Chapter 2 - Lost and the Damned
Bile found himself weaved into a narrative already weaved within a narrative. If he hadn't weaved treachery between the demons, his journey would have likely ended here because the entrance required a scepter from a lord of change. Yet Ix'thar'ganix greatiously provied one. Now he got his first taste of the insidious outer layer of the maze.
The first puzzle was built more as a mockery of Slaanesh, a large gray stone structure of interminable size with exaggerated perception. At the heart of the structure is a stone obelisk with four runed panels painted to be a twisted color of melancholy. One of the four was a slight shade off, an imperceivable deviation from the others. Bile touched the wrong one and was teleported to another part of the structure and the order of colors would shift. A beguiling trap that Bile personally detested because the man had no sense of aesthetics. When the right option was selected, the world fades away, replaced by a second structure. Gray stone rooms give way to tight, dark crumbling stone corridors.
The second ring had a tonal sound that would echo from every part of the structure. To escape its simple design one but find the source. Which is made doubly infuriating from the constant insistent howl of anguish from the maze. Bile journal clearly states he shot the maze out of sheer principle, despite knowing it would have no real effect. From his journal entry, he seemingly enjoyed it. The maze had thousands of false doors to confuse and confound the unwary leading to winding branching paths that only lead to dead-ends or circles back around on themselves. But when Bile followed the sound, it led to a door matching the others, but exit that section and led to the third ring.
Bile found the third ring to be the most insidious, yet eloquently simple. The place seems eerily similar yet strangely alien. As you walk through the halls you are assailed by visions to the point of breaking your sanity. To leave his own mind, he simply must endure what Tzeentch called the true future, referring to the current time line as a false narrative brought upon by the chaos gods. In this true future Fabius Bile is a chapter master of a new founding of the Emperor's Children. In this vision, Bile receives a reward from the Emperor himself while hearing cheers from his adoring crowd. Fulgrim standing proudly at his side.
From his later vox recordings, this was a compelling world. The things he had once craved and aspired to were his for the taking. This wasn't some premention or trickery of his preternatural senses. He was living this moment with all the highs and lows that come with it. But his disgust over the Emperor and Fulgrim broke the spell. Once his mind had adjusted to his surroundings, he realized he was still trapped within the confines of his own mind. This vision came again trying a different way of breaking down his mental fortitude, breaking down his mental barriers. This time the visions show him every failure past, present, and future. The details were described to be painfull accurate and lifelike. Bile later described the visions as having no dream-like quality to soften the mental anguish. Tzeentch's brutal honesty is on full display.
Now with his mind still intact, he is given three choices. Return to Abbadon, return to the visions and be lost within his own memories, or choose the dark and dangerous path of knowledge. Abbadon is barely a leader. Fulgrim is lost and is scarcely seen. He couldn't live in a lie, no matter how enticing. He chose knowledge and the despair it brings. The illusionist shifts. Stonewalls fading away revealing a sea of eyes and manifestation of Tzeentch. Millions of leather bound books flutter about on makeshift wings and stare at him with deformed eyes.
"What is worth the price I paid," bile cries into the void.
"A secret," bellowed a voice from beyond, cracking sanity. "Hidden even from the other gods. The Emperor's ascension is nigh."
"That's impossible," Bile denounces refuting these words as the rambling of an insane god. "The Emperor is a corpse god. The lord of carrion."
"No, he is a perpetual. The Emperor can no more be killed than I. The humans in their ignorance imprisoned him in a throne ensuring chaos dominion for ten thousand years and we must ensure he stays there. The throne could only hold him for so long before disrepair will once again see the golden king walk in the world of mortal flesh. It is written so shall it pass. When the Emperor walks in mortal flesh, Abbadon will die. So shall mortal man reclaim the throne of the stars in the season of woe." There is a pause in the god's voice. The flapping of book pages fell silent. Then the rumbling boom of the god's voice returned louder than ever. "But a secret was kept from the Emperor. Horus is even more like his father than anyone could ever dream. You will bring about his ascension." A gilded parchment appeared in Bile's hands. "With these designs you can build the artificer armor that will bind his soul to flesh. But you will need a soul stone for it to work."
Bile felt a twinge of something akin to fear, a nervous squirming in his gut. "Why on earth would I need that archaic xeno tech?" The mere idea of using xeno tech made his skin crawl. The feeling drove him to the secrets of the parchment. His initial thought is that the parchment contained schematics for the Aeldari war suit. Instead he was looking at a Mark VII power armor with a concealed circular indentation. Who would be foolhardy enough to design power armor based on xeno tech. The very idea is absurd. "Where did you get the designs for this armor?"
"The lord of secrets knows much that is forbidden. He doesn't care from which wellspring the knowledge flows." The god said coldly and indifferently.
"Where do I find one," he asks?
"Find the joker," the God replies with mocking laughter that remains long after the god fades from his sight. He was growing tired of these games. Bile didn't see what was so funny. This bird-brain god was testing his patience. The anger caused his hand to instinctively squeeze on his bolt pistol. Suddenly he is whisked away to the ancient ruins of a Craftworld. A warp storm rages all around him like an ocean eroding a cliff. Manifest lightning strikes the surface. The change causes his senses to be alert for hostiles, but all he found is a dead world. A few tense moments, he relaxes and soaks in the atmosphere. Where is he supposed to find a soul stone in this place? Almost as if to answer his internal question, there is sound behind him.
A quiet laughter, barely a whisper on the wind, echoes from behind. The sound is almost jarring to his super human senses. He spins around and aims his bolt pistol at the sound. In that moment, he understands the moniker of the joker and relaxes his trigger finger. Harlequin Troupe Master is standing just mere moments away. You were expecting me, he says verbally probing for information.
"Your arrival is prophesied," she said evasively.
