The great iron doors groaned and rumbled as they separated, allowing the two onto the deck. As soon as the master had entered the slave fled from his presence and crept away into the darkness.

The crew upon the bridge were allowed more comforts, these men and women were important for they ran the ship and kept it flying. They were given the privileges of speaking and looking to their lords, though always with proper respect. No humans dared anger the Astartes, for engineers could be replaced with some time committed to searching.

Though most were at their stations the captain of the vessel stood beside a small gathering of cultists and Word Bearers who stood near the groaning form of the dying psyker.

Tawal locked eyes with the captain, an unease filling his soul as he knew this man was once his brother. Indeed though now they were as different as fire and ice the two were born to the same slave whore in the hell pits of a Daemon World at the edge of the Eye of Terror. His former master, who had eventually elevated him to an Astarte, felt his brother was unfit and left him to forge a living with the other slaves. The boys aptitude for technology spared him the worst of it, and he had managed to rise as Flight Captain.

Even at his ancient age his former brother was tall, strong and gave off an aura of command that over shadowed the humans nearby. He had been kept alive with surgery and machines, but at the cost of his mind. Most of what he knew went with managing the ship he commanded, little else. Tawal doubted the mortal even knew who he had once been, or that in another lifetime they were related.

Beside the humans stood his true kin, for just as the Captain claimed the same mother, the Word Bearers claimed the same father. The blood of Lorgar flowed through their veins and they were as close as any mortal siblings, though squabbles and vicious fights were never uncommon for ones so depraved. It was a twisted and perverse family, a family of murderers and betrayers.
 

He found it amusing as he approached, that two different kin from two different lives stood side by side, the human one always having irritated him but had shown a natural talent in the void. Even so Tawal knew that as soon as he could he would replace the mortal.

As he approached all present bowed their heads to him, Tawal nodded at his brothers ignoring the flight captain and the other humans, disdain in his thoughts.

'Acolyte,' started one of the Astartes, his deep voice metallic and barking through the vox, 'the psyker has seen the Star Mace.'

'Where?' Tawal inquired.

'The Pannonia Sector within the boundaries of the eastern Imperium. He claims it is upon a small moon.'

The Acolyte looked down to the psyker, blood mixed with drool as it leaked from his mouth and smoke fizzled from where elderly eyes had once been. He bent low to the man, who wheezed heavily fighting to live but knowing it was in vain.

 

'Psyker, tell me what you saw,' he commanded, his voice powerful but calm.

The Psyker looked around, finding it difficult to ascertain where the voice had come from.

'Pannonia Minor, a small moon not too far from the Maelstrom. I saw it, deep under a facility of darkness and steel, hidden with secrets and horrors. In the final level it rests, alone and forlorn but ferocious and impatient.' he explained. 'There was... a voice.'

The Word Bearers exchanged glances, suddenly more curious.

'Voice? What voice, what did it say?'

The old man coughed a mouthful of blood and his head fell back to the floor, he was still alive though fading rapidly.

'Free me,' wheezed the old man. 'It demands freedom.'

Tawal nodded slowly, 'It will be done...' he exclaimed.

As he made way to rise, the old Psyker's hand grasped him by the wrist, the Word Bearer looked down and anger flared through his senses.

'Before the vision ended... there was silver. Silver, bright as daylight,' whispered the old man. 'It burned me alive, as though I strode through a merciless sun.'

Tawal grunted as the human collapsed, his shrill body finally remaining still as his eyes glazed over.

Rising he looked at his warriors as he thought of what the man had said, 'Silver,' he pondered. He was sure he knew what it meant. He turned to his brothers, who glared at him through glowing yellow lenses.

'Muster the warriors, prepare for war,' he ordered. The Word Bearers bowed their heads and thundered out of the command deck.

Tawal turned to the Captain, 'Make way for Pannonia Minor! Fate is with us for we are not far!' The elderly captain nodded to his master and turned to muster the crew.

As the sudden flood of movement echoed across the ship Tawal felt it, battle was coming. Another war, another victory to claim against the hated false Emperor and the slaves that chained humanity to his will. One day the Long War would end and Tawal would be there, he had to be there, and he knew the path to victory was ahead. Even so, he needed aid for he could not survive the ordeal alone.

