The Horus Heresy
It is a time of legend.
The galaxy is in flames. The Emperor's glorious vision for humanity is in ruins. His favoured son, Horus, has turned from his father's light and embraced Chaos. His armies, the mighty and redoubtable Space Marines, are locked in a brutal civil war. Once, these ultimate warriors fought side by side as brothers, protecting the galaxy and bringing mankind back into the Emperor's light. Now they are divided.
Some remain loyal to the Emperor, whilst others have sided with the Warmaster. Pre-eminent amongst them, the leaders of their thousands-strong Legions are the primarchs. Magnificent, superhuman beings, they are the crowning achievement of the Emperor's genetic science. Thrust into battle against one another, victory is uncertain for either side. Worlds are burning. At Isstvan V, Horus dealt a vicious blow and three loyal Legions were all but destroyed. War was begun, a conflict that will engulf all mankind in fire. Treachery and betrayal have usurped honour and nobility. Assassins lurk in every shadow. Armies are gathering. All must choose a side or die.
Horus musters his armada, Terra itself the object of his wrath. Seated upon the Golden Throne, the Emperor waits for his wayward son to return. But his true enemy is Chaos, a primordial force that seeks to enslave mankind to its capricious whims.
The screams of the innocent, the pleas of the righteous resound to the cruel laughter of Dark Gods. Suffering and damnation await all should the Emperor fail and the war be lost.
Date
005.M31.
Time
15:07.
Location
Segmentum Solar. Void. Aboard Battle Barge "Frostbourne Avenger," VI Legion.
Erik Skalskin did not know where he was until a data readout had spread horizontally across his vision. It was easy to see, orange text against inky blackness of which he did not know the origin. He figured he was dreaming… the Rune Priest dreams frequently at The Aett, this was nothing new. Sleep paralysis he figured that he would be rid of soon. His whole body tingled, also not unusual. He frequently slept on his side, in the infrequent times he'd allowed his whole brain to rest. When he awoke from these rare naps, he often felt sluggish for a short while. He'd stand up too fast, and his head would feel light. His legs would be on the edge of collapsing, a feeling like lightning running current through his bones, his very ligaments burning. But that would fade too, wouldn't it?
Though, Erik did not remember going to sleep. He did not remember laying his equipment to rest similar to his at the armory, he did not remember even arriving back at his home, The Fang, or finding a bunk on this ship. It was mysterious to him. He remembers descending onto a world dominated by Xenos, Eldar to be exact. He remembers leaping into combat with one, psychic might clashing with that of the Xeno. He remembers winning, watching that sick bastard's smile fall off as did the top half of it's skull. The thought would make him smile, if he could feel his lips, but they were overrun by the tingling sensation too. Erik remembers nothing after that, other than a bright flaring pain in his side, and then darkness. Erik can still feel it now, dulled. Just under his ribs, directly into his intestines on the leftmost side.
The Space Wolf, a capable Rune Priest and distinguished at that, presided over his abilities, struggling to wake himself up. An annoyed grunt escaped him as he tried to focus, tried his hardest to move. Nothing permitted. Strangely, he couldn't even move his limbs in the dreamlike state that he dwelled in. Ordinarily when here, in this nothing realm of blackness, beasts outside his wildest imagination would come to hunt him. He would treat it as a grand game, burying his frost-edged sword into the chest of the monsters, cackling as the horrid beings keeled and shrieked. Fearing these things was beyond Erik, for they were simply figments of his imagination. He distracts himself from his current state, reminding himself of beheading a great centaur like creature with a thousand eyes all along it's brow, teeth, and tongue. It's ears had been tiny, and he suspected that he saw the glint of an eye inside of them too.
A loud clang brings Erik back to attention with a start. He tried to reach for a Helfrost Pistol that simply wasn't there, and it wouldn't have done any good if it had been present. His arms still tingled, and did not move. A second clang drives Erik's curiosity, and he calls out. "Who goes there?" A voice that did not belong to Erik, lower and more mechanical in tone said what Erik had made to. Erik passed it off as simply being another element of this long-lasting dreamscape. None responded for a moment, and it had gone completely silent, before Erik repeated himself. "Who goes there?" After a brief pause, a voice responded. It was not the shriek that Erik suspected of one of the creatures who dwelled in the dreamscape, but a calm and consoling voice. Odd. It said unto Erik "Iron Priest Foe-Hammer." The voice was weird. As it came not from a mouth.