"Why are you helping me," Bile asked defensively, almost accusingly. Once again trying to get the alien to open up and let some information slip past it's guarded defenses. How is a Harlequin caught in the god's web?
"Because the great game continues." The Harlequin replies, almost reading his thoughts. "If slaanesh devours the Aeldari, then she wins the great game. The pantheon always interferes with each other's schemes. They would never allow that. So secretly they move us off the board to get advantage over She-who-Thirst." She reached out an outstretched hand with a soul stone. He takes it and views the jewel. The Harlequin darted away, motioning for him to follow. She left laughter in her wake.
Now the reader might balk at the revelation of Horus' return and find it preposterous. But keep in mind the understanding of perpetuals didn't come about until recently. That's the 51'st millennium, if you're reading this in the future. We don't know whether the Emperor possessed an understanding of perpetuals or if their creation was an accident. Historians weren't exactly around to ask.
The Emperor could have been trying to destroy Horus in such a way that prevented his resurrection. There is just a lot we don't know. What the historians call the dark age of knowledge destroyed or at the very least outright banned many of the missing pieces of information.
We return to the timeline with a different character. While Bile is on his warp adventure and dealing with warp hijinks; Abbadon is continuing his lifelong obsession and that is what we will focus on. Imperium records would argue that there are thirteen black crusades. Future society and scholars would agree that there wasn't. Mostly the 10'th just continued. Abbadon had a sudden shift in personality, no one truly knows where he got the inspiration. But what can be verified by documents and testimonials is that after the 9'th crusade, Abbadon's army is in terrible straits. Lack of lasgun and power packs for his mortal followers, bolt shells, gene-seed, and armor parts for the black legion. Besides these, he was completely scarce on basic necessities. With all of these supply issues, it's hard to believe he had something worse to deal with. But no one makes a deal with the gods and doesn't expect them to stab you in the back. Abbadon was on a ticking clock with a low power pack.
He was being punished by the blessings of all four gods. Only his indomitable will was holding his mortal form together. In a hundred years time, he would become a chaos degenerate, colloquially known as a chaos spawn. Towards that end, Abbadon wanted a second founding by any means necessary - whether treachery or warp magic. Hindsight shows us that Bile's plan had succeeded beyond his wildest hopes. Hundreds of preternatural soldiers, thousands of new second founding legions.
Now he needed to unite the primarchs. Now lets take a break from the crusade to dwell on the primarchs. Not strictly necessary because the primarchs played a minimal role in the events to come. But they get a minior notation for a minor player in an epic tale. Many people ask where the primarchs were. Why didn't they continue to attack the imperium? Truth of the matter is that most didn't care. This part will be brief because only Magnus has the time to go into a lengthy backstory of their time in the warp. But we will take a deeper introspection into Mortarion. Even that will be brief.
In the late millennium M.41 the daily life of the warp was strictly business as usual. The great game had shifted between Khorne and Nurgle for a time. Angron's rage was being directed against Nurgle and Mortarion was grudgingly defending Nurgle's garden. Abbadon had spent centuries trying to find a way to subdue Angron. Then he came upon a subtle plan. For the task one hundred sorcerers had been procured and a massive fleet including the flagship the Vengeful-Spirit. The great game is like chess - you don't bring a fleet of starships to a chess match. Right now the king is about to checkmate the opponent's king.
Abbadon interrupts this duel of titanic power by bringing down an exterminatus level destruction right on top of Angron. Thus also destroying a fair amount of the garden in the process. Then ordered the sorcerers to cast chains of torment upon the weakened Angron. It took one hundred sorcerers to bring down angron, but it was worth it. Then he met Mortarion on the surface.
Mortarion was standing in a bombed out crater surrounded by burning foliage. Already his burning flesh and cracked armor is mending itself. Despite the injuries, he seemed unconcerned with the attack. This is just one more annoyance. Mortarion had an empire in the warp and he was trying to free himself from the yoke of his patron god. The primarch had more interest in empire building and culture pursuits than martial matters. Though Abbadon's lightning strike appearance did intrigue him.
"Why did you interfere in the game," Mortarion wheezed. The primarch wasn't out of breath, he always wheezed.
"I thought you were beyond the game," Abbadon says, referring to the battle.
Mortarion looked around and shook his head. "I was tending to the garden when the brute attacked. He has become a tool, nothing more."
"You turned down my last offer. What about now?" He asked. "My crusade is nearing completion. I require the aid of all the primarchs."
Mortarion gave a wheezing gurgling laugh thick with mucus. "You are no longer chosen by the gods. Your star is no longer in ascension. You're a washed-up has-been. You expect me to fall in with your ilk."
"Would you really turn down an opportunity to spread grandfather's plagues?" He hoped Mortarion's devotion to Nurgle would persuade him. Though his devotion had been wavering for millennia.
"I have no interest in grandfather's maladictum. I have my garden and my labors." The primarch's voice is oddly cold and melancholy. He couldn't see the primarch old personality within him. "Grandfather can no longer make me happy."
"That's because you haven't left the immaterium in four-thousand years. This is an opportunity." Maybe his words could spark the man's interest.
Mortarion gave a long pause becoming distant. His huge bulky form starts a plodding walk away from him. The primarch had gotten some distance away, before returning. "I will come, if only to watch you fall from such a great height. I wonder which circle of hell will be procured for your imprisonment. Maybe your endless torture will cure my melancholy. My mind grows weary with the tedium. Nurgle will not be happy with what happened to his garden."
He rested his hand on Mortarion's broad shoulders. "Frak nurgle. He doesn't care about the long war."
"I don't care about the long war," Mortarion points out. "The millennia wear on. We were worried about what would happen to us after the crusade. I didn't want an unending war. I went from one master to another, even death is just another master."
"Then help me end it," he says defiantly. "Break the wheel that endlessly drives us."
