Twas the night before...(+ Unwanted Gifts)

[Spaced Hulk]

'Twas the night before...'

The creature crept unseen though the deepest, darkest tunnels of the Rock. With unnatural stealth, he slipped past automated sentry guns, brooding Interrogator Chaplains and lumbering Deathwing patrols. Despite the gaudiness of his uniform and the heavy weight slung across his shoulders, not a single eye turned in his direction. Ever deeper he travelled, no lock, force field or blast door could hinder his progress.

After what seemed like an eternity, he reached his destination. A small, solitary cell with a single door, carved into the very bedrock at the heart of the asteroid. No guards watched this door, indeed only a few beings in the galaxy even knew of it's existence. No guards were needed, for who could possibly penetrate the incredible security of the fortress monastery? And who could pass through solid rock and two metre thick adamantium without a key? With a dismissive snort, the intruder walked through the door as though it was nothing but air.

A wretched soul lay within the cell, howling in it's misery. A unique stasis field protected the prisoner from the ravages of time, while at the same time leaving him conscious to constantly endure his own insanity.

On a whim, the intruder lowered his own defenses, becoming visible for the first time since his arrival at the fortress. Almost immediately, alarms began to sound. Slowly, so very slowly, the prisoner became aware of the alien presence. The screaming stopped, and the tortured being's eyes widened in recognition.

"Is it? Is it? Is it time?" the prisoner stuttered, his voice almost incoherent after so long in the grip of madness. "Has. Has. Has he returned?"

The red robed figure grimly shook his head. Taking the prisoner's withered hand in his own, immense fist, he carefully placed a small piece of coal, blacker than a daemons heart in the man's palm. Looking at what he now held, the man began to whimper once more.

When the intruder finally spoke, his voice was as cold and as harsh as a Fenrisian winter. Saliva spat from his lips and stuck to the filthy, matted beard that enveloped his face like a parasite.

"Never forget. Never forgive."

As he spoke, the intruder began to slowly disappear, fading back into the warp. He could not linger. There were other lost souls to visit that night.

"Ho. Ho. Ho."

Alone in his cell once again, Luther sobbed in despair.

*****

(Please scroll down for a new story in post #21 )

[Isiah]

:D awesome.

[Spaced Hulk]

Thanks Isiah Actually wrote this last year, but it seemed like an opportune time to dig it out again

[deathspectersgt7]

Good One Brother .

[The Shadow Guard]

Excellent....:)

 

SG

[Grotsmasha]

Loved it last year, still love it this year.

 

Cheers,

Jono

[Disciple of Caliban Sgt]

That right there made me think that Santa is bad. I mean we all know he's awesome but that rocked!

 

DoC

[Spaced Hulk]

Cheers brothers!

[Isiah]

That right there made me think that Santa is bad.

In fact he's an Inquisitor from the Ordo Nativitas.

[Pbenner]

I want to like that post TWICE Isiah...  Must need to make a 2nd account... lulz!

[Terrahawk]

Awesome work, Brother!

Next time someone brings up their own pet theory that Luther was actually the loyalist, I'll point 'em here. No sane soul will question Santa's judgement.

[Millicant]

Haha that was awesome! Great work.

[Augustus]

Awesome!

[Dafoo]

Very cool, I am happy I read this. Happy Holidays battle brothers.

[Gillyfish]

[laughs] Excellent work. It would apear Luther has been on his naughty list for approximately 10,000 years. That suggests he would enough coal by now to fuel a small power station.

 

Perhaps that's what powers the Rock's Christmas lights?

[Aradiel]

[Capt.Valefor]

Haha, that was great. :D

[Spaced Hulk]

Thanks again brothers, glad you like it!

[Kasper_Hawser]

My God, that was awesome! Even in the 41st Millenium, no security system, not even that of the 1st Legion is impenetrable to Saint Nick. Ho Ho Ho!

 

LOL, the way you put in the Fenrisian reference, made me think of the lost 13th Company. It would just be like the 13th Company currently wandering somewhere in the warp, to visit lost souls on Christmas to either save or damn them.

[Tanhausen]

Once again, this proves that Santa is an extremely OP unit that GW should have never allowed to hit the street and that Matt Ward smokes questionable stuff when...

 

Wait, that was the standard rant for such a unit, never realised it was just a seasonal release :P

 

Very nice piece of writting, age-less and repeatable ;)

[Spaced Hulk]

Well, it's that time of year again. When I shamelessly bump this back to the first page and wish Seasons Greetings to all my fellow Unforgiven. However, just to prove that this isn't solely an act of threadomancy, here's another piece of light hearted Dark Angel fiction I've been working on. Hope you like it, and that you all have a great Christmas and New Year. Till the Sword is Reforged!

