Turok: Flames of War
Oblivion gnawed on his own flesh, festering within the Netherscape as he searches for a way out. Nearly obliterated out of existence by the light burden, spurred on by the birth of the universe, Oblivon felt weak, small and vulnerable. But here in the Netherscape none would touch him. But neither could he leave. The incomprehensible world that is the Lost Land, a world out of time, out of reality, out of everything that binds the omniverse together it was his one way out and he could not reach it. But maybe… there is another solution.
Oblivion peered through multiple time, multiple worlds and realities, hoping to find the opportunity in which he would unleash his seed. His growing legacy that he nurtured throughout his years feasting on worlds and on the bodies of unsuspecting mortals had survived the destruction, could be used to indirectly slip through the Netherscape, enter the Lost Lands and destroy the barriers that separate the world.
Time and time again the barriers weak, more matter and sentient beings from other worlds, other realities are pulled into the Lost Lands. But the barriers always remain strong every half a century. Why was this? What would hold the inevitable of unleashing Oblivion upon the universe and beyond? He would find out soon.
Somewhere, forty thousand years from now in an alternate dimension, there is a rift, powerful rifts he had never felt, were tearing through reality in collusion with the tear in the lost land. Powerful beings of an era dark, darker than he can ever imagine. A universe where he would had felt right at home. A universe where he would freely feed. But now was not the time, he must be free.
Then there, a small hole in the Netherscape, fit enough for his spawn to jump through, leading to an unsuspecting vessel! The many tones of Oblivion echoed throughout the Netherscape as he pulls his Spawn from his persona.
"GOOOOOOOOOO MYYYYYYYYYYY SPAAAAAAAWN! FEEEEEEEEEED ON THE FLESH OF THE MORTALS! LET NONE SSSSSSSSSSSTAND IN YOUR WAY OF FREEING YOUR MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMASTR! THE BARRIER… MUST FALLLLLLLLLLL….. CHAOS MUST REIGN…. IT IS… INEVITABLE….. AND YOU WILL SEE TO IT….. GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…"
The parasitic looking creature, the spawn of Oblivion, did not respond but acted according to its parent's will. It leaped form the palm of its creator's disembodied shaped hand and darted towards the small tear. Oblivion would had never fit even if he tried. Neither would he break through such a tear, for the Netherscape is not so easily penetrable.
Yet Oblivion would always find a way. And he did.
Inquisitor Arcturus Jonathan Fireseed of the Ordo Malleus, prided himself greatly for the elimination of daemons. Each time he is called upon to purge the invading armies that spawned form the warp he gladly carry them out swiftly and without mercy. The same couldn't be said for his less than favorable views of the Xenos. Arcturus was always considered the odd one, for he grew up mainly around the traditions that his family had set for him instead of the traditions the inquisition set. He'd dwell on the teachings his father passed down from his father and his father and so on, since the day before the rise of the Emperor himself. The Fireseed family was one of the very few oldest families known throughout all of Holy Terra who hold books and lore of the old times. Although rumored, they have been known practitioners of the Imperial Truth. They remembered the Horus Heresy, the Age of Strife, and much more. They told of great evils greater than that of Chaos, both mortal and immortal. They told of a place where every race in the galaxy is a part of the natural order, an argument that the Ecclesiarch would not agree with. They told of faith that can exist without a means of religion, but spirituality runs deep in the Fireseed family as they constantly seek guidance from their ancestors… ancestors that can commune directly with them. The Fireseed kept most of their knowledge to themselves, for fear of being prosecuted and executed by the inquisition.
The Fireseed family had remained unnoticed from the predatory eyes in the galaxy for many years. This was all thanks to the power of the Emperor, who saw the importance of the family and the future that would bestow upon them a decade before the Horus Heresy. Why the God Emperor never mentioned it was beyond the capabilities that Arcturus' simple mortal mind can comprehend.
But Arcturus felt pride in that as well, for he had received visions of himself, rising atop above his brothers even through his faults and his tolerance. He would slay the daemons wherever he treads and he would ascend to stand by the Emperor's side with his golden hand reaching over. But the vision was as blurred and clouded with confusion and he was thrust on an uncertain path with an uncertain future.