Mortarion stared down at him through empty sockets. Red coals burning out from the emptiness. "So be it," the primarch said. The man's voice had a finality to it. Abbadon felt a shiver.
The unholy tainted tomb of the 13'th crusade
Lorgar didn't take any effort to track down. From 353M.41, he made an effort with the sorcerer of the Thousand-Sons to move Sicarus out of the warp into real space near the edge of the eye. Upon the success, he fortified the planet and converted it to a shrine word. The news was known inside and outside the eye. Abbadon initial attempts at envoys had been stopped by imperium patrols. Even when he made contact with Lorgar, his petitions were denied. Lorgar wasn't seeing anyone. His entire focus is on the construction of the cathedral Daemonium Inficio which stretches several kilometers above the stratosphere. The structure is so large that it required being in proximity to the warp and antigrav technology to hold its amense weight. Despite being dedicated to all four of the ruinous powers, raids by the gods were an ever-present threat. From the moment the Vengeful-Spirit came into low orbit the planet was engaged in a planet wide conflict. Abbadon quickly got drawn into the conflict and just as quickly ended it. Lorgar reluctantly left his project to pursue the black crusade.
Perturabo had also retreated from the long war and the despair it brought. He was one of the few who first showed concern over the future of the legions. He wanted to build the imperium brick by brick, but Horus' treachery had taken that away. He spent the last ten thousand standard revolutions advancing technology and culture within the eye. Despite the great game, he forced himself into peacetime arts. He was reluctant to join any crusade. Even with this, Abbadon was weary of him. He was just as likely to build an aqueduct as to exterminatus a planet. Even the gods didn't trust him. So why should Abbadon?
Fulgrim's movement during the 41'st millennium was by far the easiest to track down. He participated in most of the incursion into real space. That's because Fulgrim is not actually a primarch. Sure he might have the body of a primarch, but the shell is hollowed out and empty. It's mostly a vessel for slaanesh's consciousness. It allows the God of Excess to experience the material universe more directly than through his followers. Thus Fulgrim has one master and often is part of the great game.
Magnus is the master of the tides of fate and the far sight. You don't track him down. There is nothing he doesn't know. His thirst for knowledge goes well beyond petty notions of vengeance that make up the Long-War. Magnus' only concern is outsmarting tzeentch in their own game of chess and winning his freedom. The news of the crusade quickly reached his ears and was burning them indeed. He offered his services, but no one could say his true motivation.
Konrad Curze obliteration didn't give him the ending he sought, but it did give him the freedom he craved. Upon his body's destruction, his soul was set free within the warp and casted adrift on ethereal tides. But one's duty to the chaos gods doesn't end with death. Konrad spent an eternity in a twisted nightmare dimension within the warp. Places like the tower of betrayal. Before having the fragments of his soul bound into the confines of a newly created body. This fate turned him into a revenant neither living nor dead and bound to the warp. If he ever chose to rebel against the gods, they could take away his mortal form and reduce him to a boundless soul drifting within the tides. Finding Curze wasn't easy either. He didn't move the way of us mortals. He drifts on the tides of the warp. In the end, Curze found him.
Now that brief footnote in the annals of history covers the primarchs. Now we turn to the Never-Born natives of the warp in no service to any particular deity. Creatures like the Obliterators or life stealing vampires.
Vrenezia had once been a forge world and densely overpopulated. With a strong mechanicus presence. Originally it was a tomb world. Then it was infected with the obliterator virus, a parasitic demonic entity that melds flesh and machine. It eventually consumed the human inhabitants and the entire planet. Power cabling grew across its surface like vines, cogitators sprouted from the surface like tumors. The ancient necron fused with the inhabitants. Their abominable new form stalks the land killing any one uninfected. Even the wildlife has become an amalgamation of flesh and metal. The local Vrenezia large cats, like the ancient sabercats, have become dedicated war hounds for the Obliterators.
This is the primary reason Abbadon needed Curze. Anyone who steps onto the planet's surface gets consumed. The risk of being consumed by the planet is too high. Curze had to enlist their aid and secured the Obliterators conclave. One entity down, two to go. His next objective is the Wahmpuryi.
Two understand the Wahmpuryi or their completely baseless moniker vampyre, is to understand the relationship between the warp and life. I've heard it described as a shadow or a reflection. No matter the name, we have a part of us that exists within the warp. It allows us to connect with the warp in an inescapable way. When we shed our mortal coils that part of us returns to the warp.
These creatures feed upon our connection to the warp severing it. In essence, absorbing our soul. Those touched by these insidious creatures are left feeling cold and empty, unable to experience passion or ambition. Known throughout the imperium as The-Touched or inflicted with soul sickness. Victims lose any presence within the warp. People around them feel a sense of dread. Then the victim slowly fades away with no hope of an afterlife. The biggest difference between blanks and soul sickness is that blanks can live completely normal lives. The-Touched have no hope for a normal life.
Vampyres entities don't associate the mortal races as equals, instead see them as prey. In the early days of their exile, Vampyres infiltrated and hunted down the black legion. In response, Abbadon called a crusade against them and nearly drove them to extinction. The war only ended when Magnus killed the greatest Vampyre - Vlaed von Carsteyn. The creature had its physical form destroyed and its essence bound to the Talon of Horus as a gift for Abbadon. Now they have tentative cease fire.
Abbadon met their envoy, Krael Kraken Maw, on the disembarkation deck. They didn't use ships and carried themselves away from their home in the immaterium on the tides of warp. Krael was nervous and for good reason, the Talons of Horus were a reminder of their defeat and the near extinction of their race.
Krael tried to take on a pleasing form of a young man to ease the tension of their meeting, but Abbadon's blessings allowed him to see its true mummified, emaciated vaguely bat-like form. He found the creature sickening and revolting to behold. The two of them renewed their vows and oaths of binding. Then they discuss the upcoming crusade. Vampyres are military geniuses but rarely can comprehend the concept of armies. Three divisions of traitor guardsmen would be led by the Krael. Plus the remaining Wahmpuryi would serve as shock troops. They wouldn't like it, but they would serve until death or die.
