A/N
Okay, so this fic was long due an update. Hope you all are holding up well in these troubled times! Stay safe, and enjoy!
}!{
The creature struck so suddenly that there was no time to raise the alarm.
The moment the guard had been roused from their beds, the sentries were already left in pieces. The horrid sounds of bones crunching and flesh squelching, accompanied by ear-splitting howls of dying men and the clamor of weapons falling to the floor.
A slave girl raised her head from its resting place on the rough wooden deck of the transport sloop where she and a hundred other slaves were interred in. She stood up, waking her fellow slaves as she stretched their neck to peer out through the metal grills on the ceiling that served as the only window they had of the outside world.
A corpse fell slack against the grills, sending a trickle of blood splattering across her eyes. The slave girl yelped and wiped the blood off her face. What she saw next caused her jaw to slacken and her mouth hung agape. The creature, a man with wings like that of an eagle, tore off the bars and the corpse along with it. With a nonchalant flick of the wrist, he tossed down to the slave woman's waiting hands a ring holding the keys to their freedom. Then, he lifted his mighty wings and took to the skies.
Quickly as they could, the slaves removed their chains and opened the doors of their cell. Eager to taste freedom once more, the slaves exited the sloop and joined the hundreds spilling out into the docks. Their pace slowed as they passed the guardhouses, where the ripped and torn corpses of the slave traders' guards now lay scattered across the streets.
A loud rush of wind caused everyone to look up, and there again was the winged man.
He landed atop the roof of one of the guardhouses and stood tall. With his form silhouetted by the bright white moon above, he looked like an angel of death. In awe, many of the slaves made religious signs with their hands and bowed before their liberator.
He pointed to the crowd, "Those who are warriors among you, stand in front of the masses!"
After a moment of hesitance, a few hundred scarred and muscle-bound slaves emerged. These men and women were sold into slavery after their kingdoms, great and small, were consumed by more powerful rival kingdoms. Their chains were now gone, and what replaced them was an eager thirst for violence. They beheld their liberator with expectant eyes and bristling lips. Before he even offered it, they already knew what he would promise- and opportunity to strike back against the city of merchants.
"You were robbed of choice when you were put in chains. I, Sanguinius, return to you that power!" He thrusted a threatening hand against the city of Samarkar that stood behind him. All around the docks, the fires now started to light up the night sky as the slaver ships burned. "You may run and fade into the night, or you can join and follow me as I reshape this city! Seize the weapons and armor of your oppressors, and make haste if you so choose the latter choice! The hour of vengeance is at hand!"
Mouths twisted into mad grins, and the warriors among the slaves roared in approval, snatching up weapons and armor to gird themselves on and that they might soon begin their night of conquest. Sanguinius, as he watched the liberated people scatter and arm themselves, stopped to think for a moment and realized he had barely thought this through.
He could almost hear his mother's enraged words of disapproval and see his father's stern look of disappointment. As the hour of conquest drew near, every hair on his body stood out, and Sanguinius felt a strange feeling of vulnerability pass over him. It felt as though someone far away was watching him. This feeling lasted for a good while, then faded as quickly as it came.
He decided he didn't care. A god had come to Samarkar, and he had come to claim the city as his.
In a moment of reckless abandon full of prideful condescension, Sanguinius hastily dubbed himself as a self-proclaimed conqueror and seized Samarkar within a single night. Though the ill-equipped former slaves posed little a threat to the better suited mercenary army guarding the city, the demigod was more than a match for his enemies. With the force of a tidal wave, Sanguinius flew from street to street, shattering formation after formation and setting his followers loose on the populace.
The slaves, united no matter which conquered kingdom they came from, spilled through the gaps Sanguinius provided. They then routed, trampled, and massacred their masters within hours.
"Grandmaster!" Commander Vestra burst into the room, jarring the old man awake from his desk where he had fallen asleep. "Grandmaster, the city is under attack!"
"What? By whom?" The Grandmaster of the Watchers hastily followed the woman out into the courtyard, where the few dozen Watchers who remained at headquarters had gathered at Vestra's command.
