Unforgiven Story Time.

[jbaeza94]

Hey guys. After reading black tritons deathwing stories, I had an idea. Why don't we all share our own stories from the unforgiven? Dark angels and successor chapters. What do you guys think?

[Magos Valkamar]

Great idea! I actually have a few story ideas for the Storm Bringers, but when I actually write them out I don't know...

[jbaeza94]

Share them brother! I wouldn't say I'm a great author,but I love to write. My stories always end up takimg a different turn than when I first started thinking them up. I tend to like the new direction they take more. Sharing out stories could lead to some interesting discussions on how we view the fluff and interpret it. I'll share a story I just finished last. I'm not quite sure what I'd call it yet, maybe you guys could help me out.

[jbaeza94]

“Only in death does duty end”

 

The loading dock was teeming with life. Chapter serfs and servitors moved frantically, attempting to complete their tasks quickly. The loud clank of pistons and gears grinding against each other, air pressure being let out in puffs of steam. Chaos. Loud claxons sang their song, while the squads of astartes were directed to their landing vehicles. Righteous Respite. It has delivered Squad Carmelio into battle twice before, and for the third time, it will be delivering us again into the maelstrom of battle. The 7 battle brothers stood in formation in front the drop pod, Honored Sergeant Carmelio, paced in front of the formation. The Sergeant was like a guilded bolter, and elegantly crafted machine of booming terror with one purpose, bloody war.

 

“Into deaths very own hand we dive once more brothers. For this very purpose the Iron Lions have been founded. No other chapter can smite down the green tide like the sons of Invictumos!” Sergeant Carmelio observed us as we all stood in silence, unmoving figures of discipline. His voice dropped from loud and charismatic, to a low speaking tone. “Now, this menace has decided to spring to life on our very own home world once more. This time they have managed to lay waste to many fortresses of Invictumos.”

 

Brother Victor raised his voice, “What about the warhound pack pledged by Triatrii III Honored Sergeant? Have the servants of the Omnissiah, blessed be His iron, abandoned their duties?” Sergeant Carmelio shook his head.

 

“No brother, this is a Waaahg the likes of which has never been seen by Invictumos. Warhound pack Burning Absolution has been nearly destroyed. Only one god machine remains, and it has been rendered immobile. It has stood sentry in front of the gates of Liamane for the last 3 days. It will not hold much longer.”

 

“Liamane?” spoke out Genevia angered. “Have the orks really pushed as far as our fortress monastery?”

 

“Have the Lions of the Cassari really become so weak?” spewed Leon.

 

“Silence you two!” shouted Sergeant Carmelio. “Do not disrespect our fellow legionnaires again! They may just be men, but they too are Lions nonetheless. Is that understood?”

 

“Yes Honored Sergeant” they humbly replied.

 

“Very well. Our task is too to provide much needed relief to the forces defending Liamane. This will be done via drop pod assault. Lions of the 4th century will be deployed in full force behind the main line. We will crush the orks between the walls of the city and the wall of bolter fire. Once we land, clear the immediate area of threats. Our squad will be deployed with a heavy bolter and flamer. Apothecary Fillion will be joining us as well. Our specific task will be to overrun the ork artillery pieces, then advance towards the east wall, and isolate the orks attempting to breach the walls. Squads Devian and Quatria will be operating to our left. Squad Angelo will be to our right. The other four squads will be deploying on the opposite end of us, and will pincer the green skins between us and them. The Centurion and his praetorians will be joining them. We will be receiving close air support from the Bronze Eagles and their vehicles. Is there any questions?”

 

“Will we be able to witness the Silver Bulls in battle, Honored Sergeant?” I asked inquisitively.

 

Sergeant Carmelio chuckled to himself. “How long have you been a full battle brother? 2 years?” He laughed once more. “I don’t think you're quite ready to witness them yet. They have their own tasks to accomplish, far far from us. May the Emperor grant you long enough life to witness them.” I heard footsteps approach us. The astartes wore dark gray power armor just like ours, but his arms and helmet were white. His helmet had various optics attached to it, and his arm carried a tool with drills and other fine instruments. His right shoulder pad had been recently painted to reflect our squad color, but a bright red helix adorned it. An apothecary. “Ah, welcome Apothecary Fillion. Honored to have you join us.” The apothecary simply nodded. “Is there any more questions?” There was brief silence. “Very well. Ensure your war gear is properly anointed and say any last prayers to appease its machine spirit. Stand by for boarding.”

