Chapter One
Homo Sapiens Variatus
~ I ~
As it was not on any Imperial records, the planet had no name. When two Inquisitors were forced to crash land on the planet they, and the other survivors, were first Imperial citizens to ever set foot on a world of thick forests, high mountains, broad rivers, and deep oceans. Or so they thought. They named the planet Dacia-Gallorum, after themselves, naturally. It was a planet bursting with plant and animal life. A world ideal for colonization, except for three factors.
Firstly, the Inquisitors arrival had been abrupt and unplanned. Their ship was disabled by a maraudering purple-hulled chaos vessel in the depths of the warp and they forced to flee into real space to escape the Foe. The transition killed the navigator and damaged the ship to such an extent they were forced to abandon her altogether. Furthermore, their crash had wounded them, and they were unable to travel from the crash-site.
Secondly, they did not know where they were. The Eastern Fringe was a space so vast the other four Segmentae of the Imperium could fit into it. Dacia and Gallorum had been in the Centarus Arm, traveling trailward when disaster struck. They were truly lost in space.
Thirdly, they were not alone.
~ II ~
"Bastio Azul," called a man, "They're ready for you."
Bastio nodded and looked back into his tent. Behind him sat his women, their little babe resting and cooing in her lap. She met his gaze eye to eye. He rose up, looked away, and left his tent.
Bastio followed the man through a camp of tents. Furs and fabrics stretched tight over wood and bone frames. Totems and fetishes hung from poles and spears. Small fires had burned to charcoal. There was chaotic order to tents. It was quiet, only a few small birds tweeted, and no one was in sight. All were waiting for him at the Circle.
At the eastern end of the camp the man waved Bastio to a stop, and went around a tent. Moments later two imposing men approached Bastio. One, brown-skinned and grey-hair wore furs about his shoulders, a chain with a great and terrible "I" hung at his neck.
"My Lord, Dacia," Bastio bowed his head to him. He turned to the other and repeated his bow. The other was a pale, spectral figure with black hair and blacker eyes, he wore his symbol around his left wrist, the great "I" flowing with the moments of his arm, "My Lord, Gallorum."
"Bastio, they wait," Dacia said.
"Prepare them, prepare them for the worst," Gallorum said.
Bastio nodded slowly, "Yes, Lords."
As he stepped past them, the two Inquisitors shared a knowing look.
~ III ~
"Warriors of the Imperium!" Bastio Azul's deep voice grumbled at the assembled mass of feral warriors from a feral world. Hundreds of fearsome eyes watched him for hesitance or weakness.
"Hear me, and hear me good! We fight for the great Sky Eagle, our master and savior. We are fierce, we are strong, we are warriors!" he punctuated the words by pounding his huge fist against his massive chest.
"The great Sky Eagle watches us, watches us for any failure, any chance to swoop down from the heavens to tear us apart with his Golden Talons! He cares not for our failures, only for two things, our victory or our death!"
He paused to spit a large wade for spittal on the muddy ground. He pointed at the ground and looked angrily about him, "You do the same, all of you. We are about to leave this world, our home and hearth, and it should remember us." The sounds of hundreds of throats hocking and spitting rumbled like a degusting medley. Looking at his spit, he raised his hoof and stomped down, grounding the spit into the earth. The hoof twisted and ground for a long time. All the other hoof-footed warriors did the same.
"We make the trip to the stars to make better the sins of the Imperium." he called out, "We're Sineater, one and all. We carry the sins of the Imperium in our very flesh! We are the manifestation of the moral errors of Mankind. There is nothing good about us. Our obscene forms are disgusting to the God-Emperor and his children. We are the nothing but the Beastsmen of the Throne … oh woe, our shame is great!" he paused and placed his hands on his hips, glaring around, " … but so will be our redemption!"
The horde of beastmen roared and brayed with approval.
"Prepare yourselves for we leave this very night for the stars. When next we feel earth under us, we will answer the heavy demands of the vengeful God-Emperor for tribute … in BLOOD!"
The horde's roar shook the very air.