"The slaves have revolted, the docks are on fire." Vestra turned to motion the Watchers to follow, "They've already reached the temple district, and from what I hear, they would soon break through and reach the Gilded Palace." The Gilded Palace, as the commander referred, was the home of Samarkar's ruling merchant guild. There were four exalted figures who represented the five families that held sway over Y'ttetia's economy, each an esteemed financial institution in their own right- each, save one, a detestable hedonist and fine example of the depraved side of society.
If it were up to Vestra, she would leave the Exalted to their fates. They, after all, bragged of the might of their sellsword armies. Alas, there was one among them who helped keep the Watchers from fading into obscurity, and that much goodwill was owed their protection.
"Then that is where you must go." Grandmaster Gus decided, "I will assist in directing those who flee to find refuge in the Gilded Palace courtyards. Convince Lady Nefertiri to allow them to stay while we quell this rebellion while you're there, yes?"
"Of course." Vestra patted him on the shoulder and marched off with her coterie of Watchers.
The Grandmaster joined the Samarkar mercenaries as they marched down the street leading into the heart of the city, where the temple district was located. Here, a dozen temples dedicated to the Golden Throne of Terra and the venerated heroes of the Imperium were erected since the city's first days, as well as hundreds of shrines to local deities that would surely earn the wrath of the Ecclesiarchy should they pay the world a visit one day. These temples also held many relics of gold, emerald and marble.
Flesh offerings in the form of beautiful and young virgin slaves, both man and woman, were brought in daily here to be bound forever to the worship of the God-Emperor. This, of course, was not wholly true given the black hearts of the temple priesthood. Indeed, Slaanesh smiled upon Samarkar more than the God-Emperor ever did.
Though tonight no one smiled wider than Khorne himself, as the liberated warriors among the slaves tore through the gates and fell upon the priests like ravenous wolves. The bodies piled up on the marble floors, and the blood flowed like rivers. The priestesses, dressed in nothing but white silken robes that barely covered their voluptuous forms, flailed helplessly as the lustful horde carried them off. Their piteous cries filled the night as did the clamor of steel striking steel.
Then, the crackle of thunder drowned out the noise of battle as a streak of lightning struck the crush of bodies pressing through the streets. Grandmaster Gus, the most powerful sorcerer in Samarkar, revealed his true form as a terrifying force of nature. He wielded the elements with great ease as he held the tide back single-handedly; blasting bellows of flames, snap-freezing with the chill of space itself, and throttling his enemies with the crushing force of the earth below.
"Grandmaster!"
Gus looked up and saw the angelic form of Sanguinius. He stared with great disbelief as the demigod returned to solid ground. All around them, the clash of warriors continued in earnest, undeterred by the confrontation between the two men.
"Sanguinius." Gus said, frowning deeply at the young angel. "Why have you done this?"
"You spoke of brighter days for this city, I bring them on these former slaves' behalf." Sanguinius replied, raising his eyes to the marble statue of a hero of some bygone era. "Samarkar has waited long enough for a worthy king to sit on her throne."
Astonished by the sheer arrogance of the man, Gus blurted out. "You would sack a city, slaughter its people and deface its gods- out of a whim?!"
"I am the only god that matters!" Sanguinius turned his burning gaze upon the old sorcerer. His voice boomed louder than the roll of thunder, and the fighting took pause to behold the demigod as he made his presence known to all. "And you will all kneel before me!" He stretched out his hands to show the blood caking his fingers from a hundred slain warriors, "Kneel, or be broken as those who dared to defy my will!"
Many of the mercenaries had seen the angel tear through their ranks with the strength of a hundred men, they saw him brush off the arrows that struck his skin as though they were but raindrops, they saw the fires of hell in his eyes- and their hearts failed them. Courage washed away like morning dew, and the mercenaries cast aside their weapons and dropped to their knees to beg for the demigod's mercy. The rebels mocked their former masters for their weakness and hailed their liberator's might.
Grandmaster Gus, along with his small band of Watchers, stood their ground. "I have bowed to no one but the Exalted Ones of Samarkar, and that's unlikely to change. I will let my actions be judged later when I stand before the Golden Throne."