 

I looked down and examined my heavy bolter. I spoke to its machine spirit and prayed to the Omnissiah that it may fire true. It was a beautiful creation. Its intricate mechanisms carefully blessed and anointed by many brothers before me, each name engraved along its side. it was an honor to carry this weapon. Should I fall in the execution of my duties, may my name be inscribed as well. A loud claxon rang. It was time. The doors of Righteous Respite dropped down. The inside was painted bone, with a silver navigation console in its center. A red light dimly lit the interior. From the top hung a storm bolter that swiveled left the right. Up, then down, and reset to its original position. One by one we filed off into the drop pod. I stood in front of my harness and backed into it. My power pack connected with the harness, and a brace came down over my head to secure me in place. The doors were raised. The red light barely lit the interior, buy my helmet adjusted its visual sensors to account for the dimness. On the outside I could hear the explosive bolts being attached by the servitors. The next time those doors would open, we would be on the ground. The pod shook as it was lifted up by mechanical arms and placed into the launch tube.

 

“Lions,” Sergeant Carmelio roared over the vox, “Invictumos shall not fall!”

 

“For Invictumos is invincible!” we all shouted in reply. The red light turned yellow. The engines began to fire inside the drop pod.

 

In a low tone, Sergeant Carmelio said, “Honor the Legion.” The pod was then ejected from its launch tube and blazed towards Liamane. The pod shook violently as we went from high orbit into low orbit. The heat began to rise inside the pod, atmospheric friction set the pod ablaze from the outside. High pitched pings could be heard coming from the outside. We were taking fire. I worried not however. This was not the first time I dropped into fire laden skies. The armor of the pod would hold. Or so I thought. Two high caliber shots managed to pierce the armor, and struck brother Leon in the chest. It left a very deep scar on his armor, but the round had lost most of its velocity, and he remained uninjured. Suddenly a loud explosion was heard and the pod began to spin violently. The yellow light was flashing red now and warning sirens were blaring. We were not coming down upright anymore. We were tumbling through the sky. I could hear the thrusters outside engaging and disengaging. The machine spirit was desperately trying to correct the trajectory and stabilize the pod.

 

“Lions!” bellowed Sergeant Carmelio, “What is your duty?”

 

“To serve the Emperors will!” we replied

 

“What is the Emperors will?”

 

“That we fight and die!”

 

“What is death?

 

“It is our duty!”

 

“Brace for impact!” The thrusters under the drop pod fired and attempted to slow our descent, but it was not enough. Righteous Respite crashed into Invictumos. I could not see for a moment, but I knew something wasn’t right. I felt… I felt pain. A sharp pain and could feel my torso was becoming wet. I looked around me and could see what remained of Brother Genevia. The control console had had broken loose and crushed him against his harness. I continued to look around, and could see my brothers unbuckling their harness as best they could. Then I heard a loud bang. The explosive bolts activated. The doors shot open and it was then that I realized we were laying sideways. I attempted to move to undue my harness but noticed that I could not. I noticed, I… I had been impaled through my chest by the storm bolter’s pintle mount. My armor had begun to deploy coagulants and pain killers to help me cope with my injury and fight on, but it was not enough. Breathing began to become labored, and I could feel that my primary heart had failed.

 

A scream was heard, “Apothecary!” It was Brother Leon. The apothecary moved towards me. The roar of ork shootas and boltguns filled the sky. The fighting had begun.

 

“Where is that heavy bolter?” shouted Sergeant Carmelio.

 

“He’s been critically injured Honored Sergeant!” responded Leon.

 

“Do what you must! Just get me that weapon!” Sergeant Carmelio ran off to find better cover and employ the other battle brothers.

 

The apothecary looked at me, he shook his head “You cannot be saved.” He bent down next to me and stared at me. “It was once said, pain and death are illusions of the weak mind. While his gene-seed returns to the Chapter, a Marine cannot die. Without death, pain loses its relevance. He that may fight, heal him. He that may fight no more, give him peace. He that is dead, take from him the Chapter's due.” He turned to Brother Leon. “You will need my help. You must carry his weapon; it is needed on the battlefield.”

 

“Yes apothecary.” Leon solemnly replied.

 

“Brother, I will give you the Emperors peace, so that you may be useful to the Legion once more.” He stood and drew his bolt pistol. He raised it and leveled it with my head. I closed my eyes and began to whisper to myself,

 

“Glory to the Emperor on Terra, may His will be done. Praise be the Omnissiah, may His iron provide the way. Honor the Primarch. May He always guide us. Only in death, does duty…”

 

Peace.