As the ship prepared to enter the warp sirens flared across the length of the vessel alerting all within of the transition into the realm of the gods.

'I am coming my Lord,' whispered Tawal, he glared out into the void just before it disappeared into a maelstrom of madness.

[TalonofHatred]

Part 2 - Vengeance

 

The Mala Voluntate shuddered as it tore through waves of psychic mist and fog, the ethereal forms of the damned clawing against it's void shield. The storm outside the vessel was ferocious, more-so than anything the material universe could hope to achieve in the realms of havoc, for this was the realm of chaos.

 

Even though he and his warriors were the devout soldiers of the Dark Gods, even though they had summoned daemons and damned entire populations into eternal agony, Tawal would not fly freely through the Immaterium.

 

The Gods of Chaos had a way of punishing those who thought themselves high enough to walk freely among them. They fed from fear and death and any who they had not a particular admiration towards would be consumed by the endless hordes of the nightmare born. Not even the dread legions of Chaos would tempt fate, and those who did often disappeared.

 

Tawal glared out through the window of the command deck. Bellow him, working on various consoles and screens were engineers and crew that piloted the Mala Voluntate, each worker taking care of one out of a hundred segments of the ancient vessel. One would manage the power to the void shield, another the ammunition of the gun batteries, others the life support system, others the power. It was a grand undertaking but it interested Tawal little. He was a warrior, reborn into the ranks of the Astartes with no thoughts other than battle.

 

Behind and above him the Captain, Mordred, was enthroned upon dark steel, a dozen cables twisted into to the back of his cranium and continuing to ports within the command throne. He seemed dead-eyed or comatose though Tawal knew the captain was more aware of all happening around them than any soul.

 

He had often pondered of the day he was chosen to ascend, to leave his mortal kin behind. Was he lucky, or was he truly better? Sometimes the thoughts drove him mad and that undoubtedly the reason he could barely stand his former brothers presence.

 

Glaring out past the throne he saw the forms of several Word Bearers standing near the massive entrance doors, glancing around the room. Occasionally they exchanged glances with their leader, bowing their heads in respect, though Tawal often wondered how they felt of his presence as to that of their former master.

 

It had been near twelve years ago that the master was lost and that he had ascended to command. He was the highest ranking member after both the Chaos Lord and Sorcerer had perished in the battle against the hated slaves of the Emperor. Tawal was challenged by some of the veterans but showed his worth by breaking them in the arena, even earning the sanction of the Dark Council. Still, he was not a full fledged Dark Apostle, but somewhere in between that and a lesser commander.

 

Thinking back he knew had had the shadow of the former leader to fill, and that is what angered some of the elder Word Bearers. Unlike many of the Astartes upon the ship Tawal was not there during the siege of Terra, he hadn't even been born. It was long after the Chaos Legions had already formed their territories within the Eye that he was chosen to replace loses at Terra and Calth.

 

He had seen first hand that there was a difference with the Word Bearers who had fought at Terra and those who were born after. The younger ones were always tested and discriminated against as though they were lesser than their ancient brethren. Mor'doth, his former master, had not been bothered by this. He had chosen him as his Acolyte in place of both young and veteran zealots.

 

Mor'doth was a mighty Chaos Lord, a giant among giants, he was clad in a gargantuan suit of terminator armour and his bellows of rage were feared by friend and foe alike. He strode to battle with his legendary lightning claws, the talons of hatred, that he used to eviscerate many Ultramarine's during the battle on Calth, often serving as personal guard for Kor Phaeron.

 

After the failure at Terra Mor'doth quickly assumed control from his previous captain, who had been slain by a rogue plasma shot, and ascended far higher than his predecessor could have imagined. He was a zealot, praising all the gods as much with words as with action. His tantrums of anger and rage were balanced by deep thought and contemplation and he had been awarded the rank of Dark Apostle by the lord of the legion, though he was always a general first and a priest second. This is where his acolyte came one, one he would train to keep the faith when he could not.

 

Mor'doth ruled the warband like a tyrant king and used his cunning to win them many victories, all the while putting up idols to the gods and casting down the cathedrals of the false Emperor. The Warlord of the 44th Company, others had called him. He had lived and fought since loyal days to the Emperor, but fate is cruel and his end came at the very moment of ultimate triumph.

