[To start, I'm still getting back into the game of writing. This will be the only part of HoT posted here, the rest will be at r/HoT40K or . Feel free to criticise and offer advice and opinions, I'm not sure I got Corvus right and it comes across as rushed, personally. Anyway:]
Even from the cliffs, the smell dominated. Like a stalking, invisible hunter, it congealed and ruled tiny kingdoms in the corners of rooms, charging through corridors like a phantom whilst it held out as bitterly as the defenders had held out in other rooms.
The smell of blood. It slowly arose and crushed the scent of smoke, the putrid, burnt taste of flesh, the fresh laid concrete, the engines of mighty war machines, the sweat of thousands of warriors, all fragrances of the battlefield were beaten down by the stench of blood..
Visually, it was a similar story. The rockcrete walls were slick with blood, the pale cyan of the Argarathex mixing with the blood of human in a gruesome mural upon the grey walls. The clogging iron tang of it held fast in the mouths of all.
The only realm it couldn't pervade was that of sound. That too, was a land of warped Majesty. The first sound was the screaming. The imperial army injured cried for mothers, fathers and relations as they lay upon the plain below. Even here, hundreds of feet up, their screams sailed the wind, followed by the thunderclap of titan footsteps mingling with the roar of engines as a flight of Thunderhawks flashed past, twisting towards a temporary landing pad.
The sight of the plain below was the most sickening for him, however. Birds circled high above thousands and thousands of bodies lying below in neat ranks like an army of the dead. It was always death's army that was the most numerous. The worst part was that of this gargantuan toll, 7,000 bodies were his, all clad in black power armour, geneseed prepared for harvesting. Today, he reflected grimly, he truly was the raven lord.
Corax knelt on the ramparts, hearing the concrete splinter under the weight of his power armour, watching his men as he mournfully put his head into his palm upon seeing the sight below. Fully five percent of his sons lay slain before him, and he could feel the breathless accusations of their stares boring into him like a thousand twisting knives. How could he have been so foolish? How could he have wasted so many of his sons? Was that to be his fate, to spend their lives as Perturabo did?
Grimly, he shook his head like a grim giant. No. He would nourish them. He would care for his sons. Lessons were to be learnt. Very well. Like any student, he would take the teachings of the day and hone them. Already, Corvus ran several strategies in his head. This failing could not, and would not go unpunished. It was his failure, he knew, and it would be one he would never forgive. If not for him, for his sons. The pain would be a constant reminder, as would the pain of the view from the balcony.
A suppressed, pained sigh escaped his lips as he heard his sons two storeys below. Evidently come to deliver a report. He knew that it was a futile action, just as this battle had been. There was nothing to report. Fighting had stopped. The Argarathex had been annihilated. The only thing to report was the death toll, and Corvus had two words to match that report: Too high.
He leant on the battlements, forcing them to groan and crack as they bore his weight, morosely hearing them approach. Slowly, he reached his decision. They could deliver the report later. When he had steeled himself and fought back the inevitable, enduring tide of his own failings and defeats...
He closed his eyes slowly, welling up the power within him as he slowly measured his breathing, pacing himself and slowing down his lungs piece by piece, taking an eternity between each breath.
Aeons later, Corax started to will himself away, into the shadows, into nothing. Like a giant stirring and waking, he ponderously opened his eyes to the dark, shadowy world as men's souls showed brilliant white against the varying, myriad forms of grey and other forms of darkness. Steeling his soul, he gave a final push, yanking his soul and consciousness into this sombre, grim, unlit shadowy realm, analysing the shadows around his form while the echoing footsteps of his sons trundled past the open doorway.
The raven lord looked up with the speed of a monolith, and then stopped. Shocked and startled, he took a step back, using the inky black wall to steady himself as he caught his breath. 'How- What are you?!' were all the surprised words he could muster and throw at the form before him. Form was a light way of describing it. From it's appearance, the tumultuous, myriad, twisting shapes, forms and appearances all blended together as they flickered, expanded, bloated, constricted, mutated and evolved in shape, size, colour, smell and viasge. The only constant-and even that vibrated, flickered and twisted- was the gaping, grinning maw in the floating form's mouth.
'Evolution, child. Yourself?'
Corvus grimaced. When the mouth spoke, a hundred twisting voices spoke in disjointed chorus, none the same, none returning, none existing for more than a millisecond. That was to say nothing of the constant, uncountable unceasing whispers that carried on constantly in the background, unintelligible, as quiet as a pin dropping within a library, yet present.