The next group of creatures were Syrens. These polymorphic entities coveted physical form and hedonistic pursuits. Until the psychic awakening at the beginning of the 23'rd millennium, they were purely neutral entities with no intelligence. But once they began to inhabit psyker that all changed. The few female crew members and serfs had to be wary of their whispers. They would possess any weak willed and weak minded female foolish enough to leave their minds unguarded. But most of the black legion were male and tolerated their cordial presence.
The most feared and revered Syren was Amaryl, a fallen canoness. In life she was never concerned with being a shining example of purity and dedication of purpose. She was just a vain and glory hungry woman who cloaked her dark nature in a veil of good intentions and false faith. Nothing but her ambition mattered. Her ambition pushed her to become better than her peers, to become the best swordsman in any of the Orders Militant branches. That ambition allowed her to become a disinterested canoness early in life. But the Emperor isn't interested in a canoness. He needed a goddess equal in measure to himself. A demoness told her how to become one. It led her to ruin and damnation, to be casted out of the only family she ever known. But she found purpose in her new life of subtly manipulating others. She could have any man, any position, any man in any position she desired. Her form became whatever pleases her and made men fall to madness and ruin upon seeing her.
But her original mortal form, that of a nubile redhead with distinct cheekbones, still could be seen. She wore nothing or as little that would be tolerated by the legionnaires. Amaryl was polite enough and showed the legion respect. She gave a curt bow and said her greetings, listing each of Abbadon's deeds. The flattery was tempting to him, but he had a campaign to persecute. They renewed their oaths and Abbadon tempted her with rewards should she succeed.
All the primarchs and creatures of the warp were united under one banner, his banner, his ambition. The forces of chaos breached real space. His first prize is Pallevon. The 5'th Black Crusade saw the Blood Angels, the Warhawks, and Venerators Chapters in a desperate struggle for the sanctity of the planet. Unknown to the loyalists, the purpose of the 5'th Black Crusade was to bring Doombreed into real space. The sacrifices of millions of guardsmen and thousands of loyalists and traitor space marines alike caused a breach into real space and brought forth the daemon prince. But even in Abbadon's deepest, darkest fear, he never would believe possible for Doombreed to be defeated.
Land Raiders, Predator main-battle tanks, and entire chapters sacrificed themselves to buy time for Mephiston to bind the daemon prince. In the end the Blood Angels' Chief Librarian touched the immaterium, opening a conduit for enough eldritch power to bind Doombreed. At the heart of the capital hive city of Pallevon, a man made mountain that has been laid waste to its ancient foundation, is a statue of Sanguinius made by the greatest remembrancer of his age. This would be Doombreed's tomb. Following the conclusion of the 5'th black crusade, the Imperial Fists built a fortress monastery over the ruins of Pallevon to protect the statue.
The Blood Angels took the blueprint and expanded upon it, building ring after ring of ceramite and adamantium. Until the entire northernmost continent is one large Fortress monastery. Even with the decree to disband, the Blood Angels refused to abandon their ancient duty bound obligations.
The planet itself had minimal naval presence and what little force could be mustered retreated out of the system. The remaining orbital weapon platforms were destroyed by boarding parties. The monastery itself was far from defenseless with dozens upon dozens of anti-void based surface-to-space weapons. The fleet coming in orbit suffered heavy damage and orbital strikes had little effect against the walls. The initial landing took place on the outer edge of the Fortress monastery.
Anti-air destroyed nearly half of the first wave of transports. Most of the mortals died on impact, the legion broken and scattered. Krael, ancient Wahmpuryi and terror of old terra, was part of the first wave. He gathers the surviving mortal and legionnaires and pushes into the outer terrace. The first few levels were lightly guarded and mostly defended by hit and run tactics and militarized serf squads.
They had broken into the outer layers of the defenses all the while coming under near constant artillery presence, thunderhawks harassment campaigns, and terminator deep strike missions. They managed to knock out perimeter anti-air emplacements. Enough for the second wave of traitor guardsmen to reinforce their position and bring down possessed Leman Russ battle tanks, Predators, and Dark Collegia Titanica. All of this is nothing but a distraction for phase 2.
To the north Angron shackles were broken and the beast was let loose. Kilometers of the Fortress monastery were destroyed as Angron rampaged through the fortress. Despite Angron's fury, 88mm anti-tank guns, Earth-Shaker artillery, Whirlwind Multiple Missile Launcher, and Predator tank wall emplacements broke the prince's rampage. The primarch disappeared within a massive explosion from the combined arms of thousands of ordnance detonated at once. Yet within the smoke and flames, fury still lived. A seething heart waiting to tear at the heart of the imperium. The defenders waited with bated breath for Angron to return. He emerged from smoke still smoldering. Even the battle hardened and battle tested space marines began to question their chances. The artillery commenced anew, but Angron couldn't be faltered this time. He crashed against the curtain wall bringing down gun batteries, emplacements, Blood-Ravens, and predator tanks.
To the south Mortarion once again led the Death Guard. I would imagine it felt good to be leading again, to be with the few marines he knew from before the heresy. They met almost no resistance. Everyone was focused on bringing down Angron. A mistake as Mortarion gained thousands of kilometers of ground within the hour. Even when the Blood Ravens knew the death guard were gaining ground, they were slow to react. For all of Roboute Guilliman's foresight and wisdom, he couldn't have predicted defending a cursed statue from a fifteen meter tall daemon primarch. There is no training or plan to deal with this situation. Instead they prioritize the biggest threat.
