+++ LEGENDS OF THE ANGELS EVENT +++

[Grand Master Belial]

Thank you! 

 

Let's see if we cannot see a few more submissions before midnight Saturday!

[depthcharge12]

Is it too late to enter?

 

I was looking to write a story about my Brother-Paladin of the XVth Cataphracts, 1st Legion and mailed fist of the Lion....

[Grand Master Belial]

No, it is not too late to enter. Feel free to join in and finish in record time. I'll add you to the roster.

[depthcharge12]

No, it is not too late to enter. Feel free to join in and finish in record time. I'll add you to the roster.

Lol I'll see what I can get done.

 

It's for this guy:

 

http://i911.photobucket.com/albums/ac316/treacyjohn2/b372c78237a84d5b8df9c12757d8c9d4_zpsc895a720.jpg

 

It's going to be about his early life/ joining the first as a flashback to where he is now.

[Cod]

Finished! Well, mostly. I did have plans to fill it out a bit more but I can see time slipping away in the next few days. Oh and I hope the fluff enforcers give me a little leeway, trying to bridge a gap between 30k and 40k I may have gotten a couple things wrong. Oh well

http://i203.photobucket.com/albums/aa216/cod_lover/Bondservant_B.jpg

Main Story

‘Now brothers, now we have made planetfall and are about to embark on our true mission, covert rules apply.’

The four scouts acknowledged their Sgt.

‘Before we begin, I want to read an account of traitors to you. To re-iterate the importance of our purpose here.’

‘This “account” as you put it, was written by whom?’

‘An eyewitness to our homeworlds demise,’ came the short reply.

Reading from a crumpled manuscript he had unfolded carefully:

‘You are my loyal trusted sons, in whom I am most pleased. We have bore witness to traitors in all other legions. It should come as no surprise they exist in our own as well.

Before the Lion set foot upon Caliban and walked his final steps there, he made an oath bonded by his seal. We uphold to that simple truth, that single promise. The one thing our Primarch despised more than any other were traitors. Betrayers to both him and his legion, betrayers to the Emperor of Mankind.

In the aftermath of the Dark Angels descent to their homeworld and the terrible destruction they wrought upon each other, history would teach us, every one of us: To fight the enemies of mankind is one thing, to fight each other, legionnaire against legionnaire is a new form of suffering.

There is a special hatred reserved for the traitor, a viciousness that will surpass all others. For those we once called brothers, we felt nought but the most vile anathema.

The Lions Will is complete and surely unchanging, even now in his absence. That is why we hunt. That is why we scour this, another planet here and now for our former selves.

As it was stated by the Lion himself, end their lives. End them with as much venom and hate as you can. Let them know as their lives fade they are damned for all millenia. Hold true to that. Traitors are not permissed to walk in the Emperors light nor any other. The dark is what they have chosen, so we will give it to them. Darkness for ever more.

Remember Brothers. What we hunt, we kill. ’

The small squad reflected solemnly, dutifully.

‘So who is the brother who wrote that?’

Before answering the Sgt paused, ‘It is merely signed, the Lions Bondservant’.

‘Bondservant? Doesn’t that mean slave?’

‘No it means something else. Bound to service.’

The Sgt smiled and explained, ‘At its base level a bondservant simply means following your master to complete disregard of your own will.’

‘A true believer then?’

‘Almost.’

In single file they moved through a no-mans land of medium sized plant life scattered among sandy patches. Lights in the distance to the West signified a built up area, while lights to the East showed likewise. Their path ahead would take them initially up high, to a great plateau from which they could look clearly in all directions and observe the battle which was unfolding.

___________________________________________________

Whether the landspeeder crew had believed their black agile craft would not be noticed scything through the darkness of night or not, the result was the same. They were now wrecked

by enemy fire, their speeder busted and gaping wounds in their lower halves each. The front of the vehicle had taken a high strength direct hit, which had entered through the hull tearing up the centre console and exposing the crew completely. Having ricocheted across broken ground they then straddled a narrow ravine at the base of the plateau and came to rest at a negative 60 degree angle wedged in the cliff face.

Moments passed before the pilot moved.

High above the scouts had heard the impact and were trying to manoeuvre for a better angle.

The pilot realised his gunner was now stirring. Damn this tugging feeling. So cold and weak. Light headed even.

‘Don’t look down brother,’ he told his companion.

‘I have to, I don't feel right,’ the words came forced.

‘Don't look.’

From his outer periphery the gunners neck craned forwards. Then a quick exhalation and his head was upright again.

Silence. Expectant moments passed. No words yet. The pain below began to burn some more and he felt weaker but the curiosity once feared now ached stronger.

‘Well, he finally snapped, What did you see?’

‘I...’

‘Yes, well...’, he was impatient now, his own body growing cold.

‘I... saw my own insides.’

Silence. Not wanting to say anything but feeling he should, ‘It’s ok brother. Don’t speak, save your energy.’

The gunners throat rasped, barely a whisper on the wind. The words hung, floating on the air between them, before his cognitive brain processed them.

‘But... I saw some of yours too.’

___________________________________________________

‘Are you conflicted brother?’ the scout Sgt asked plainly.

‘No. Well, truthfully I would feel better if I could tell whose side he was on. Be he a traitor or not?’ The scout was casually lying belly down, his eye never moving from the large telescopic sight.

‘Nothing has changed, one is already dead, the other hanging on.’

‘We don’t have time. Just take the shot anyway,’ came the short reply.

