Thanks for the reviews guys, some of you have brought up rather good points what I feel like I should answer to. First thing of course is how the good ol' dread is not going on a rampage already. The familiar runes are denying that possibility for now and the second reason is that he doesn't really have a goal to strive for. I'll loan from the Soul Hunter novel "I do not understand what is needed of me. That is all." As for the magic of warpcraft, he doesn't like it but understand it is necessary sometimes. On the note of using Imperial dreadnought, well...it would have been rather short story. As in someone saying that founder Brimir is god while dread is present. "That is extra heretical!" -wrrrrrrrrDAKKADAKKA!- Of course the runes would have stopped that happening too but still.
Night had fallen over Halkeginia. The sky was overcast and only a modicum of light shone through from the starry sky. In the deep shadows of the academy an ancient warrior stalked for his prey. He moved slowly and quietly, making only a slightest sound of ground trembling beneath his tread. Preysight active he could see all myriad colors of heat signatures. 'Like hunter hunting a prey.' Malcharion mused. There was something wrong in his current situation but he couldn't pinpoint what it was. He was skulking in the shadows like an assassin, well as quietly and unseen as his body allowed. Nothing wrong in that. Maybe it was the reason why he was sneaking to catch a servant to help him? Nah. Maybe the reason why he needed a servant? To wash the clothes his master had given him? Him? A venerable dreadnought whose purpose was to guide younger astartes with his wisdom, to crush the enemy and be just plain inspirational to them? Yes. There had to be something wrong in that. He was going to have some words with her 'master' about how she treated him like some sort of chapter serf.
Coming from behind a corner he had found his prey. A female by the shape of the heat signature, sitting sideways on a rim of a fountain. 'Preysight.' He mentally commanded and the sight became that of normal light. The moons shone through from a tear in the clouds on the female serf who was looking up to the sky. At least Malcharion guessed she was a serf since she didn't wear the clothes like those students earlier. He was hidden deep in the shadows and only half of him was visible behind the corner. And then the sky betrayed him. Clouds moved slightly and the moonlight began to illuminate him slowly.
Maid's name was Siesta. She had been working in the Tristain Academy for few years now, having left her home town of Tarbes behind. She worked diligently and always send money to her family at Tarbes. Her dream was to start a winery when she had pooled enough money from her meager wages. But for now she just had to accept her current role as a maid in a academy full of nobles.
She had finished doing the laundry earlier and had sat down for a moment. She had stared at the water when it began to ripple. The ground had shook slightly and there was sound of distant thunder coming close, and then it just had suddenly stopped. She had thought it was just some nobles playing around with their powers. But when the moonlight had moved away from her and towards the building her heart almost stopped. Slowly but surely the moonlight illuminated what only could be a nightmare given form. A giant metallic monstrosity. A giant skull with burning red eyes leered at her unblinkingly. She did only thing she could. She fainted. And fell into the fountain.
'Hnn. That is new.' Malcharion though as the serf fell into the fountain. Need for stealth was no longer required so he stomped closer to the fountain and looked down. The serf was floating in there clearly unconscious. 'This has to be first time when someone faints before me.' He thought and dropped the clothes in his hand on the ground. Carefully scooping the serf on his massive hand he lifted her from the fountain and laid her beside it. Taking his time to observe the serf he guessed she might be what normal people called beautiful, although he wasn't sure. He was a warrior and not a poet. Well maybe a little poet thrown in since he had written a book when he was alive.
Siesta woke with a startled yelp. What she was doing on the ground and her clothes wet? Had someone knocked her in the head and dumped in the fountain? Sitting up she looked her surroundings, it was still night and moon was there were it was moments ago. And the giant metal monster was still there and staring at her... She let out a strangled scream and backed away until her back met with the fountain rim.
"Hold it, child. I mean you no harm." The monster boomed and Siesta winced at the sound. "In fact, I do require you help."
Siesta was surprised. What help would a metallic giant need from a mere maid like her?
"Yes?" She managed to squeak.
"I need you to..." The thing trailed off.
"You need me to..what?"
"Wash those clothes beside you and then return them to Louise Valliere before morning." And with that the giant turned around and began to stalk away into the night. Noticing a winged skull motif on the giant Siesta locked up. Winged skull. Midnight clad. Lord of the night? Was the stories her grandfather told her the truth? And was the coin he had given her really a token of theirs? Taking the token in question from her dress she read what was inscribed in it.
"Ave dominus nox."
The giant stopped in midstep and almost stumbled. With great speed it turned and stormed back to her.
"What did you just say?" The giant boomed.
"A-ave dominus nox."
"How do you know these words, I had understood that no one knows of the Imperium nor the adeptus astartes here? Answer me!"
"My grandfather used to tell me a stories of his time aboard a great ship that sailed the stars, of the angels of death and their crusade for vengeance for their martyred father."
"Your grandfather? How is this possible? Once mortals boarded our ship they could not leave alive. What was his name?"
"His name was Septimus. He passed away several years ago. He left me this token and told me it would protect me from those who are midnight clad."
"Show me." It was a demand. Siesta held the silver coin for the giant to see. A towering spire was inscribed on it and on other side were the words "ave dominus nox".