"Then I shall hurry you to its courts." Sanguinius grinned, readying himself for battle.
When Commander Vestra reached the gates of the Gilded Palace, she was barred from entry as the Exalted Ones were playing hosts to a grand party. As she argued with the guards to allow her passage, with not a single soul in that place even knowing the horde approaching from the temple grounds, what should have been a simple celebration of a good year took a more decadent turn.
Within the golden walls of the palace, great and long tables filled with all manner of delicious food and entire basins of sweet wine were placed before lords and ladies of every esteemed and respectable families in the land. Exotic fruits, strange meats from distant lands, as well as more questionable choices for the most ravenous connoisseur.
Young and succulent girls, marked with onyx black tattoos of snakes coiling around their necks, breasts, legs and feet- were offered up on silver platters. Lords stared hungrily as their servants slipped knives into their hands, and ladies gracefully picked up their forks and buried their tips into the quivering, naked flesh. The girls arched their backs in agony and opened their mouths to scream, yet no sound could be heard from them. If one looked closely, several surgical scars could be seen at the offerings' throats. Though pain gripped them tight like the noose of the gallows, they had long been robbed of their voices and so they cannot scream.
Their helplessness added to the flavor of the meat, and the diners reveled in their misery.
Lord Bolonir, the Exalted One of Chains, sat at his throne of furs and pillows on the far left of the court. Dozens of slave women lay at his feet, waiting on their master's demands. Long chains were fastened to their collars, all held in the fat, greasy hands of the Slave King of Samarkar. With one eye, the massive ogre-like form of a man watched the degenerate festivities before him, and the other kept close watch on the slave girl offering up a plate of smoked steak. He devoured the meal in one gulp and slapped the slave girl's plate away. With one forceful tug, he pulled the girl to sit on his lap.
His free hand, still soaked with the gravy of his meal, pinched and groped its way across her posterior.
Lord Vandir the Exalted One of Stoneworks, who sat at his throne of marble just a few meters next to Bolonir, grimaced in disgust at the uncivilized manner of his fellow lord. He wondered why the insufferable bastard bothered to come, seeing as how Bolonir rarely left his ivory tower in his coastland villa a few miles out of Samarkar. His slaves, both exceptional specimens of male strength and form, offered up platters of his favorite fruits. The lord waved them away, having lost his appetite at the barbaric turn of the night's festivities. It wasn't the hedonism that bothered him, but the shameless public display of it. As was his preference, and unlike his peers, Lord Vandir endeavored to keep his less civilized tastes private.
Lord Kostor, Exalted One of Iron, took pleasure in the quick change of the party's tune as well as the warm feeling of a woman's mouth around his cock. This woman was no slave, however, but a lady of some easily forgotten family looking to gain favor with Kostor. Her eyes stared up at him through the mask that hid the top half of her face, and she smiled in spite of the member stuffing her mouth. Kostor pushed her head back down on him, leaned over her back and gave her ass a slap of approval.
Lady Nefertiri, Exalted One of Blades and Samarkar's overseer of the mercenary army that protected its lands, hung her head and rubbed her temple. Her discomfort for the festivities showed, but she made no effort to hide it. Inwardly, she wished it would be over soon or that she might find some excuse to leave early. The festivities were but a formality and the planning of its execution were heavily influenced by Lord Bolonir and Lord Kostor, thus leading to the decadent display she was now forced to witness. The music in the courtroom, combined with the sounds of laughter, conversation and sex, was hypnotic. Nefertiri felt like going mad, should she find no respite from the festivities.
"My lady." A guardsman whispered upon approaching her throne, "There's been an incident. Commander Vestra of the Watchers Guild is here to see you. Shall I have her brought into the courtroom?"
"Heavens no!" Nefertiri hissed, rising up to descend the stairs of her elevated throne to the floor. "I shall meet her outside." Grateful for the distraction, the Exalted One of Blades excused herself and exited the courtroom. She met Commander Vestra and the Watchers just at the Gilded Palace doors.
