The psychic strength of Amman-Zhar's barrier waned as he expended more power. The sheer amount of bullets, lasers and bolt rounds that struck his defences would have overwhelmed even a Terminator. His ears were filled with the roars of chainblades, revved engines and almost bestial war cries as feral bike mounted warrior women assailed in close combat.
Arcs of warp lightning leapt from the armoured fingertips of the Librarian, incinerating one biker who violently crashed into the ground. Pain began to flood his brain, blood flowed from his nostrils and eyes as he began to hear whispers in his thoughts but the rage kept him going. The unexpected attack of these heavily armed pirates had decimated the garrison on Aaru and it was pointless now to expect the rest of the Chapter to return in time to defeat the invaders.
Intent on killing as many of these pirates as he could, the Librarian channelled far more warp energy than what most trainedpsykers would have deemed safe until he practically blazed with witch-fire. His eyes became twin burning orbs as his body became wreathed with warp-born fury and he hurled a ball of flame that struck a heavy truck-like vehicle that was loaded with heavy stubbers. The front section of the machine exploded in fire and metal shards, the wreckage crushed another smaller vehicle and but still there were simply far more of them.
Powerful lances of dark energy then struck his shield and the Librarian turned his attention once more upon the xeno. Moving with the speed commonly associated with the Eldar, the alien warrior unleashed more shots and grenades that were launched that would have felled Amman-Zharr had he not erected his barrier. Focusing his will upon the foul xeno and attempting to telekinetically crush its body, he was alarmed when he suddenly sensed another psychic presence that dispelled his channelling.
Before the Librarian knew it, he saw the flash of a glowing blade aimed toward his neck and he was barely able to lift his Force Staff in time to parry the weapon. At the moment of impact, he felt a rush of psychic fury from the weapon of newest attacker who he briefly caught a glimpse of. Dressed in thick robes with a gleaming force blade in hand, the Librarian at first thought that it was another Eldar but immediately he realized otherwise.
His attacker then lifted up a hand towards him and a powerful telekinetic blast was thrown towards him. The Telekine barrier of Amman-Zharr shattered and the body of the Librarian was hurled like a brick. It took his brain a moment to realize that he was off of his feet and hurtling through the air, he felt a brief bout of vertigo before he painfully crashed into the broadside of an Armoury structure.
A constant wave of telekinetic fury battered at body of the Librarian who felt a great pressure pressing upon him, his own will was all that prevented him from being pulped like an insect. The ferrocrete walls of the Armoury groaned as it crumpled beneath the psychic onslaught. Roaring in defiance and pain, he saw again the enemy psyker whose form blazed brightly to his Witch-Sight.
+Give in+' a seductive, feminine voice whispered into his mind. 'Give yourself in and we will avenge the lost of your brothers, give in and we can help you...'
+Never!+ mentally snarled Amman-Zhar, he would not give his soul up to the forces of Chaos! He would not allow his body to become the conduit that tore reality asunder! He would never willingly let servants of the Dark Gods take control of him!
+Do not succumb Space Marine+ a new voice then spoke in his mind and the first recoiled in anger. 'Please lay down and this will be all over swiftly, accept defeat and you will live this day!'
+Lies!+ the first voice then said and briefly did Amman-Zhar catch a glimpse of a thing that was both attractive and repulsive at once. +The witch is deceiving you! If you surrender, you will merely face a far worse fate! Give yourself to us little Astartes and we will slay these wretched mortals!+
The telekinetic pressure on his body suddenly magnified and he heard the second voice admonish. +Better to die cleanly and free of the daemon than let yourself be damned!+
Amman-Zhar attempted to block out the two voices and instead he tried to summon the necessary energy to break free but before he could, a lance of armour-destroying dark energy pierced his psychic shield and it directly striking into exposed head. The Librarian died quickly and ignominiously, his soul was hardly aware of the death of his body and the things in the Warp which had sought to tempt him had instead found delicious prize waiting just waiting for them...