‘Are you suuure?’ the voice had a questioning drawl to it.

Finger tips inserted a deadly toxic vial round encased in glass. Then unscrewed a small custom cylindrical dial on the side of the rifle, allowing a pressurized gas to mix in the chamber. A small hiss escaped. This would add further distance to the shot, much needed distance, the guns maximum trajectory already having been amped to full.

‘It’s simple. If he’s one of us, it’s a mercy killing. You will have released him from his pain. If he’s a traitor, well, they deserve to die.’

The scout in position with the sniper rifle turned to look up at his companions.

‘The only difference is all up here’, a wicked hook in place of a hand tapped his forehead twice, before adding, ‘The mind can be a terrible thing.’

Another voice spoke now from behind magnoculars which peered down at the distant target, ‘Nothing you can do for him save one thing. End his suffering now, before they get stuck into him. A moments pain will be nothing compared to what horrors those foul creatures below will inflict.’

They all peered down now, spying dark ragged shapes moving unnaturally under the pale moonlight.

A brief nod, a finger tensed then relaxed. A small red light, a short soft click and a life was both ended and spared. The scout sniper looked down and in a hushed tone, uttered ‘Forgive me brother, be at peace.’

Scores of shadows bestial in form, could be seen advancing on the crash site. Little did they know whatever their cruel intentions, they had already been robbed of any enjoyment.

Moving away from the edge now, the scout eyed his Sgts replacement hand. The hook was dark and shiny, a large single curved claw from a rare felidae set into a mechanical wrist. How far up the bionics extended could not be seen, as they were covered by the deep hue fabric of their uniform.

‘So Brother 1, is that replacement from your prey.’ He gestured questioningly to the Sgts left side.

A bionic eye glowered briefly below a dark cowl.

‘I mean, you killed a great beast and took something from it. You made it your own right?’ the slightly younger scout hastily added.

‘How perceptive of you Brother 5. You do raise an interesting point, but now is not the time for personal vanities.’

The voice was slightly muffled under the triangular meshed fabric covering his lower face. The symbol of the Dark Angels electro-embroidered on it glinted a quick gold as two sleek nephilim passed low overhead, their undercarriage lights blinking momentarily.

‘And the angels rule the heavens’, he whispered.

‘I don’t know why they keep heading that course, the last ones never made it either.’ As if prophetically spoken, as the words of Brother 3 faded a fireball erupted. The second flyer could be seen in its fiery wake pull a hard right and continue on.

‘Well wherever that fire is coming from, it missed one of our kin.’

‘And is none of our concern,’ the Sgt cut in. ‘The Judgement Wing have been sent in earnest to deal with the threat in the Western district. Our task lies elsewhere. To the east, among the Grove of Giants.’

They all nodded and checked their comms and weapons of personal preference.

‘Time to move. Heading North East bearing 35 degrees, plan ahead to navigate the river.’

___________________________________________________

Sticking to the embankments the scouts pressed forward through the rushing water currents of the river. The flow and swirl around rocks concealed any other noise they made, like speech. Knowing their cover was safe a brief exchange of friendly banter took hold.

Brother 2 started, ‘I was remembering a previous mission, involving Brother Sagax.’

‘That brother is a legend. I don’t believe he has missed a target in 200 years, his aim is true.’

‘He crashed his tank failing to shoot down three renegade knights.’

The Sgt intervened, ‘No no, several tanks he has driven have been lost in battle, but his aim has not faltered. There is a difference. Look at us, we complete our missions, but we do get a little diminished in the process sometimes,’ his hook waved.

They laughed heartily, but hurriedly.

‘So why remember saving our intrepid tank aficionado?’

‘Well... airburst grenades. Remember? They may well prove useful on route.’

A small devilish smile escaped the Sgts lips, but remained hidden from his squad even under a pale moon and reflections in fast flowing water. Brother 2 was right. A rather chaotic approach was in order, and unfortunately necessary if the mission was to succeed.

Scout Brother 3 recited from memory something clearly originating from a manual.

‘Airburst Grenades: The combination of standard grenades detonating, mixed with airburst grenades send shockwaves in two different directions. Meaning if someone is not severely affected by the grenades contents, then they are at least torn in half by the reverberating shockwaves, their bodies being taken in different directions simultaneously. A very cruel tactic employed for maximum devastation especially on light armoured enemies. Even more heavy armoured foes can be laid low, their armour being rent inwards resulting in crush injuries.’

‘That’s the one.’

‘We set them to detonate at a specified height off the ground.

Here catch,’ he quickly threw a legionnaires fist sized rock, snatched from the river bed.

‘Where did you learn to employ these?’

‘In the Eastern Fringe, fighting our other legion brothers. To face an enemy that devious, we had need to expand our own cunning.’

‘So you guys have been fighting traitors for some time then?’

‘A long time yes.’

‘Brother 2, when this war is over, what do you think will happen?’

‘I don’t believe it will be over.’

‘Why not?’

‘History is a never-ending succession of war.’

‘What do you think brother 5?’

‘I see shapes. Some are just a little darker than others. They move. It’s my job to make them still.’

‘Ha, spoken like a true sniper.’

‘So Sgt, er I mean Brother 1, what do you believe then?’

‘I believe in the straight path and do not entertain the idea of meandering and false ways. The laws of the Lion are direct and concise. They are in essence, truth.’

‘With that in mind, keep moving forwards.’

