Deep within the confines of the Thunderhawk's hanger bay, Miria tensed within this grim chamber as she looked upon the strange machinery that decorated the walls. It was disturbing, to think about what kind of power these men had. Even without their odd tools, these Angels of Death lived up to their name on the battlefield. Seven feet tall, clad in scarlet armour, wielding both familiar weapons with unknown properties and bizarre slug throwers that spat fire and steel at the enemy, leaving nothing but charred corpses and red puddles in their wake.
Even now, as the ship buckled and swayed, she never took her eyes off them, studying their behaviour like they were her enemy. An alliance with such deadly warriors was preferable, of course. Given that they had nearly wiped them out on their first encounter. Still, they seemed distrustful of them; a common reaction to them from the townsfolk across the continent, but for such super humans to be so uneasy working with others like them did not bode well, for that was an indicator of true prejudice.
As she looked over each soldier, she now had the chance to properly see just what kind of men they were. Similar to the Claymores, they bore little to no emotion on their faces, their faces steeled in preparation for the next battle. But each one of them had a distinct method of coping with their nerves.
Tarkus, whose face bore massive, faded scars leaving his visage looking cracked and old. An obvious veteran, who had seen these kinds of skirmishes before and only sought to ensure his equipment was functioning properly. She looked at him, the older man ignoring her either to focus on tending to the Bolter in his hands or simply unwilling to meet the gaze of a silver-eyed witch.
She then turned to the youngest of the group, Thaddeus. Although he put up the same cold mask as his brothers, Miria could see how much like Raki he was. The youngest of the group, whose relatively pristine face belied the confident warrior he was. However, as she looked further, she could see that his scars ran much deeper than what she had assumed. He had his fair share of battles, and the grim facade he wore only revealed how much he had lost and no doubt, who he had lost. She gave the man a pitying glance; his innocence had been lost a long time ago.
The one who really unsettled her; Cyrus. His disturbing metal eye looked as if it could see right through her; through anything that attempted to conceal its secrets. Like Tarkus, he too, was an experienced soldier. But that dark look in his eye told the story of an assassin. A cloaked killer who would and could eliminate anything that jeopardised the empire he served. She could see it. That massive rifle of his; Powerful and precise, just like the man who carried it. He looked mostly indifferent to everything around him, but his gaze was focused and sharp. A veteran who had seen so much horror in his life, it mattered little to him. All he cared about was the next enemy in his line of fire and what the most efficient way to eradicate it would be.
Miria remembered his stand off with Galatea. He didn't care about the chaos around him. He only looked for the shatter point within a group. He did not engage Galatea because she was a subject of curiosity to him; he wanted information before he set his sights on the target. She only prayed that she would not end up in his field of vision.
Aramus seemed to be the most stoic of the group, and yet he was also so easy to read. Although his mind was as much of a weapon as his hammer, he was still little more than the ideal commander - Dedicated, emotionless, calculating, and indomitable. So single-minded in his autonomy, that any underlying ambitions were pushed aside. He was a weapon and little more.
Diomedes looked at the Claymores and frowned. The idea of allying with such unholy creatures seemed tantamount to heresy. But still, the Blood Ravens were guardians of knowledge and the more they knew about these xenos, the better prepared they would be if they were to unleash their blasphemous powers upon them. As he looked through the ranks of warriors, both brothers and Claymores, he felt shame creep up on him like a silent knife.
They had fallen so far from their seat in power that they now had to consort with abhumans to survive or be consumed by their own pride and fall like so many others. It was pointless to commence a purge upon the lives on this world. These Claymores clearly held immense power, attempting to start another conflict would be redundant and cost the Blood Ravens more resources then it already had. Besides, alliances forged in blood and fire would be a great boon for them all. For the enemies of Man were everywhere in the universe, and it would only be a matter of time before they found their way here, intent on slaughtering for their blasphemous gods.
Between the grinding thoughts between Diomedes and Miria, however, Galatea was the one to break the silence.
"Your mission concerning the mainland holds boundless opportunities" she said, her haughty tone returning as she surveyed the now perturbed Blood Ravens. "My first guess on your objective would be occupation, am I close?"