'About damn time' muttered Naranair as he lowered his spent Blaster. The decapitated corpse of the Mon'keigh Librarian collapsed to the grassy ground with a heavy thud. 'Secure the area and then start looting!' he then demanded of his underlings and soon they began spreading out around the base.
Turning his attention to the human psyker who had made a sudden appearance during the fight, he was unsure on whether he should be thankful or annoyed for his warband had everything under control. She stood merely a few metres away from him and he imagined that she could close such a distance within less than a heartbeat.
'So where is this object you are looking for' hecurtly asked the psyker.
'That which I seek lies within the heart of this bastion but for you, Scion of the Bleeding Court' replies Lynarethin a way which the Dark Eldar captain is unsure whether it is heard within his head or by his ears. She then lifts her psychic blade and she points it towards an Astartes structure which bore an ancient banner held in a stasis field, a Sacred Artifact he believed the Space Marines called it. 'Be wary Bringer of Wrath' the she then warns him, 'for within lies an object of utter corruption and deepest sin.'
'How cryptic' dryly remarked Naranair as he quickly changed the power cell of his Blaster.
'It is here our ways part but before we separate, I grant you a boon' continues Lynareth.
'A boon?' questions Naranair.
'When you face the Hydra, pierce not its heart but the Great Eye' answered the psyker.
'The Hydra?' asks the Dark Eldar with confusion and the outline of Lynareth begins to blur and distort like a Holo-Field. From the eyes of all who remained, the mysterious psyker vanished and Naranair was left with his unanswered questions. Shaking his head in disdain he then turned towards the Sacred Artifact, its walls bore only a few laser scorch marks and bullet holes but was more or less intact.
Heading towards the building, he activated his warsuit's communications unit and he called for his underlings to place a charge upon the ceramite automatic doors. His command was obeyed as a pair of humans quickly disengaged from the rest and they went towards the front of the building where they planted krak grenades smeared with adhesives. Once the charges were set, they sprinted off before the armour breaking explosives shattered the doors.
Dismissing the two underlings, Naranair entered the structure with his Blaster at the ready. There was something here he realized, a faint, sensation he recognized, Warp-craft. Even to one whose senses had been deadened to the Sea of Souls, Naranair could feel its unnatural aura.
The interior of the Sacred Artifact structure was a strange mix of a library, storage room and a landing zone. From previous experience in battling Astartes, the psykers and medical officers of the Space Marines made use of this particular structure and at the moment. All he saw inside the building were stacked metal crates, items taken from the raids of the Renegade Astartes.
Having absolutely no idea where to start and unable to pinpoint the source of the unnatural aura, Naranair muttered a curse and he reached for his belt. From a leather satchel at the side of his waist, he produced a small box shaped device which was etched in arcane glyphs. Pressing his thumb upon one such glyph, the box began to light up and tendrils of light emerged from it.
The object was known as a Fractal Web, a somewhat rare device used by people to safely transport large inorganic object. He had first heard of the devices existence after the fall of the Archon, Surasis Grief, the creator of the mighty Tantalus. It had been not easy for Naranair to find someone in the Dark City who had the knowledge of how to create such an item and price had been steep but well worth it.
Operating the device via the glyphs, the tendrils of the Fractal Web ensnared the mass of containers and once he was confident that everything was secure, he tapped a different glyph. There was a brief flash of light and soon every container was gone, all transported aboard the Chillwind. Quietly nodding, he sharply turned around and headed back outside.
When he emerged from the Sacred Artifact, Naranair saw his underlings eagerly begin looting what they could from the fallen base. Smoke rose high from flames and flares as he heard over the communications network that the transports were en-route towards them. Fresh screams rang out as the surviving defenders soon became the playthings of his Warband's more "unhinged" (at least by human standards) members.