[Malcifer]

The End of Service by jbaeza94

 

Good Stuff.

[jbaeza94]

So I've been brewing up some ideas lately for a new story and I'd like to ask direction from you gents. Which one would you be most interested in reading?

Line brothers discovering a fallen angel

Ravenwing hunting their prey

A dreadnought waking

Curious scouts or neophytes and their conversation with the chaplain appointed to their instruction

A litany of the hunt

Maybe a monologue of an apothecary

 

 

I'm open to more suggestions. I'd just really like to work on my writing skills, and writing stories about what I love makes it that much more meaningful and pleasant to write

[Guest]

Well the Brotherhood of Angels will return too :)

 

And I might write some too... I liked yours :)

[jbaeza94]

Thanks brother Arkley! Do you know if there is there any time frame for that?

[Guest]

Well it is usually a prelude to ETL, but you never know what the Secretive Inner Circle are up to... Circles within Circles.

[jbaeza94]

Doubt and distrust is the creed of my brethren and I, for such is fruit that the seed of heresy has borne. Damned to endlessly search in the shadows, and look to no one but ourselves, the path of judgment and redemption laid out so plainly, within arm’s reach, yet further every day.  Circles within circles, each time a new lie, each time a new truth, never being able to distinguish one from the other. That is the true curse of the Unforgiven.

 

I do not know what I see, or understand what I hear, but I sense a bad omen. A being I believe to be the shade of the Lion has led me across the Ferrum Leonus, appearing just outside of my vision, every time opening a path that should not be possible within the vessel.  Whispers and visions show me a broken primarch, and an ancient, yet oddly smaller Dark Angel over him. They show Lord Azrael kneeling before a titanic figure. I see the scale of the arbiters’ in perfect balance, and the bronze and silver path narrowing and ending. I am shown a chain breaking to the sound of a vicious bark .

 

I am disturbed by the implications brought by what the being shows me. From here I do not know which path to take. I have sought the council of my oracles, but they have been blinded by an unknown power. Visions no longer come, save for the premonition of an eye opening. I am warned of psychic presence, or lack of, that moves through the vessel. I do not know what to make of it. May it be the Lion’s shade as well?

 

I am due to see Lord Azrael and Lord Ezekiel soon. A summons has been called by the Dark Angels to the entirety of the Unforgiven. What it is for I do not know, but I am sure that it is no mere coincidence. Though I find myself in the outer rungs of the Inner Circle, I know that it is of the utmost importance that I warn the Grand Masters of the troubled times that await us.

 

I will be asking Magos Respla Telfo to honor the Treaty of the Warhound once more. I sense somehow, our fates may be intertwined but I cannot be certain of which way or the outcome. I do not know how my brethren will react at the sight of a Mechanicum fleet flying under my banner; they do not even have faith in their Techmarines.  If the Emperor wills it, the Omnissiah will provide the way.

 

 

 

little inner monologue from the Legion Legate, Chapter Master of the Iron Lions. Things are getting kinda hairy, and i figure the inner circle might want to know about his visions, maybe they know what it means...

quick spin up on lore: Arbiters are the chaplains of the Iron Lions, the judges, their symbol being a scale. Sliver signifies redemption, bronze signifies judgement (also color of their DW/RW respectively) oracles = librarians 

 

 

EDIT: it seems i need more between the second and third paragraph, now that i reread it it seems too abrupt  i rewrote most of the second half.

[Brother Sergeant Luther]

Warning runes flicker across my vision distracting me momentarily from the duel feet from me, even my enhanced eyesight struggles to track the movements of the two combatants. For in front of me unfolds a fight that should never have been, for Luther has turned away from the Imperium and into the embrace of chaos.The proof of this fact lay scattered around this chamber in the dismembered bodies of my brothers, and my own broken body, only the Lion was quick enough to counter the brutal assault the Steward of Caliban unleashed upon us. I feel my strength fading in every slowing beat of my twinned hearts.

 

I am forced to be a witness to this great battle, but I do not believe I am the only one watching, for in the darkest corners of this chamber in the tower of angels, pairs of glowing eyes watch silently, I no longer know if they are real or a mere delusion brought on by my injuries. My Lord is silent , his regal face locked into a mask of righteous fury ignoring the taunts and jibes of his fallen mentor. Oh Luther how could you forsake our Lord....you who were the greatest of us all, second only to the Lion.