 

Tawal frowned, anger and shame rising through his gut as he recalled how the warband had failed their master. After decades of battling the Black Crusades Mor'doth had achieved enormous victories for each of the great gods, earning him a nod from the Warmaster and a place at the forefront of the next assault. 

 

It was during the burning of Ulysses Secundus that Mor'doth had slain a Grand Master of the Grey Knights in single combat. Having smashed through his adversary with his Dark Apostle weapon, the Star Mace, an eerie glow suddenly took his form and all forces present were awed or horrified as the mighty Chaos Lord was lifted into the sky. His crimson armour shone red like a sun and many of the Imperials fled in terror as the hordes of chaos bellowed in triumph.

 

Tawal had dropped onto his hands and knees and laughed as he saw how champions of the Black Legion groaned with awe and jealousy. Mor'doth was ascended. His form tore through the sky, vast winged pinions broke through his back and his terminator armour shattered as his form expanded. 

 

None of them had noticed the Inquisitor sliding under the growing Daemon Prince, grabbing the Star Mace that Mor'doth had dropped. The human glared up at the changing Chaos Lord and with words of power started to siphon the essence of their master into the mace. When they noticed the Word Bearers began a frenzied assault to save their lord from being trapped within his own weapon, but Grey Knights had formed around the Inquisitor and cut down all who approached.

 

By the time the Chaos forces broke through the newly crafted Daemon Weapon was gone, given to the hands of a purifier who carried the imprisoned Chaos Lord within. 

 

Ultimately the Black Crusade was pushed back and many brethren were lost, though for their warband the suffering hadn't ended until the Dark Council bade that Tawal would take command. Though he carried his duty with ferocity and zeal he felt he still needed to prove himself, to his brothers and to the gods. Since that time he issued himself a goal: to find the Star Mace and free the Daemon within. For what better way to earn favor than to save the favored?

 

Tawal felt the ghost of a smile edge his face, perhaps the time was close at hand. If they could take it from its prison then the warband would return to old glories as their master was reunited with them. Truthfully Tawal hoped that Mor'doth would allow him to lead, he wanted his blessings, and hoped the Daemon would go back to the Immaterium soon after for now was his time to rise.

 

'My lord,' came a voice from behind him. He turned and saw that it was the captain talking to him.

 

'We shall be entering Space within the Pannonia system shortly. Scans show the area is relatively unguarded.'

 

Tawal pondered this while nodding his confirmation.

 

He had read the reports of the Pannonia sector a few days prior, it was a small system near the borders of the Maelstrom zone. There was one planet in the system; a Cathedral world that possessed a fairly large population and housed various orders of the Sisters of Battle. 

 

Tawal had thought this place to be prime in earning his place among the legends of the Word Bearers, but he had not possessed even close to the amount of man power needed to take such a world. Luck or fate was on his side again, as it seemed the moon did not orbit the Cathedral world. It was much farther away, almost isolated from its neighbor, above a lifeless world.  Even so it seemed too easy, orbital scans had a difficulty pin pointing the location and the captain believed the prison was masking itself with a powerful shield.

 

Knowing that they were seeking a daemon weapon he believed the facility to be an Inquisitorial stronghold. Well defended to be sure, and hidden, but against a rapid assault by a strong force of Word Bearers it would crumble. 

 

Tawal was no fool he knew that the nearby world could send entire battalions of Sisters of Battle to their location in good time. His forces had to act fast in order to escape, if they tarried too long they would be caught in a noose that would see them strangled.

 

The Imperials did well at hiding themselves, however they did not know all the tools the forces of Chaos possessed.

 

Tawal turned to the Captain, 'The pyskers, excruciate them!' he snarled.

 

The order was sent across the ship to a confined room where a dozen psykers were fighting for their very souls against daemons of the warp. If they released enough power in panic they could spark a vision that would grant them the exact location of what their master sought.

 

It took an hour, even as the ship shuddered back into the material universe for a single psyker to emerge from the room. He was coated in the blood and gore of all who did not survive his backlash. His form raked by a dozen massive gouges and wounds, but he was loyal to his master and sent the coordinates with quivering lips just before daemons tore out his soul.