Mortarion put himself just outside the inner ring of defenses. Loyalists forces withdrew inside the inner wall and were reinforced with surviving PDF guardsmen. Combined armies of chaos continued an ever shifting siege that lasted hours. Black legion forces joined Angron to the north. Although the black legion kept their distance. Angron was notorious for not caring from henceforth where the blood flows, only that it flows. The daemon primarch toppled the outer curtain walls of the inner ring of defenses, but was thrown back.
Eventually increasing pressure from traitor artillery batteries and Collegia Titanica forced
the loyalists 100 kilometers back behind the inner ring of defenses. The traitor's dug in and set up defensive emplacements. With the outer ring anti-air emplacements knocked out and inner rings compromised, the chaos fleet moved into low orbit and bombarded the inner ring. The loyalists air force was swiftly dismantled and the continual Thunderhawks sorties finally stopped. The last Thunderhawks crashed after receiving numerous impacts from Hell Talons' autocannon and orbital weapons fire.
The combined chaos army led by Mortarion breached the inner ring within five days of the initial landing and started a fighting retreat for the loyalists thousands of kilometers until safely behind the massive twenty-one meter double doors of the inner sanctum. Now the game changes. They were in the heart of the original fortress built by the Imperial Fists. The entire enemy force continued to fire upon walls sending chunks of adamantium reinforced ferrocrete the size of Land Raiders crashing to the surface. Entire sections crumbled burying titans in massive avalanches.
Black Legion teleported within the structure and began dueling with the Blood Angel terminator squads. The Death Guard eventually breached the tunnels that led to the fighting emplacements honeycomb throughout the structure. The Death Guard moved from room to room fighting and purging. By this time all of the mortals and most of the Blood-Ravens defenders were already dead. The few survivors retreated to chapel sanctum at the heart of the last of the Blood Angels including their captain stood ready to sell their lives for the statue. Mortarion paid their price, reaping the captain's tormented screams with barely any satisfaction. Then the primarch plunged the Man-Reaper into sanguinius' chest and Doombreed essence was released violently from the statue like a thousand Ferromic thermonuclear reactions. The Fortress and any remaining loyalists and traitors alike, were completely annihilated. Doombreed was free.
The black legion suffered significant losses of their ground force from the battle prior and from Doombreed's rebirth. His naval force didn't suffer anywhere near as bad. It would take time for the Black Legion to replenish their numbers. So a naval only campaign was required. He set his sights on Belis Corona. A naval resupply hub with all the raw materials and supplies required to maintain his fleet.
Abbadon fleet is the largest since the horus heresy. It was more than a match for Battlefleet Corona. Yet it fell silent for weeks. The first battles against Battlefleet Corona wouldn't take place within Belis Corona system. The first of several battles were raids conducted in deep space. At that time The Black Fleet's true strength wasn't known. The first proper battle happened much later. Following months of hit and run attacks, the lord admiral fell into a routine of chasing the enemy ships. Not knowing the enemy's true numbers, the Lord Admiral attacked. It was a costly mistake that forced Battlefleet Corona to retreat under duress.
After the Black Fleet smashed into Battlefleet Corona, they retreated to Belis Corona where they would make their final stand. The system had always been heavily fortified, but after the damage was done by the previous Black Crusade, the system underwent a major defensive overhaul. At the time no less than thirty-two different ships were in some state of construction. Mostly lowend ships like the Strike Cruisers, but one grand battleship was nearing completion - The Indomitable. Those ships that had guns installed and didn't have engines were turned into stationary weapon platforms. The rest including the Indomitable joined Battlefleet Corona for the final stand.
There was no grand strategy from the despoiler. There simply wasn't a need when his fleet overwhelmed Battlefleet Corona. With such an advantage, the Black Fleet took on boarding action capturing many ships including the Indomitable. At the battle's end some 150 ships were captured. Of the 150 captured, only half we're in fighting shape. To accommodate these new ships and repair the substantial damage done to his fleet, the naval yards over Belis Corona were captured and any mortals or anyone who didn't want a bolter round to the head were press-gang into serfs. The battle did come at a cost with a substantial amount of preh-heresy ships lost. Abbadon lost sixity ships, but gained one-hundred-fifty newer ships along with the technology innovations that came along with them. Battlefleet Corona was not completely wiped out from this battle. Many of the ships ran the blockade to join Battlefleet Obscurus.
Abbadon would put the crusade on hiatus for the next several months while substantial repairs were underway. In that time Battlefleet Obscurus would launch no less than three campaigns, most with high casualties and little gains.
Instead of pursuing Battlefleet Obscurus, the Back Crusade laid waste to lightly defended planets of Gerstahl and El'Phanor. The fleet restocking supplies, ammunition, and securing valuable weapons. Both planets would be reclassified as dead worlds. The Black Crusade continues with its unpredictability by scouring the Segmentum Obscurus raiding hundreds of worlds around the Eye of terror.
Well within the dawning of a new year close to sixity planets were left scoured of life and devoid of resources. The time of Cadia's destruction was at hand. Horus brought the last of his reserves from Belis Corona and prepared for the final battle with Battlefleet Obscurus. The Black Fleet would break off into four flotillas, each named after a chaos god. Three flotillas would be commanded each by a blackstone fortress, the 4'th flotilla Khorne would be commanded by the Vengeful-spirit herself.
These flotilla would surround the Cadia system to prevent reinforcements, cut off supply, and prevent communications. Then the black fleet would bombard the fleet at a maximum range of two star systems using Hell Talons as spotters. The enemy ships wouldn't even know that they were being fired upon until the shields registered an impact. If the enemy fleet amassed forces and gave chase it would leave Cadia vulnerable to seige. This maximum range bombardment didn't happen.