'Unwanted Gifts'

The Gladius class frigate 'Heart of Caliban” was still creaking and groaning, settling into it's docking cradle as Techmarine Adept Klaus watched the ship's main airlock slowly open. He had an unpleasant feeling that someone was waiting for him on the other side. And an equally unpleasant feeling that he knew who that someone would be. Sure enough, as the blast doors parted, allowing him access to the Rock's immense internal harbour, an ominous robed figure in full power armour appeared, flanked by a pair of hulking Deathwing terminators. Taking a deep breath into his augmentic lungs, Klaus stepped forward and greeted the menacing, skull helmed warrior.

“Hail Lord Asmodai, I had not expected such an impressive welcome home...”

“WHAT...” The Interrogator Chaplain interrupted, his voice as shrill and nasal as ever, even through his vox grill, “...are thou wearing, brother?”

Klaus glanced down, suddenly realising his unusual appearance. “It is called Centurion War Plate, my Lord,” he said proudly, raising a massive armoured glove to reveal the underslung heavy bolter. “It is a gift, fresh from the Martian Forges.”

“A....gift?” Asmodai sneered. Even with his face covered by the death mask, the Chaplain managed to convey revulsion, ridicule and disbelief, all at the same time.

“Yes my lord. There are a further twelve suits in the ship's main cargo bay.” Klaus replied quickly. “I know the plate is unsightly to the eye, but it's combat ability is unsurpassed. It is swiftly becoming a staple of most Space Marine armouries. We can...”

“ENOUGH!” Asmodai interrupted yet again. “This abominable construction offends my senses. If one of our revered Dreadnoughts were to mate with an Ogryn, the result would be more pleasing to behold! Once we are finished here you will take every one of these... 'Centurions'... to the furnaces. Melt them down, and forge new Calibanate Blades with the material. For some reason our Company Champions keep mislaying them. Do you understand?”

“Yes my Lord” Klaus replied dejectedly.

“Good. Now, what news from the Red Planet?”

“The Priesthood thanks us for our gene-tithe, my Lord. As usual they have also asked, in the spirit of shared resources and the long standing alliance between us, if they may be granted access to our STC database?”

“Impossible!” The Laws of the Lion are clear. That technology is our birthright, and ours alone!” Asmodai snapped.

“Of course my lord. However, the Tech-Priests do not expect us to surrender this knowledge without recompense. They are prepared to pay handsomely for schematics of our unique machinery of war. In particular, they believe that the Corvex pattern jetcycle and Mk IV bike mounted plasma talon would be a valuable boon to other Imperial forces.”

“Hah! What could they offer us which we do not already possess!”

“Grav-weapons, for a start my Lord. One of the most effective anti-armour systems currently available, and already widely used by almost every other Astartes Chapter. With the additional bonus that they can also be deployed, when necessary, as a non-lethal method to subdue heavy infantry.” Klaus added, with a conspiratorial wink.

“And why, pray tell, would that be necessary?” Even through the skull helm, Asmodai's glare hit with the intensity of a lascannon beam. “Besides, we have an abundance of plasma guns, pistols and cannons stock piled for exactly that purpose.”

“But plasma weapons are inherently dangerous to their user. During the Piscina Campaign, we suffered more casualties to overheats than to the Orks themselves. And the impact of a plasma bolt – the barely contained energy of a star – is intensely destructive. To put it simply Lord Interrogator, using plasma weapons against our enemies leaves you, well, very little left to actually interrogate.” Klaus winked again, but instantly regretted it.

“Continue along this train of conversation, Techmarine Klaus, and you and I will be paying a visit to Chamber 42.” Even as he spoke, the Chaplain's gauntleted hands were twitching on the haft of his crozius. “And the Mechanicum are deluding themselves if they believe we would relinquish our secrets, secrets we have guarded for ten millennia, simply to gain access to their latest idiotic toys!”

“That is not all they offer my Lord!” Klaus blurted out. “The cargo bay of this ship is crammed with examples of the most deadly wargear Mars has developed in recent times! Thunderfire artillery batteries, advanced Boltgun ammunition, Skyspear anti-aircraft systems!”

“We have no need for such things!” Asmodai spat his disgust though his respirator. “We are the Children of the Lion, Sons of the First Legion, the Greatest of the Emperor's Angels! Every tool and weapon we require is already within our grasp!”

“Please reconsider my Lord. The Stormstrike missiles alone would dramatically enhance the effectiveness of our Nephilim fighters!”

“A pointless and unnecessary addition, when we already possess such fine ordinance as the Blacksword.” The Interrogator took several steps forward, until his face plate was mere inches from the Centurion suit's pectoral boltguns.

