In this chapter: I introduce you to some more oc space marines and their journey to their quarry. Pyrrha grows evermore concerned with her partner's apparent lack of progress. Jaune is really starting to feel the Red Thirst and it is making him really mad. Oh, and Cardin is a jerk - but he will get his comeuppance, I assure you.
The expedition had been launched. A handful of selected battle-brothers had departed from Baal to investigate what had made the Death Company reemerge from their usual state. With them came a select few of the chapter's blood thralls.
Alas, the Death Company had shortly returned to their usual demeanor. But the was something to them now. There was a spark of hope in their eyes now.
It had been a few months now since the expedition left Baal but progress had been slow.
As if it knew their purpose The Warp had entered a state of turmoil and the light of the astronomicon had begun to flicker.
What should have been an easy voyage had become a series of irregular warp jumps as the expedition had to exit the Warp when it became too violent for travel.
Adeptus Astartes knew no fear. But there is a difference between not knowing fear and being foolish. Traversing the Warp when it was in such turmoil was folly.
And then there was the visions. They had intensified in frequency and clarity. The astartes hardly needed to blink to see another part of their primarchs life.
Astartes are hardy but the visions were bothersome even for them.
But that was not the worst part. The thirst was getting stronger. Librarian Amaretto could feel it. He felt it in himself and also in his battle brothers.
They had all been through worse bouts with the Thrist before but it as always there, crawling around in the back of their minds.
Amaretto would occasionally glance down at the mortal blood thralls as they carried out their duties.
What to do with them if the Thirst becomes too strong? Seal them away? Tell them to select one of their numbers to sate the Thirst until none remained?
The Astartes of the expeditions may not have been Salamanders but they did look out for their servants.
Amaretto left his dark thoughts and turned to an approaching apothecary, Deon.
Deon was young. Young by astartes standards. Having been a full battle brother for but a few decades now he still occasionally displayed some mortal characteristics.
Amaretto did not begrudge the apothecary for that. Right now, on this journey, those traits could prove invaluable with the Thralls. For the servants knew of the Thirst and they knew the signs of them getting worse.
"Yes, apothecary?"
"Another Imperial vessel has just exited the warp, brother Librarian. It is an Lamenters vessel."
Lamenters - A fellow successor chapter of the Blood Angels legion? Even if they were of the cursed founding they were still brothers of a sort.
Amaretto knew of them, as did all Blood Angels. An attempt of ridding the Angel's genetic heritage from its flaws. It had supposedly worked but Amaretto knew better.
Even with the distance between the vessels in the void he could feel the same afflictions from the Lamenters and he did his own battle brothers.
"Have they hailed us yet?"
"They have acknowledged our presence. Like us they left the Warp when it became too perilous to travel."
"What is their business here?"
What business indeed? The Lamenters were supposed to be on a penitent crusade for their actions.
"They have not stated their purpose yet. We are making ready to establish proper communications. They appears that they have suffered damage to their ship and vox-equipment."
"Very well. Let us proceed then."
It took some time before the two vessels could establish proper communications.
The Lamenters vessel had indeed suffered damage to their equipment.
Amaretto had reached out to a fellow librarian to verify the Lamenters' claims. He had been cautious as he had yet not known the others' purpose.
When Amaretto had inquired as to how the damage had come about he had received the psychic message of "Lamenters luck".
Lamenters luck indeed.
On their journey they had suffered no less than two minor demonic incursions due to failing gellar fields, a run-in with a derelict space hulk full of greenskins, a run-in with probably the most incompetent Inquisitorial retinue consisting only of guardsmen of whom one could have passed for a tiny Blood Raven because he kept stealing everything!
In the end, the Sargent of the guardsmen had to hoist the thief up-side-down by his feet and shake him to get all the loot from his pockets and return all of the stolen things to the astartes.
Then one chapter serf had broken his neck in an accident and breaking one of his fellow's arms in the process only to discover that hey had not even covered half the distance in their travels that they thought they had (Stupid Warp travel).
Oh, and the astronomicon was going bonkers all the time.
Seriously, what had the Lamenters done to deserve this crap? What had they done to deserve this curse?
"What brings you to this sector, brothers?" asked Amaretto as he attempted to conceal the disdain in his voice. An incredible feat, especially for an astartes. Many other battle brothers would simply have refused to make contact with members of the cursed founding chapter.
"We are pursuing a quarry that has led us to this sector." answered a Sargent, Furion, over the reestablished vox-contact.
The answer was blunt and offered no additional clues as to what was really going on.
"I see. But is not your chapter bound on a penitent crusade?"
"We are. However, our chapter master deemed this matter important enough to dispatch a small expedition."
Amaretto considered this. The Lamenters were few in number as they had always been. For them to send out an expedition for some trivial matter was unthinkable. If they were here then it must indeed been an important matter.