___________________________________________________

An enemy encampment from the looks lay up ahead. Ammo crates and a large flat surface came into view, with tree surrounds. Only a handful of rebel guardsmen, part of the traitor auxilia were present. More were suspected to be in the makeshift barracks to the left. They would soon appear once the scouts started up.

Looking around, the Sgt spoke, ‘Once we start we don’t stop. There doesn’t appear to be too many but more will arrive. Keep pushing till we make it across to the other side.’

Heavy impacts reverberated throughout both ground and air. Intense light illuminated the silhouette of two figures thrown from their feet.

At first a body, then waves of after shock removed all limbs in succession and a torso hung temporarily, backlit against the night sky.

Crumpled remains were flung a score of metres, seemingly made more ragged by incandescent flashes which revealed the fate of the second figure. This one had separated at the waist its top half caught in an upward movement, the rest falling to land at the tip of a newly formed crater.

Acrid foul stenching smoke rose to synchronise with a large low shadow moving eastwards.

A flash of deep red, a blur, then what had appeared to be a single entity split and became 5 smaller shapes, still moving at speed in the same direction but separately, spread out.

The enemy encampment was ill prepared for the havoc being wrought upon them. The initial shock catching them unawares. Even as more rebels broke through the barracks doorway they fell to well timed rounds and the odd grenade hurled inwards for added effect.

‘The Lion knows his own’, the Sgt roared, charging through the rebel auxilia, ‘and shuns the rest’.

In between shotgun blasts and bolt rounds, blades hacked, stabbed and slashed.

‘We show him how his teachings are implemented. We exhibit how a lion pack hunts, and runs its prey to ground.’ He nimbly dodged a chainsword swing and swirling, his own hook tore through an unprotected underbelly eviscerating contents before continuing his violent tirade.

‘We are the great predatory beast that hunts in his name.’ Lasgun rounds bounced off carapace armour.

‘It is pride we feel. Pride for the Legion, satisfaction that the legacy’, he paused to sever a limb from a minion. ‘That our legacy is worthy and will endure forever.’ The last word spoken just as a bolt round ended the life of the renegade leader behind him, a blade of his own drawn extended to use.

‘Good work Brothers.’

‘The Lion knows his own, and so do we,’ echoed four scout voices.

‘Good work equals short work.’

‘Grenades proved useful.’

Surveying the scene, there were at least 30 dead. This was a loading area, fences running at the rear beyond which could be seen some kind of facility. Woods were thinned between and would provide some cover for an advance.

___________________________________________________

The Sgts words were hushed, ‘I will fall back momentarily, take point Brother 2.’Then taking one of his brothers aside, ‘Talk with me briefly. I have a request to ask of you.’

‘Yes.’

‘There will come a time very soon when we will be drawn into a trap.’

‘A trap?’

‘Yes, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it. What I instruct you is this, at that moment you must leave us. You must separate from us. You must not get caught. You are instead to track us, wherever we are taken, but keep a safe distance.’

‘I see, and what then?’

‘If we are not back in 2hrs, you will become our back up plan.’

‘Whatever happens, you must trigger the device at this time exactly,’ he said pointing at his chronowatch, and adding two fingers out in front of it. ‘No matter what. Understood?’

‘Understood Sgt.’

‘Excellent’, came the reply.

___________________________________________________

The scouts pushed forwards through the screen of tall trees, on high alert. The enemy must of been in hibernation to have not heard their attack on the compound.

Suddenly the Sgts right hand made a quiet symbol. Eyes searched instantly, sensing unease. A fog pervaded the surrounds, mixed with a soft faint smell. Earth had been freshly broken underfoot. Click, a cartridge inserted noisily.

Five guns and nine eyes plus one bionic, trained on an instant to focus on the sound.

‘Welcome to’, a strangers voice started but was cut short. The sentence ended as tongue and lower jaw were evaporated. A muzzle flare from a sharp angle to the right showed an astartes shotgun had eagerly added it’s own brief message.

The air froze, icy droplets hung suspended. Time was slowing in an ever outward circle.

Blue light burned the shotgun wielding scouts eyes first, a mere touch compared to the pain that would enter his shoulder several seconds later.

The Sgts senses knew a rogue psyker was among them now. He watched his squad unable to move and begin to lose consciousness as a robed figure entered from among the trees, gliding unrestricted. As his own strength drained and began to fade, ‘Good’, he thought. He hated long waits.

___________________________________________________

As the Sgt awoke he realised he was strung up by his feet. Huge metal ducted tubing ran across the room holding him suspended over a blood spattered grate in a plasteel floor. From this angle he could tell it was inside a large fabricated building, part of a storage facility no doubt and the huge power tubes along the ceiling would indicate the power station was close. Perfect he reasoned.

Turning his head sideways fractionally he discovered 3 of his squad were likewise strung up in a row following the floor channel. A small breath of relief escaped him, just before the pain in his ribs brought him back to the immediate moment.

One of them had escaped, that thought was like a victory already.

He eyed the wall and surrounds. Uniforms of the guard auxilia, renegades who had transpired with his traitorous brothers.

Heavy footsteps approached. Two figures entered via a side entrance and now echoed closer. One was much smaller, wearing human boots, importantly detailed but unpolished and dirty. The other, much larger, was mostly covered by a long hooded robe. A dank musty smell preceded them.

Seizing the initiative the Sgt strained against his shackled feet and half swung to stare up at the newcomers who were now stationery.

‘And good evening to you too, Colonel. I see I don’t need to ask if you have been well looked after’, smirking at the human officers portly condition.