Erik had never heard a Space Marine, let alone of the Sky Warriors of Russ speak in such a euphemistic tone. What had happened? What was an Iron Priest doing in his dreamscape? Why did it sound so strange? "What is going on, Iron Priest?" Another moment of silence passed. "Erik Skalskin, do you know who I am?" "Yes, you've just told me. What is going on?" A very rare emotion filled Erik. Suddenly, the blackness in which he was enveloped seemed wholly different. It was smaller than his dreamscapes, more cramped. The tingling in his bones caused him greater concern. Worry welled up inside him. And anxiety. The Iron Priest seemed to hesitate to respond, only furthering the considerable angst Erik felt. "Iron Priest?" Erik tried to confirm that the other Space Wolf was still present. Panic. He'd never felt panic for as long as he could remember. He suddenly couldn't stand the idea of being left in the dark.
"I am still here. I am Varn Foe-Hammer. I am an Iron Priest of the sixth legiones Astartes-" "Iron Priest, with all respect, please tell me what is going on." Another pause. Another new emotion, regret. Erik felt a well in his stomach, having rushed and interrupted the Iron Priest. "We are getting there, Erik. I maintain many of the systems aboard the Frostbourne Avenger. I fix damaged equipment, and restore it to working order." He paused again, as if waiting for a response or confirmation to continue. Erik responded quickly. "Yes?" The voice… it didn't belong to him! Erik felt the well in his stomach deepen until it could now be considered a pit. The darkness seemed to encroach down upon him. "You, Erik Skalskin, are now part of my routine." Another tentative halt… "I don't understand." Erik replied. "Well, remember how I was naming my duties? I told you that I would arrive at the point?" "Yes?"
"Asides from my duties to the machinery on the Frostbourne Avenger, I am also the keeper of Dreadnoughts." The silence that filled the deck was deafening for a moment. Foe-Hammer seemingly did not breathe, as to not shatter the stillness. A low growl would arise from Erik's throat, that of an animal cornered. It rose in volume steadily, and he could hear the Iron Priest step away cautiously. It only drove Erik to reach deafening pitches, now a roar belonging to a minority of Space Marines in existence. For, a Dreadnought felt fear. Erik Skalskin had now, for the first time in his life, experienced pure terror. And in reaction, he had screamed, tried to thrash. His body wouldn't move. The tingling felt like ice water now running down his head to his toes. He bellowed. And suddenly, all was blackness. All was peaceful once more. It was quiet, in the armorium of the Frostbourne Avenger. It was peaceful.
Varn Foe-Hammer stood next to a switch on the wall, his thumb having pressed on a rune. This had signaled the Dreadnought's systems to immediately return to a restful sleep, a dormant state. He looked at Erik's casket. On the outside, the Contemptor chassis had been decorated quite well. It was laden with Erik's many battle honours, various symbols of accomplishment, battle trophies, and personal items having belonged to Erik in life. A long white wolf-pelt hung down from it's waist like a loincloth, strings of the teeth of fallen beasts hanging from it's gorget, the "helmet" where Erik's oculi sensors remained deactivated still, "wearing" the "necklace" of hunting trophies. A grey pelt of a Fenrisian Ice Bear was curled around one of the shoulderguards of the Dreadnought.
The solemn of the Iron Priest was palpable. He always felt a tiny pang, a guilt almost unknown to typical Astartes. To interact with these venerable warriors, to awaken them in a completely new environment with an entirely new body. To tell them they can now fear. They are Dreadnoughts, but they do dread. They dread sleep. They dread waking. They dread others. They dread themselves. Typically, Foe-Hammer would shut them off before they got the opportunity to howl their sorrows. But, he couldn't help himself this time around. Erik Skalskin had been a valorous Rune Priest who died successful, talented, and young. But, Foe-Hammer too had problems, dreads. He dreaded informing Erik of what had become of Warmaster Horus. What had become of Calth. What had become of Isstvan.
Foe-Hammer hazarded a guess. Their latest campaign had been an expedition of smaller proportions, acting in tandem with a small detachment of Sons of Horus. The Iron Priest glanced at the sarcophagus of the Contemptor. Had Erik been damned to this fate by a Son of Horus? He closed his eyes, and shook his head slowly. Turning, Foe-Hammer would flick another rune with his index finger, and the primary lumens in the armorium would be turned off, the extinguishing of the main light source resulting in the room being eerily backlit with only the dull glow of lumens showing through the grated panels in the middle of the deck. The doors clicked shut behind Foe-Hammer. He heard locks engage, and the approving chime of an alarm with a green lumen activating, confirming that the bulkhead had been locked successfully.
He sighed quietly, whispering a prayer to the Gods of Iron as he'd been taught. He prayed for the future of the Imperium of Man. He prayed for The Warmaster to see reason. He prayed for the survival of the Vlka Fenryka. "Omnissiah, preserve us…" he breathed out.