Then again, the same could be said for the Blood Angels expedition. With the black Rage and Red Thirst and combat claiming more and more brothers each year the chapter was not as strong as it once had been.
Their situations were similar in a way.
Libarian Amaretto got an idea.
"Tell me Sargent, do these words sound familiar."
"For it is in passing that we achieve immortality. Through this we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all."
Apothecary Deon narrowed his eyes at the librarian with suspicion. That was supposed to be a secret. for the chapter for this expedition.
Had he lost his mind to the Thirst? If so, he had done it in an very unusual way.
It was silent over the vox for a while.
Then the Lamenter spoke up.
"Infinite in distance and unbound by death. I release your soul, and by my shoulder, protect thee."
The same words from the same verse. The librarian's guess had been right.
Amaretto actually chuckled to himself.
"Well brothers, welcome to our expedition."
The light were dimmed around them. Jaune was facing off against Cardin Winchester in a training match.
It was not going well for him. He could not focus on the fight properly as his mind kept drifting off to dark places.
The scenes from 'The Vengeful Spirit' were flashing in his mind. He could imagine his supposed stand-off against Horus. The blows, the blocks and dodges.
The fact that he was currently dealing with the same from Cardin was not helping.
The two scenes, past and present, had similarities but only a few.
Cardin was hardly a fitting substitute for he arch-traitor but Jaune was not his dream-self either.
Feeling desperate Jaune tried a move from the dream. He caught Cardin's mace as it came down with his sword and spun around on his heel, bringing Crocea Mors up for a blow, straight for the neck.
Jaune pulled back at the last minute.
Had he been about to behead Cardin?
As Jaune stood there stunned Cardin managed to block it the swing with his maze, snapping Jaune out of his thoughts. Their weapons locked together.
"This is where you lose, fangs." Cardin smirked.
The same damn smirk that had been on Horus' face back then. It made Jaune angry. Teeth bared he put more strength into the push.
"Over my dead-"
Jaune did not finish as Cardin drove a knee into his gut. Jaune staggered backwards gasping for air. Soon he felt Cardin's maze hit him in the chest.
There was the sound of a bell and Cardin backed off, raising his arms in victory. The only sheers came from his team.
"The match is over." declared Goodwitch.
"As you can see, Mr. Arc's aura has dropped into the red. In a duel held at a tournament, this would mean that Jaune is no longer fit for battle and has lost the match."
She turned to Jaune who was just getting up.
"Mr. Arc, I have told this before. Please try to refer to your scroll to keep track of your remaining aura during combat. Not being able to tell how much you have left might get you eaten by a beowolf."
"Will try, professor." Jaune said bowing his head in shame.
This had been but the latest addition to his eternal losing streak.
"To get eaten by a beowolf? Why, Arc, no grimm would care to eat your sorry ass." said Cardin, earning a chuckle from his team.
Pyrrha frowned as she watched her partner from her seat. He was rubbing his face, right where his sharp teeth were. It was obvious that something was wrong for he had taken no blow to the face.
Pyrrha's discussion with Goodwitch game to mind.
Was it something he tried to hold back or hide? As Jaune slowly made his way back to his seat she tried to ask him about it.
"Why did you freeze up?" Pyrrha asked him.
"I don't know. I guess it reminded me of something really bad."
It was clear that he did not want to talk about it but Pyrrha decided to prod anyway.
"Like what?"
"Like I was about to die." he said and grabbed his side. The phantom pain was still there.
"And then there was-"
Before Jaune could say anything else he was interrupted by Goodwitch.
"And before we end today's class I would like to remind you all of the upcoming Vytal Festival in a few months. Those who decide to partake will be representing Beacon Academy itself. Be aware that expectations will be high on all of you. Now move along."
Jaune sighed heavily. Yet another thing he was not cut out for. There was no way in hell he would ever be ready for something like that. Hell, he wasn't ready for Beacon.
He had no real place here at Beacon. He had faked his transcripts to get here so what business would he have at a tournament meant for Remnant's best and brightest? To his dismay his friends and teammates seemed excited about it. Once they looked at him they got less cheerful.
He knew why. He was only going to drag them down with him.
"Hey, cheer up. There is still time. I'm sure you will get ready until then."
"Thanks Pyr. I will try." His smile was weak.
She did at least pretend to believe he stood a chance. At least he could try to appreciate that. It was more than anyone ever had done for him. Ever.
"If you'll will excuse me, I have to try to go over my notes from Oobleck's class."
"Uh, Jaune, I was wondering if you would-?"
Pyrrha did not have time to finish her question before Jaune left in a hurry. His teammates as well as Team RWBY looked after him as he went, concerned for their friend. Something was really eating at him.