 

The Captain relayed them and the heavy frontal lascannon's and bombardment cannons aimed for the target. Though nothing was visible from here Tawal knew the quarry was there.

 

'You will fire on my command,' he instructed as he left the command deck. Word Bearers of his personal entourage escorting him to the hangar.

 

Tawal had already prepared his warriors who now awaited for him within their twisted thunderhawks and drop ships. The entire warband was prepared, some of their ships already afloat in the void. 

 

He knew the Imperials had probably sighted them, the power from their vessel to simple to scan, and prepared their shields. Even with shields primed the massive firepower from the battle barge would break their defense and tear through their walls like hellish lightning. All the humans could do was prepare for the inevitable assault that was coming.  

 

When his thunderhawk had joined formation with the others Tawal let out a single command, 'fire!'

 

Though in the void of space nothing could be heard, the blinding flash of the lascannons and bombardment shells awoke the adrenaline in each of the growling Word Bearers. The barrage was ceaseless and Tawal could see it thunder and plume across the moons surface as the flotilla of transports tore through the void, making way for their target.

 

'Now my brothers, we redeem our failure at Ulysses Secundus! Free the Daemon and eternal glory shall be ours!'

 

Across the vox he heard the howling roars of his kin as they prayed lines from the book of Lorgar or cried victory for the gods. As soon as the thunderhawk began to shudder in the atmosphere Tawal couldn't help but feel excited, like a child, no Space Marine could stand being confined in vessels for long. 

 

It was time for them to do what they were born to do.

[Brother Ambroz]

Pretty good so far, keep it up!

[TalonofHatred]

Thank you, I corrected some of the writing in part two and hope to get part 3 done today.

[Brother Ambroz]

Looking forward to reading it when you're done.

[TalonofHatred]

Well damn, the 3rd Part turned into two segments making this story a 4 part tale. Apologies in advance! Still I hope you like it.

 

Part 3 - Assault on Pannonia Minor

 

The dark crimson forms of thunderhawks tore through a burning sky, smoke and heat meeting them as they approached the Inquisitorial Fortress bellow. Tawal glared out and the scene was an image of hell. The relentless assault from the Mala Voluntate's weapon batteries had tore through the shielding defending the hidden base, striking the stone and steel beneath. A massive plume of smoke chocked the heavens as vast roaring fires and explosions rung out across the demolished structure.

 

Tawal grimaced, the bombardment may have done more damage than he anticipated. Bellow the earth was a scorching ruin, all the vegetation burned and the landscape darkened as the great plume of smoke and ash rose ever on wards.

 

Worried that access to the lower chambers may have been buried under tonnes of rock and mortar, he ordered the pilots to make way for the heart of the structure. The assault had opened a gate into the very center of the hold and he would not waste his time hunting any survivors from the orbital onslaught.

 

Suddenly one of the thunderhawks exploded into a searing ball of white light, sending Tawal's transport careening away. Chatter among the pilots was suddenly intensified and as Tawal listened on he realized that various anti-air batteries had managed to survive the devastation.

 

Glancing back out he saw thousands of rounds streak past the evading thunderhawks, explosions pushing the formation apart as the humans bellow unleashed vengeance for the destruction the Word Bearers had committed.

 

Tawal was furious, he had no will to lose precious soldiers to anti-air guns and swore an oath to the gods that he would peel the skin from their screaming forms once the Star Mace was reacquired.

 

'Lord Acolyte,' voxed one of the pilots, his voice filled with anger and stress.

 

'If we continue on to the heart of the structure enemy fire will be greatly intensified! You risk more thunderhawks than if we drop you at the ruins edge.'

 

Tawal could tell the pilot was working hard to avoid getting shot down, having obvious difficulties. He snarled in frustration.

 

'The formation, is it broken?' inquired Tawal.

 

There was a moment of silence from the pilot, the clatter of anti-vehicle bullets bursting around the thunderhawk was all Tawal heard. The ship shook violently but the Word Bearers, within their grav-harnesses, could barely register a change as they were mag-locked into place.

 

'Formation is broken, the fire from bellow is too heavy,' answered the pilot.