Diomedes glowered at the smiling warrior. "That is none of your concern, Claymore. The nature of our mission is not up for discussion and so you are on a need-to-know basis". The Captain's harsh tone prompting a low snarl from Miata clutching Galatea's side like a dog and a piece of meat.
"Tough talk coming from you freaks!" Rachel growled, advancing menacingly towards the Space Marines despite their apathy towards her anger. "Let me enlighten you on what we do" The monsters you're hunting, the ones you've been cluelessly searching for. We've spent years fighting their kind. You have no idea what they're capable of, or what we've been through to exterminate them".
At this, Thaddeus made a move to counter, seeing how even he, the most inexperienced of the group still held over 100 years of combat experience as an Assault Marine, but Tarkus firmly placed his hand on his shoulder to shut him up.
Aramus just gazed at the short-haired warrior and responded, his tone robotically mocking. "Am I to understand you were taken by the Organisation as children, infused with Yoma flesh and blood, before being trained how to swing a sword and blend in with the masses?"
Rachel sputtered as she attempted to fire back, but the Commander cut her off. "Everything you had to endure; alienation, loneliness, fear, the loss of your comrades at the hands of demons, and discovering the organisation you serve to be nothing but corrupt madmen dabbling in the unspeakable; rendering all of your sacrifices pointless".
The Claymores were stunned. "How…How did you know that was what we went through?" Clare gasped.
"We never told you that much. So I guess you've had similar experiences?" Yuma added.
"Worse" Cyrus growled, ignoring Diomedes and Tarkus' disapproving glances. "Imagine every horrific sensation you have felt in your life added ten fold. You're a soldier under the command of fools and lunatics, who cost you half of your military might, not out of heroic sacrifices or puritanical cleansing, but out of sheer incompetence and a payment of blood to their gods. And you see the rest of them fall to traitors and insatiable monsters. I don't doubt the threat the Asarakam and others alike pose, but I can assure you, they pale in comparison to what we have seen and destroyed".
The Claymores did their best not to hide their shock. Most of them failed. Audrey pulled Rachel back into their side to end the argument. Miria once again attempted to process their words. What they had endured was so much worse than everything they had been through? Their tone did not lie about their experiences. And it made sense, given the excess of their armour and weapons. But now curiosity started to build; what the hell did they mean by insatiable monsters. Something worse than the Asarakam and Awakened Beings actually existed? And it was here?
She was so enraptured in the chilling thought that she almost forgot about the garbled voice resonating within the hanger. She and the other Claymores literally did a double take as the voice of the ship's pilot rang out.
"Captain, we've reached the mainland". said the pilot. "We're nearing a large settlement based on proximity scans, but we're also picking up massive energy signatures. There is something down there".
"Can you get us to the surface?"
"Aye, Captain. However, I advise you be on your guard. Whatever's down there, it's clearly powerful". The Thunderhawk then began to shudder as it hovered for a few moments before it descended and landed on the ground. The Claymores all swayed, clearly unused to the heavy motion sickness, but fortunately not to the point of being sick. However, Raki looked dangerously close, but he held it in, refusing to show weakness and not to have his head smashed in for vomiting over their ship.
A piercing light swamped the dusky hanger as the ramp lowered into a portrait of green and dust. As they exited the gunship, relieved to be back on solid ground and in the glancing sun, the Claymores surveyed their new surroundings. What they were in was a sweeping moor lashed with green moss growing over blackened soil and crumbling roman ruins of what looked to be a settlement. But as the group descended down the ramp and onto fresh ground, much to the Claymores' relief, they saw the small moss-encrusted ruins of a few pillars and houses led down to a large, intricate town.
It was an image of grievous magnificence. What was once a bustling and artistic city that could have outshined even the holy city of Rabona was now nothing more than a crumbling relic.
As the group surveyed the ruined city, Cyrus aimed his rifle at the city. Peering through the scope, he saw that the city was not completely abandoned. "Diomedes, there are soldiers stationed in those ruins. I make out several small garrisons, as well as a cluster of primitive siege engines". He reported, eyeing a cluster of simple catapults located in one of the town squares. It was clear those catapults were designed to smash a large, opposing army. Against them, they would be too cumbersome. The simple gunpowder rifles that some of the soldiers held seemed more threatening, though hardly lethal against the inhumanly fast Claymores, much less against the Blood Ravens.
