From Dust, onto Dust (A Legends of Angels Story)

[Cryptix]

Darkness.
Darkness was the last thing Mulagar saw, back to back with his brothers. Gavrak, his plasma cannon firing continuously, not caring for the damage done to his bionic arms, the light illuminating the silver skull on his pauldron. Baramel, his beautiful swordsmanship cutting down the invisible foe with every swing, but more arose to take their place. Rototh, psychic energy crackling in his hands as the bio-electricity coursed through his force axe, the feather of his cult prominent on the handle. Loren, his power fist crushing the head of a warp entity like a fly, the pale white of his armor stained with daemon blood. And Mulagar himself, his hand covered in both his own blood and the enemy's. Even now, he could feel the Nostraman blood pulsing within him, pushing him,to move, to run away, but he was so tired. Rototh screamed at him, telling him to stay awake no matter what, but what did he know. In all this carnage, he remembered a saying his best friend had told him long ago.
Don't you know Mulagar? You should care for all creatures, for we all cut from the same cloth. Dust into dust, as Lorgar teaches.
What a fool he had been, to think his brothers above treachery.

 

--- The Emperor Protects ---

 

The Night Lord surveyed the palace, as Imperial Fists patrolled the walls. He sensed a presence behind him, and his hand reached for his bolt pistol. If he listened to one more damned refugee, he swore by the Crusade -
"Calm yourself Mulagar, it is I. What have I done to make a fellow brother so upset?" persuaded the Imperial Herald as he leaned against the railing.
"You know full and well what upsets me Waur, and I am no mood for your mind games." said the legion orphan even as his scowl lightened slightly. Waur, the Imperial Herald in his robe the color of a Nostraman gulray's skin, tossed him a dataslate, which the former Night Raptor caught with ease.
"Ready yourself, Malcador is sending Achron into enemy territory. I expect you to have your oath of moment done and be ready to deploy in 5 hours." The legionnaire departed before Mulagar could respond, a pale ghost among the gold of the sons of Dorn.

 

--- An Empty Mind is the Breeding Ground of Heresy ---

 

The bridge of In Stars Born was spartan, the only lighting coming from the holo-screens on the console's. Ironic, considering this was a IIIrd legion vessel. The other Knight Errants stood attentive, listening to Waur's briefing, but Mulagar let his eyes drift. He still hear Waur of course, but he had already screened the briefing before, as was his duty as sub-commander. His eyes wandered among the new loyalists among them, mainly the Alpha Legion defector and their new Dark Angel Overseer. Both had fought admirably in their first mission, especially considering it was their first time openly combating the traitors. Still, the Night Lord thought that the Son of Caliban, Mariel, was unhinged; he had nearly killed an Imperial Fist that suggested that the Lion might be traitor. On the other hand, Rorze, the defector, seemed like a trickster. All through their last battle he had simply baited the Sons of Horus into ambushes and hallways trapped with mines, so much so that no one but he realized that the Alpha Legionnaire had gotten the most kills out of any of the Agents of the Emperor. Mulagar trusted the other 6 members of their squad more: the Warrior of Iron, the Son Among Thousands, the Child of the Emperor, the Guardian of Death, the Herald of the Imperium, the Moon Wolf.

Little did he know the divide that would come over them.

 

--- The Blood of Martyrs is the Seed of the Imperium ---

 

Mulagar stepped into the bridge of the abandoned ship. Bolter at the ready, he advanced cautiously. The Word Bearers were not above booby-trapping their vessels, and they became only more dangerous as they dabbled with the forces of Chaos. After verifying the hallway was clear, the Night Lord signalled for the rest of Squad Achron to follow. His helmet had the most sensors, so he was the best scouter. They soon reached their target, a cogitator with information vital to the traitor’s cause. Mulagar began the extraction of the data while the rest of the squad fanned out. Baramel, child of the IIIrd, was the first to notice anything was amiss. “Ready yourselves. Movement in the vents.” The Astartes immediately turned their targeters to the port holes. After a moment of silence, Waur relaxed slightly and turned towards the legionnaire. “Jumping at shadows now are we?”