Having drunk down on so much pain this day, he felt rather refreshed and satisfied with the ruthless efficiency of their raid, despite the losses which would be easily once they got back to Footfall. Activating his communications unit again, he sent a message to the Chillwind and he ordered for them to broadcast a message to the rest of the fleet. Signalling for his personal Venom to pick him up, he then brought up his portable Webway device.
The mission was complete and it was time for them to leave.
Feeling the light recoil of his Autogun, Jared fired a controlled burst of solid rounds that brought down another zombie. A foul tide of walking corpses besieged the palisade walls of the colony, rotted hands scratched at the sturdy wooden barrier which was the only thing that kept them safe. There was no end to the undead horde and already, he felt a deep sense of dread in his heart.
If he could, he would run, but he had seen only more zombies on the other side of the colony. He fired another burst that was aimed at the head of a cadaver and it exploded like an overripe melon. His gun clicked and he immediately ejected the empty magazine before putting his last clip.
Whispering a quiet prayer to the Emperor, despite what the Aquila Veritas preached, he had found it hard to entirely shake off the old habit. Raising his weapon once more and peering down the iron-sight, he was about to pull the trigger when suddenly, the zombies just stopped. As one the walking corpses became still like statues, guns continued to open fire and the dead remained silent before finally they turned around.
The weapons of the colonial militia became silent as well and confusion spread among the living defenders. Watching as the dead shambled away, there was a mixed sense of relief and wariness. For many long hours they waited there, watching to see if whether the horde would return or not.
It would be more than a day later until any living soul stepped out of the gates, the stench of death had become overpowering. Their only solace was that after the attack, they had attempted to vox the other colonies and were relieved to find that others had survived. Soon they would set out to meet with the other colonies and they would count their losses before beginning with the task of rebuilding.
High in orbit above the world of Aaru, four ships made their way out of the planet's gravity well. The Chillwind and the Vashanesh had come out unscathed due to having sat out the entirety of the space battle, the Grey Wyrm on the other hand was a heavily damaged wreck. At the lead of the pirate vessels was was the Void Duchess which sailed silently across the cold emptiness of space, its mighty guns were prepared for any oncoming attackers.
They had attempted to hail the Retribution of Tranch but the mutant controlled had vessel had responded with silence and the rest of the fleet had little interest in checking on their compatriot's wellbeing. Anarchy spread among the Ork Fleet, word had gotten out that Kaptain Starkilla was dead and the Nobz of the Freebooter fleet had in typical greenskin fashion, turned on one another, jockeying for control. Unwilling to expend the lives of crew members amidst the internecine fighting, the four ships continued their way.
Once the ships reached the edge of the system, three Arvus Lighters left the hangars of the Void Duchess, the Grey Wyrm and the Vashanesh, each of the craft were headed towards the Chillwind. After a number of brief minutes, the vessels docked within the hangars of the pirate vessel. There was not much fanfare among the crew of the Chillwind to meet the other captains, save of course for their alien master.
Patiently awaiting his fellow Captains, Naranair watched as the first shuttle entered the hangar, the Arvus Lighter was like many mon'keigh manufactured vehicles, crude and ugly to his eyes but he of course remained silent on the matter. The vessel landed within the center of a red painted square on the deck, its legs settled upon the metal with a deep thud and a boarding ramp extended from the rear. From the Arvus came Captain Lucretia who was dressed as ever in her extravagant garments of crimson and gold which were cleverly woven with Craftworld Mesh.
Captain Tarneth came alone of course; a confident and amused grin was spread across the pirate lady's face as her gloved hands casually rested upon the hilts of a pair of power blades. In a fight, Naranair grudgingly had to admit that for a human, Lucretia was unusually skilled, a testament to the teachings of the Corsair Prince of whom she served. Her stride carried with it a measure of grace which he found more appealing in comparison to the clumsy gait of most humans and out of mutual respect, he lifted one hand to her with palm facing Lucretia who mirrored the gesture.