~ IV ~
Bastio returned to the two Inquisitors. They nodded approvingly. He was a prime specimen of beastman; huge and powerful with an aura of violence and menace, even more so then most of his kind. He towered over the two Inquisitors, whom were not small men themselves. His head was that of a ram, thick horns curved tightly around his shaggy head. He wore only green Guard issue fatigue trousers, a thick black belt and forearm bracers. Around his neck hung a gold torque with blue stones on the ends, an enormous double-head eagle was tattooed on his pale, bare chest. He was the incarnation of savagery, the bestial nightmare many Imperial citizens feared made flesh.
"Well said," Dacia said, "you make a fine speech. You're a natural with rhetoric. They're all worked up now."
"What is rhetoric, my Lord?" Bastio asked.
The two Imperials smirked, "You don't have aspirations above your station, do you, Wararchos Azul?" Gallorum said.
"No my lord, I live to serve the Sky-Eagle, and his Lords."
"Good. Now gather the Dacia-Gallorum Axuilia together and get them moving. We've a ship to catch."
~ V ~
Inquisitors Dacia of the Ordo Xeno and Gallorum of the Ordo Hereticus would not have survived their crash had it not been for the care of Bastio and his phoros. The tribe saw their escape ship burn its way through the atmosphere. The beastmen chief said it was great Sky Eagle calling them. The Sky Eagle being their local manifestation of the Cult of the Emperor. They followed the path of the fire-bird to a small valley. When the beastmen found the escape ship they were at a loss of what to do, they had never seen anything like a spaceship before. Undaunted by fear Bastio explored the crashed craft eventually finding a way in and discovering the people inside. They were broken and burned, but some were still alive.
Bastio's carried Dacia, young Seo carried Gallorum, back to the stronghold. The other survivors were brought back by members of his phoros. Bastio's mate, Zoa healed the two men with herbs and tincture crafted for tribal lore and local pharmaceuticals. When the recovered consciousness, their reaction was one of what one might expect.
Though weak, they fought the beastmen with all the fervor of the devout. It took a long time before the two men came to realize they were in no danger from the beastmen. They could communicate with them, though their language was an old, bastardized version of low Gothic. That they were not going to be eaten, as the beastmen did not eat meat. That they were not going to be sacrificed to Chaos because the beastmen worshipped the Emperor.
That last realization shook both men. Their belief had been challenged to the core and they nearly gave up all hope.
Bastio explained their history. Too many generations ago to count, the great Sky Eagle came to them from the stars. The Eagle spoke onto them, he told them they were his creation, as all life was. They were created to bear the sins of his favored creatures, Man, so that humanity could grow and prosper. He told them there they were tough enough to shoulder the burden of an empire worth of wrong doing, and they should be proud to be Sineaters. However, the great Sky Eagle continued, they were required to pay the debt of their existence, as abominations or not. The Sky Eagle fought many wars, and they were required to give him victory or death. Many thousands of Phoros were taken-up by his great golden claws and taken to the stars.
~ VI ~
For the first time in thousands of years, the beastmen of the Eastern Fringe were taken to the stars by the Inquisition. Aboard the Foxtail, the Dacia-Gallorum Auxilia plied the dark, cold reaches for a year until they landed on a world called Onn. The planet was without intelligent indigenous life, but possessing a breathable atmosphere and fertile earth, the world was highly suitable for humanity to colonize. However, that was not why were there. The two Inquisitors had been following a purple chaos vessel, tracking it. The starship made orbit around Onn and flyers came and went from the surface. It was minor chaos world with a population of a few million people dedicated to the worship of Slaanesh.
The Auxiliaries landed east of the furthest concentrating of chaos worshippers and advanced through a great forest. They located their first target, a large camp that was a training ground for both the military and pleasure aspects of Slaanesh.
Bastio lurked behind a flowering bush, crouched down on a knee, waiting, listening. He turned his warknife in his right hand slowly. The forest was nearly black, but his animal-like eyes could see well enough to navigate the dark maze. He heard a soft crunch nearby. Then another. The sound of someone walking, slowly and softly.
The beastman rose his eyes over the bush, he saw two man-like shadows moving on the other side. Without hesitation he leapt over the bush. He stabbed downward with the warknife, the cold iron blade stuck the shadowy figure in the neck, stabbing through both jugular veins and its esophagus. The man-shadow could not make a sound greater then a whistlely moan. Bastio left his blade embedded in its neck and grappled with the other figure. He grabbed its head with his hands, and twisted violently. Vertebrae popped and snapped. He dropped that man-shadow and took hold of the other, slamming its face into the dirt, pressing down hard on its head while it struggled and thrashed. It wasn't long before the creature expired.