“But they don't work my Lord!”

“BLASPHEMY! How dare you besmirch the revered armaments of our Order!” Asmodai stood on his toes, bringing the skull mask directly level with the Techmarine's cybernetically modified chin. “Your time amongst the Martian Brotherhood has obviously twisted your bio-mechanical mind. I cannot comprehend how you could...WHAT IS THAT SMELL!”

“Smell, my Lord?” Klaus asked nervously, the little flesh remaining on his face flushing as crimson as his armour.

“Yes brother. That smell. That sour odour upon your breath. What have you been drinking?”

“Oh, that. It is nothing my Lord. The Tech-Priests are currently celebrating the Twenty Fifth Feast of the Omnissiah's Rebirth. They offered me a draught or two from the Martian Vineyards as I left.” As the Interrogator stayed ominously silent, Klaus felt compelled to continue, though he knew whatever he said could only make matters worse. “Admittedly it is quite a potent brew, even for Astartes physiology.”

“Is there no limit to your heresy?” Asmodai whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. “Not only do you criticise the very weapons entrusted to your keeping, you also flaunt the greatest of the Primarch's Commandments.”

“No my Lord, I assure you that...”

“Yes brother! Do I need to remind you of Article One? The First Law of the Lion. 'Thou Resolve shall be as Grim and Unflinching as the void itself, Angels of Darkness in both Name and Aspect'.” The Interrogator snarled, his whole body trembling in fury. “But you! You have been...ENJOYING YOURSELF!”

“No my Lord! I swear I haven't!”

“ENOUGH! You leave me no choice, brother. Surrender yourself immediately to Knight Master Barosh. Perhaps the Flail of the Unforgiven can bring you to your senses.”

“Yes my lord Interrogator” Klaus whimpered, taking several steps down the access ramp, each footfall of the massive battle suit reverberating through the metal walkway.

“WAIT!” Asmodai commanded, halting the Techmarine in his tracks. “There is one more matter to attend to. You have something for me, yes?”

“Yes my lord!” Klaus replied excitedly, suddenly hopeful that he could improve the Chaplain's temper. With a huge, cumbersome power mitten, he carefully retrieved the small wand-like object mag-locked to his waist, passing it into Asmodai's eagerly waiting hands. “The Tech-Priests have performed a full and thorough service of the device. Every blade is now honed and sharpened, and the neural fibres have been completely replaced, as has the power cell. It should serve you well for another one hundred years before it needs further attention.”

“Good! Good!” The Chaplain crooned, holding the object reverently with both hands. As he depressed a button on the device, dozens of small, differently shaped blades sprang from the sides of the wand, each one glinting maliciously in the pale lights of the space dock. For a second, the High Interrogator seemed mesmerised, and Klaus wondered if he may have earned a reprieve.

It was not to be. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Asmodai pressed the button again, retracting the blades before secreting the arcane device within his robes. “I will vox Master Barosh and tell him to expect you promptly.”

“Yes my Lord.” With his head sinking ever lower into the war-suit's massively oversized collar, Klaus trudged slowly away.

As he watched the Techmarine depart, Asmodai shook his head one last time before turning to one of his accompanying Deathwing bodyguards. “Sergeant Haas. Impound the contents of this ship immediately. Have them transferred to the Forbidden Vault as usual.”

“Yes Lord Interrogator.” The terminator's voice boomed through the vox grill of his ancient battle helm.

“And Sergeant?”

“Yes my Lord?”

“Why, may I ask, are you carrying a thunder hammer? Where is your honoured blade of the Inner Circle?”

It was rare indeed for a member of the Deathwing to display any sort of emotion, let alone trepidation. Nevertheless, as Sergeant Haas answered, there was the barest hint of a tremor in his voice. “This? This is nothing my Lord. It is just a gift, yes a gift for Master Belial.”

“Hmmm” For what seemed like an eternity, Asmodai stared directly at the Sergeant, the black visor of the skull mask boring into the terminator's helm with the intensity of a meltagun. “Very well,” he finally spoke, “but I will be watching you Sergeant. Now continue with your duties.”

“Yes my Lord” Haas replied, relief clearly evident in his voice.

And with that, Interrogator Chaplain Asmodai turned and walked briskly away.

[eurieus]

That was so awesome :D 

[Cactus]

Stupendous! I never thought I would see eye to eye with Asmodai but he's right about the centurions.

[Isiah]

Woa!! Dreadnoughts mating with Ogryns ... Someone's had too much Christmas cheer :p.

 

Very entertaining.

 

Cheers

I

[mika_angelus]

Amazing! Great story, now everything about our codex is clear!