 

Even fuelled by his fel masters Luther is no match for the Lion, the battle while close only ever had one outcome from the start, though my eyes barely follow their blades and my ears ring with the clash of steel, it is plain to see that Luther is being forced on to the defensive, being pushed back step by step by the fury of the Master of the First. Then suddenly their movements cease and I see them locked blade to blade in the centre of the room. And then with a great shout the Primarch sends the arch betrayers sword skittering across the flagstones, and I await the final strike to fall....but it never comes, the great Lion hesitates seeing not his betrayer perhaps but the man who mentored him and was his closest friend, sadly Luther did not share this moment of sentimentality.

 

The betrayer flings up his hand, chanting words that scrape against my sanity and eldritch energy arches from his fingers striking the lion in the chest. If I had the breath in my lungs then a groan of dismay would of passed my lips as I can do nothing but watch as this sinister energy courses over my father, twisting his features into the silent scream of agony. With the sound of screaming metal I can only watch in horror as the Lion sword shatters, with metal shards flying in all directions, one glancing off the temple of Luther, and there in his eyes you can see the brief return of sanity, but as the Lion falls the sanity in Luther's eyes shatters as he fully takes in what he has just done, his screams echo around the chamber.

 

I feel my life fading as the pool of my gene enhanced blood grows larger, I cannot reach my stricken Lord. And that is when they come, the watchers in the dark, they gather around my stricken Lord, together they lift the great form of my liege, I try to cry out, to stop them but the most I can do is reach out a hand to them in a silent plea for them to leave the master of the first where he has fallen, but it is too late and they are soon retreating into the shadows with the form of Lion El'Jonson. All except one who stands before the kneeling form of Luther, i can only assume that a silent communion takes place for once the diminutive robed figure of the watcher leaves Luther starts babbling about our primarchs return and how he shall be forgiven on the mighty lions return, he will be lucky to live so long the traitorous scum.

 

I can hear the armoured boot falls of my brothers, now coming closer, but I do not think I will be alive to see them arrive. I have no regrets my life and death for the First legion just as it should be, my eyesight is failing the shadows grow larger or my vision grows darker I do not know which. A brother is here gathering up the shards of the Lion sword, the cowl of his robe obscures his face, I try to get his attention but my limbs no longer obey my will. But then one of the watchers returns and again I am left out of their silent communication. But as my vision goes black and my twin hearts beat their last I hear my brother speak

 

"The Lions will, will be done watcher"

 

I hear Lord Cypher voice these words, then all is darkness.

[jbaeza94]

I encourage you to share any stories you have here, thank you Brother Sergeant Luther for sharing.

The Iron and the Lion: Part 1, Explorator

The Centurion's step fell hard along the cold hard steel of the deck. He had no time to acknowledge hails or salutes, no, there was someone else who required his whole attention. He arrived at a large double door and without hesitation threw them open. He quickly scanned the room and identified his target in the center, the Legion Legate. He sat on his large elaborate throne, the base a combination of pistons, cogs, and other machinery, always moving. On the back rest draped a large lion pelt , a gift from before the days of compliance of their homeworld. On his left arm rest, a bull skull, its horns dipped in silver, in its nose a silver ring. On his right arm rest, the skull of the Invictumos eagle, a eagle so large a man could mount it, its beak, dipped in bronze. The Legate stared out into the darkness of space, as he often did, pondering, but no one ever knew of what. The Centurion quickly approached the front of the throne, and saluted with a fist to his chest. Hurriedly he began to speak.

"My Lord, the Lion smiles on…"

"Why do you barge into my quarters Centurion Dorsuo?"

"Lord, I meant no disrespect, but there are pressing matters to address."

"Since it is dire, it means you believe we have no need to observe customs, am I correct?" The Legate questioned calmly, still staring out into the stars, his left hand massaging his chin. Dorsuo was thought briefly but answered firmly,

"Yes Lord, you are correct"

"The ends always justify the means. Customs can become self imposed barriers, we should not be eternally bound to them. I know why you are here, we have located the fallen angel." Dorsuo felt a bit of relief.

"Yes, the rumors were true. His name is Ipos, a legion despoiler. He has amassed a large following and military, and he governs from a stronghold, his headquarters built around a Warhound Class titan. However, this very titan will be an impediment." His lord stopped massaging his chin, and slowly turned towards Dorsuo.