Malcharion's mind reeled. How it was possible for a legion token to find its way here on this backwater planet? How it was possible for a mortal to escape from one of their ships? Wait. Septimus. That was the name of the slave Talos had aboard the Covenant of Blood. It was inconceivable for the man to first escape and then become a grandfather. It had to been less than a century ago. Another mystery to solve.
"What is your name child?"
"Siesta, sir."
"I am Malcharion, war-sage of the VIII legion, the Night Lords. The legion token you are holding marks you as one of ours."
"What do you mean by 'one of ours', sir? I have a contract to the academy already."
"Such contract is meaningless to me. No. Legion token marks you as one of us and by that extend it protects you from those of us who follow the old traditions. In addition it means you are under our protection. Should any of these upstarts try to abuse you I shall smite them down like ants they are."
"Really sir?"
"Yes. But that means you are my servant. And my first order is for you to look after Louise Valliere's needs."
"Yes sir! Thank you!" Siesta exclaimed happily.
Malcharion turned away and began to stalk away into the night, Siesta voicing of thanks ringing unusual in his mind. Work of an astartes was mostly thankless. He didn't even remember the last time someone thanked him for something.
In the academy's library Professor Colbert poured over the old tomes looking for the runes he had inspected on Malcharion the Reborn. A war-sage. What strange monikers for an even stranger golem. The VIII-legion. The Night Lords. He had never heard of these organizations before. The summoning ritual was supposed to bring forth creatures from the wilds of Halkeginia. And then he had said he had been dead. How could a golem have been alive to begin with? And the runes. 'Gandalfr' Left Hand of God. No such runes were ever recorded after the last Void user. Founder Brimir.
Then there was the summoner to add in to the equation. Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière. A student whose theoretical part of the study was rather good, her practical application was abysmal. Everything she tried to cast ended in a explosion. So then how could this young teen manage to summon this golem from some far away place not known to Halkeginia. This was an utter and complete mystery to him. 'Maybe I am thinking this too much. I should probably go to sleep and then go to see the headmaster tomorrow.' He thought.
Closing the tome he had been reading he began placing the books back to the shelves. Climbing on the ladders to reach the upper shelves to place one of the tomes back, another one caught his attention. Carefully taking the book out of it's place he inspected it. It was bound in midnight blue leather, winged skull grinning at him. He opened it and noticed how it was written in a flowing language he didn't know. But one there was one thing he understood. Written on the cover of the book was the name of the author. Malcharion. "How did this book get in here?" He asked aloud, particularly from no one at this time of night. 'Yes. I really need to go sleep now, this mystery is growing in proportion.' Taking the book with him he left to his own dormitory.
In her room Louise tossed and turned on her bed. Sweat glistened on her brows and her face twisted as if in pain. In her dream she found herself in a place of battle of epic proportions. Great metal buildings reached for the sky. In the rubble strewn streets she could see figures running towards her. They were like giant men, everyone of them over two and half meters tall. Clad in white armor they ran from cover to cover closing her. She could see an insignia on their right shoulder. Yellow, simplified lightning bolt. 'What are they?' She wondered. A sound like musket firing rapidly interrupted her thoughts from the other end of the street and she turned around. They we're clad in midnight blue armor and their insignia was red winged skull. Their armor was like the white knights, but their was more heavily stylized with trophies. To Louise's horror they carried heads and skulls chained to their armor. Helmets painted with skulls and demon heads.
Warriors met with a thunderous crash and they began to fight in close melee. Swords with roaring teeth met and sent sparks flying. Two figures were locked in deadly melee while others avoided them. They had ornate swords with fields of lightning enveloping them. Slashing, parrying, thrusting, feinting they dueled, but ultimately the white knight had his head taken off after a vicious riposte. Battle ended shortly after and the leader of the midnight clad knights took of his helmet.
"Captain Malcharion, are you alright?" One of the warriors rasped.
"Yes. We will continue momentarily. Extract the gene-seed from our fallen brothers, Soul Hunter."
Soul Hunter nodded and went onto his grizzly work while Malcharion took the helmet of the knight he had slain in duel. Louise was both horrified and curious. 'This is what my familiar was before he was turned into a golem? And what did he mean by Soul Hunter?' Loiuse turned to look at what the Soul Hunter was doing. With some weird contraption on his wrist he drilled into the fallen warriors and and splash of blood withdrew something out of them. Louise felt gorge rising up her throat at the sight.
"The battle awaits, brothers." Malcharion said and slammed his helmet on his head. And with that they all turned and ran away into the battle again. Louise followed them. The scene from the earlier repeated itself two more times. Once against the warriors in dark green and another time against warriors in red. Malcharion took two helmets from the champions he had defeated. And then he had been blown away by explosion. Louise felt the scene fading and changing into something else.
In great dark hallways the blown body of Malcharion was rolled on a gurney to a great hall. Within the hall Louise witnessed horrible abominations. Men with metal parts integrated into them. A thing in a dark robe with mask like silver skull instructed them to take Malcharion's armor off. Both of his legs and right arm had been blown away, dried blood caked his empty eye sockets. With his last strenght Louise could hear him whisper.
"I do not want this. I have served with loyalty and honor...Throw...my ashed into the void...Do...not...entomb me..."