Lord Admiral Kitchener Hood is a man with many laurels, but not one that rests on them. Nor is he a man to idle for very long. He left a small auxiliary fleet to guard the planet and divided up the rest. The fleet separated into three distinct flotillas and sent them to pursue the chaos forces. When the 2'nd and 3'rd flotilla started their pursuit of Slaanesh and Tzeentch, they came under sustained fire the entire way. By the time they closed the distance, enemy vessels had retreated out of the system. With the chaos fleet divided up, it was impossible to ascertain their exact numbers and fleet composition.
2'nd flotilla found Nurgle less pliable. While Abbadon's Khorne flotilla belined to the Cadia auxiliary fleet. The auxiliary force didn't have a chance against such overwhelming firepower and were of better use elsewhere. A poor choice by Admiral Kitchener. This entire mess had an unintended negative consequence for the Black Fleet. Three space marines chapters followed Khorne all the way into orbit allowing the survival of the auxiliary fleet. Now we will introduce them briefly.
Angels of rage known as the Angry marines to their brothers in arms and commoners. Battlefield reports state that they would unleash a warcry, "Filthy Few Forever." They are an odd chapter hailing from Dorn's lineage and were created during the cursed founding. Although their mutations are benign, it is easily noticeable. The marines had an unstable temperament ranging from angry to violently raging. Unfortunately for them, their uncanny ability to pick the absolute worst fight and throw themselves at the enemy would earn them the nickname - Emperor's Rabid Warhounds. Most marines refuse to fight alongside them because of the extremely high casualties. Which suited the brotherhood of anger just fine. They have a particularly venomous relationship with the ultramarines whose primarch they despise.
The Samurai's Blossom is another chapter hailing from the cursed founding and from the proud lineage of Jaghatai Khan. Sometimes referred to in a derogatory term as pretty marines. They also have a benign but bizarre mutation, they have the exact facial features and mannerism of the primarch. So it's safe to say they were obsessed with their own personal vanity.
The Blood Ravens are an unknown founding chapter but strongly suspected to be a cursed founding. No one knows, but the inquisition suspects and testing of gene-seed strongly hint at them being related to Sanguinius. Everything from the symbols to the colors have parallel with the Blood Angels. But no one really knows for sure. They have checkered history of being corrupted by chaos and since the middle of M.41 have lost their homeworld. Up until very recently, they had all but ceased to be chapter taking such near total losses to cripple the chapter. But the Ravens are back to fighting strength.
The chaos fleet came under fire from orbital defense batteries. The auxiliary fleet was still barely holding on with the three supporting space marines fleets attacking from the rear. Despite these advantages, they were dangerously outnumbered and were losing ground quickly. For the briefest of seconds before twinkling out, the planet had dozens of new stars lighting up the sky bright orange from the explosion in orbit. Burning trail of debris rained down on the planet's surface.
Abbadon's initial planet fall involved landing demonic artillery engines and corrupt imperial guard artillery regiments in the Howling Peaks between Kazar Kast and Akhaza Drst. The plan hoped to separate the two northernmost bastions. Then the rejects from Abbadon's second founding, those too insane or deformed to be combat worthy, were commanded by Amaryl to dig in.
Further reinforcement would land 23 kilometers away on the major eight lane highway that leads into the northernmost waste. A third force would hit the railway to the east. The initial landing came under sustained bombardment almost immediately from Earthshaker batteries from both hive cities. Transports with all the equipment on board were buried in avalanches. Others were crushed under falling rocks. Whole regiments were lost. But eventually chaos had its foothold on the northernmost lands. The enemy Earthshaker artillery returned every barrage but was found wanting by the hive city's void shields.
The Blood Ravens commence drop pod operations on the highway, literally smashing into enemy defenders. The Angry Marines landed Thunderhawks at the rail station and gave push back against the forces of chaos. Abbadon couldn't allow supplies or reinforcements to reach the hive cities. He brought down obliterators and terminators to drive the Angry-Marines from the railyard. Despite being stronger foes, the Angry-Marines didn't budge. In the howling peaks the first of the titans were landing. At the railyard chaos dreadnoughts were joining the fight.
Abbadon began the second phase of the operation. Kazar Kast had heat exchange tunnels under the hive city. They were too small for space marines to enter, but mortals could fit in the tight confines. Captured Hades drills were landed to breach the tunnels. These gigantic machines became primary targets almost immediately. Several were destroyed or severely damaged. But it didn't matter, the tunnels were breached.
Amaryl led cultists, beastmen, mercenaries, and corrupted guardsmen down into the breach, flooding into the lower level. What followed next was a protracted firefight against loyalist mutants, hive gangs, techpriest, arbites, and the few guardsmen who made it down in time. In the end, sabotage of the geothermal vents was assured. Not a matter of if, but when. As soon as the Kazar Kast shields went down, the artillery demolished the upper levels. Chaos rejects and second founding marines backed up by heavy armor and Ogryn stormed the hive city. From the lower levels, Amaryl stormed the surface.
Akhaza Drst artillery tried to buy time for the Pretty marines and what little the Blood Ravens could spare to reinforce the walls. They arrived mere moments before the walls were breached. Abbadon ordered the obliterators and terminators to withdraw from the railyard and teleport to Kazar Kast. There was a brief one hour battle before everyone agreed Kazar Kast had been lost. The battered loyalist survivors were ordered to retreat to Akhaza Drst and pray to the emperor that they survive. The civilian population could not be saved. Abbadon had them sacrificed and their entrail to be used to form a portal for Doombreed to enter our reality.
To the south the cadian guardsmen were out in full force. The highway had turned into a crater wracked wasteland from the constant artillery barrage. Abbadon ordered the railyard to be destroyed. The dark titans turned their guns on the multistory and multicomplex structure, destroying it. Then he ordered the entire artillery weight to be brought against Akhaza Drst. The shields were able to hold up for the next 48 hours of continuous bombardment. While the imperial guard attempted to breach the highway. Abbadon ordered the rest of his forces to hold the highway until the shields fell.
