Disclaimer: I have no legal claim to any official warhammer content I only have a claim on OC characters and homebrew warbands, organizations and armies.
Sounds of bolter-fire echoed throughout the Ebon Crucible, accompanied by the buzzing of chainweaponry and the laughter of the Daemonic neverborn. Storms of boiling blood fell into reality, driving all they fell upon into a crimson frenzy, turning brother against brother as the remaining Sons of Horus butchered each other in a fanatical madness, all throughout the xenos world ship.
These storms had always occurred when the Crucible entered the warp, at least for as long as the last of the Sons had called the hulking ruin home, and would no doubt continue when their bones joined those of the Eldar that once called it their home.
Thallos removed the blades of his lightening claw from an astartes that had tried to kill him moments prior. The disemboweled corpse crumpled to the floor in a bloody heap as the warrior's blood pooled over the wraithbone floor, soon falling off the high archway the two warriors had fought upon, down onto the streets below. Thallos moved past the destroyed corpse, his black warplate was bathed in the crimson rain as he entered one of the connecting spires. The red haze that accompanied the storm was already affecting him, his vision became a maddening scene of ghostly images and smiling, cackling shadows. It took all of the mental discipline he maintained to not sink beneath this haze of bloodlust.
"There are no gods. There are no gods." He repeated the mantra as he attempted to gain some semblance of sense for his surroundings, not that it ever had any significant effect. It was not until he heard a growl from below did he stop. Was it a neverborn or one of his kin lost to the madness of the murder-haze? It did not matter. The haze was creeping back into the warrior now, his breathing accelerating, a monstrous snarl through vox-grill of his helm.
He looked to his combi-bolter, an old thing he had wielded since before the massacre of Istvaan, it had changed considerably from its time in this cursed place. Its barrels were now twisted things, resembling the open maws of spiteful daemons, its spine was now a jagged row of spikes. The lust for battle was becoming unbearable, his vision dimmed, his self-control was slowly falling apart. He focussed everything on his claw, as it activated on instinct, before smashing it into the adjacent wall, trying to gain the attention of whatever beast lurked below.
Thallos was not disappointed, as something began moving up the spiral stairs, not aware of the combi-bolter aiming at it. He fired when he saw the eyeless monstrosity suddenly rush up the staircase. It held the size and bulk of a legionnaire but that was the only similarity remaining between the two warriors now. It held protrusions of needle-like spikes across its back all the way to the top of its head, its face was nothing but a maw of jagged teeth, massive, taloned limbs completing this mutated creature.
It was hunched on all fours, as it moved like some inhuman animal, lunging at Thallos with surprising speed. The bolt rounds hit the creature mid-flight, blasting off one of its lower legs in a shower of blackened blood. It was not enough though, the beast was upon the astartes, just as he moved his claw to brace against the attacker. One of its claws dug into the weak point in the neck-joint of his armour, while the other tried to tear off one of his pauldrons. The armour's systems tried to compensate, alert-klaxons sounded, blood pooled in Thallos' mouth, his attacker tried to dig deeper into his tearing flesh.
Thallos swiped at the things chest with his claw, searing and cooking incorporeal flesh. The daemon screeched, as pieces of its chest-plate opened, revealing massive, white eyes. He put all his strength into his arm, guiding the claws upwards, towards the creature's head, dropping his combi-bolter, gripping the wrist of the creature, trying to dislodge the spear-like finger in his neck at the same time. He managed to get a few inches out before the daemonic thing opened its maw and closed in on his head.
Thallos realizing what was about to happen let go of the daemon's wrist and used the now free hand to deliver a solid punch to the side of the possessed's head, his ceramite-clad fist throwing it back. It fell to the floor, scrambling to recover its bearings, but Thallos was already on top of it, crushing its skull under his massive boot. Combat stims pumped through the Terminator's system as he stepped away from the beast, whose body still twitched with unnatural life. Blood trickled out of the wound on his neck as he went to retrieve his combi-bolter. Wordlessly he picked it up before delivering another two shots into the prior Son's chest plate.
How many were left now? The craftworld drifted in the warp for days now and noone knew when it would return to realspace. The storms of course had persisted for just as long, drowning the streets, flooding some sections completely, while daemons walked openly, slaughtering each other along with any other they could find. This place was nightmare made flesh, a lost city of madness that could have only been envisioned in the fever dreams of the damned and the desperate.
The terminator lumbered down the spiral steps, his very movement causing the ground around him to shake the sound of moving armour-joints swallowing the sound of the blood-rain outside. The room below was tinted green through his optics, as shadows danced at the edge of his vision making him ready his weapons in case one decided to jump out. The room around him was a ruin of debris that might once have been furniture, with the bones of the original owner scattered about by the entryway. There was one way out of the room which lead to the open street. Under normal circumstances it would have been madness to be out there, terminator plate or not. However, given that all his remaining brothers were no doubt slaughtering each other in this frenzy, he doubted there was anyone who had the discipline of a sniper at the moment.