 

Tawal spat a curse, 'Tell the others to land in a circle around the devastation, where their pilots deem landing zones secure. The warriors are to make haste to the central tower, that is the way to the lower levels.'

 

The pilot sent a confirmation chime and began to relay the orders.

 

The thunderhawk began to descend and, activating the boarding magnets of his boots, Tawal left his harness making way for the cock pit to assess the situation in person.

 

The Word Bearers were calm as stone, they felt little fear of being killed but the fear of being unable to kill again was something they dreaded far more than the most ferocious battle field in the galaxy.

 

Tawal shook briefly as he staggered towards the cock pit where the pilots were working to safely land. He felt the declining motion of the transport as it quickly rose and fell, attempting to safely lower altitude, while still avoiding fire. The wind was shaking the thunderhawk and the violence made Tawal uneasy, he feared they would not land in one piece.

 

Opening the door to the flight deck he stood behind the pilots, glaring out of the forward window as the pilots continuously looked across various gauges, radar, and fuel indicators to make sure the vehicle was well.

 

Ahead the ground was approaching rapidly and within the smoking ruins Tawal made out various towers that stood out among vast ruined segments of what was once wall. The towers seemed to have been protected by more layers of shields and, seeing as they were not the center of the bombardment, had managed to survive.\

 

'Make sure the assault teams take our those gun batteries as they advance,' he ordered.

 

They had been making progress and the ground was only fifty or so meters bellow now, yet even so one of the anti-air guns managed to fire a stray round at the most precise point. It tore through the right wing of the thunderhawk, forcing it to spiral, and Tawal swore as the emergency lights flashed on across the ship.

 

The last thing Tawal could do before they hit the spinning earth was mag-lock his helmet over his bear head. There was a flash of colour and light and a deep resonating pain as the Word Bearer blacked out.

 

Tawal had not been sure how long he had been out but as his vision returned he saw the world horizontally, a burning wreck of smoke and fire. The resonating sound of bolter fire and lasfire echoed across the smoking city, though the anti-air guns had been silent.

 

Dull pain had still endured within his body, though it was being dissipated by the stream of painkillers that his armour was feeding into his system. As a Space Marine he had a far higher tolerance to pain than any human but he still rose slowly.

 

The form of a Word Bearer running to him was the first he saw of the survivors, some eight warriors of the original eleven, excluding the pilots who he was sure were now mangled corpses.

 

'Acolyte, two of our number have died in the the crash and the pilots are no more,' reported the warrior. His armour was scratched and beaten but he seemed to be in a far better state than Tawal.

 

'Another thunderhawk was lost, no survivors, but the rest of the flotilla have landed and are already within the confines of the stronghold. They have reported the presence of Storm Troopers.'

 

The Word Bearer aided his leader in rising as he concluded his report.

 

Tawal shook his head in frustration, looking down he saw his leg saw badly bloodied though his super human biology had already been mending the wound. The other Word Bearers had already assembled around their leader, one handing him his power maul and bolt pistol.

 

Tawal took up his weaponry and gazed into the decimated stronghold, 'We have no time to waste, forward you dogs!'

 

Slowly the war party began its trek into the hold.

 

The inside was a mess of ruined buildings and mangled corpses, most surely from the rage of the Mala Voluntate. The sounds of Word Bearers exchanging fire with the Imperials was a constant and Tawal only wished he could be in the thick of it, sending merciless death from the muzzle of his pistol.

 

They had encountered little to no resistance, perhaps the defenders thought there to be no survivors from the downed thunderhawk. It did not matter, the rest of the warband would be causing havoc, opening a clear route for Tawal and his squad to infiltrate the central tower.

 

They had picked up their pace and were thundering down the smoking, broken pavement of the inner fortress. The great central spire was devastated but still standing. Tawal thanked the gods that he had not overdone it with the bombardment.

 

As they approached a massive gap in the wall of the main hub the comms activated, 'Lord Acolyte,' It was the Captain.

 

'Speak mortal, but do so quickly for my brothers are engaged in battle!' he spat.

 

'My Lord, a local patrol of ships are approaching to engage us, lesser craft. However my crew has deciphered from their comms that a nearby fleet from the Cathedral World is already in bound and will be upon us within the next eight hours.'