As the violet energy flickered one last time, a roar could be heard as permacrete, adamantium, and ferrocrete buried the bottom half of the hive city along with remaining loyalists in a ferrocrete tomb. Abbadon had secured his prize.
But space was another matter entirely. Abbadon's Khorne fleet had left Cadia and enveloped 1'st flotilla from behind. 2'nd and 3'rd flotilla attempted to regroup over Cadia. Despite Slaanesh and Tzeentch superior numbers, they continue to nip at their heels the entire way before breaking off.
With all of this chaotic naval warfare, the reports of ork junk ships went ignored. Soon the Pillar of Autumn reported contact with enemy junk ships. As Captain Gyron put in his distress call, the ork ships were held together with adhesive tape and ork prayers. What started as a trickle turned into a flood of haphazard ork ships. Gyron reported heavy damage when making contact with a Deadnot with such frightening intensity that it looked more like a floating city than any ship had any right to be. Where he witnessed orks throwing lightning at his ship. These twitching nightmares wore strange headgear and held a staff. He swore he saw the lightning leap from the palm of their hands across the vastness of space. Gyron pronounced the entire situation as absurd.
Pretty soon the ork presence was so undeniable that both fleets had to reconcile with it. The black fleet was forced to regroup over Cadia and Battlefleet Obscurus regrouped over Cadia's moon using her orbital defenses batteries to best defend her as possible. Both of the battlefleets had mauled each other and neither battlefleet was in the fighting shape required to defeat the orks. The orks were just getting started because it was apparent that the ork fleet that had forced their retreat was just a splinter fleet of something larger.
Eventually the battle became so bad that the blackstone fortresses were sustaining heavy damage. Ork roks had collided with the Vengeful Spirit and commenced boarding operations. Abbadon threw everything including himself at the orks. The black legion had secured most of the ship with a mountain of bodies left in their wake. They fought all the way to rok. Then the big ork arrived. The thing was twice the size of the tallest warboss Abbadon had ever fought and had to hunch over to fit within the halls of his ship. It crawled behind the boyz barking out orders in its guttural tongue. It single handedly swung the battle in the orks' favor. They were so close to routing the enemy and halting the ork advance. Now they were on a fighting retreat to the heart of the ship. That nightmares made manifest, brought to life by bulging muscles and raw fury, calling out Abbadon by name. It was hunting the hunter.
They had fought and died, retreated and fought again and again until the survivors were trapped within the tatica dais inside the bridge cathedral. Abbadon had been on the losing end of a fight. Yet never been forced to make a decision to retreat. But to retreat because of a xeno now that is too much. A somber fury burned deep within him. That orks attacks had stopped. Abbadon knew one thing for certain about orks, they never stopped fighting. But here they were gathered at the farside of the cathedral. They were waiting for something or someone. Bigger nobs entered the room shoving smaller ork aside and joined the crowd. They two were waiting. Behind Abbadon the surviving Black Legion were in cover and sighting every weapon one could imagine. Those weapons were sighted on the far side of the command cathedral. Despite the fighting mostly stopped, Black Legionaries were still firing off precision shots at the enemy.
Bigger nobs entered the room shoving their smaller kin aside for a better view. The gathered orks parted off to the side making way for the Big-ork who roared to the jubilation of the crowd. Then he called Abbadon by name. Mocking him with that harsh bestial tongue. The rest of the ork's ilk chanted and threw insults their way. They were banging their choppa against their breast plate as makeshift shift war drums. Rhythmic drumming increased tempo until it reached a finality and the massive ork rose to its towering height.
Half the creature's skull was replaced with adamantium, even its jaw didn't escape horrible injury being replaced with a bionic, every inch of exposed skin was covered in scars that would make a Death-Guard blush. Even it's right eye was replaced with a bionic replacement. Its Body was painted yellow and carried a great red 'Eavy choppa' of magnificent splendor. Abbadon saw the great axe brought down and realized the sheer crushing of the blow. There is no chance to parry the blow, the only option is to avoid it. He dodges it by mere inches, the blade scraping past his armor. The blade smashing into the deck-plating. The next swing came faster than he thought possible. His sword parried upward redirecting the monstrous war axe. But the impact sends him toppling backwards. He redirects his weight bringing the Talons of Horus tearing across its face, lighting burning away flesh and rebounding against the metal.
The ork put distance between them making room to swing the axe. Abbadon redirected the miss swing pushing the axe further away and brought blade scraping against the armor and rending it towards the end. The metal peels away under the weight. The next blow the axe connected with his pauldron spinning him on his axis. In that second that felt like an eternity, the axe came down on his shoulder wrought and wrending the armor.
Abbadon stood on his knees looking up into the ork's blood red good eye. The ork brought up the great axe for the killing blow and with murderous intent upon its brow. The axe fell and Abbadon swallowed his pride and rage. He couldn't die here and now. It's impossible. He had an eternity to watch the blade descend, to think back on the road that led to the executioner's axe. Then salvation came and the axe harmlessly splintered the deck plating.
With a flash of light, Lorgar had appeared and turned away the axe. Accompanying him were terminators and obliterators. The great ork ordered his boyz to stand back and stand down. The murderous beast eviscerated an obliterator with a single strike, tanking several shots from a melta and twin-linked lascannon. Then the axe caved in the armored helm of a terminator. Then the ork picked up another terminator with one massive mailed fist and crushed the armored throat.
The Illuminarum came crashing against the great ork's skull crushing bone and metal and dislocating the bionic jaw. The Illuminarum crackled with death energies from gravimetric generators and immaterium energy channeled through runes. Spark flying like tears from the maul portion of the weapon. Three quick strikes drove the ork away from Abbadon and added to the beast's scars.
Then the beast's anger flared to life and he caught the Illuminarum with one hand. The primarch is strong, the ork is stronger. The great ork lifted the primarch off of his feet and threw him crashing into cogitators and power couplings. "Danks for da scarz oomie," The ork bellows at Lorgar. "Now I'm going to crump your spiky god."