He pulled them back behind the bush, laid them on the ground, and examined what he had killed. They were man shaped, but tall and terribly skinny, clad in shiny, tight-fitting black leather. A terrible glyph emblazoned on their chest. The mark seemed to glow slightly, as if excited by the blood from the oozing out of the neck wound. Antique lasweapons hung from bejeweled straps. They had pale faces of men, only horrifically ugly, twisted and maimed, pitted with old scars and dozens of piecing of black stone.
Bastio looked around the darkness and called out twice with slight wobbly whistle call. As silent as deer three more beastmen appeared out of the darkness, weapons held at the ready. They crouched around him, looking the things lying on the ground.
Bastio nodded to dead things, "This is what we are here to kill. Evil creatures who care not for the Sky Eagle or his great empire."
"What is it?" asked Spyros, kantos of phoros Cano.
Murgeth, the bull-headed kardex of Dacia-Gallorum, lifted a dead thing's arm, turn its hands around. He examined its delicate fingers closely. The nails where painted purple. "Women's hands," he rumbled with distain. "They're small weak things. Should be easy enough."
Luth, kantos of the Talg Phoros, grunted in agreement, "A sentry? Their camp cannot be far."
"Close by," Seo said, pointing west, "less than two kilometers."
Bastio grunted in agreement, "Each of you, get back to your phoros, we advance before first light."
~ VII ~
It took four years before the two Inquisitors were recovered by a passing Rogue Trader vessel. During that time they had formed a great and daring plan. They needed to hunt down the Chaos vessel that had attacked them. And to do so they would need soldiers. Using the beastmen's simple but furious belief in the God-Emperor they pronounced themselves as representatives of the Sky-Eagle, which to be fair, as Inquisitors was relatively accurate.
While their authority was effectively limitless, raising an army was something few did. Usually they simply commandeered the nearest military assets. Though abominations in their eyes, they were the only Throne-loyal people they had encountered, they needed an army and were going to use them.
Neither Inquisitor knew of a contemporary example of beastmen serving the Throne, by they did know of existing records of units of abhumans, even entire armies made up of abhumans, who fought on the behalf of the Imperium. Some deviant species still did. Ogryns, Ratlings, and more besides. However, beastmen had been cast off millennia ago, killed as mutants and spawn where ever they were found.
They, and the few surviving members of the band, spent the next four years training the beastmen in art of modern warfare. As one of the stormtroopers put it, "They can fight, that's for sure, but they can't war." Though primitives who had only mastered forging metal in the last two generations, they learned surprising quick. Most phoros, the local word of tribe/clan/family/unit, had a segment of hardened warriors, and these types took to 'war' particularly quickly.
Then the skies glowed and a ship riding a bed of fire, dropped from the heavens. The trader vessel took Gallorum away, who proceed to acquire two thousand kits of Imperial Guard issue equipment from the nearest Munitorum depot. When asked if he was outfits an army, he muttered, 'something like that'. He returned twenty months later, with a commandeered starship large enough to hold a regiment of beastmen.
A great games where held. Those who were the strongest, fastest, toughest and smartest were selected to be inducted into the Dacia-Gallorum Auxilia, and to fight the Sky Eagles wars.
Bastio Azul, leader of the mountain phoros Azul was elected Warachros by an assembly of kantos – tribal chieftains and soon-to-be unit commanders. Bastio selected Murgeth as his Kandax. The kandax was an important position, second-in-command of the regiment, consul to the Wararchos, and arbitrator of inter-phoros disputes. It was a wise selection, because not only was Murgeth the largest and strongest of them all, he was also fabled Minotaur of the elusive and dangerous deep forest phoros. He showed up at the games out of the morning fog, and easily won every contest pitted against him. The other beastmen respected and feared him, and that reflected highly on Bastio.
Each was given a kit, a pair of green fatigue trousers, a black flak vest with combat wedding and utility belt, and a lasgun. The newly inducted Auxiliaries were each given a large warknife of dark iron, forged by Bastio and the kantoses. They would carry their world with them.