Shortly afterwards, came the shuttle of Lashameia or "Lady Elizabeth von Karsen" as the shape-shifter now called itself. There was hardly anything noble or lady-like in the appearance of the parasitic, warp-born creature whose true appearance was nothing short of bestial. The shape-shifter languidly lay upon a plush anti-gravity bier, an opened razor edged fan was held in its hands as it gave him a look that was both predatory and lascivious.
The last to arrive was Intendent Intemperance; the heavily robed Slaugth was in a way much like Lashameia for both were possessed of an endless hunger and both travelled beneath a human guise. For the moment, Intendent Intemperance took the form of a particularly ugly human male whose visage was marked with old scars born of disease. A long handled spear was clutched in the pale hands of Intendent Intemperance, a Necrotic Lance as it was called, a powerful weapon that was capable of firing beams of energy as powerful as a Darklight weapon.
'I welcome you all aboard the Chillwind' greeted the Dark Eldar and on cue, one of his Draichs came forward and bearing in its clawed arms an intricately engraved, brazen casket that was slightly larger than a Ratling. The flesh construct presented it towards the remaining Captains. It had taken some searching through the mass of containers but thanks to a bit of "help" from the captured astropaths and navigators taken from the Astartes Strike Cruiser it seemed that the blind psyker was correct and they had found the source of the unnatural aura.
'Is that what we were looking for?' questioned Captain Tarneth with a raised eyebrow.
'I can sense power within it' observed Lashameia. 'Dark, familiar and terrible.'
'But what could be held within?' gurgled Intendent Intemperance towards the shape-shifter.
Curious as the rest of them were, Naranair did remember the words of the Rogue Trader's Seneschal about how the less they knew the better. Of course the human envoy of the Metzger Dynasty had not specified on whether they could actually learn for themselves on what the prize was. Ordering the Draich to hand the casket over to the shape-shifter, the flesh construct obeyed and it marched towards Lashameia who reached out to take the object.
A surprised hissed came from the warp-born parasite as it hissed and for a moment, its illusion faltered and Naranair saw a semblance of it true, Chiropteran features. The human-like visage then reasserted itself as the air around became filled with an unnatural charge as Lashameia began drawing energy from the Warp itself. From personal experience, the Naranair knew when there was sorcery in use and he instinctively became more wary for there was always the dangers of a miscast when one channelled the powers of the Othersea.
His gauntleted right hand remained close to the grip a Splinter Pistol holstered by his side while his left did likewise with another. Nervously expecting for something to go wrong and daemons to begin coming out of the walls, he then saw the brazen casket which Lashameia held begin to vibrate. A soft click then came from the container, it opened up like a book and the shape-shifter flipped open to lid to reveal its contents.
Within the brazen casket was what looked to be a leather bound tome with eldritch symbols inscribed upon the surface and its spine seemed to have been made from bone. The faint unnatural aura which he had earlier felt suddenly became deep waves of dread within his soul and it felt like he stood in the presence of a Daemon. The remaining Captains felt as he did and they each weathered it wills of iron.
'A grimoire' commented Lashameia as it cast a covetous look upon the tome. 'One of Chaotic Lore'
'It seems old Leonhardt has stepped up his game' added Lucretia with thinly veiled hostility. 'Are we really going to return this to him?'
'Such items are worth a great deal to the right buyer' added Intendent Intemperance in a voice which approached avarice. The Slaugth was of course correct in the matter for within the Imperium, there was no shortage of individuals from the wealthy elite to scholars and inquisitors who would pay a pretty price for a genuine repository of arcane knowledge.
'We did accept the contract' reminded Naranair. 'What the Rogue Trader, Leonhardt Metzger wishes to do with the tome is his business.'