"An impediment?" his lord questioned, "Dorsuo, have we not toppled renegade titans in the past?"

"Yes Lord, destroying it is a non issue, it is non operational, however, we have unexpected guest."

"Why is that an issue? Is it an Ork fleet? Eldar?"

"No, Lord, its an Explorator fleet." Dorsuo could see the Legate's temper begin to rise.

"We are a Adeptus Astartes, they should heed our calls to stand down."

"Lord, this not just another fleet. The Magos hails form Triatrii III, and he wishes to join us on the assault." The Legion Legate stood and approached Dorsuo.

"Listen here, Centurion," a growl in his voice, "you will make this Magos stand down. I do not care that he hails from one of our strongest allies, do whatever it takes," their faces only inches apart now, "fire on them if you must. Do you understand?" A fiery raged burned inside the Legates voice, and Dorsuo could not help but be humbled by the power and authority that his lord's voice carried.

"Lord nothing short of destruction would stop the Magos, and we" the Legate butted in,

"Then destroy him." He turned to his throne and sat down. Dorsuo hesitated in his speech.

"We could not possibly hope to destroy the fleet, there are too many." they both were silent for a moment, the Legate began to look out and ponder on the stars once more.

" Who is he?" the Legate asked.

"His name is Magos Respla Telfo the Avant-Garde"

"I've heard of the name, they call him the Revealer of the Lost, one of the greatest of Triatrii III. Why is he so adamant on helping? It is unlike an Explorator to search for battle."

"Lord, he wants the warhound. He is adamant of being the first Mechanicus being to lay hands on it. The ways of the brothers of iron is strange and fickle."

"Hmm…" the Legate pondered out loud, "How large is the fleet?"

"Magos Respla Telfo commands 5000 Skitarrii and other Mechanicus infantry. He has 400 servitor pilots who can each fly air superiority and bombing aircraft. He also has a knight house who has sworn fealty to him, House Innus." The Legate raised his eye brows and laughed silently to himself.

"A Magos Explorator with such a large military? I had known of the ambitious nature of the Magi, but Respla Telfo's reputation precedes him." He paused for a moment, "Dorsuo, send message to the fleet, let the Magos know that we will capture the Warhound for him, as long as he and his machines can provide cover for the legionnaires."

"You will risk the discovery of the Fallen Angel?"

"They will not know of the astartes, and as far as the Magos is concerned, it is just a renegade space marine."

"I hope for the sake of the Unforgiven, you are correct."

"I am, now go." Dorsuo saluted his Legion Legate, and replied,

"Honor the Legion." The Legate returned the farewell, and Centurion Dorsuo made his way out.

The Legate sat as he usually did, pondering the stars. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the ghost of his ship. He leaned forward in his throne and turned to look at the ghost.

"Shade of the Ferrum Leonus, will these means justify the end?" the diminutive being slowly nodded, and disappeared from his vision. He sat back in his throne, and said to himself,

"Yes, they always do."

[Brother Sergeant Luther]

"The Beginning"

 

He looked around the chamber at those gathered, each wore a robe of white over their armour, each was without their helmet but the cowls of their hoods cloaked their faces in darkness in the half light of the chamber. Each was a veteran who had once fought beside their gene sire, though they now wore armour of their chapters now the mighty first legion had been split. A spike of anger and sadness threatened to pierce his calm as he remembered the vile treachery that had once cost them their home and their Primarch.

 

He drew a deep breath “It has been confirmed by the Librarium, those that betrayed their Legion, who betrayed the Lion and the Emperor still live. And they mock us, we are contacted by one calling himself Cypher, he has the audacity to contact us and gloat in their survival. Every fallen whose body is not accounted for are out there, and we WILL find them”

 

He slams his fist into the table, silencing the murmurs within the chamber, denting the metal. Beside his fist lay a book he had memorised each page containing the name and description of a member of the Fallen.

 

“We must rectify this ourselves, our shame must never be heard by those not of our brotherhood. Until the day the last of the traitors has repented his part in the betrayal they inflicted on our legion we shall be Unforgiven in the eyes of the Lion and the Emperor”

 

“Once the Ravenwing were scouts in the battle against the monsters in the forests of our world. Now they will hunt a far deadlier foe. They will scour he galaxy for those we once called brother and those they trained that never had the chance to serve under the Lion” at these words his eyes fell on those of the order of the Ravenwing, their robes bearing the symbol of their order over the armours of the various chapters of the ‘Unforgiven’. “Let only your officers and most noble and trusted warriors know the truth of the hunt, let all others think they hunt for traces of the Traitorous Legions of the Horus Heresy.”