Lorgar wiped the blood from his face, his various bony protrusions and growths had shattered. He drew his twin-linked Archaeotech handcannon and fired micro-atomic munitions rupturing the ork armored chassis in blossom of fire. But ork's momentum couldn't be stopped and the axe crumpled Lorgar to the ground in one swift motion. But Lorgar refuse to bend to the ork. He drove himself up and slammed his Illuminarum into the ork's chest breaking his weapon. In the ork anger, Lorgar found a devilish surprise. The ork's right bionic eye grew red hot and a beam of energy lanced out at Lorgar sending him tumbling over razor sharp pieces of metal plating. The beam had burned right through Lorgars armor.
Suddenly a sword caught the creature in the ribs.
The creature gave a guttural incomprehensible laugh, 'ou see dis 'umie? Da 'Eavy armor is painted 'ellow. You can't 'entrate me armor." The creature was half right. Drach'nyen should have gutted the foul green skin like a fish. Thick globs of putrid stinking blood were spilling onto the floor. But the ork didn't seem to care. 'ow about I give you diz one." The ork brought the choppa down over his head in an arc that would crash into him. Abbadon drew his sword from the ork's side and blocked the blow. The impact shattered the sword and reality itself. The explosion that rend reality asunder sent the gathered orks, Lorgar, and all of the rest of chaos force tumbling away with bone shattering impacts. The Vengeful-spirit was gutted. Abbadon's armor was torn asunder by the release of the foul energy spilling out into realspace, his bones shattered by the impact. Blood poured from his mouth from his shattered teeth. The ork staggered to his feet first.
"I speak wiv da word of Gork and Mork. You dink your godz can 'top me," The ork bellowed. The hate in the ork's voice is as tangible as a snake's venom. The two warriors staggered towards each other, eyeing each other. Then all at once they crossed each other's path, each making their final stand. Abbadon, fueled by rage, an unnatural vigor came over him. In his power-claw, he caught the great axe by the handle and shattered it. "Your Gods are false, '' he spat in defiance. "To think you find your gods superior to the dark gods."
He let the divine will of the gods drive his free hand. Their collective strength drove the fractured broken blade into the ork's neck. The ork staggered back and collapsed to the floor. A look of horror upon its face. Abbadon felt the ship careening out of control. Gravity was out throughout the ship. Bodies on the floor were floating away. The ship didn't have long.
Bile couldn't sleep for the first couple of months after escaping from the maze. He felt like the knowledge was haunting him worse than any wound. Whether he fell asleep via Catalepsean Node or a more natural way, the nightmares persisted. They weren't of the Emperor returning, but of Heresy and his doppelgänger. Contrary to the pride he felt on the grand marble staircase of the Imperial palace, he would wake up screaming. The dream made reality feel wrong. This wasn't his life. He had gnawing hunger, the urge to escape from this life. He knew where to go next. Though after escaping the maze, he wasn't thrilled about delving into the catacombs like levels of the tower of betrayal.
Even at the staircase leading into the black depth, he could hear screaming. Audible cries from thousands betrayals. People screaming accusingly, mournful wails of lost faith and shattered perceptions. He felt their pain in his heart. The pain of the Emperor's betrayal is like a furnace at the bottom sweltering even at the surface. His soul wasn't here, just an echo of the betrayal. But he could hear surprise and heart wrenching betrayal in the Emperor's voice. "How could you? Everything we sacrificed. You haven't just damned yourself, you damned all of mankind. For what? Glory. Power. Prestige. You are as dead on the outside as you are on the inside. But I don't blame you, the failure lies with me. If only I could have trusted you more, bared my soul."
The final words repeated louder and louder until the entire tower shook to its foundation and dust fell from the ceiling like rain. The quaking had disturbed ancient souls that dwelt within, faces peeling from the walls from concussive force. They caused Bile to shiver involuntarily. He passed by them as the silent eyes watched him leave. In this endless depth of catacombs he witnessed many echoes of betrayal. There was a scene of a roman murder and intrigue. One roman holding a bloody dagger was looming above a dying man. The dying man's last words, "Et tu, Brutus?" Repeated over and over again.
The ghostly image of man holding a satchel of the thirty jingling coins as he looks into the eyes of the man he betrayed, a man he allowed to call him a friend. The victim of his treachery is nailed to a cross. The scene resets and the murder is now sitting at a banquet table across from his victim with a wicked grin across his face. The man is sitting at the head of the table enjoying his last meal on earth. The betrayer kisses his victim on the cheek and seals his deal with tzeentch. The victim skips forward in time, the man is back on the cross muttering under his dying breath, "Triginta denarios pretium damnationis."
As he delved deeper, the sheer amount of floors fractured his sanity. Each floor an age of the galaxy with its history interwoven. Towards the bottom the dark became oppressive and light couldn't penetrate. The stench of desperation and greed got worse. The spirits languish over their eternal grief. That one moment where they banished their soul to tzeentch, replaying over and over. Yet the tortured souls that dwelled within told of their age. He passed humanity at its infancy when the first neanderthal clubbed another with a rock. Then the first Aeldari to kill another. On and on he went until at last he reached the bottom.
The desolate ruins of featureless stone and mortar became cold unfeeling steel illuminated by glow globes. Bile recognized the command dais of the Vengeful-spirit. Inside the final battle between Horus and Emperor replayed. Horus just stood there motionless as the Emperor spoke those same words and thrust a killing blow. Horus died and the scene would reset. Thousands of times Bile would watch and thousand of times Horus didn't fight back. This wasn't how it played out. The climactic battle that happened in real life isn't playing out. Horus must've been conscious and aware. Bile pulled out the soul-stone and the ghostly image of Horus disappeared.