Galatea scanned the city with her Yoki, looking pensive as her blind eyes lay on a handful of the soldiers, wearing a lavish assembly of gold armour. "The architecture of this city is rich and some of the guards seem to be locals". She then turned to the rest of the men, most clad in simple leather and plate armour; a few in cloaks. "The others look to be from different regions. No doubt a response to a recent attack, given the state the town's in".
"They appear to be on patrol. Judging by their lack of sufficient weaponry, it is likely they are merely a garrison established for reconnaissance and patrol" said Cyrus.
"Agreed. and it would be illogical for a substantial army to come up this far north. Nevertheless, we could obtain valuable intel on any attacks by the Dragonkin that have occurred if we question them". Tarkus concurred.
"If you want to open negotiations with them, you should remain here" Miria interjected. "The sight of you would send them into a panic and raise arms against us".
"And given that we're from the mainland, explaining that, our experience with the dragon kin and you would be too much for them to take in all at once" Deneve said, looking skeptical.
"Then I'll go" said Raki.
"You can't be serious. What good will you do?" Helen looked completely incredulous.
"I'm the only normal human here. If we want to stop them from freaking out, you might as well said someone who won't cause a big panic".
"It would be the most logical option. Besides, Raki is more than capable for it" Clare added, to which Raki grinned at. He had the woman he loved behind his back. What could possibly go wrong?
As the guards of the abandoned Shrine of the North stood on patrol, the fickle sensation of boredom settling in after so many weeks of inactivity, almost begging for something engaging in any form, they were soon greeted by an tempting result as one of the sentries spotted a strange sight. A tall, muscular man, clad in simple cloth and armour with a large broadsword sheared on his back was calmly strolling towards the city. As he neared the ornate gates, the sound of a loud horn rang out through the valley.
So much for avoiding panic. Raki sighed under his breath. Let's just hope they're a bit more diplomatic.
As the sound of gears grinding and the rising portcullis, the gates started to open, Out stepped a man in his late 50s, his hair long and ratty over a wrinkled face bearing nothing but exhaustion and bitterness in the face of countless battles. That took away nothing from the tough physique he wore like the finest garment. A body entombed in black roman armour, embroidered with silver flowers and a dark flowing cape, trimmed in gold. A clear sign of a man looking to dress the part for battle, but cringing at the horrors of war. At his side were two hulking guards, standing several inches taller than Raki wearing reinforced close helmets and heavy suits of plate armour. Each of them carried a massive bearded axe.
The man walked up to Raki, looking up at him with cold eyes. "State your business here, outsider" He spoke, his voice gravelly.
"I'm from the island down south. Up til' now we've had to deal with monsters similar to the ones you've been dealing with. But now most of them are dead thanks to some very powerful allies of mine". Raki smiled assuredly. "I've got some people who would like to talk to you about an alliance to help get rid of the monsters giving you grief".
"That so?" he said, glaring heatedly at Raki as he walked up to him until they were inches apart. "Then I suggest you find yourself back at Rossetti and piss off back to that island". Before Raki could protest, he cut him off with a right hook, knocking Raki to the ground. "I've been trapped in this shitpile of a city for months in service to Graf and you come waltzing over from that godforsaken island to come talk to us about peace!" He growled as he drew his sword before a searing pain appeared at his weapon-arm, watching it fall to the ground along with his sword.
Raki was now on his feet, his broadsword trickling a few streams of blood from the clean swipe. The man fell to his knees, clutching his severed arm and shouting through the pain. "Kill the bastard!"
The two brutes next to him wasted no time in charging at Raki. One swung his axe at Raki's head, before the young man's sword parried, forcing the axe to the ground before kicking him straight in the chest as his sword drove into the soldier's chest and through his back. As he slumped to the ground, his partner charged behind Raki and brought the full weight of his sword down before Raki pulled his sword up into a horizontal parry, stopping the axehead inches from his skull. The brute raised his weapon for another strike before a grey blur shot right past him, the sound of torn flesh and shattered metal almost supersonic as he fell into two. Raki smiled at Clare, her own sword running with blood before they turned to the sound of the gates closing.