Arcturus realized that when he was transferred to the Emperor Class Battleship, The Unviolated. An odd name but it stuck like that for a very good reason. It faced against impossible odds during the Horus Heresy and it had emerged from the carnage victorious in defense of a small colony at the fringe of the west. It was a glorious vessel. So why, for its reputation and its worth, would the ship be assigned to traverse away from the battles that plagued the Imperial worlds to a quiet subsector where the only things that existed were barren worlds? There was no sign of Chaos here or… Xenos for that matter. The Inquisition must have had something in mind to put a well reputable battleship into scouting duty. .
Malacar of the Ordo Hereticus, was also here, leading the crew and the Grey Knights through this mission. It was unusual though to see that the Grey Knights were following under his command, even though Malacar specifically called for him to accompany him and to call upon Arcturus' Grey Knights. Chaos and heretics were nowhere to be seen. So what was this mission about?
"Malacar… I do not understand why the Inquisition is sending us on this mission," he finally starts. The young inquisitor flinched when the man before him turned to face him. It was a very familiar look, one which many inquisitors give when they feel the need to kill a man marked as a heretic. The witch hunter didn't even turn his head. The way his eyes reached back as far as it could to glance at Arcturus made him shudder. Could it be that his questionable nature caught up to him? Did they see him as a heretic who would destroy the foundation of the Empire for giving simple mercy to Xenos? Or for valuing his family's traditions over that of the inquisition or that he practiced the Imperial Truth? Whatever the case may be, it left a bit feeling in the pit of his bowels.
"Malacar I implore you to expunge information, from one fellow inquisitor to another. I feel as though my men and I are not required to plunge into the empty sectors of this galaxy when we could be needed elsewhere. Tell me these reasons Malacar."
He did nothing but continue staring at the daemon hunter. It felt like an eternity of him staring at the young inquisitor. But soon he finally spoke.
"Arcturus, how much do you know about… your family? The Imperial truth? Your teachings?" Malacar asked.
Arcturus' heart skipped a beat for about five seconds. Those seconds pained him as though he was suffocating. To ask such specific questions, the Imperial Truth for that matter, placed him on the edge. He was at that moment where he would be spared under unique circumstances… but strictly punished for it… or be executed and shamed even after his death. He had to tread lightly.
"W-why would you ask me? I mean… my family I can… answer b-but… Malacar, I fear as though these other questions… I… don't rightly follow." Arcturus replied.
"Are you sure?"
Malacar placed heavy emphasis on that question. Arcturus could do nothing except curl his lips back in, suck on the cut at the bottom of his lip, evidence that he had survived a Bloodletter attack. The cut pained him more now than back then; this time it was Malacar who engaged.
"Arcturus we've recently discovered information about you that would have had every single individual in the Imperium hunting for your head. You've been branded as being a staunch follower of Chaos even," he paused for a minute. "But if it wasn't for the Emperor who gifted me visions of a cataclysm that would tear the very fabric of our galaxy apart… well I would have killed you the minute you would have stepped onto this ship."
So what stopped him then? Granted Arcturus felt relieved at the end when the God Emperor intervened but his nerves still shook with dread. Was it that there was doubt in his voice? Better question, why were they out here? He never answered that first question.
"What of our mission? Why are we here?"
Malacar did not give any amount of warning for the inquisitor. He boldly and clearly put into words; "To ensure the rest of the inquisition and the Imperium do not find you. Your family is dead Arcturus. All of them. Thousands put to the sword for their transgression against the Empire. Even if word that the Emperor had you spared, the Inquisition would had undoubtable execute you regardless. You were all found as heretics. I had to convince the company of Grey Knights that served you to fall back on the order to shoot you so we could pick you up. This sector is the only place they will never think to look."
Arcturus felt pain… a pain greater than any physical wound he had received in his crusade against the forces of Chaos. His heart burned with great distress, as though it would burst from his chest. His stomach churned and swelled, making him weak to the knees with the sensation to hurl. It was difficult to think that his entire family was killed. Brother Himothak, his companion in arms, his wife Errah and their unborn child, his mother and father Tal'Sul and Kyenah, his baby sister Yonnathai… all gone. Even his thousands of cousins across Terra were put down. How did the inquisition come upon them? What did they know? How did they find out?
Despite his grief, Arcturus did not shed any tears. There were none to shed at this point. Too much pain, too little sleep and years of fighting and death made him norm to the events. But to think his entire family was cut down indiscriminately left an aching hole in his chest and an uncertain future ahead of him. No more would the tradition of their family would pass down to the new generation. No more would they write tales and teachings of their spirituality, of their belief and of their practices. Was this the end of the Fireseed bloodline?