‘Aah yes, the sons of the Lion, young lions even. Would you like me to enlighten you upon your folly? Interesting talk you made, out in the woods. My spy has informed me of your blasphemies and yet here you all are. Would you like me to introduce him to you? No? It can wait, I assure you,’ he smirked smarmily.

The Sgt relaxed back into a vertical position albeit upside down, his sides were stiff, congealed blood evidence of severe beatings given in the Colonels absence.

The Colonel spoke in as much bravado as he could, ‘You call yourselves lions! You think you can make your father proud? There is but one lion. The Lion of the Emperor. He who commands the angelic host and holds dominion over the 1st Legion. You are dark angels led astray by him on Terra.’

‘On whose authority do you speak to us of the Lion?’, a scout snapped angrily.

The human officer lent down his face close to the questioner, revealing his eyes were glazed somewhat, ‘The Primarch who commands the 1st Legion and holds dominion over you. You are dark angels but you don’t know what side you are on or who commands you? Your name says it all. You wander in darkness, now come let us welcome you back into the light...’

At that pale blue psychic shards of pain reached out from the figure standing beside him, lancing through all four captives. They couldn’t help but move uncontrollably, their bodies writhing from an intense burning sensation.

Before the fun really begins,’ the Colonel started, ‘I think now is a good time to introduce my friend, someone I know you will all come to loathe. He has a peculiar speciality of mind power combined with a mastery of the flesh.’

‘Praise the Emperor, your idle chit chat was growing boring. Now we have someone new to talk to,’ barked one of the scouts.

Disturbingly the robed figure still did not speak.

Ignoring the interruption, the Colonel continued, ‘My guests ability to control and warp flesh and even reverse healing of injuries, no matter how old or in what state is truly remarkable. Something he calls “Unseam the wounds”, which is curiously a reversal of healing. For young bloods who have yet to bleed it may not seem so bad, but for veterans with bionic limbs, it is an entirely different matter I assure you. For those of you with no severe cuts we will just have to give you some, and then we can all watch as they close and re-open indefinitely.’ The protracted speech ending with the despot laughing maniacally.

The Sgt joined in, his own laughter outlasting his foe. Trying to eye his fellow brothers who also laughed through their injuries. ‘I truly am honoured your highness, you flatter us with your naivety. You think us younger than we are.’ The effort of speaking becoming a little harder, he grimaced, ‘You think our uniforms mark us as novices? Do your worst.’

A green miasma of light left the outstretched hand of the robed torturer, and slowly encircled the scout Sgts body. His face began to tighten up, clearly fighting whatever force was now penetrating his being.

The bionic eye started to shake, small sharp jagged movements at first twitch-like. A low wimper worked its way loose from his mouth. The metal implant began to inch its way forward from his skull, stopping to hover in front of his face, exposed wires still connected to the optic nerve. As blood began to flow from the cave like open eye socket there was no holding back a small cry of pain, but then nothing. Clearly his enemies would not get much satisfaction from simply taking his eye. The green light of distorted energy entered and extinguished the red internal diode needed for sight and the implant now mostly free made one last tug to plop on the metal floor. Still nothing from the Sgt.

Next the torturers ‘magic’ started to caress his left arm, wrapping itself around and focussing at the shoulder. He knew his entire limb was artificial and would be worked loose. The resulting blood loss would weaken him further. As his massively formed bicep shook, he told himself it was ok. This was all needed for the plan to work. Little comfort really as his entire arm, the one which ended with a cruel claw instead of a hand was finally ripped free and clanged onto the floor below. A large sucking of air and a brief struggle to withhold any further cries of displeasure could not be hidden. As more wounds opened up across his body it was difficult to remain in control of himself, the memories of each one being re-lived in his mind as well. A knife wound here, a bolt round there, soon his body was a seeping mass of red.

The evil energy trailed away from the Sgt, making its way to the scout next to him. The respite he received as the sickening force began its work on the next victim was welcome indeed.

For the first time one of the scouts noticed through the floor grate panels directly under him, movement down in the dark. Peering, straining through the grid he realised there were strange shapes forming. Shapes whose forms were barely humanoid. Were they the same horrors they had seen earlier on the slopes and plains? The horrors he had spared the landspeeder victim from? A faint glow came to form together into the visage of two eyes unblinking at him, two red baleful eyes.

The scouts suffered one by one, stifling their pain so as not to give their enemy any more satisfaction than was possible. Their Sgt tried to strengthen them, ‘Sacrifice Brothers. We are the sacrifice, but not in vain. We have almost succeeded our hunt. That is a guarantee.’

Blood flowed downwards through the grating, beast forms began to quicken, thirsting.

The green light paused and returned to address its first victim. Strangely it began to focus on his abdomen. It hovered there, sensing something. A swelling shape began to move, rising slowly. It edged closer and closer to a recent scar on his hip.

‘Hunt?’ the Colonel gasped, ‘I’m so sorry sons of the Lion, you will never hunt again. You were the ones sprung in our trap.’

His hip was twitching now, quite violently. It wanted to give up whatever was underneath. Almost there his mind told itself, nearly struggling to prevent an eruption about to take place.

‘Well that is true... mostly,’ the Sgt sneered through bloodflecked lips. ‘Most of the time the hunter captures his prey. Sometimes the hunter does become the hunted.’

The captor nodded agreeingly, ‘That is definitely the case here.’