He walked out into the open, crushing the rotten bones near the entry way. The streets were flooding with blood as even more cascaded down from the maddening skies. As he descended onto the street rippling waves rolled away from him before dissipating back into the red sea. The tide reached halfway up his legs, forcing him to slosh through the liquid. He felt his mind giving in to the malign rage that the rain brought, the pool of madness, beginning to drown him.
There was no particular direction he was going since there were no accessible places for him to wait out the storm. No, this was simply a hunt now; a hunt for his brothers who in turn hunted him. He doubted there were many left now, the screams of battle were dying down to near nonexistence. Through the haze of crimson rain he saw a figure moving towards him. Its blood-splattered armor sported remnants of storm green and gold as it came closer, loosely holding a combat knife in its grip. It took Thallos a moment to realize its other hand was missing and one of its legs was so torn that, even with the abilities of an astartes, he should not have been able to move without difficulty. He recognized the figure even as he aimed his combi-bolter; it was one of his own men.
"Till the storm's end Silus." His voice betrayed nothing; no bitterness, no fury, like he was stating a commonly known fact. Silus looked up straight at Thallos, red eye lenses focussing as he quickened his pace, coming toward the Terminator, knife raised in a reverse grip. Thallos fired. One bolt-round hit Silus' hand, blasting it apart while another two were aimed at his eye lenses the impact turning his head into bloody pulp, bone fragments and red mist. Silus's body fell back into the river becoming nearly submerged as it started to slowly sink beneath the growing tide of gore.
The terminator checked his ammo; he had three shots left. He would have to discard the weapon soon as to avoid carrying around its dead weight. Thallos had a feeling the weapon didn't seem to like the idea of being abandoned. He pushed the thought aside and kept moving; he could resist the effects of the haze again for a time, but eventually he would need to find shelter before his bloodlust overpowered him. He could not allow that to happen. The haze agitated its victims, made them little more than animals, looking for a kill; which lead to making mistakes, lethal mistakes.
No, Thallos was a legionary of the sixteenth, a brother of the Justaerin! He would not allow himself to die in this damnable hell! He kept moving, allowing instinct to guide his steps through the torrent of blood, his clawed hand twitched in annoyance at the lack foes. He wanted to fight, to murder, to scream at the very heavens and gods that drove his legion to ruin!
He trudged on through the sea of blood until a mad screech made him look up into the madness of the warp filled skies. Two winged daemons flew around the bone-like spires of the craftworld, darting toward him on black leathery wings. The Terminator aimed his bolter at the flying abominations, restraining himself from firing. His head ached as he watched the flying neverborn come closer, the inhuman faces laughing and growling. The Daemons grew ever nearer, their elongated maws snapping, terrifying claws ready to tear into him, to claim his soul.
Thallos fired. One singular shot rang out, blasting apart the left wing of the closest creature, causing it to pummel toward the flooded street resulting in an impact that sent blood, gore and wraithbone flying in all directions. He tried to release his last two bolt-shells but the gun refused to fire, both triggers refusing to move.
"Shoot. Shoot damn you!" The weapon refused to fire. Thallos tried to retract his hand, to strike with his claw, but it just would not move, as if something was holding it in place. He managed to wretch it back with effort at the last moment, but it was too late. The Daemon landed on him with enough force to push him down into the river; blood poured in through the gap in his armor, causing blood to rush into his suit. He swiped his claw up, slicing off an elongated arm about to skewer him with its talons. The fury roared in pain, its massive jaws opening in an inhuman screech that made blood leak from Thallos's ears. The fury sent its other claw down, piercing ceramite, into his shoulder, forcing his arm down, dropping the combi-bolter into the river of blood.
He reacted quickly, sending his claw into the chest of the Daemon before shoving it off with a grunt. The claw shredded flesh and hide with little effort as the Daemon was sent back into non-existence. He pulled himself up as the joints and servos in his arm jolted and sparked from the damage. Blood sloughed and dripped off his armor and the wound in his arm leaving his black armor in a moving layer of crimson red. The wound had caused some impairment but any loss it suffered seemed to be negligible and his transhuman physiology would see it fully healed soon.
Thallos' combi-bolter was nearly submerged when he retrieved it. He went to continue onwards but then he realized something. The rain had ceased, there was only the sound of the gurgling tide as the red river-ways that were the streets of the craftworld continued to flow. The rage was gone now. With his mind no longer drowning and he knew what had changed.
There was only one other Son of Horus still alive on the crucible there was no doubt of this. The storms had only ever stopped when only two legionaries remained and Thallos knew where to find him. He marched on through the city streets, passing by the dead remains of his brothers, yet paying them little mind as many sunk beneath the river. He eventually came to a massive plaza which connected many of the city streets, at its center stood an elevated platform that was a circular patch of bone white against the crimson sea.