 

'Damnation! Send word to the pilots to begin acquiring the fallen, the others will push onto the tower,' ordered Tawal.

 

The confirmation from Mordred was all that answered his order. The anger was building within the Acolyte as it seemed his warriors had to be faster than even they were used to. With a large local fleet in-bound Tawal was not sure that even the power of the Mala Voluntate would spare them the False Emperors vengeance.

 

They stormed through the ruins of the main spire, unarmed men and women screamed as the crimson giants gunned them down without second thought. These were the workers and aspirants. Agents of the Inquisition and lackeys of the Mechanicus. They ran through the smoldering ruins, attempting to outrun the Word Bearers. Many were gravely wounded from the orbital strike and could only cry out and beg as bolters tore them to bloodied rags.

 

Tawal blasted men and women to shreds, taking a sadistic joy in hearing their agonized scream and seeing them collapse to shattered floor. This was his vengeance, he wanted more victims to kill.

 

As if answering his thoughts the main lift it seemed was defended by a few squads of Storm troopers who gunned down even the scribes and tech-priests who crossed their line of fire. Some forty of the human elite were hunkered down there and Tawal groaned in frustration as he felt there was no time for such foolishness.

 

The Acolyte and his warriors threw various grenades with perfect precision and timing. The shock from the explosives gave the Word Bearers the opening they needed and they leaped over searing bodies or large chunks of mortar and began to gun down the Storm Troopers with casual ease.

 

Arms were torn from screaming men as the bolt rounds either killed or maimed their victims, the deafening bark of the guns breaking the nerve of some of the soldiers who turned to flee, only to be torn apart in their plight.

 

The Word Bearers roared as they crossed the gap between them and the Storm Troopers, the only advantage the humans has was swept aside as bayonets impaled men like spears. Chain-swords coughed blood and bones as the Storm Troopers frail defense was utterly massacred.

 

Tawal tore a man in half with a swing from his massive power maul as one of his warriors engaged the lift. Behind them another had brought out an adept of the Mechanicus clung in his powerful grip. The human kicked as screamed as he brought her to his comrades.

 

'This one will open the gate for us,' reported the Word Bearer.

[TalonofHatred]

Part 4 - Gift of the Daemon

 

 

Tawal knew his brothers well enough to know they would be aware of the protocols for such a mission. They were no Imperial Guard for each Space Marine was an army onto himself and access to the lower levels would probably be restricted to most, hence had some of his soldiers left to acquire a local without the consent of Tawal. Indeed the Acolyte himself had been seeking a worthy candidate but had failed in finding one.

 

As they boarded the lift Tawal glared at the human, his yellow daemonic eyes piercing into her soul as she quivered in fear. She was surely young in the path of the Mechanicus but her fine clothes and striking equipment showed she had some rank or renown among the cult.

 

'The lowest level, now,' Tawal's voice thundered through his helm.

 

Her eyes opened wide and she reluctantly moved to the console. Just as she made to reach for a button she turned, avoiding eye contact with the Word Bearer.

 

'Will you spare me?' she shuddered.

 

Tawal nodded and smirked as the tech-priest quickly worked through the console.

 

'You will not die by our hands, woman,' he replied.

 

The lift began to move and Tawal felt them begin the descent. The Word Bearers prepared their wargear as the Acolyte moved to the frightened woman. She edged away from him, accidentally walking into another Word Bearer and in the second she turned Tawal hit her over the head with the but of his pistol.

 

Her eyes listed apart as she slowly collapsed into unconsciousness.

 

'Acolyte?' inquired the Word Bearer.

 

'We could use another tech-slave,' he laughed.

 

Finally the lift stopped and slowly began to open. A dimly lit hallway lead directly to a huge armoured door, the light of the gate blinking green which translated as unlocked. 

 

Quickly the Word Bearers ran though the hall, the echoes of their thundering feet the only thing to accompany them on the final trek. As they approached they stopped and waited for Tawal to activate the door.

 

The Acolyte pondered for a moment, had the tech-priest unlocked the door as well? Unsure he motioned for his brothers to raise their arms. Bolters were lifted as the Astartes prepared for whatever may have entered the room before.