Arms sinewy and strong with powerful talon like hands began to reach upwards through the floor grate. Noises rose with them but not from any human vocal chords.

Finding it hard to talk now, the Sgt still continued, ‘And on some rarer occasions the hunter even allows the prey to believe he has given up, is injured, or in turn has been captured.’

The Colonels eyes widened and his mouth opened simultaneously as if in mock disbelief.

The Sgt was weary. His eye was separated. His arm was separated. Numerous wounds were open and gaping all over his well defined body. But that's ok, it needed to for the plan to work. He knew what was hidden within him could not remain so for much longer. He continued on, his voice softer now, ‘Sometimes in order to catch a worthy adversary you have to give up a part of yourself. Sometimes you have to give a lot.’

‘Well, I’m so honoured to think the Lion was prepared to give so many of his sons to try and catch me. All these theatrics are for me.’

‘Not you, we are not here for you.’ The voice was hard like granite now.

The robed figure started backwards slowly, the movement making the Colonel turn in realisation.

‘What is your name? I demand to know, what is your name?’ he blurted out.

The Sgt grinned a suggestive grin, an all knowing grin, and stated coolly, ‘I am the Lions Bondservant’.

The timing of the detonation was impossibly perfect.

___________________________________________________

As the hidden device was ripped free, an archaic weapon that was designed to eradicate all matter in an apocalyptic explosion, several things happened.

The beasts of chaos burst through the floor grate, their blood lust too strong to deny any longer.

In an effort to berate his captive even more the corrupted Colonel in charge of the facility had actually moved closer to the Scout Sgt.

The robed figure, a former librarian who had never uttered a sound, turned to flee. He never made it to the doorway.

And the brave Sgt who had endured so much in the name of his Primarch had time for one last look at his faithful scouts, ‘Your souls are welcome to dwell with me brothers, wherever we end up.’

The re-inforced walls and roof, bunker like, acted as a funnel to the resultant explosion. An intense heat first incinerated all contents in the room before racing through any air pockets, like the tunnels underground and even the power cabling and ducts overhead. This meant that secondary explosions were occurring and spreading before the walls and roof at the epicentre were completely blown out and had vanished altogether.

The majority of the entire power facility was sundered useless, and looked like a large hand with outstretched open pillars for fingers clawing at the sky.

Although this destruction now enabled his fellow Dark Angels to attack the Western Palace district free from all manner of force fields and automated defenses, the lone surviving scout did have to question the loss of his Brothers. He would miss them dearly and hoped to ensure their memory would live on.

___________________________________________________

Epilogue

It was in an obscure section of the Librarium that Orfiel found him. A brother Astarte that seemed to frequent here just a little too much lately. So engrossed in watching an old mission pict capture the marine hadn’t even noticed Orfiel observing him. The old librarian Master had a way of not being noticed, until he chose to speak, ‘So, which archive have you been watching today?’

The young giant still clad in ornate armour of the Angels of Revelation turned, ‘Well, I have observed that it is an old mission log, titled “Known unto the Lion.” So who were they?’, he quickly added.

‘Aaaah. The simple truth is we don’t know their names. That is an old mission vid from before we even entered the Eye of Terror. In fact that is why we named them “Known unto the Lion”, for the Lion truly does know his own. Sad isn’t it, we don’t know their names.’

Master Orfiel didn’t wait for a reply before rambling on, ‘By decree all formalities and names on covert missions were not used. There was a numerical reference for those brothers. Their identities kept secret. Paranoia in those days was extremely high.’

The younger Astarte nodded.

‘You know I observed a young Master Codriel in this very librarium watching this cartridge many many years ago. I told him one day he would remember this mission, at an appropriate time.’

‘Did he?’

‘Of course. Company Master Codriel used it as a guide to base his elite scout formation ‘Ishim’ on. It was after we broke free from the Eye of Terror. He had to decide how best to implement his veterans, his older and wiser scouts, among other things,’ he winked.

‘Who knows, maybe one day you too will have need of its importance, er young master...’ his voice trailed off questioningly.

‘Balsur, my name is Balsur. I am a brother of the 9th Company.’

Master Orfiel grinned.

Balsur turned and carefully placed the pict cartridge back on the shelf in its place. Orfiel assumed his delay in leaving was due to an extended reverance or getting lost in some personal thoughts, as he also did from time to time. When Balsur did about face, he saluted and left. Orfiel made to leave too but paused. His milky eyes scanning the cartridge spine, noticing a new addition. On closer inspection there next to ‘Known unto the Lion,’ inscribed in high imperial gothic were the words ‘The Lions Bondservant’. Orfiel smiled a knowing smile, and walked out into the huge openness of the librarium. So many vids were here, so many missions. So many legends.

One day they might all be heard. One day.

[tikhunt]

 

No, it is not too late to enter. Feel free to join in and finish in record time. I'll add you to the roster.

Lol I'll see what I can get done.

 

It's for this guy:

 

http://i911.photobucket.com/albums/ac316/treacyjohn2/b372c78237a84d5b8df9c12757d8c9d4_zpsc895a720.jpg

 

It's going to be about his early life/ joining the first as a flashback to where he is now.

 

That model is superb, kind of how I picture the Lion although much more heraldry for the big guy obviously.