The two simply frowned until they were joined by the rest of the group in the form of Helen charing at the forefront with her arm twisted 21 times before her appendage stretched and unfurled into the Extendable Drill Sword, soaring towards the gate.
The grand gates of Mosan promptly disintegrated as Helen charged through. Behind her, Rachel and Audrey charged towards the terrified soldiers who came at them. Audrey sliced through the pikemen with little strain, casually blowing her hair out of her face to clear her vision as she cut through the ranks with surgical precision whilst Rachel smashed through the armoured knights, crumpling their armour under her heavy blows.
From the ramparts, several of the gunmen and archers fired at the invaders before several bolts from Cyrus' rifle rang through the air, tearing through the ballistas and anyone unfortunate to be found in the line of fire. Disoriented, the outward side of the wall was soon painted scarlet as Miria leapt over the battlements, cutting down the sharpshooters. On the other sides, a massive crash echoed out as Diomedes and Thaddeus dove from the sky, scattering the stragglers off of the ramparts with the resulting impact, before hacking and tearing through the remaining guards.
The rest of the battalion at the town square surveyed the carnage in horror. "Man the catapults! Drive them back!" shrieked the captains.
No sooner had the catapults were fired, the projectiles completely missing their nimble targets, did Deneve and Yuma swoop down from the rooftops, the former digging her twin swords into the siege engines, her immense strength allowing her to mangle the war machines like a hammer smashing glass. Yuma meanwhile swept through the rangers, easily dodging their arrows. Another squad of knights attempted to help their comrades by charging the attackers, until they saw Aramus powering towards them with God-Splitter in hand. Three of them attempted to cut him down before being reduced to bloody stains by a singular swing. The rest of them wisely chose to flee before Tarkus let off a burst from his bolter, leaving naught but mangled bits of flesh and steel in the dirt.
Galatea and Miata meanwhile were engaged with the city's calvary. As a unit of horsemen rode towards them with spears, maces and lances, Galatea calmly stood her ground, before the men's aim suddenly went awry, missing the black-clad warrior before the Blood Eye descended upon them, chopping through the screaming men and tossing their whinnying horses aside.
By that time, the garrison had seemed to have gotten its bearings as over a thousand men formed ranks with a layer of shields and pikeman up front, ready to skewer anything that came into range with marksmen armed with rifles, bows and crossbows preparing to lay suppressive fire. As they set up their positions, the Angels of Death and the Silver-Eyed Witches observed their formation momentarily before charging in.
As they charged, siege weapons from the centre of town began to rain down fire on them. But the Claymores were too nimble and easily dodged the unwieldy projectiles. The marksman let off volleys of bullets and arrows upon them, but to their horror, not only did these silver-eyed witches dodged those as well, but they did nothing but ricochet off of the Blood Ravens' thick armour. As the garrison started to break ranks, sensing the hopelessness against these juggernauts, Rachel and Deneve took the lead, charging right through the middle of the ranks, slicing through two squads.
Behind them, Raki and Clare had rejoined the group and the two of them leaped into the garrison, Clare promptly eviscerating an entire squad with her Quicksword as her lover cut down four pikemen, his natural strength more than sufficient enough to put down these grunts. Meanwhile, most of the Blood Ravens had stood down, not wishing to waste the Emperor's bolts on a few men who the Claymores could so easily handle. That did not stop Diomedes and Thaddeus from soaring from the sky on their jump-packs, crushing most of the fleeing stranglers before hacking through the rest as if they were cattle.
It wasn't long before they all closed in on the town centre before another horn blew out as a trembling knight and what appeared to be roughly a hundred men out of the 1500 warriors on guard at Mosan held their hands up in surrender.
Dragging the warden forward was Cynthia who had spent most of the battle, restraining the man and tending to his stump so it would not become infected. The old man's voice was now raspy from shock and blood loss, his once cold eyes now staring in terror at the super humans who just eviscerated his garrison. "What the hell are you? And w-why are you here? Are you with that damned Organisation?"
At this, Raki simply knelt down, his voice hard, but smooth. "It's a long story. And one we don't have time to tell you. But what we can tell you is that we're here to talk with the leaders of the mainland and work out an partnership between you and these guys back here". He said, gestured to the Blood Ravens, causing the warden to do a double take.