Those were his last words before the vent above him opened, and something very red and very violent cut off his head. The being was once an Astartes - that much they could tell from the warped power armor and its extraordinary height. As the creature approached, Mulagar realized only one type of being was this perverse: the Gal Vorbak of the Word Bearers, which meant only one thing.

This was a trap, and they'd fallen right for it. Baramel eliminated it with the help of Rototh’s enfeebling magiks. He wiped the blood of his sabres, his way of showing his nervousness. None of the marines felt fear, but they were shaken by the loss of the mission commander, and the Astartes all instinctively knew there was only way the traitors could know of the movement of the Knight Errants - a spy in their midst. However, they had not the time to worry about that now. The Gal Vorbak had heard the expiry of their comrade, and Mulagar could here their cries of bloodlust from  while away. They would need to move to survive, and the Night Lord was squad-commander with the death of Waur. Before he could speak however, the Son of Caliban spoke. “Our mission remains unchanged - we are still to deliver this intelligence to Terra. The traitors have blocked our way in, so we must circle around to the breach. Follow me, quickly.” And with that, the sable-armoured legionnaire sprinted off, and one by one the remaining survivors

followed him.

 

--- An Open Mind is a Fortress Left Unbarred ---

 

zGavrak, the Iron Warrior, fell yet another of the foul possessed warriors with a flash of plasma. His bionic eye scanned the hallway before lowering his weapon with jerking ratchets. The other members of the squad were in various states of disarray. Baramel had has lost one of his swords with his hand, and sheltered it now even as the wound closed. Rototh suffered from crippling headaches as he recovered from his brief warp surge a few minutes earlier. They had lost the Luna Wolf, Antioch, and the Alpha Legionnaire to a daemonic incursion from behind. Mulagar still hadn’t been able to contact the waiting strike cruiser, and it was to depart in 3 hours with or without them. Soon however, it would be over - the breach lay naught but two rooms over, easily reachable. Mariel, still proudly defiant, limped toward unceasingly, using his deactivated power sword as a crutch. The Dark Angel palmed the door control, but nothing happened. After another two attempts, he simply attempted to cut through the door, and worked slowly. When only a quarter through, a voice emerged from the darkness. “Ever the brute Mariel, still thinking you’re in the Terminator elite.” The bearer of the voice stepped from the shadows, revealing himself to be the once-deceased Rorze. “It’s truly a shame Waur had to die, he was such a help by summoning the Gal Vorbak. I certainly cannot control them, but I don't need to now that you're stuck here.” With that, he pulled from his armor a simple beacon, but something was grotesquely wrong with it. An eye grew where a transponder should have been located, and it was covered in pulsing veins. The Alpha Legionnaire popped the eye, and a ferocious scream erupted from the very air around them. The loyalists dropped to their knees in attempting to resist the song, but its secondary effect was soon apparent as the Gal Vorbak erupted from the doors in tides, surrounding the Knight Errants. Mariel scrambled for his sword, but Mulagar stopped his hand. “We’ll hold them off. Open the door.” Staring before solemnly nodding, the Dark Angel turned his efforts back to his breach, as the loyalist Astartes took their last stand.

 

--- If a Man Dies That Another May Live, That Man's Spirit Shall Eat at the Emperor's Table ---

 

“Oh darkness”, thought Mulagar. “Why do you torture me so.” The Night Lord made his decision there. He grabbed Rototh’s hand with his bloody fingers, and held his bolter in his other hand. He sprayed and prayed, and took down another Gal Vorbak just when he heard the sound of metal clanging. Mariel didn’t even think to warn them, taking off to the Thunderhawk. At the proximity to the pilot’s armor, the craft’s engines booted up, and the others were left to run. The first to fall was Gavrak, with his damaged legs. Then Rototh, too weak mentally to keep going, fell as well. One by one they all fell except Mulagar, and he almost fell onto the Thunderhawk’s ramp. Mariel took off, and Mulagar could finally rest. The Night Lord laughed the laugh of a dying man saved, as he muttered one phrase incessantly while he sent the damned data.

“Dust unto dust until we’ve all fallen into the dusk.”

[Grand Master Belial]

Great start there. Looking forward to more.