[Company Master Roo Man]

Hello, I haven't made a pledge to take part in this, and also it is short of the 2000 words, but hopefully it will be accepted into the digi banks of the Rocks Librarium.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

A sense of serenity surrounded him as the hatred filled his hearts.  The smell of ozone, that first taste of war cleared his rebreathers as he checked his internal tactical displays.  The techmarines, those robed sons of mars had excelled themselves as he now stood barely 5 yards from the blast doors.  A final check on armour and weapons systems, all at a 100%.  He scrolled through his squads displays, they too were ready.  The four brothers, resplendent in their bone white terminator armour awaited his command.

“Brother Phanuel” he called.  At that moment Brother Phanuel strode fourth raising his mighty chain fist as the blades whirred with beastlike fury.  He drove the terrible device into the blast doors in a sudden and spectacular eruption of noise and light as the sparks bounced off his armour in a million directions all at once.  Not long now and their combined rage would be unleashed. 

Finally Phanuel chainfist had ripped the sealing mechanism from the doors. With a shrill scream and tortured hiss of broken hydraulics the huge doors parted.

“Squad Michael” the Sgt spoke with a calm authority as his squad collectively raised arms.  Although statue like the sense of anger radiated from them.

Las rounds were the first through the ever increasing gap, flashing harmlessly off Squad Michael as they stood resolute, waiting for the doors to open enough to unleash the Emperors vengeance.  Sgt Michael closed his eyes and repeated the litany of hatred, his brothers joined in as the las rounds and now hard shells continued to spew through the door.  At last the screaming hydraulics ceased.  Eyes still closed Sgt Michael raised his mighty power sword aloft.  His eyes opened, red with hatred, his face contorted with anger, but yet, content.  “For the Lion” he roared and in unison Squad Michael unleashed their fury.

The muzzle flash from the brothers stormbolters alone lit the dark confines of the bunker, then combined with the screeching ferocity of Brother Nuriels plasma canon it was if hell itself had come upon the enemy.

Sgt Michael advanced, his brothers followed laying down a torrent of vengeance.  Targeting runes in their helm displays flashed then cleared as new ones appeared as the enemy fell like leaves before them.  Then, no more ruins appeared.  The guns fell silent and darkness instantly returned. 

The Squad scanned their surrounds.  Nothing.  Not a trace of life remained.  Sgt Michael clicked his internal targeting display, tying in with his brothers, 41 confirmed kills, 4 squads and their officer he assumed.  In less than a minute.  A second click showed all brothers still at full strength, the only marks of war being carbon scorching on their bone white armour and the dense smoke still drifting from the barrels of their weapons.

Sgt Michael voxed his position and status back to his superiors aboard the strike cruiser Insatiable Hate, and with his power sword illuminating the dark, he strode fourth with his squad falling in behind.

They did not wait long for the second engagement.  For a moment Sgt Michael felt the faintest glimmer of respect for the enemy as they appeared to falter their advance, but only momentarily.  He wiped the blasphemous thoughts from his mind. He began to chant the litany of the unforgiven to restore his hatred.  With renewed vigour he led his squad in their duty and slaughtered the enemy before them.  Alarm ruins blinked as one of his Brothers took a heavy round, then another.  Still calm he scanned the enemy for the source.  His hopes came true as his targeting scanners picked up their primary objective.  The Liberians dreams and visions were confirmed and he thanked the Brother for his foresight.

It filled his hearts to see his Squad had now engaged the fallen brother also and his anger lurched as Brother Nuriels plasma cannon was avoided by the lightening speed of the traitor in his now tarnished power armour.  He voxed back to his superiors the glad tidings as his power sword gave the Emperors justice to the fallen’s dominions. 

Back over the vox came the voice of Integrator Chaplin Netzach, the commanding officer of this hunt.  Sgt Michael was expected the command but still, when he heard it he had to concentrate on the wisdom of the Lion to calm his blood lust.  With his calm restored he shared the command with his squad.  He could feel their objections but he knew all would obey.  As such they continued to murder the last of the fools who had pledged allegiance to the traitorous scum.  Sgt Michael advanced upon the primary target firing low with his storm bolter in an attempt to disable the threat.  More ruins blinked as his squad sustained more bolter rounds from the fallen ahead. 

Phanuel, fell to one knee under a sustained volley yet kept the composure not to fire his scared weapon upon the enemy, knowing a single hit would all but vaporise the foe, and he knew Netzachs intentions were far more noble.  Sgt Michael logged this act of duty proud his Brother Phanuel was a true warrior of the unforgiven. 

The last of the men fell apart before the Deathwings over whelming force until only the true enemy stood before them, his bolter firing with the accuracy of his training and his chainsword ready to tear the life from his foe, his presence as an Astartes as not lost despite his fall

Then in a brilliant flash of light and a massive disruption in the very fabric of space, amidst the parting smoke and ozone Interrogator Chaplin Netzach was with them. His mighty Crozius Arcanium already charged glowed before him, in his other hand not the bolter but a porta rack, a relic of horrendous reputation. 

At his arrival Squad Michael fell to one knee in respect, while Netzach did not wait on convention but charged his foreboding bulk onwards to the enemy.  Bolt rounds tore into his armour, blasted at his seals and badges of office yet he did not slow once until with brutal rage his Cozius swung down upon the traitor.  The fallens bolter fell silent, blood spurted from the fallen warriors side as he raised his chainsword to counterattack but all to slow, all too predictable for Int-Chap Netzachs long years of hunting, his long years of hating, as once again the Crozius swept down, then across, spinning the now armless traitor to the ground, his back broken, he laid on the ground, once more Netzach struck smashing the chest plate open and ripping into the enemies ribcage in a shower of blood. 