Standing at the far edge of the circle stood a warrior whose armor and flesh had become one and the same. What was once his helm was now elongated to a shape resembling that of a great wolf with two massive horns protruding on his brow, above eyeless, empty flesh before curving back. His armor was black with areas that were once bronze now covered in something that moved like liquid flame that flew from his armor in small jets of azure fire. Another symptom of their presence on the ancient craftworld that had touched many warriors; Even Thallos' mighty amour had begun to fall prey to the cyanic fire.
Only one section of the warrior's armor remained untouched in the green and gold of his legion's heraldry. His right pauldron still bore the colors of the sixteenth, with the brass eye of Horus worked into it. He had one weapon on him, a flint blade that radiated with the warp's power, though it was only a fragment of its former strength the blade was no less deadly and should not be underestimated.
Thallos hated the blade as did many in the legion and for good reason; it had as much blame for their damnation as Erebus and his ilk. The possessed astartes stared at Thallos, the skin of his lips shifting into a wolfish grin showing a maw of too many teeth. Acidic drool dripped onto the platform.
"Come Thallos! Let us slaughter each other once again!"
"I should have known you would bring that thing with you. If only our father could see you now Mattaeus." Mattaeus growled as something in the likeness of a scowl spread on his face.
"Many would say the same to you Stormbreaker; if only he could see how you massacre your own kin so easily." Thallos activated his lightening claw.
"Lets us see this madness done." Mattaeus lunged forward, forcing Thallos into the defensive as he tried to avoid the daemonic blade. This continued till Mattaeus overextended his reach, leaving an opening in his guard, allowing Thallos to swipe his claw across his chest, forcing sparks, blood, and ichor to spill from his foe. The possessed thrust his blade back, piercing through the edges of Thallos's helm, biting into the flesh of his cheek before moving out of range. Thallos's vision swam as a white hot burst of agony flooded his senses, nearly sending him to his knees. He recovered his wits just in time to spot another strike from his remaining eye lens as his combi-bolter fired its last two shots into the torso of the possessed; he didn't remember pulling the trigger.
He removed his helm and tossed its ruined remains aside with his combi bolter before looking to his opponent. Mattaeus' flesh was torn and ruined, the bolt-shells had blown apart the flesh of his right shoulder, but Thallos knew it would take more to kill him; Mattaeus had a talent for not dying. Thallos went on the offensive this time with his claw moving for a disembowelling swing to finish him off. Mattaeus brought up his blade, trying to parry, its daemonic material beginning to tear through the blades of Thallos's lightening claw.
"They laugh at us you know. Even now we are their playthings."
"If you hate the laughter of daemons so much you shouldn't have let one worm its way into your flesh." Thallos replied before using his free hand to grab Mattaeus's combat knife which hung at the possessed's waist before the possessed disengaged as to begin his own counterattack.
Thallos, for all his experience, tried to avoid the blade or at least deflect it with knife and claw but his terminator bulk made any attempt at dodging laughable at best compared to the unnatural agility of the possessed. At last the blade moved past Thallos's guard, swinging down toward the armour of his shoulder and would have no doubt bitten into his flesh, allowing the blades poison to end his life. But instead of that happening the blade hovered above him much to the fury of his opponent.
"Gaaaahhh! You damnable blade you dare..." Mattaeus never finished his tirade as Thallos used the opening created by the daemon-blade's betrayal, sending his lightening claw back into the ruin of Mattaeus's chest while his other hand buried his combat knife into the possesed's skull.
Blood and black ichor bled from his wounds as his hearts were torn apart the astarte's body twitched and tensed before finally giving out, the infernal blade clattering to the floor when Thallos removed his claw, allowing Mattaeus to fall into the red sea surrounding the platform.
As Thallos stared at the drowning body of his brother the Craftworld shook and buckled while the howling cries of neverborn told of their anguish. As the Craftworld transitioned back into material space Thallos eyed the daemon blade that lay on the platform with disgust, wanting nothing more than to toss it into the void. But he did not act on that impulse; instead he strode back into the flooded streets, towards the body of one of his brothers that had not been submerged in the blood. When he reached the corpse he grabbed it without a word and tossed it into the streets and letting it go under.
Sections of bloodied water had begun to bubble and steam and within days the rivers of blood would completely dissipate from the streets. As Thallos went on to the next corpse he ignored the bubbling waters, as they continued to boil until finally, one by one, giants in gore drenched armour rose from the depths of the crimson tide. The Sons of Horus had been nearly annihilated in the storm but had survived to return to the galaxy at large; and when the last of the dead had risen they would make their presence known.
Authors note
Well to be honest I never thought I would get back to writing fanfiction. Bit when the idea of writing a story of my homebrew warband the Lupio Nocti from their origin to possibly current day 40k I figured why not though i am a bit out of practice. However as much as I enjoy writing I still have to deal with high school and life so if this does not gain much traction i will put this story on the back burner and not work on it as often. none the less i hope you enjoy this story.