"So I am in hiding? Is that it?" he said.
Malacar stared at him, not saying a word as he slowly turned back to face the viewpoint of the bridge.
"In a matter of speaking. I also came here because of another reason," said Malacar. The inquisitor stared out into the darkness of space, planning and plotting his next move carefully. He took a deep breath and exhales. "The Thousand Sons of the Corvidae Cult are operating in this area. I am unsure what their plans are, but they are too close to one of our Hive Worlds nesting at the edge of the sector. I don't like this at all… these damned heretics have a Lord of Change with them," said Malacar as he stared out into space.
"Are you sure there's a lord of change with them? What makes you certain?"
"Because it was the last report my informant made before he wound up with his head in a box at my doorstep. How in the blazes they found me I have no idea. And I am also concerned as to what they have planned with a Lord of Change leading the ranks."
Arcturus said nothing, still distracted by the news of his family's death. The mission nearly fell on death ears but hearing that a Lord of Change was among the Thousand Sons was troubling. The fact that they were aware of their interest made the situation just as troubling. Few who faced a Lord of Change rarely survived. Even for an expert daemon hunter like Arcturus, he would stand no chance against one such as those beings.
"We will be at our destination in due time. Meanwhile, I want you to check up on reserves, make sure we have everyone and everything accounted for."
Arcturus would only nod and stroll away. Distractions plagued his mind, distractions that would normally plague him in the hour of battle. Why wouldn't he though, upon realizing his entire family like was executed for heresy? So much was lost, his reputation, his potential child, his love life and all those cousins, his parents, brothers and sisters… even little Yonnathai… sweet young Yonna. How could they really see fit to cut down a child? Was there no sense of redemption for the young? No more could he hold her in his arms, no more could he play with her on the streets of the mighty Holy Terra, no more could he see her warm face coming to greet Arcturus from his long agonizing voyage into the depths of space.
Last week would have been her birthday, he didn't even have a present in mind for her yet. How bleak could the future be? How lost was he in this galaxy of darkness? Woe to him how he was first drafted at a young age to become an inquisitor, how he had to leave the old life behind. He could hardly remember much of his old life except for the traditions, his teachings, and the names and lives of all generations that will come to pass. Where was there the light in his life?
He realized then the light had been the Emperor's. He spared him from his harsh punishment he would had shared. The Emperor himself was the one who brought him to safety. It was his will that he lived, and there was no question that he wouldn't be alive without that light.
His mind began to clear up, and confidence filled his heart. He looked upon the company of his Grey Knights whom he had called unto service. Captain Fidellus Ackerson of the Grey Knights stood before the inquisitor. He was young, but years of combat have left him as old and worn as his father. It pained him to see how much he resembled him even with his lack of hair. But it pained him more to imagine that he would look upon him in disgust to hear his declaration of heresy. He stopped before Fidellus and spoke to him.
"Captain Fidellus Ackerson… answer me as honestly and openly as you allow yourself; are you comfortable around me? What do you see in me? Given my revelation, I can't imagine you would stay at my side without cutting me down. I want to know."
The man said nothing for his face was calm and cold as every Space Marine in the mid of duty are. But the direction of Arcturus' question prompted him to speak and speak he did.
"Arcturus… in my service with you, we have rained fire and death upon the forces of Chaos. We have carved our names onto the skulls of traitors and daemons who opposed us. We dropped behind enemy lines on heretic infested worlds. We have staved off exterminates to save an imperial world infested… and succeeded in ridding it of all corruption. If there were any evidence of unholy power resonating within you… I can only imagine the Empreror protecting you from its temptation and consuming you. Indeed I would not hesitate to cut you down, but I have seen your actions. As violent and powerful as you may be, it falls short of your compassion for us, for the Emperor and the Imperium he founded. For only he can dictate whether you live or die. He has chosen you to live; thus I have chosen to stand by your side. The Grey Knights will also stand by your side against the Imperium of Man's enemies. So when you fall, know that you will fall as a champion of man, even if the galaxy will not hear your sacrifice."
And that was that. Though little, Arcturus felt a surge of energy course through his veins. There was a light, a purpose in his life. Whatever will come his way, the inquisitor will repay his debt to his company ten folds than what he already owes. That is a promise at least, he WILL honor.
From the bridge, the navigational officer stood at attention to address Malacar.