Sgt Michael dared to think that Netzach had forgotten his own order as once more the crackling Crozius rose with spite above the fallen.  But this time it stayed, looming above the broken marine.  “Your time of judgement has come fallen brother, the Lions vengeance awaits you” Netzach spoke with such calm authority after such a brutal attack that it sent a chill through the room.

As he lowered his weapon of office he flicked his other hand and the porta rack flickered to life.  Though hidden from view behind his massive frame Squad Michael could not see Netzachs work yet they heard the results as the traitors very essence was assaulted.

Netzach rose and turned to Squad Michael, who were still knelt in respect.  With a fathers pride he spoke through his skull mask “You have made the Lion proud Squad Michael, now, open vox channels to the 2^nd company to arrange for our prisoner to be escorted to the Insatiable Hate.  I have much work to do.”

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[Grand Master Belial]

I've added your name to the roster. For now it will be marked as a Short, but I don't see a reason it cannot stay.

 

Time is running out for submissions. We are under the 48 hour mark of this challenge. Are the Warrior poets out there scribbling like mad? Let's see if we can't get a few more stories posted.

[Brother Syddraf]

Sorry for this Late Finish but i have been unable to complete til now, please accept this work, and hopefully enjoy

 

 

All is not what it Seems

 

" Do you know what the Emperor's dream is ?, too few know it now as it was spoken by him, and far too many know the lie told in its stead " a sigh a gas escaped the mighty dreadnoughts frame as his tone dropped " I was there, at the legion’s birth and at it greatest challenge. Allow me to enlighten you "....

 

....................

 

As the grief of losing his father weigh heavy on his soul, he sat alone in his private quarters. Unadorned with the trappings of someone of his standing and dimly lit, he sat on his heavy framed bed. The Lord and Master of the First Legion, Lion El'Jonson, found calm in the darkness. He had not talked to any soul since they had departed Terra. The final order given to him from his brother had sent his mind into a spin.

" For the continued safety of all in the Imperium, the legions must be split up. No one man be that human or space marine should wield that kind of power. ", Guilliman had said to his remaining brothers. He was free of the marks of battle, more politician than warrior. " I have penned this codex with the express purpose to make the heresy of these last years a thing of the past."

Looks of miss trust flashed across the faces of those gathered. How could he bind their hands so tight so soon after. They need now more than anything to hunt down the traitorous legions and regain control of the imperium but with the restructuring of the imperium, this simply couldn't happen.

Always thinking ahead, the Lion could only see failure of this new realm of man. He had to keep his father's dream alive, to see mankind to it's rightful place. Plans had to be made, fail-safes installed, and brothers focused. If it was the wish for this new imperium that his legion be cut down, then that is what must be done to appease the outsiders. To them the Legion would be split, but only to their eyes.

With renewed purpose he burst through the door separating his chambers from the tactical command suite. " Brothers to me, we must make plans for the future ", his inner circle of officers jumped at the command, " We must make sure to fully comply with this new structuring ". A look of confusion past all the officers assembled, but only one spoke.

" My lord how is it you wish to remove the heart of the legion now ", the figure queried, a full head shorter than most of the officers in the room, it was clear his was not a full Astartes but a original member of the Order, " You fought against Guilliman orders with all your might, why now obey? ".

" Yours is not to question Lord Cypher " the Lion spat back.

" Of course ", bowing low and slowly," But if i maybe bold again my lord, why now?"

The Lion turned to a great view port at the side of the chamber, his witnessed the wild uncontrolled warp licking around his ship. The Gellar field ripping as the foul energies hit here and there at it.

" I wish to tell you all about the first night on Caliban my father and i shared a together", his eyes closed, casing his mind back to that time and place, " he told me about the life he had lived, how through the ages he had waited and watched from the shadows. Guiding a few to the right path to help progress all of men, or ending the paths of those who would have it burn. It was only later the his beliefs in the Imperial Truth became cemented, that all men were destined to rule all the galaxy, that with science and a willing to learn and explore man could be  elevated to masters of the galaxy, but they need help,  more help than could be delivered from the shadows, they needed a light to follow. " nothing the primarch said was new to their ears, well documented was this tale of the Emperor's journey, but what followed, " but he always worried about people falling back into old habits, he already had to stop an up swelling of people on Terra that wished to worship him as a god. "

" People are quick to proclaim the divine to concepts outside of their understanding " remark Cypher.

" And that was his great fear…..” an air of shock fell on the gathered, never have they hear anyone refer to the Emperor being fearful of anything, “Fear that misunderstanding would undo this great work. " .

" What task do you wish of us my lord? " Cypher asked in a sombre tone.

The Lion spun around to stare at the Lord Cypher. " It is to us to see his dream complete " a fire had been lit in the Lions eyes, " and no matter what the future holds we will see it completed ".

The plans laid out would be the course of action the Dark Angel Legion would take for the next 10000 years, even though none of us could predict the future, the plans made here would hold strong, ever after Caliban, ever after the Fallen.

"For you Cypher i have a special task" the Lion had moved to stand by the side of the Lord Cypher......

 

....................

 

" I could do nothing to help him, it was as if the fight between the Emperor and Horus was being re enacted. I was not even a full Astartes, how could i hope to help my primarch ", a laboured breath from the dreadnought was the herald to a wall of flashing runes that spoke that he was not long for this world, " So i watched powerless...."

 

....................

 

The whole planet violently shook with each impact of the fleets bombardment and the sky looked stained with blood as encroaching warp storm flash sickly purple lighting down on the atmosphere.

