Warriors of the Word
1.
The beasts of the warp hungrily snapped at the astral figure looming amongst them but, try as they might they could not get a peace of him. Protected by portents of great power they could only watch as their prey moved away.
He returned to his body that was safe within the confines of his mighty vessel. His jaunt into the either had proved uneventful. Since leaving Sicarus they had continued on their way and the ships battle lust was beginning to rumble once more.
There had been the occasional battles with the Alpha Legion and Emperors Children who had dared to come into his way but not enough to calm his vessels raging love for wanton destruction.
It had always been a source of pride to him that the Word Bearers of all the traitor legions were still a coherent legion that adhered to the rules of brotherhood and the ideals of the ancient Astartes.
They had remained as an intact legion doing the will of the mighty Primarch whereas the other traitor legions were all condemned to being nothing more then roving war bands who, occasionally when Abaddon deemed it pulled together to strike out at the Imperium.
Mar Felan had to admit, that not since the mighty Horus had there been a Warmaster successful enough to pull the true legions of Astartes together. Abaddon certainly was a favoured son of Chaos, his 13th black crusade had seen to that and he supposed that one day if his success continued to mount that he would become a demon prince.
Although the true Astartes had not won the 13th Crusade they had gained enough of a foothold on Cadia to worry the Imperium more then they ever had before.
Come the next crusade then they would be the victors. Try as they might the dogs of the Emperor were unable to shift the forces of chaos once they had dug in, they were like leeches that refused to move and so it should be.
There would come a day when humans would cheer the return off the true legions and curse the names of those that had let them down, when that day come they would be led into a glorious new era and the failures of the carrion crow of an emperor would be forgotten.
No all was good in the long term future but it was just a shame that only the Word Bearers kept a semblance of a legion as it should be, think what would happen if they had all kept to their brotherhoods and not split into petty feuding war bands?
Now that would be glorious indeed.
He rose to his feet and stretched his muscles to loosen them, stiffness having set in during his medative state. He always felt calmer after allowing his soul to soar through the warp.
The business with Balthazar had unsettled his soul somewhat. They had left him in the care of the Dark Council but Mar Felan and Tor Panarl had felt the aura of power that was building up in the mighty citadel, one that had not been felt since the day of Lorgars ascension. Both warriors knew what that had meant and neither of them had felt the least bit sorry for the renegade. He had cast his die millennia ago; let him live with his actions. As benevolent as their holy lord could be he could also be quite tormenting when he believed that a son was usurping his power.
The battle with Balthazar had also drained a lot of his strength and it made the Dark Apostle acutely aware that one day he was going to join the Primarchs side and to leave his host without a Dark Apostle that they could trust and believe in would not do.
It was time for him to choose a Dark Acolyte, a disciple that he could mould into the perfect Apostle, the true guardian of his hosts' spirit. Question was who to choose? So far he had not seen one brother display the portents, except that is Jubal and speaking with the voice of Lorgar would certainly put him in a strong position but the sergeant was playing it down, saying that he had been in the right place at the right time and it could have just as easily been anyone else.
He allowed himself a wry smirk, he was certainly a son of Lorgar and maybe had times been different he would have been a true son of Colchis and what a son of Colchis he would have made.
No he would have to watch his host over the coming days and see which one of them bore out the aura that would enable him to be a great spiritual leader and one that would guide his host true.
Jubal stood watching the berserkers in their arena work out their frustrations at lack of battle. The last battle they had was with the Emperors Children and right now they were in the arena with two of them.
He smiled a little as the Emperors Children used whatever they had to try and sway the warriors of Khorne but they were barking up the wrong tree in his opinion.
Slannesh and Khorne never saw eye to eye and would remain bitter enemies to the end of times.
Still it made good sport to watch and he had done his duties for the day now he was standing with his fellow sergeants, a huge tankard in his hand cheering his brothers as they cut chunks from the dandy warriors of Fulgrim.
San Jarka shook his head a little as one of Fulgrims sons gestured what he would do with his sword and it looked quite inventive. "I suppose we should be grateful that isn't Lucius the Eternal down there" the possessed sergeant mused.
"Who?" Jubal asked his eyes still firmly fixed on the entertainment below.
"A champion of Holy Slannesh and Lord Fulgrim, it is said that he who kills Lucius and takes even one moment of pleasure in the fact changes into Lucius and his soul is forever trapped in the armour. Not a nice way to go for Lucius is a cruel bastard; I heard a tale once that a Lunar Wolf as they were then, broke his nose in a fight, a training fight but a fair one. Lucius like most of his depraved brothers had a sense of pretty boy pride about their looks, Lucius more so then the rest so with a broken nose it marred his good looks forever and he took to scarring his face for every mission he completed in the name of the Primarch Fulgrim."
"And he earned the favour of Slannesh" Jubal finished.
"That he did brother, he truly is immortal, just be grateful that we don't have him here."
A cheer went up from the other warriors, the sergeants joined the cheer as their fellow sergeant Bal Jassia ripped the head off the prancing Emperors Child who had gestured at him and repaid it in kind by impaling the head of the Astartes on his own sword.
The floor was slick with blood and muck but it would soon be over. The two Word Bearers of Khorne however kept their footing and turned on the last remaining Emperors child.
He led them a merry dance and the watching warriors fell silent as the pink armoured warrior took his attacks at precisely the right moment. Perhaps this one was not the easy prey that they had thought and now Bal Jassia, calmed from his rage stepped back letting his brother prove himself in the arena.
Lar Monts drained his tankard and leant on the wall. There was a perfectly good reason why the viewing seats were a good deal away from the centre. If stirred enough they would do what any berserker of Khorne would do, still he knew that Captain Sadrocas had enough power over his warriors to stop them if needs be.
He was still recovering from his wounds received on Pratis Majoris, a seer of the tribe had got lucky and struck his jump pack causing him to land sheer against the valley wall, he ended up getting cut in numerous places with axes and spears.
However of them all it was Sar Jarka and Kalneth Garakan who had suffered the most, the sergeant and his captain were the only ones to walk out that battle and Kalneth was still in devout prayer to heal his soul.
As the Emperors Child made a twisting attack at the Word Bearer, the axe came out of seemingly nowhere and literally cut the Astartes in two.
Bathed in blood he roared his affirmation to Khorne and the sergeants withdrew, the sport over for now. They were joined by Bal Jassia and headed to their own private area chatting animatedly with him about his own fight and that of his battle brother.
Jubal paused for a moment looking around him thinking he could hear a voice from somewhere.
"Jubal!" Menra Harkan called "Come on brother there is ale to be drinking and stories to tell. I want to hear about your battles alongside the Black Cardinal"
Jubal nodded putting the voice down to the chattering spirits of the warp that accompanied their host and caught his friends up. They were his friends of that he was in no doubt. He had been welcomed into the sergeants' inner circle upon their return to Sicarus.
Not only because the Holy Primarch had borrowed his body to speak to his sons but because he had saved the Dark Apostle from death, by doing that he had saved them too.
He finally found his place within the 47th one that he knew he could serve the rest of his long life knowing that they would give their blood for him as he would for them, anything else was immaterial really as long as he never shamed his Coryphaus or his Dark Apostle then he was sure that his tenure in the 47th host would bring them all honour in Holy Lorgars eyes.