 

As the great mechanical doors screeched open, they were met by a gust of cold mist. Standing in the doorway the nine warriors waited for it to dissipate before they cautiously entered the room. The place was massive and round. They stood upon an elevated area that peered down to working machines and up to various balconies where Tawal guessed an Inquisitor would have watched experiments unfold.

 

The room was like a great surgical center and in the middle he spotted a frail dark figure. His brothers lifted their bolters but Tawal ordered them to hold their fire. The figure was human, back turned to them though he must have known of their presence. Tawal froze as he noticed that in front of the man, at the apex of the room, hung the Star Mace in an anti-gravitational field.

 

'You know, the Inquisition is always working on ways to defeat your Daemons.' echoed a voice, it was soft but resounded with fearlessness and a weight of age.

 

The Inquisitor turned, facing the Word Bearers who stood motionless at the gate.

 

'The Ordo Malleus has already crafted ways of slowly killing off daemons, but his,' he patted the machine that kept the Star Mace risen, 'Is what I hope will one day wipe them from existence.'

 

The man smiled, his face elderly and enhanced by cybernetics. He was clad in carapace armour and heavy black robes with the symbols of the Inquisition brandished upon them. Tawal was impressed at his fearless demeanor.

 

'I remember you mortal,' he replied. 'You were the one at Ulysses Secundus, the one who sealed by master within the weapon.' 

 

The Inquisitor nodded, smiling, and made his way for a set of stairs that escalated to a room above this experiment lab.

 

'You are good with faces. Yet another adaptation of the Astartes?' questioned the Inquisitor.

 

'No, I am simply gifted with a photographic memory,' admitted Tawal.

 

'And now what heretic, you seek to skin me and hang my screaming corpse upon a cross?' Inquired the old man.

 

The Word Bearer laughed as he and his men made way for the Star Mace.

 

'Among other things.'

 

The old man shook his head, 'You come into a holy sub-sector of the Imperium. The sisters of battle will be here shortly as will the main Imperial fleet. I would have built his facility on the nearby world but the daemonic nature of this place makes it too dangerous in the vicinity of men and women.'

 

'You fear them from knowing the truth,' snarled Tawal, 'We, the sons of Lorgar, are here to show them thus.'

 

Just as he neared the field containing the weapon the Inquisitor let out a hollow laugh.

 

'You did not think it would be so easy did you?' he smiled, as he activated a device on his forearm then vanished into the upper echelons.

 

There was a sudden flash of silver light upon the high levels and even with his visor protecting him it was blinding. Tawal looked away for a moment, blocking his eyes. When he looked back he felt his heart skip a beat as he saw that a squad of five Terminator armoured Grey Knights had been honed into the laboratory.

 

Both forces rapidly exchanged fire, bolt's smashed though consoles and clanged from power armour as the two sides engaged. 

 

One of the Word Bearers sent a miraculously lucky shot bursting through the eye lens of one Grey Knight sending the silver giant tumbling to the floor. The others were upon the squad, nemesis force halberds in full swing managing to swiftly decapitate a trio of the Word Bearers.

 

The others roared in bestial rage, drawing chain-swords and leaping at their towering adversaries. The teeth of the chain weapons ground into their armour, biting deep, though not fast enough. The Grey Knights roared as they smashed their attackers aside.

 

Tawal faced one of the juggernauts, avoiding a near strike and swung his power maul under the Terminator, sending him falling to the floor. With the opening he made he stormed for the Star Mace, though just before he reached it the Inquisitor had returned from the upper echelons. Brandishing an infernus pistol and power sword, he sent a round of super heated energy at the Word Bearer who barely avoided it.

 

The blast tore ceramite plating from his power pack and he growled in disdain as he fired a few rounds that clanged harmlessly across the carapace armour of the venerable Inquisitor.

 

Behind he heard another two Word Bearers cry out as they were cut down by force halberds or storm bolter rounds. He glared at the Inquisitor as he the old man leaped down to stand between him and the weapon he sought.

 

The Inquisitor aimed another shot but missed as Tawal rolled out of the way, his bulk forcing the Inquisitor to move. This time Tawal rose up in front of the Star Mace. He glanced back at the frenzied Inquisitor.

 

'You will not rise with any weapon worm, you will die!,' bellowed the old man.