 

“Let our mightiest and most steadfast warriors be gathered together to form the mailed fist that will crush the life out of traitorous kin. They will strike at the throats of the traitors with fury and strength. May they be clad in only the strongest of our armours. This is what the order of the Deathwing will become. Let all outside see them as our most veteran warriors.”

 

“Only those of us inside this chamber shall no the full truth, let each warrior proove their way into this inner circle through their actions and words. But we must watch them all for we cannot afford the attention of the inquisition being drawn down upon us until our task is done”

 

“There is more to this task, but each of us must reflect on the news of this. We will gather again on the morrow and each of this council will have their say. You are dismissed brothers” with multiple murmurs of “Milord” the chamber emptied slowly. Some lingered as if to talk but he dismissed those with a gesture.

 

Once he was alone he made his way down the staircase at the back of the chamber his heavy footfalls echoing of the stone walls, almost masking the sound of the watchers robe dragging over the stone behind him. He gave the small creature little thought, it had appeared carrying the Lions helm the day the Lion had been struck down, and had followed ever since giving silent council as he guided the remnants of his legion.

 

In the bowels of the Rock, the once proud fortress of the Order, he approached a great carved door, only he knew of its existence and only he held the key. Drawing his sword he placed it in a recess allowing the doors to open. Once inside he sat at a great desk pulling out an auto stylus and fresh parchment.

 

Corswain lowered the hood of his robe as he deactivated the stasis field surrounding the gaunt madman in the centre of the chamber.

 

“You spoke truth, the Fallen brothers have returned. Let us see what other truths your madness hides in your words Luther.”

[Brother Sergeant Luther]

The grizzled Techmarine entered vault as the ancient flickering lights illuminated the contents. With a hiss he removed his right gauntlet revealing a withered hand little more than a claw of flesh, he reverently ran the fingers against the ancient plate before him. His bionic eyes buzzed within his helm as they took in the black warplate and weaponry long thought to be lost since the dark days of the heresy.

 

Davrius turned back to his companion, the Master of Sanctity stood just outside the chamber. "Where have these come from...why are these not amongst the relics of the Armoury?" He asked his voice rough with anger and accusation.

 

Malthus seemed unfazed by the accusations as he replied "The owners of this arms and armour have repented their sins and received absolution. The machine spirits of their equipment still suffer under these crimes. A new Chapter is to be created clad in the relics of the past so that they may be concecrated by the blood of the Imperiums foes."

 

The chaplain strode into the chamber "You are to be the Forge Master of this Chapter. By order of the Supreme Grand Master you and your ilk will maintain and keep record of each relic, for you are now the Sanctifier of the Concecrators, and the machine spirits can only be absolved when the deeds of those that wield them outweigh the sins of their past masters"

 

(Little extract from something I'm working on)

[Brother Sergeant Luther]

My latest offering to the Fanfic gods. Hope you all like it

 

http://www.bolterandchainsword.com/topic/333396-council-of-angels/

[Brother-Captain Sharp]

I've got a very short one that I wrote way back when I was just starting the Angels of Retribution. It was inspired by the first model I made for the chapter, Interrogator-Chaplain Damion.

____________________________________

Blaring alarms, the crack of lasguns, the yells and screams of combatants, and the chatter of a heavy stubber; to all these noises did Inquisitor Heytmann awake. His eyes snapped open in the low light of his room, the emergency red lighting activated in the compound. He immediately moved to his dresser, activated his rooms lighting panels, and grabbed his weapons, a heavily modified short-barreled shotgun and a power sword. As he strapped swordbelt around his waist he activated his vox bead, signaling his security commander. 

 

“Deidran, give me a status report.”

His communication was met with only static on the line for a few moments before a young voice replied, hard to hear over the sounds of battle also transmitted. “Sir, Deidran is down. He was hit by an enemy round in the initial exchange. This is Roland, his assistant. I’m holed up in the grand entry-way with a few security men, but we’re taking heavy fire. I sent a team up to your room not a minute ago. They should-“

 

The assistant’s voice was drowned out by the background noise, and once again transmitted static. Heytmann snarled in disgust, and racked his shotgun. From what he could tell, Roland’s position had just been overrun. That meant that the attackers were loose inside the main building itself. More troubling than that though, was the noise that Heytmann’s ears had picked up over the vox. Bolter fire. None of his security team or acolytes were armed with bolters, which meant they were carried by the attackers. That spoke of the monetary backing and connections his enemies had. Bolters weren’t that hard to acquire on Kuldron, but the bolts were, the reason Heytmann had decided against them. If his men were to defeat these attackers, they would need his leadership. 