~ VIII ~
Crawling forward on his belly Bastio watched the camp in front of him. It was a good hour or more before the sun rose and the air was uniformly grey and flat. His nighteyes could see chaosmen moving round. There was a staff rotation for the cultist stationed in the outer posts. The auxiliaries had already silenced all of the wood sentries. He saw some walking into the woods, calling out to the now dead sentries. Bastio watched the pit-hole in front of him. Two chaosmen climbed out of the hole and two were climbed in. Bastio pushed himself up and sprang from the woodline. He ran as fast as his big, hoofed feet could carry him, which was surprising quicker than most people expected. Two hundred other auxiliaries followed his lead. None roared; it was a silent stampede of man-animals in the half-light of not-yet-morning. He had covered half the distance before shouts were heard, far to his left. He heard the pop of las-fire.
He pumped his combat shotgun – Ka-Klack – and leapt the last ten feet into the pit-hole, landing next to a black-clad chaosmen, he fired – Blam! The fiery blast removed the chaosman's head and shoulders. Bastio whipped around, pumping the shotgun as he did so. He held the weapon low, aimed upwards. He pulled the trigger - Blam! The force of the blast lifted the cultist clean out of the foxhole, his chest a bleeding mass of tissue.
He did not wait. Bastio threw himself out of the hole, killing the two confused cultists who had only recently vacated the trench. He raced across the dark landscape, seeing fights taking place all around him. Beastman raced from the treeline, skinny black-clad figures were running forwards. Las shots whipped and snapped across the air. Explosions throw earth skywards. Bastio raced onwards.
He fired off two blasts and threw himself behind a rock, sheltering from the hail of returning las-fire. He rolled onto his back and pulled a frag grenade from his belt. He threw it blind, but hard, towards the centre of the chaos base, hoping for the best. His did this twice more.
A chaosman bounded around the rock, lasrifle at his shoulder. The man fired. The shoot struck the earth between Bastio's legs. As the enemy worked the bolt-action energizer on his old-fashioned lasrifle, the beastman roared and fired his shotgun into in his guts. Bastio spun quickly to a knee, just in time to see another chaosman come around the rock. Bastio smashed his face with the stock of his weapon, then exploded his chest with a blast from the business end of the combat shotgun. He leaned over and pumped two shots at the space behind the rock, just to be sure no one was there.
He felt a body throw itself down next to him, he knew from the smell it was one of his own. A quick glance told him it was Seo. The goat-headed auxiliary popped up, propping his lasrifle on the rock, he blazed away into the dark morning.
Bastio dropped back down, pressing his back against the rock, panting. He took a moment to load shells into his weapon as he looked around. The first line of foxholes had been overrun quickly. Chaos had lost all warriors holding the outer lines, the beastmen spared none of the unbelievers. Once they breached the perimeter, they took up positions in whatever cover they find, holding for phase two of the plan.
Phase two consisted of Murgeth attacking the far side of the encampment with another two hundred auxiliaries, after Bastio had drawn the enemy towards him.
"Auxilia!" Bastio shouted into his short-range vox-link, "holding positions. Bleed them dry!"
He turned and patted Seo on the shoulder, the beastman looked back at him. Bastio was pointing towards a small bunker. Dozens of silhouettes could be seen around it, las-shots whipped from behind a dirt wall, a flag of Slaanesh flapped limply in the still air. "I want that flag burned to ash!"
Seo nodded and called out, "Phoros Azul! Gather here!"
A dozen beastman moved to rally to Bastio. One, a huge specimen, lumbered over with a heavy-stubber gripped in his huge paws. He muscled Seo out of his way, propped the weapon on its bi-pod, and became to lay down a hail of hard-rounds. His loader, holding a chain of heavy .50 caliber rounds, hunkered down next to him.
The space behind the rock quickly filled up with auxiliaries and was not large enough to hide them all from their enemies. One beastman was hit in the neck, another in the shin.
"Auxilia!" Bastion roared, "Glory! Raaaaaaaaaaarrrrrr!" and he leapt around the rock, racing away.