He balked at being called child, and frowned, only to hear the creature emit something that he could only describe as a chuckle.
'Something amuses you?' he asked as he circled the creature, his searching eyes prying into it's form, revealing nothing.
'You, Child' was his only reply, the creature waving a flitting arm as he heard the boots of his sons come back down the corridor swifter then before, until they walked backwards, into view of the doorway, all four of them seemingly frozen within the glacier of time. 'You feel agony, humiliation, remorse, weakness and, overarchingly, shame. Yet, as a child, you promise yourself foolishly that you will learn. More, importantly, still as a child, you hide away and sob pitifully, sulking when others make their appearance. That is why you are merely a boy to me.'
Corvus' blood arose as he heard enough. Snarling, he started toward the figure, intent on carving it to a thousand pieces with the Raven's Talons. The mouth formed into a clear smirk as the dark creature let the claws slice through the twisting forms, forcing them apart into tiny strands.
The creature's laughter echoed around him as the ribbons he'd created flowed around him like water, rebuilding into a Hunan shape behind him as he twisted, glaring at it.
'What do you truly know of knowledge? Of learning?!' cried the creature, then it shook its head and held up its many, shimmering hands. 'My apologies. Unpursued potential aggravates me. Yet, you have the potential to be so much more, child. You truly believe this psychic trick of the light is the end of your ability? The very depth of the untapped reserve that is your power?' the creature walked towards Corvus, extending a shifting arm as it touched his forehead gently while he narrowed his eyes, raising his hands once again. 'I care not for your self deprecation or loathing, but I give you an ability to become more. To unlock a power greater than that of your brother, Magnus.'
Growling, Corax, stepped rearwards swiftly. 'Likewise, I care not for your mind games, your tricks of form or shape or whatever psychic boons you offer. Or their price. Insult my brethren again, and it shan'tgo unpunished.' His face was affixed in a grimace, hard eyes firing defiance toward the entity.
The form tittered, floating again as the world rumbled and shook violently before tearing asunder, the great rips within the ground enveloping his formerly familiar surroundings in seconds as Corvus snapped his head around, trying to grasp the wall only for it to disintegrate in his hands whilst the rest of reality slipped away, catapulting him into a nebula of azure light and shadows, the subtle whispers growing into a hushed crescendo. 'I do not offer or play tricks. The boons I "offer" are merely gifts. Do you feel the power within? Your son's own power is swelling, too. Your abilities are tenfold. More power is yours, for a mere price.'
The raven lord howled, spitting defiance as he tried to move within the void, infernos blazing within his pupils as he cast his fists at the form, floating lazily before him.
'Get out! Take your gifts and leave! I'll swear no bargain or price, merely the oath to end your trickery and bring the rage of my father and my sons upon you!'
The form uttered a sigh and pulled back, restoring the shattered, burning world as it rippled into focus, his sons having left the doorway as though they had never been there. The form gave a curt nod and extended its arm once again.
'Very well, child. If you cannot be convinced, I shall leave you, but know this: my counsel, advice and power is yours, should you require it. Your conversation is also... Appreciated. It seems you are far more polite than the other. I suppose I must apologize for any transgressions caused'
Corax could merely spit as he felt the surreal, dark realm he'd encased himself within retreat, the material norm rushing back like water through a crack as he breathed in the still prevalent scent of blood. The entity rose up, slowly growing fainter as it dissipated into the fragment of the nebula hanging within the overcast sky, vanishing behind a cloud as soon as Corax broke eye contact.
Shaking his head at the previous events, the Primarch of the Raven Guard walked to the battlements again, inattentively crushing a machine gun stand beneath his feet as he leant on the waist high walls, deep in thought.
'Forgive my interruption, my lord'
He closed his eyes. It was time, he supposed. Time to let the butchers bill be announced, time to expose his failure for all to see. He turned and slowly opened his eyes again, looking at his sons within the doorway as he clenched his fist slowly.
'You have the reports?'
'Aye, my lord.'
It was all he could do to muster his reply, as simple as it was.
'Very well. Let's hear them then.'
The Primarch unclenched his fist agonizingly slowly. As he did, he felt the new power his legion held flood through him. Its amount surprised him, like a great reservoir smashing through the concrete shackles if it's dam. Perhaps, if used with moderation, his newfound powers could present him a new, unique front in battle...