 

Tawal grinned under his helmet and awaited the next shot. Just as it fired he side-stepped out of the way, though much of his left side was torn apart in the super heated blast wave forcing him to cry out and collapse. Even so he saw that his plan had worked.

 

The blast from the Infernus Pistol shattered the Star Mace and the Inquisitor froze, realizing what he had done.

 

In the mans frozen state of shock Tawal took up his pistol, using his last bolt round to burst the man's head to bloodied pieces. The Inquisitors body wobbled backwards before it fell over the railing and onto the machines of the lower level.

 

The Grey Knights had finished with the last of the Word Bearers and turned towards their leader. They froze as a deep malignant shadow dulled all the light of the room. The machines began to slowly quiet down and an eerie silence dominated them.

 

'Well done, Acolyte,' bellowed an inhuman voice, it was deep as a rumbling landslide.

 

The shadow seemed to built into a single black mass directly over the shattered Star Mace. Black wings unfolded and two leering yellow eyes glared out at the Grey Knights who cried out and unleashed their fire at the daemon.

 

Bellowing laughter was all that accompanied the gun fire as the massive winged abomination loped at them, easily cutting the first silver warrior in twain.

 

The next was stomped to blood and offal under the massive Deamon's foot and the last two were cut down by a blade that no being born into this universe could hope to wield.

 

As the last of the Grey Knights fell, faster than Tawal could scarcely believe, the Daemon growled and stretched it's wings. The groan and power that radiated from its black and red form took out the dim lights and it appeared as a shadow of deepest black, even against the darkness of the room. Its eyes turned to the form of the wounded Acolyte.

 

'You have done the gods well, Tawal, and earned your place. I am proud to see my choice was not in vain,' it rumbled.

 

Tawal bowed down, his heart racing with pride and joy as he stood in the presence of his honoured mentor.

 

The Daemons massive hand opened and the shards of the Star Mace flew to him, re-knitting in front of Tawal's eyes.

 

'I go to the side of the Gods, for I long to venture as a pilgrim in their sacred lands. My servant, when you rise you shall rise a Dark Apostle - the Council of Lorgar is already aware of my choice and shall honour it. As a final token, take this weapon.'

 

The massive Daemon lowered it's clawed hand and the Star Mace floated to Tawal's grasp. As he took it he felt fierce power thud from its form.

 

'It shall eternally be imbued with a portion of my power, and every life you take will come to stand directly before me. I shall be the judge of your victims, and in times of great slaughter perhaps I shall venture to your side. But now my Apostle, rise and carry out the will of Chaos.'

 

The black shadow began to disperse and as it finally disappeared the lights and machines of the room thudded back to life. The devils eyes were the last thing to disappear. As the power returned Tawal realized the comms too had been offline and they had suddenly sparked into action.

 

'Acolyte!? Acolyte!?' the words buzzed across the Vox from various squads and ship personnel.

 

'I am here,' stated Tawal as he rose.

 

'Your life signs were negative, we thought you dead! What is happening, have you accomplished the mission?'

 

Tawal lifted the massive black mace, it hummed with deep power and he smiled.

 

'This fight is over, we have achieved our mission my brothers. But the war rages ever on wards  Take out the anti-air turrets if you have no done so already and rally to the central tower for extraction,' he commanded.

 

'What of our lord, what of the Daemon Prince?' they inquired.

 

Tawal's expression hardened, 'He stands beside the Gods, but worry not brothers for I have ascended and shall lead you on.'

 

There was a brief pause over the comm, 'As you command, Dark Apostle.'

 

Tawal made way from the room, as he left he felt that now would be his time to forge his own destiny. One day he would join his mentor and his father beside the Gods as they watched the galaxy burn.

[Brother Ambroz]

Great story overall mate. One nitpick with the orbital bombarding of the fortress, when you say lascannons I think an astartes vessel would have lances instead, would make more sense to me. Other than that though great story!

[TalonofHatred]

Great story overall mate. One nitpick with the orbital bombarding of the fortress, when you say lascannons I think an astartes vessel would have lances instead, would make more sense to me. Other than that though great story!

 

 Oh damn it... it was lances I knew I was getting something wrong. Thanks, I'll remember that in the future.