~ IX ~
The enemy with their powerful, but slow firing bolt-action lasrifles could not bring enough fire power to bear to stem the stampede. When the beastmen hit the wall the fighting became hand-to-hand, and was where the auxiliaries excelled. Each was over seven feet tall, corded with thick muscles, and conditioned by a lifetime of tribal warfare. They used rifle-stocks, knifes, fists, hooves and horns. The slaaneshi were out classed and quickly died. Though not without taking a half-a-dozen auxiliaries with them.
Bastio pumped his shotgun, waved auxiliaries left and right. He had his sights on the bunker. Taking four beastmen with him, they advanced quickly to the structure. It was set into the ground, protected by the earthen ramparts. All around him, his beastmen were overrunning them, killing the defenders to the last.
From the doorway of the bunker, a chaosman shot Rog in the chest. The beastman staggered back, holding a hole in the torso. Another chaosman popped out and finished off Rog with a shot to the head, his goat-head blew apart like an exploded tomato. Seo unloaded a dozen lasrounds at the slaaneshi bunker. Bastio threw a frag grenade into the doorway. Smoke and flame blew out. Bastio, Seo and Juhano pushed forwards, blazing the doorway with their weapons.
~ X ~
It was dark in the bunker, even with his nightvision working fullest it was hard to see far. Smoke and sweet, musky incense filled the air. The fumes made their heads swim. Bastio paused to attach his hand-lamp to the lug-clamp of his shotgun.
Clearing the bunker was grim work. The three moved slowly, pumping lasshot and shotgun blasts into dark, candle lit rooms that were chambers of debauchery, violence and violation. Skinny, black-clad cultist would leap out, stabbing and shooting at them. Juhano was killed, shot in the back at point-blank range. Seo lost a horn in a brief exchange. Bastio was stabbed in the hip and shoulder.
The centre chamber of the bunker was curtained off. A chanting voice could be heard. Bastio waved Seo back and signaled him to get a frag ready.
A great shriek filled the air and Bastio whipped his shotgun around, the lamp illuminating a naked women rushing out of a chamber. Her hands were blackened talons, her teeth filled to fangs. Her hair was a mass of dreadlocks with incense sticks burning from within them, wreathing her head in a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke.
Bastio unloaded a shell between her breasts. She flew across the hall way, smacking into the wall. Flailing about the ground, she shrieked terribly. Bastio stepped forward, stomped on her, using his bulk to pin her to the ground. He leveled his shotgun at her face, the witch lashed furiously at his legs.
"For the Throne!" he roared, and in a blast of light and fire, disintegrated her head.
~ XI ~
The sun had risen over the forest, casing glorious golden light onto the smoking camp. Auxiliaries wandered the site, hauling black-clad chaos worshippers to a growing pile of burning bodies. The smoke floated up straight into the breezeless air. Their own loses were hastily buried in the forest, after being stripped of any useful kit.
Bastio climbed onto the roof of the bunker. He looked around. He saw Dacia and Gallorum talking with Murgeth, pointing towards him. He raised his fist high and roared. The auxiliaries near him took up the call, roaring triumphantly. Turning around, relishing the victory, his eyes fell onto the great purple flag before him, whipping and snapping agitatedly, as if trying to get away from him, though there was no wind. As he approached the cloth it suddenly snapped around, striking him in the face. The cloth tore his lip. He stumbled back, surprised.
He spat blood, lowered his horns, and growled low, "Devilry."
Bastio pulled his shotgun off his back, klacked the slide, and slowly took aim. BLAM! A hole appeared in the centre of the flag. The cloth flapped around, as if in death throes, then suddenly hung limp. Bastio nodded, satisfied it was dead. Slinging his weapon on his back he walked to it, intent on tearing it down. As he reached for the pole the flag snapped alive, striking his back with all the power of whip. He felt his flesh part. He reached up, grappling with the trashing cloth. With one mighty wretch he tore down the slaanesh flag and threw it to the ground. The cloth rolled away, as if caught up in a gust of wind. Bastio roared and pinned to the ground with a hoof. He snatched it up, and it wrestled with him furiously.
It was a struggle to get the flag to the flame, but he succeeded in the end. Balled up, Bastio threw it firmly onto the burning bodies. It took a long time to burn, jumping and jerking on its own accord, attempting to get out of the flame, but it eventually did succumb to the heat - first it flamed, then burned and eventually turned to ash.
