The Masks Of The Emperor - Short Story

[nurglethings]

As he sliced the throat of yet another innocent, he looked around him. The grand circular room was mostly dark and murky. Weak lights small, dancing shadows of the cultists skulking around. The floor was covered with dirt, grime and corpses, both fresh and old. He took a deep breath but instantly regretted it, for all there was to smell in the sewers of the Hive was the mould and humidity mixed with rotten bodies and the stench of spilt blood. As he heard the blood from the freshly cut throat drip from the altar away into the tri-lobed puddles at the centre ritual site. He sheathed his ritual blade back in its damp leather scabbard. Turned to mount the pulpit whilst muttering his prayer in a tongue that stabs the mind. He took up his grimoire, the cover of old skin and daemon bones crunched under his fingers, and strode to the front of the altar to speak out loud: “The preparations are done”.

 

First there was a clicking on the vox, some buzzing and then clear words. “Brother Balk, do you copy?”

“Vox message received sergeant, what’s the problem?”

“No problem,” the sergeant replied, “but I have found a way to the cult’s location, I will send them to you and the others, see me at the location.”

“Yes sergeant” and then the vox fell silent once more.

 

When they arrived at the location, snow was still falling from the sky, but not as intense as before, which made a sharp contrast to the tall grey buildings of the Hive city and the polluted sky. The sergeant sat crouched in one of the dark alley’s next to some mangled corpses. His dark crimson armour and black shoulders and helmet blending into the shadows. His once white lower legs and gauntlets now redded with traitor blood, just like the snow, which was reflected by his chain loincloth and metal faceplate. Whilst he slowly got up he touched the flintlock pistol, an artifact of their home world, gently with his fingertips. He pulled his chainsword out of one of the cultist’s back and spoke to them all. “The cult’s hideout is located underneath our feet in these sewers. Filandril’s  orders are clear: get down there, find the centre, kill them, and put a stop to whatever they are doing down there. He pulled up the sewer cover and went down first.

 

The hole was just big enough for a regular marine to pass through, should they have been primaris space marine’s, an alternative route would be needed. The sewers were dark and damp. Many a sound could be heard: the dripping of water, the chittering of rat’s and helpless cries of those vermin who got caught by the many predators from below. Slowly but purposeful they passed through the sewers, killing cultist and the occasional sewer horror with blade and fist. The sergeant and Zurn, the combat specialist, walked on the right side with on the opposite side Sum, the demolition expert, and Kun with his trusty heavy bolter and in between, knee deep in wastewater, Balk combat blade raised, and bolt pistol drawn.

 

After hours of navigating through the labyrinth of tunnels and venturing deeper into the sewers, cultist were getting more and more of a common sight, they were getting close. At last, when five guards were taken out while guarding a doorway, they were on the spot.

 

The floors were littered with maggot holding corpses and the bones of the unfortunate. Thick black bubbles were coming up from the tri-lobed blood pool at the centre, splashing open as they got to big. Around fifty cultists were gathered there. All chanting and looking up to the alter with 777 candles which flickered in the wind. A figure clad in pallid robes and armed with a grimoire which reeked of heretical text’s in his hand stood in a makeshift pulpit and spoke to them all. “Brothers and sisters, The preparations are done. Today is the day. For today we will come out of the shadow and face the hated Aquila with the means they would never expect. We have drawn our grandfathe…”

The sergeant stopped listening to the cult leader and spoke to the squad: “Alright I don’t want to listen to that guy anymore so we’re going to hit him and his nice little cult. Sum, take balk as back up and position yourself behind some of the pillars on the right whilst they’re busy. Kun and Zurn, go to the other side and wait for my signal. I’m going to make my intro.” He said while taking up a smoke grenade.

 

“My brother’s and sister’s, rejoice for today Grandfather Nurgle shall bring peace to our troubled life. Long have we’ve been sacrificing the unbelievers, slit their throats and placed their rotting corpse’s here for the maggot’s of Nurgle’s great flies to grow here. These festering corpses now emit only a smell which is nothi…” A loud bang caused him to stop talking and look at the entrance of the chamber.  Thick white smoke was trailing up to the ceiling. The sound of a chainsword revving to life could be heard while the sergeant strode into the room. The cultist’s, first nailed to the ground in disbelief, recovered quickly and took up arms. While the summoner yelled in a panic: “Go get him, he must not disturb our ritual!” With the cultists racing to the sergeant, eager to stop him, ritual blades raised. He raised his chainsword high in response and, echoing through the room, his war cry could be heard: “FOR FREEDOM.” The other members of the Kill team came out of the shadows, cutting down any cultists they saw with rounds of their bolters in a deadly cross-fire. Shredding the cultist whilst the bolts detonated inside their corrupted body’s or impacting in the wall’s whit a cloud of dust.  Each one of them was keeping track of the kill’s they made as some sort of sport in the squad. But the amount of cultists was overwhelming. For each one they slayed another one took its place, pouring from other gateway’s to the chamber like moth’s to a flame while the summoner started his unholy chant. So great the tide of fanatics was that Sum was dragged down beneath a wave of howling madmen. But before any of them could reach him to offer help an explosion took place that saw friend and foe alike sprawling through the air and caused dust and pamphlets to rise and fall together with black blood. Only Kun, who was giving supporting fire with his heavy bolter was still standing thanks to the pillars in the room who stood damaged but defiant. Dust was still flying around the room when as everybody else got on their feet. The first thing the squad heard through the vox was Kun cursing before starting to laugh hysterical, restart shooting and shouting: “We’ve got company!” The sergeant looked aside whilst impaling yet another cultist to see blob after blob of nurglings coming out of the portal just to be shredded to pieces by hails of heavy bolter fire or blown into fountains of gore due to detonating rounds. “We must be quick”, the sergeant thought, “before …” But then an agonising shriek could be heard from the pool before a blood drenched slug like creature crawled up from the portal. It’s eyes a dull white and creamy skin, with slimy tentacles on his head. Whilst the fanatic’s sheered in unison and redoubled their efforts, Kun finished of the last nurglings before directing his fire to the beast. Only to see one bullet fly and hear a sad *click* noise which made him curse so loud that even the Emperor, shield and protector of the imperium, must have heard it. The beast, interested at where the object that hit him came from, raced at him at terrifying speed whilst crushing anybody in its way. “You 2”, the sergeant spoke, “go help Kun or he will be crushed by the beast. And while turning he grasped his gore smeared chainsword tight and said: “I will take care of him.”