'I suppose you are correct...' hesitantly replied Lucretia and the Dark Eldar Captain was inclined to agree for like the mistress of the Void Duchess, Naranair was not particularly fond of the slaves of the Dark Gods, especially the minions of She Who Thirsts. Of all the beings that existed in the Great Wheel, Naranair took the greatest of pleasures from killing the followers of Chaos... next to those pathetic Stryxis of course.
For as long as he knew the Rogue Traders of the Metzger Dynasty had dealt in, Naranair was deeply aware that a great deal of their wealth came from the trade of dangerous items. From ancient alien relics recovered from the ruins of dead worlds to dangerous beasts from Death Worlds, there were many things which even Naranair himself was personally responsible in procuring. While it was no great stretch that Leonhardt Metzger would expand towards objects of Chaos, he was nevertheless surprised by the revelation.
In the end, he had agreed to return the lost item and he had a reputation to maintain. Of course, it was not as if his current contract had said anything about letting others know about it and there were certain individuals who would be most interested in knowing of this dealing. A devilish grin spread across his face as he plotted about how to best profit from this new development.
A few weeks later within the Koronus Expanse...
Aboard the Havoc Class Merchant Raider, Star of Handrich (of which was one of many owned by his master), Seneschal Erron Caulder nervously awaited the arrival of their "hired help" within a luxuriously decorated lounge which was exclusively reserved for the highest ranking officers aboard the ship. The appointed meeting place was near an abandoned asteroid mining colony which had quickly been vacated as soon as all the ore ran out; it was now a favoured spot where all sorts scum such as pirates, smugglers, rebels and even heretics conducted business away from Imperial authorities. The Star itself drifted a short distance away from the lawless port where four other ships now remained within vox range.
Restlessly pacing about like a caged animal, he checked his Chrono and found that there was still a minute before the appointed time, sweat beaded upon his brow as he tried to maintain his composure.
'Just relax' called Maric van Hoenn as he sat upon plush, nearby chair with a crystalline goblet of amasec in one hand. 'I swear you are as restless as a Grox in heat.'
'Relax!' replied the Seneschal with annoyance and almost shouting it. 'May I remind you that we are dealing with the sort of things which the Inquisition would have us executed for even talking to, even our lord's Warrant of Trade won't be able to protect us!'
'They won't find out' calmly stated Maric as he took a sip from his glass. 'You know as much as I do that the Inquisitors have no eyes and ears in this part of the Expanse and even if they suspected something, they would not dare move against our lord without solid evidence.'
For a moment, Erron stared at the seemingly non-chalant Arch-Militant for although the man's words had some truth to it, the Seneschal was still anxious about this meeting for ever since leaving Footfall, he had taken the time to do some digging into his master's affairs (as quietly and as discretely as possible of course) and what he had learned had deeply disturbed him. The Rogue Trader Leonhardt Metzger II it seemed and a great many other Rogue Trader Dynasties which they had close ties with went beyond what their Warrant of Trades would ever allow. Deals with xenos mercenaries and such were one thing but his master had also had a hand in supplying various factions of rebels, pirates and even far worse groups across the Imperium.
If the Inquisition even knew half of what he had learned, then his master's life would be forfeit and Erron's as well by association. If he wanted to stay alive, it would be in his best interest to keep such sensitive information hidden from the authorities as well as those who would profit from the demise of his master. Before he could respond to the Arch-Militant, a sudden charge filled the air which was followed by a brief flash of blinding light that flared from behind him.
Turning around to face the new arrivals, Erron first saw the Eldar who wore a suit of bladed armour, his face was cast in imperious expression as he looked upon both the Seneschal and the Arch-Militant while a sinister skull-faced helmet was hooked to left side of his hip and he carried brazen container. Next to the alien was the lady pirate Captain, Lucretia Tarneth of whom he had met on multiple occasions before on behalf of his master. His targeting monocle made a quick scan of the two and it found no visible weapons which they carried, this in effect did nothing about relieving his unease.