"Inquisitor Malacar! We are detecting a massive Warp Rift incoming! What is our course of action?"
It crawled through the ducts of its temporary new home. The spawn, nothing more than a parasite slipped into the ducts of the corrupted Despoiler Class Battleship 'The Malevolent'. These strange and dark metal beings that roam the corridor, prepping for war, prepping for blood, hungry for chaos. The spawn shivered in arousal; the feeling of these corrupted beings presence sent shockwaves throughout its body. Although primitive, these walking buffets radiate with malevolence and chaos. The tough part was which should it control or devour?
Through the rusty halls they roam, unaware of the little intruder plotting its course. A tear was closing in soon, and the spawn must find a body to incubate in and control. None of these walking sacks of flesh would do it any good. Even with their powerful armor and their enhancements they were weak, frail and vulnerable. All creatures of flesh were. They do hold their own it seems. A large vessel such as this mustn't have been easy to attain… if they built it themselves at all. True it could do away with anyone of them, devouring them from the inside one, but this powerful presence caught its attention. Somewhere there was a great power that it can use to its advantage. It followed the trail of the power to the bridge, where the spawn observes one sorcerer like being, one heavily armored and decorated being and a large, avian like creature. That one creature, the one with the staff… he was the one with the most power.
The Chaos Sorcerer Traditurus and the Aspiring Champion Occidere knelt before the Lord of Change Yzzatch, the ever seeing all knowing greater daemon servant of Tzeentch. Called to aide of the Daemon, they traveled across Imperial space to this seemingly empty sector as part of some grand scheme weaved together by the great lord himself. The question as to why plagued their minds; as loyal as they are, cynicism runs deep in the two traitor marines. But for the Lord of Change, one must not question what their god has seen and weaved, only to carry it out. Besides, there was no meaning to question it anyhow. For one such as the Feathered Lord would understand these schemes; beyond the edge of where the Warp can guide the, lives a great and strange power. To be found in man is not uncommon, but always sought after, for often they mean a threat to the scheming god. Yzzatch hears when Tzeentch speaks and he told him to do his bidding; destroy the enemies of Chaos.
"Arise Traditurus… Occidere… We are approaching our intended destination." he finally spoke. "We are nearing the target… lord Tzeentch has granted me visions of The Unviolated in this sector. In it are two inquisitors but one is who we must kill. No doubt they are waiting for us, but the future ends in our favor."
Occidere was the first to speak, rising from the ground. "Yzzatch, we are facing an Emperor Class Battleship. How does one expect us to fight such a ship like that alone? The Malevolent is incapable of a one on one fight."
Traditurus quickly jumped on the lord's inability to calculate a course of action; "An Aspiring Champion unable to formulate a necessary strategy has no hopes of being a Chaos Lord! If you hope to ever achieve your position, you should come up with a scheme to impress our lord!"
"My concern isn't to impress anyone. This is not an ordinary Imperial operation if an Emperor Class Battleship is patrolling the sector alone. If we are to attack the battleship, we must consider our options before plotting. If you were competent enough to understand the situation Traditurus, you would know that an attack like this constitutes as a suicide operation!"
"And my concern is the reputation of our company! If we are to be graced by Tzeentch we must act and plan accordingly! I say the time is now! We may not have a chance at this again if we hesitate! We should ram our ship into it, tear it open from the outside and raid it, kill everyone inside and be done with it."
The two argued while Yzzatch watched with growing agitation. Traditurus has always been the outspoken and aggressive type who longed to be a Chaos Lord himself, always arguing with Occidere, always scheming behind his back, wanting the opportunity to dethrone him from his position. If Occidere even so much as sneeze, Traditurus would jump at that moment to challenge the Aspiring Champion. They hated one another and it shows. Though Occidere wasn't so perfect himself. He was too cautious, too hesitant, always leaving openings to their ranks. Hopefully this test would prove either of them are worthy.
"Enough! Both of you! I have seen what lays before us and I assure you our victory is inevitable. Your petty arguments will do us no favors. Occidere, our time grows thin and the time is almost nigh. Act or no, the hour draws. Traditurus that plan alone will leave us with no means of escape. We would be trapped and incapable of maneuvering due to the irreparable damage that may cause."
The Feathered Lord faced away from the traitor marines and walked over towards the ships console. Yzzatch never was one to be impatient and he never cared for the rivalry between Traditurus and Occidere. This was one of those golden moment where he has lost his temper. The lord took his time to recuperate, unaware of the little stowaway that hid in the sparks and wires of the console. He fiddled with the console, gathering as much information as he can from the sector they were in before making any other action.