 

Yet it was easier said than done. For, since the beast was taking care of the three marines the cultists could focus on the sergeant. Many died from the chainsword that was swinging around violently, some got knocked back and chocked in their own blood. But it wasn’t enough. For from the puddles a booming laughter could be heard and fat fingers rose up from the portal. Desperately grasping for a hold in reality. The cultists were thrown into a frenzy, overwhelming the sergeant while trying to stab him with their rusted knives in his armour. At the same time Zurn and Balk were thrown against the wall, the outlines of their armour crushed in the wall, while Kun was grabbed by the beast his tentacles and held high. His armour now rapidly corroding due to the slime and pus of the beast. The demon playfully licked his new friend’s face while suddenly, the squad vox clicked on. And while Kun clicked his chainsaw knife on their battle cry could be heard: “FOR FREEDOM.” Before the sound of bone and muscles shredding to pieces could be heard and blood sprayed along the knife while it ploughed in the beast his skull.

No, the sergeant thought, His death will not be in vain, I will not let anyone else die on this mission. We must prevail. He punched his arm through the chest of one of the fanatics that was assaulting him and with the corpse he gave himself some space. He pulled the flintlock pistol from his belt, clicked it ready and took aim. “Emperor be with me, he muttered. He shot. A blinding white flash went across the room. It hit the summoner’s grimoire, which exploded in a shower of pus and sent him knocked back against the wall. An angry roar could be heard from the portal while the fingers retreated. The blood spat out of the puddles which, when in contact with the heretics, caused them to turn into piles of liquid thick goo. The space marines, who got once more knocked back from the disruption of the ritual, got back on their feet while bleeding from dozens of wounds. The sergeant slowly got up and stumbled to the other marines. All were covered in heretic blood and sewer filth. Their gauntlets almost the same crimson as their armour. They nodded in silence at the sergeant before walking him to Kun.

 

On the floor, next to the body of the great beast which was dematerlising into ashes , Kun lied down silently. His armour still corroding and with many big hole’s which let his blood flow freely.

“Forgive me brother,” He said with a rasping breath, “for I failed you and our squad, I failed the Emperor.”

“No, you did what you could” the Sergeant said.” “You have slain the great beast and saved all the civilians above, there was nothing more you could do.”

Kun grasped the sergeant’s hand tighter. “Thank you, brother. For when my soul now leaves my body, my skin shall feel the air and warmth again and I shall join our fallen brethren on our last ship to the realm of peace. Please take my helmet and place it in the great hall of warriors on the Emperor’s Fury.”

“I will,” he replied, “I will.”

“Thank you,” Kun whispered before he blew out his last breath and his muscles went numb. He was dead. A sizzling sound could be heard while black smoke rose up from Kun’s armour. “His curse has ended, just as his life” the sergeant said. He put Kun’s arm on the ground and removed his helmet. His head was partly burned due to the toxics from the beast that had burned through his armour. His face was pallid, one whom had never touched sunlight. His eyes were closed but on his lips a smile could be seen.

 

As the summoner slowly opened his eyes and tried to move, a shock of pain went through his body which caused him to throw up on the floor. With the sour taste and the stench in his nose he tried to remember what had happened. He could recall a white flash which shattered the grimoire and threw him against the wall into the dirt and grime. He tried to move pain flashed through his body again. The ritual had failed, he failed his god, his mission had failed. He could hear the stomping of armoured boots and saw a figure come at him. An angel covered in gore and broken body bits, his armour black, crimson, and white and with a chainmail which clanged with every step. On his back a chainsword was at rest. He crouched next to the cultist and looked him in the eyes.

 

“Well, well well, looks like your fancy ritual failed” said the sergeant while making a gesture to the room. “Sad for you, good for us.” “:cuss: you,” the cultist yelled, “my god shall curse you and your brethren, Gra…” The sergeant grasped the throat of the summoner which caused him to silence and lifted him up. “You know nothing of curses,” the sergeant gritted through his teeth, “so be silent.” “Who are you?” the summoner asked through a ragged breath, fear visible in his eyes. “We,” the sergeant made a gesture to the other two marines, “are the Masks of the Emperor, the ever cursed. And I am your end.” He snapped the neck of tthe neck of the cultist and discarded the body back into the filth.

 

By Nurglethings

Comments and feedback are alway's welcome