The Lion and Luther's blows caused great chunks of brick and stone to be smash free, with the eye of the warp storm slowly fighting the planets gravity and lifting them skyward. More and more pieces of shattered rock was pulled away into the maw of the storm. Great jets of magma were ejected from rents in the ground. All the while Dark Angel fought Dark Angel, hatred fuelling both sides. Our once great citadel was in ruin and still the battle raged on.

Luther's voice echoed around the shattered hall, he seemed to grow stronger with each coming minute. A smoky haze engulfed him in the stuff of chaos and he laughed. " To think i was jealous of you speed and strength " Luther bellowed " You are now the weak man and i am the god! "

" No.... you are the weak one, you are nothing but a puppet of chaos", his tone was low as Johnson sucked great lung fulls of air, " You were my brother, my second in the crusade, now i see nothing of that man left..."

" Silence!!!! "Cried Luther as he push the point of his blade into the Lion's chest, a blinding flash of warp  energy poured from the blade into the wound. " This ends now! "

He pulled the sword free and raised it over his head, hate-filled eyes distorted his face, ready to end it..

" My lord wait! " i don't know where the words came from, but i stood and walked out of the shadows, " Look at what you're about to do! "

I don't know how but the words reached him, he lowered the cursed blade and looked at the bloody tip. His gaze lock to it for a moment, but then his eye dropped from it and he look upon his brother slumped on the floor, the same blood on his blade flowing freely from his side.

" What have i done " in a soft voice, as if he had just woken up. He looked around at the scene happening around him, brother killing brother and him ready to strike down his commander, friend and brother. " no....No...No...No...NOOO! " casing down the blade. The sky screamed as it touched the ground, the chaos gods had lost their champion. The heavens opened in a torrent of blood and witch fire as the whole planet was sucked it in the hell that is the warp. The seas turned to fire as great chunks of earth heaved free of Caliban. I felt my body lifting up towards the sky, able to fight against it. Floating free of my dying home world, all i knew was the end was coming for me weather in the cold of space or the nightmare of the warp.

'I will died here ' was my last thought before the warp storm consumed me...

 

"To Me Brother!" Yelled the Lion, " We are not lost yet."

"My Lord!?", i couldn't process the vision i was taking in, the Lion was wrapped in dark green robes head to toe and flanked but figures dress the same but of much smaller size. They seemed to be surrounded by a bubble of white hot light, "My mind is undone, i have surely gone mad". The Lion reached out and took me by my tabard and then i too was inside this light. "Shield your eyes," he told me in hushed tones, ever as a loud humming noise built up in my head, "You will be out of this nightmare soon enough."

And with that the light blazed the warp gone from my eyes.....

 

"Lion!" I yelled, i jumped from the cold rock i had been laying on , the fog in my mind clearing. I had been knocked out for how long i could not tell. I was back in the remains of the tower, but no longer was there the night sky or the twisted nightmare of the warp, it was space. I was in space. An energy shield ripped with black lighting above me, why it was here protecting me and the keep i could not say. Everywhere i looked was broken rock and black lighting, then i remembered. "Master!, Lion El'Jonson!"

"He sleeps now", i spun around to find a small figure standing behind me, i knew it was one of the beings that had surrounded the Lion. "The Lion is safe with us, he will sleep, he will heal and at the end times he will stand by your side once more.....".

" Please show him to me, show me where you hide him"

"Know this that he rests", and with that the creature turned and walked off to the shadows, and it's voice filled my head "Remember your mission Cypher, do the work his father can not"

 

....................

 

"DO HIS WORK!!" the dreadnought rocked side to side as a spawn of tech servo skulls buzzed around the beast, their work in vein, "YOU Died on the Fields of battle 0n Piscina IV, Brought BAck FroM YoUR ENd, kNIGHted inTo tH3 Knights Of tHE Ordeer, ¥ouR NAME IS LOST TO YOU NOW, Y0U W1LL 4EVER BEE KNoW as LoRD CyPh3r" the once noble voice being drowned in a sea of static.

" REfuse This FalSE COUNCIL aND its coRRuPt MEmbERS" its last words suddenly came clear and cold " the Emperor is trapped and this work undo, Kill the false imperium" and then silence.

Knight Zadkiel approach the mighty dreadnought, at last at peace. Holding a large platter covered in a dark green cloth.

" He lasted 10000 years, passed his title on when his body failed him, but never his mind. And every time his title was vacated, it was he who would pick the next. I do not know what is ahead for us, but for you i do." He ripped the cloth aside to reveal an ancient bolt and plasma pistol crossed over an ornate sword held within its sheath.

"Knight do you accept this final order from the First Lord Cypher?" Zadkiel dropped to one knee and raised the plater high "Will you continue the Emperor's work Knight Naaman?"

"Yes, but my name is Cypher"

[Candleshoes]

Edit - post deleted

[Grand Master Belial]

Brother Syddraf, you actually made it in time.

 

As most competitions use London time, this competition has been concluded in terms of rewards. But, as this event is a rarity, it will remain open for those who didn't finish to try and finish and those who didn't have an opportunity to join in a chance to write a story worthy of the Unforgiven. I'll edit the first post and add the links to these stories in the near future.

 

@Shadow Guard - Would you like to add these to your queue for induction into the Fortress?

 

To all warrior poets who participated, I salute you! Wear your badge with pride until the next competition. It may be sooner than you think...