 

Whoever commands these invaders, they will curse their folly in attacking me, Heytmann thought. I will make the rest of their short lives a living hell for having the temerity to attack an Inquisitor of the Imperium.

 

He moved to the door, opening it. His way was blocked. Standing before him was a giant, clad in black armor. Across his chest was a white Aquila, the sign of the Imperium. Hanging from his belt were scrolls and censures as well as a tabard covered in litanies. A cloak hung from his back, and purity seals decorated his armor in many places. In his right hand he carried the largest weapon Heytmann had ever seen, taller than the giant himself, its head crackling with an activated power field. Beneath the giant’s voluminous hood, Heytmann saw a skull, its eyes glowing a bright red. Heytmann’s blood ran cold. 

 

A Space Marine Chaplain.

 

The Chaplain raised his left hand and forcefully pushed Heytmann back into his room. Heytmann stumbled backward from the force of the shove into the opposite wall, hitting it and sliding to the floor, slightly dazed from the force of impact. The Chaplain stepped into the room, followed by five Space Marines who trained their bolters at Heytmann. Now that the Chaplain had stepped into the light of the room, Heytmann could see that he was clad in an ancient suit of Tactical Dreadnought Armor, his already considerable bulk increased even further by the suit.

 

The Chaplain looked down into Heytmann’s eyes and spoke, his voice a deep gravelly rumble. “Inquisitor Therius Heytmann, you have been found guilty the crime of seeking after knowledge forbidden to you and dangerous to the interests of the Imperium and its servants.”

 

Heytmann looked up at the Chaplain, disbelief evident on his face, tempered by the fear he also felt. “You dare to accuse and judge an Inquisitor of the Holy Inquisition? You dare to attack my place of residence and kill my men? You have overstepped your bounds, Marine. I am guilty of no such crime. Now back off.”

 

“You seem to misunderstand me, Inquisitor. I am not here for discussion, but rather to carry out your sentence. For your crime, you have been condemned to death.” The Chaplain reached to his waist with his left hand and unlimbered a gold and black bolt pistol.

 

Heytmann felt a sense of panic rise within him. At first he had been stunned by the audacity of the Space Marine and bewildered by his statements, but now the full impact of the Chaplain’s words hit him.

 

“You are here to kill me? Why? What reason would you have to do this?” Heytmann’s mind raced, thinking over his recent activity. He had teams in multiple places doing investigations for him, but he could not think of anything that would earn the ire of a Space Marine Chapter. They were looking for heretics and witches, seeking out cults. Why should Space Marines care? Heytmann’s head swam with confusion. Then he thought of his recent expedition to Perax. He had tracked a dangerous heretic’s home of operations to that world, and had sought him out on the surface. The man had already left, and Heytmann found only some of his followers remaining, the heretic’s second in command one of them. The information that Heytmann had extracted from the man was confusing and contradictory, causing only more questions for the inquisitor. He knew that the man had been trying to communicate something about the heretic’s origins, but his mind had been so warp-addled, nothing had made sense. What Heytmann had been able to understand was obviously false, lies spread by the heretic. Now, everything finally clicked. Heytmann looked up to the Chaplain, who was saying a litany and preparing his bolt pistol.

 

“This is about the Dark Angels, isn’t it? I stumbled onto a secret of theirs didn’t I? It’s true isn’t it? The Dark Angels were traitors, some of them, but have kept it a secret all this time.”

 

The Chaplain ignored him, racking a round into the bolt pistol’s chamber and it to Heytmann’s forehead.

 

“Answer me, you bastard! I know it’s true! There were Dark Angels that fell, weren’t there? That’s why you’ve come, that’s why I have to die.” Heytmann’s voice rose to a yell, his tone desperate, “I know your secret. I know what you’ve hid all this time. It’s true isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

 

Interrogator-Chaplain Damion, Master of the Angels of Retribution, High Executioner of the Fist of Judgment looked down at Heytmann. “Yes.”

 

The bolt pistol barked once.