"My lady, we have no time to waste. The city is under attack from a slave revolt." The commander reported.
Lady Nefertiri said, "Are my men not enough to contain this threat?"
"I am not concerned with their ability to contain the threat, I am concerned for the people caught in the clash." Vestra replied, "The walls of the Gilded Palace hold enough safe ground for those who seek refuge from the fighting. I ask that you allow them through the gates while the rebellion is quelled."
"It will be done, you have my word." Lady Nefertiri agreed.
The booming voice of Sanguinius caused the pair to jump in fear, "Don't make promises you can't keep, woman."
"S-Sanguinius?" Vestra said in astonishment, "What is the meaning of this?"
Sanguinius chuckled, "Funny, he said the same thing too." He landed in between the pillars that stood at the Gilded Palace entrance, where twin iron statues of slaves locked in perpetual torment as they held the building roof above their heads were erected at each pillar. "You, you are of the Exalted Ones? The rulers of this city?" He said to Lady Nefertiri.
Nefertiri nodded, barely standing her ground as the towering figure clearly intimidated her.
"Your armies are at their knees, now it is your turn." As he spoke, the clamor of the Gilded Palace gates reached the woman's ears. The guards there fought bravely, but became slowly and increasingly overwhelmed by the numbers of the rebel slaves. At the sight of the towering angel standing so close to their lady, the guards at the doors of the Gilded Palace swarmed over to protect the Exalted One of Blades.
Vestra's axe hummed with increasing intensity as she readied her arm to swing, "What have you done to Guildmaster Gus?"
Sanguinius turned his gaze to his former companion, "The same thing I will do to you if you do not submit."
"Have at him!" Lady Nefertiri cried, taking flight as her guards rushed the angel. Vestra growled as she took the first swing, recoiling in surprise when the blade of her weapon shattered before it even touched Sanguinius' skin.
Sanguinius shook his head and sent her flying with a well placed kick to the chest. Vestra landed painfully on her head some twenty feet away, hitting the base of one of the metal statues of the Gilded Palace, knocking herself out. A panic-stricken Nefertiri commanded the guards still inside the palace to bar the doors while she moved to warn the other lords and ladies in the courtroom. She found them in the middle of a summoning rite, which was an uncommon practice even among Samarkar's elite.
In her brief absence, the decadence had reached a point where the line between sanity and madness had blurred. Now, mere men no longer held audience to the sheer depravity of the night's festivities alone. The daemons of the Lord of Excess had found their way into Y'ttetia, small in scale when compared to most circumstances yet nonetheless perilous.
Found feasting and drinking off of the offerings of the drunken masses, the Maidens of Ecstasy looked up in surprise at the sudden return of Lady Nefertiri. The music in the courtroom had noticeably changed to a more sinister and even more entrancing tune, almost like a symphony created by the most alluring sirens one could imagine. For a moment, Nefertiri forgot the danger that was at their very door and was tempted beyond anything she'd ever experienced before to partake of the offerings.
The daemonettes, creatures more beautiful and graceful than anything mortal eyes could ever witness, beckoned with welcoming hands as they sang a maddeningly sweet song.
"You pretty thing, oh pretty thing, come and see. Join in the song of glorious depravity. Come, be free." They glided through the air with breathtaking elegance as they approached the woman. "We shall see to your every need." Predator-like teeth bared white from smiling lips, "We can make you scream and bleed."
Like a rock smashing glass, the tension of the moment was shattered as Sanguinius brought the whole ceiling down upon their heads. Glass, iron and stone piled up on them, crushing lord and lady, master and slave beneath the rubble. When the dust cleared, only a handful of lords and ladies, including the Exalted Ones remained to behold the bloodthirsty angel in all his glory.
Without even bothering to know what horrors he killed and now held in his hands, Sanguinius tossed aside the broken corpses of the daemonettes and roared in triumph. His eyes fell upon the Exalted Ones and a mad grin found its way to his lips. He caught them at their knees, surrounded by their dusty and badly frightened slaves.
"See? Not so hard now, is it?"
}!{