It was only then it noticed the pale parasite looking beast worming its way out. The Feathered Lord watched the beast, peering through its eyes to read it, to read its weaves, to see its future and its history. But it saw only nothing. For the first time, he couldn't see anything! It was only blank! Yzzatch, known to break the strongest of mortals down into nothingness by mere words could not read a simple parasite. But he felt its presence… it was cold, emotionless and corrupted. There was no concept of morality in the beast… as though it was an incomprehensible subject. Chaos and order, good and evil, any idea of such a thing does not exist. It was old… ancient… and beyond any rational concept it could understood. It was older than even the Chaos Gods themselves. It was the first time ever a daemon, a greater daemon at that, would feel fear.
The parasite opened its maw, revealing a never-ending hall of teeth in it. Mucus oozed from its slimy pale skin as it hissed and growled. Whatever was going through its mind, the daemon could not read it. Then it struck, and Yzzatch could not react as quickly as he was capable of. The parasite drove itself down the maw of the beast, causing him to gag and choke. Then… the memory of the entire incident in an instant vanished. Tzzatch looked around, feeling a pain circulating in his chest, trying to regain his bearings. He turned back to the Chaos marines who continued to argue and spoke out. "Traditurus! Occidere! What happened?"
The two marines stopped and faced their scheming leader, puzzled by his irrational behavior. He looked anxious, confused and lost. Those signs were not good if a Lord of Change had them.
"What do you mean Yzzatch?" said Occidere. "You wanted time to plan to yourself."
The beast hissed and angrily turned back towards the console. Sweat dripped from his feathered head as he tried to remember the past sixty seconds. He did not like the idea of forgetting anything! It was impossible for one who sees all such as Yzzatch. And this fear… this constant fear he did not recognize before… another impossible feeling… it exists. He must consult with Tzeentch. He must! He must understand! Then from the viewport of the bridge, a large Warp Rift erupted before their ship.
Tal'Set sat under the full moon, in the hut of the treetop village, taking in the comforting warmth of the fire pit he lit. The titanic forest was one of several places the Native American felt a sense of serenity and peace. When was the last time he ever felt this emotion before? Before the death of his tribe… before the end of his old life… the one memory he treasured the most was when he and his friend Mishoba went on a hunt in the forest. The oak and pine trees colored his senses, putting him in a trance where he felt one with the earth, the stone, the trees and the weeds. He remembered the first time he strung his bow, pulling it back, watching the unsuspecting buck grazing as he lines it up at his weak spot. He heaves gently, finally releasing the arrow from the string as it shoots, striking the buck at the neck. Weakened and close to death, it ran off in the opposite direction, prompting him to give chase.
Then the dream fade, as Tal'Set felt the flames of the fire spark and rise, with a very old and very familiar image appearing before it. Tarkeen… the Seer who passed the title of the Son of Stone to him. It had been years since he last saw him. Standing before the Galyanna council, consulting on the growing concern of Tyrannus' empire retaliating after the death of the Juggernaut. Tarkeen was banished from the land for speaking out against the Council of Galyanna, who have grown considerably paranoid as the war drags on. Tal'Set too was punished with such a fate before the rise of the Campaigner, to use the Chronoscepter to end the war against Tyrannus. Separated by time and war, Tal'Set only felt anxiety as to what the Seer would want with the Son of Stone.
"Turok…" the Seer's voice from the flames spoke. "Turok… we must meet. I fear the future grows colder and darker the more I peer through the veils. The Lost Land is plagued by forces of destruction, entities of evil and agents of shadows. From the darkness though, two lost souls stand. But I fear the future is clouded, everything is bleak, and only you are capable of understanding this. We will talk more about it later."
Before he could say anything, the flames vanished, leaving Tal'Set to stare at the charred smoking wood from the pit. It angered the Native American that the seer took nearly a decade to contact him, only to remove him from his home, from his lover Gen and her newborn child. But if the matter was truly a grave one, then he was obligated to appear before the Seer to consult with him. Slowly he rises from the ground, taking his Tek Bow, his Combat Knife and his arrows he sets off and heads towards the portal. However, a flash of light erupted from the sky, caught his attention. There were clouds, no storm, only a clash of thunder. This was an omen.
War has come to the Lost Land.