Omni Honore: Chapter10
In the dank and mouldy corridor a stand-off was occurring, Chaplain Wrethan looming over the bloated and disease ridden form of Novak, his flesh turning from bloated to putrefied in seconds. The young duellist moaned in delirium for the disease was well progressed but Wrethan was determined to end its progress before it ran its course.
Toran however had placed himself between the Chaplain and his fallen brother as he said, "Father have you gone mad?"
"The Rot is in him" said Wrethan, "Nothing can stop it."
"So you will kill him without even trying to find a cure" snarled Toran, "He has fought well and loyally this is not honourable."
Wrethan stared grimly at the Sergeant then did something unexpected; he reached up and twisted his helm off. The face beneath was grim and scarred yet there was no hate or anger in him, only a sorrowful determination.
"Toran" he said his voice filled with sadness, "This is the worst of Nurgle's plagues, the infection cannot be stopped and is always fatal but that is not the worst of it. The disease corrupts the soul, if allowed to run its course it turns the victim into a Plaguebearer, a Daemon of Nurgle. Would you wish such a fate upon Novak?"
Toran reached up to wrench off his own helm, wincing at the horrific stench of decay in the air and sorrow was writ large over his face as he said, "He is my brother."
Wrethan lowered his head in remorse and said, "He is a brother to all of us and we have a duty to him. We cannot condemn him to an eternity of torment not when there is still time to send his soul to the Divine Emperor."
"Is there no chance for him?" asked Toran lowering his gaze.
"Say your goodbyes while you can" said Wrethan shaking his head sadly.
Toran wanted to protest he wanted to rage and shout but he knew the truth of Wrethan's words, Novak was beyond saving and hating the Chaplain for performing his duty was a selfish indulgence. Wrethan stepped back and Toran turned to kneel beside his infected brother, he looked into Novak's face and saw him lost in delirium and fever dreams.
Toran placed his hand on Noavk's pauldron and drew in a slow breath to say, "Farewell brother, your swift blade will be sorely missed as will your exuberance. No one felt the joy of victory more fiercely than you; our missions will be dour indeed without your boisterous spirit."
Furion came and knelt beside them as he said, "Brother you have fought honourably and well, your name shall be entered in the Scrolls of Honour. You showed us that duty need not be a wearisome burden."
Persion joined them and signed a tribal icon from his savage homeworld and said, "You die as you lived: Gloriously."
Wrethan made the sign of the Aquilla and took a ceremonial knife from his belt but Toran held out his hand said, "Allow me Father, it is the least I can I do for him." Wrethan bowed solemnly then handed over the knife with respect.
Toran leaned over Novak with knife in hand, intending to end his life with one quick thrust. He opened his mouth to say the traditional words of the Emperor's Peace but the words died on his lips as he saw something curious.
The corridor around them still bore its dank covering of mould and lice over the bare metal yet where the black particles from the Psyk-Out grenade had fallen an odd thing was happening. The ash had gathered in thick clumps and wherever it touched the ground the mould was disappearing.
It was not just dying either, the dank mould was physically retreating like a time lapsed vid pict in reverse. The lice and maggots were also fleeing in droves, leaving patches of bare metal around each cluster of sooty ash. Slowly Toran picked up a handful of clingy black particles, feeling their inert mass which went beyond their flaky appearance.
Wrethan said, "What are you doing?"
Toran replied, "I am not sure", acting totally on instinct he rubbed the flakes onto Novak face, smearing them across his bloated skin.
The effect was pronounced; wherever the psychically null particles came into contact the green veins retreated like an animal from fire. The lesions shrank before Toran's eyes and the puffiness subsided impossibly fast. It was almost like the disease itself was terrified of the null effect and retreated deeper within its host.
Everyone was astonished at the result and Toran yelled, "Quickly, gather more we can still save Novak!"
With haste the rest of the squad began scooping up the black ash, gathering great clumps of it in their gauntlets. They tore at Novak's armour clasp practically ripping off the Ceramite plates and underweave to reveal his naked form.
Novak's body was disgustingly swollen with fluids, his skin mottled and covered with trinary lesions and threaded through with green veins. The squad wasted not a moment, smearing the clingy ash all over his limbs and torso and wherever it touched the foul disease retreated in panic.
Furion rolled his brother over and they began pasting his back in the sooty flakes, even Wrethan was helping. They smeared Novak head to toe in the black substance until he more resembled a son of Vulkan than a descendent of Guilliman.
Meanwhile Toran tore out a water ration bottle from his armour supply cache and ripped it open, he then grabbed handfuls of particles and poured them in. He slammed his hand over the top and shook vigorously until the water resembled a turgid sludge but he had never seen such a beautiful sight.
He lifted up his brother's ash covered head and said, "Drink Novak, you must drink."
Novak lips parted slightly and Toran poured the black sludge down his throat. The young marine coughed and retched but the Sergeant was relentless and poured it all down, filling his insides with the Null particles.
Novak's blood shot eyes snapped open and he screamed in high pitched agony, his back arched to lift him off the floor and the rest of the squad were forced to hold him down. Novak trashed wildly then suddenly he spewed green vomit all over his front.
The squad turned him on his side and watched as he regurgitated a stream of green bile, evacuating an endless torrent of disease from his system. The resulting puddle was not still but spread and moved almost like some intelligent thing or a single celled organism moving through the ocean.
Toran watched in disgust as it oozed away from them trying to escape the psychic nothingness filling its host. Yet the cruel touch of air was burning it away and as Toran looked on it began to evaporate and disappear. Quickly the diseased filth turned to steam and finally was destroyed taking the Warp taint with it.
He looked back at Novak and saw beneath his coat of ash he was breathing clearly, his flesh was subsiding and the skin was beginning to lose his mottled appearance. Before their eyes the young marine was being restored to normal, becoming once more the vibrant duellist they knew and cherished.
Impossibly against all odds Novak had survived Nurgle's Rot: the first man in history to do so.
The squad leaned back and Furion said in wonder, "I do not believe what I just saw, no one survives the Rot but you just cured him."
Persion had a guarded tone to his voice as if he dared not trust what he saw as he said, "He is not recovered yet, his health will take much time to be restored."
Toran felt only relief though as he said, "We cannot risk leave him alone, someone must stay here with him."
Chaplain Wrethan said, "I will stay with him, I will monitor him closely, in case of relapses."
Toran frowned in annoyance and said, "Did you not just witness the same thing we did?"
Wrethan looked solemn as he said, "I appeared to witness the Emperor grant us a miracle but the wiles of the enemy are cunning indeed. This may only be a trick to lull us into infecting the rest of the ship: we must have certainty."
He saw the look on Toran's face and said, "Do not worry, I will not act rashly, I want our brother to survive as much as you do. I will be his guardian until we return to the Chapter and the Librarians can screen his soul for taint. Until then you must press onwards, the battle is not done yet."
Toran nodded in understanding and said, "Emperor watch over you."
Wrethan replied, "I suspect you will be more in need of His benevolence before this day is out, we have faced champions of three of the Ruinous powers, only the Changer of Ways remains unaccounted for. Guard your soul and remember the Daemon is a lie made manifest, trust nothing you see or hear."
Toran made the sign of the Aquilla then he stood and clamped his helm back on leaving the Chaplain watching over Novak. Then he led Furion and Persion onwards to face the final Daemon.