'I am pleased to say that we have successfully returned your prize' announced the xeno as he presented to them the casket. 'We have also destroyed what we believe was the main base of operations for the Renegade Astartes but alas it seemed most of these wayward raiders were out of the system when we launched our assault.'
'But we have the coordinates of their world' added Captain Tarneth with an amused grin. 'Feel free to pass the information on to the Imperial Navy; I am sure that they will be most interested in handling this matter.'
Nodding warily, Erron lifted his right wrist up near his mouth and he activated a concealed vox bead beneath the cuff of his coat. 'Deliver the payment' he spoke into the device and after a second, a sealed automatic door leading into the lounge opened up to reveal a pair of Ogryn guards/ menservants dressed sharply in attires of valets. The brutish abhumans pushed a heavy grav-cart bearing six large chests of armaplas, the combined weight of the containers would have made any more conventional modes of transport impractical and noisome.
The Ogryns soon came to a halt near them and the Seneschal dismissed the abhumans, giving them time to leave before moing towards a small console at the front of the cart where he disengaged its magnetic locks. Once the containers were no longer magnetized, Erron opened the lid of one chest and for a brief moment, his eyes became entranced of what lay within. A great hoard of coins in both gold or silver were mixed with exquisite pieces of jewellery and finely cut gems, the wealth within one container alone would have allowed a man to buy his own Feudal World kingdom.
'A most acceptable payment' announced Captain Tarneth with an avaricious gleam in her eye and even the alien seemed satisfied. 'Please send old Leonhardt our most deepest regards.'
The xeno then produced a small pyramid shaped device from a satchel attached to his belt and it began to light up with alien sigils. In a matter of moments, a shimmering disc of light appeared next to the alien from it came a hulking group of rather grotesque looking creatures of swollen muscles, crudely placed cybernetics and faceless helmets. The Seneschal stepped back in fear at the sight of these horrors and every instinct told him to grab his laspistol.
'Don't' whispered van Hoenn and Erron looked to the Arch-Militant who gave him a grim look that said "if you pull that weapon out, we are both dead"
The gholam-like creatures then picked up and carried away the chests into the shimmering disc of light before being followed by the Lady Captain and the xeno who gave the case to Maric. As soon as the two pirates stepped through, the disc of light began to dissipate until nothing of it remained and for a long tense moment, Erron could hardly believe that everything had gone so smoothly.
'I told you that you needed to relax' chided the Maric. 'Now let's go, we should not keep the client waiting.'
Letting out a sigh of relief, Erron nodded to the Arch-Militant and he activated his vox bead again. As he ordered for the ship to prepare its entry into the warp, he realized that despite his four years in service to the Metzger Dynasty, he had barely scratched the surface of his master's "other" endeavours. There was much he still had learn he supposed but was confident that given time, he would serve his lord well and would quite richly rewarded for it.
Unknown to all the souls aboard the Star of Handrich, a fifth ship had been in attendance with the meeting. A fairly small vessel which incorporated components of xenos technology, silently watched the Rogue Trader vessel, its crew remained on standby and alert for any new happenings. Aboard the bridge of this concealed vessel a domineering, lone figure, the mistress of the ship whose features were completely concealed by a suit of gilded power armour, the eye lenses of this individual's grim helmet were focused upon the holo-screen monitors that provided a live visual and audio feed of the Star of Handrich and the four pirate ships.
After what was surely a brief meeting, a soft series of beeps were heard from floating skull probe which remained near its owner. The sound o heavy boot steps thudded from behind as another armoured figure, one who was a giant of a man came forth and gave a respectful bow.
'The target is preparing to leave my lady' said the warrior whose ancient armour was the colour of steel-grey and his eyes were concealed behind twin lenses of cold blue. 'Shall we pursue?'
'We go' grimly commanded the Lady Inquisitor Mirella Seros, of the Ordo Malleus and at once they silently followed the Rogue Trader vessel.