"What?!" He sputtered. "Why the hell would those freaks want an alliance with us?"
"Recruitment". Diomedes growled, as he loomed over the quivering warden. "We are soldiers of an endless war with the enemies of our great Imperium. Our ranks need to replenish. We require new initiates and have chosen this land as a new recruiting ground. In exchange, you will have our protection and be made a part of the Imperium".
The warden gaped at these words as he struggled to find his breath. "Exactly w-what kind of enemies does your…Imperium face?"
"Only the most unholy and heretical demons, soldier. That is all you need to know". Diomedes replied stoically. "What we need to know is the location of your capital and where the Dragon kin lie for us to slay".
"You-you will want to head south from here towards the capital city of Monet. But at the distance, it will take you several days. Maybe more". He said, trying to sugarcoat his word in the hopes they would not take his head. "As for negotiations, I'm not sure if they will take you seriously, but personally, I'd agree to it".
The Claymores looked on as the man began to blurt on about his experiences with the Asarakam as the Blood Ravens began to interrogate him. An awful chill drifted across them all. What little they had heard was mostly what they already knew but the way in which Diomedes had approached the man and how desperately they wanted this land for themselves had revealed the extent of their ruthlessness. True, they had started the fight, but it seemed like what they were facing here seemed strangely insignificant compared to what they were struggling to fight against. These Angels of Death needed others to join them, but what would happen when the demons they spoke of came for them all? Because when it came to the fights they picked, no matter how bad it got, no matter how many of their comrades they lost or how horrific the monsters they fought were, it would always get worse.
Diomedes then left the man at Cynthia's disposal as he wandered away from the group, picking up a signal on his vox channel from the Retribution.
"What is it, Martellus?"
"Captain, grave news. I have filtered the Retribution's sensors away from the planet's surface and have found a new energy spike emerging from the other side of the planet's orbit". Martellus reported, his voice grim. "It is the Space Hulk, the Judgement of Carrion, Captain and there appear to be several Chaos vessels emerging alongside it".
Cursing under his breath, Diomedes replied "Have they detected the Retribution at all?"
"The Judgement of Carrion seems to be settling into the planet's orbit. I've focused scans on the Chaos Vessels however. I read fourteen ships in total. Two Desecrator Class Battleships, Four Retaliator Grand Cruisers and Eight Styx Heavy Cruisers. I'm detecting several energy spikes from the Desecrators. They seem to have engaged the Space Hulk, and it appears they are locked in an engagement".
"However, I am detecting smaller ships deploying from the main vessels. They are headed towards the planet and will soon be within the atmosphere in approximately several hours".
The Blood Ravens all listened into the vox now, completely disregarding everything else around them. The Claymores, sensing something was very wrong, rounded on them all. Ignoring the growing tension between the two squads, Diomedes let Martellus continue.
"However, this attack has provided us an advantage. The energy output from the Immaterium has created an opposing charge to the residual energy from the planet's surface. All scanning rites have now been completed without crippling interference. I have also sent a distress signal to Chapter Master Angelos. He has called upon the Ordo Malleus to have both the Judgement of Carrion and the heretic vessels destroyed".
"The Chaos legions would rather find something on the surface to slaughter first rather than bombard it from the sky". said Cyrus as the other Blood Ravens joined in the argument
"This changes everything". replied Tarkus. "Martellus. Prepare Thunderhawks for extraction. Have them head for Rabona and get the remainder of the Claymores out of there."
There was a brief pause before Diomedes confirmed the order. "Do it".
"Yes, Captain. Be on your guard for any chaos incursions. Martellus out".
The Blood Ravens now turned to the glaring Claymores. "What is going on, Diomedes?" Miria demanded, trying to mask her fear from the Captain.
Looking upon everything that just happened, the massacre they had just committed, the cowering men they had spared and now these Angels of Death, who had wrought nothing but destruction since their arrival, the abhuman warriors they had disdained glaring at them like some repugnant filth and his fellow battle-brothers, Diomedes could only reply.
"The Dragon Kin are no longer our priority. The forces of Chaos have found their way to this world".
And that was me raising the stakes. Honestly, I think I could have done so much better with this. But I spent several hours on this so I may edit later. Hope you enjoyed it and as always, like and review!
