Diem Infamia Chapter 5
The vessel had fallen; there could be no doubting it. The compartments and corridors rang with fearful screams and cries for mercy, only to be met with scornful laughter and raging bellows of fury. Here and there the sound of a shotgun or autopistol rang out, a few armsmen clinging to scraps of courage as they tired to fight back, but they were few and far between. Harsh laughter was the only response to their bravery, followed by brief screams of agony as they were torn apart.
Soon the sound of mortals faded away, drowned out by the march of ceramite boots and the banging of bolters. This was mixed with shrieks of infernal monsters and the solemn chanting of deep transhuman voices, singing praises to Chaos. Shadowy forms hunted and stalked through the bilges of the ship while crimson clad warriors strode proudly through the upper decks, lording over all they surveyed. Whether they were monster or warrior mattered not, all were equally deadly and nothing on this cargo scow could match them.
Deep within the ship strode a mighty warrior, a champion of Chaos in all its undivided majesty. He had a pale face, with sharpened teeth and a long top knot crowning his head. His armour was gore red, marked with spikes and the litanies of lost Colchis. One hand was gripping his bolt pistol firmly but the other was a huge claw, tipped with black talons that eternally wept blood. He was Kasarox the Unhallowed, Coryphaus of the Crooked Path Chapter, from the Word Bearers Traitor Legion.
Kasarox strode down the passageways, stepping over piles of bodies with a furious glare. Kasarox saw the death and destruction and he was torn by it. A part of his spirit yearned to join the slaughter, to sink into the mire of blood drenched madness and feel the fury of the Blood God course through him. A pulsing beat from his Daemon gifted claw throbbed through him, demanding killing and murder, endless carnage and the bliss of rage. Yet his mind mastered the impulse, breaking it as a man does a colt. He was no rabid berserker, he would not succumb to the throes of mindless rage, his strategies were carefully laid out and meticulously planned to the last detail.
The Unhallowed was a strange one, a thinker among a legion of zealots, his pragmatic and rational mind at odds with the blind faith of his Brothers. It was not that he doubted the Dark Pantheon, he had seen too much to question their might, but he had never embraced the capering madness and frothing insanity of Chaos. It was this sceptical mindset that had seen him made Coryphaus, the tactical adviser and Strategos to the Dark Apostle, but also it had denied him glory. For millennia Kasarox had yearned for a gift from the Pantheon, little realising it was his own limited thinking that had held him back. The boons of Chaos must be seized, he had come to understand, wrestled from the warp with determination and cunning. His dripping claw was proof of that revelation.
Kasarox walked through the piles of dead and was disappointed; he had ordered his kin to take some alive. He needed prisoners for his strategy to work. Irked the Unhallowed marched towards the ship's bridge, holding his anger in check by force of will. Soon he entered the meagre facility this scow called a bridge and he was relieved to find two score mortals kneeling on the deck, hands upon their heads. It was a welcome sight, at least someone around here could follow an order.
Standing around the mortals were a ring of black-clad Terminators, the Anointed of the Legion, their tusked helms giving them a bestial appearance. Their combi-bolters smoked and their power fists were sprayed with blood, evidence that the mortals had tried to fight back, but despite the broken lecterns and entrails covering the walls they had managed to capture some of the crew alive.
Kasarox strode up to their leader and called, "Hail Burronox, well done Brother."
Burronox growled, "Wasn't easy, holding back my Marines when blood is in the air. Their Captain put up a good fight, it was brief but good. The rest surrendered when I eviscerated him."
Kasarox assured him, "You captured enough and it was worth it, trust me."
Burronox snorted, "I'd rip out the tongue of anyone else who said that, but you always have a plan."
"Indeed," Kasaox said, "Speaking of which…"
Kasarox stepped up to the crowd and saw bridge officers and petty officers before him. They looked cowed and sullen, defeated in spirit but that wasn't enough, he needed them converted. Kasarox picked out the lowest ranking man, the one least likely to have high-level access codes and grabbed him by the throat, lifting him up with his normal hand. The Unhallowed placed a bleeding talon upon one cheek and whispered, "Death is but a heartbeat away but you can save yourself. Embrace Chaos and you shall live."
The feeble mortal kicked in his grip, fumbling with the iron hand enclosing his neck as he squeaked, "The Emperor watches over us, His glory is eternal."
Kasarox's claw throbbed, demanding he kill this wretch but he mastered the call and instead pushed the tip of his talon a centimetre into the man's face, letting blood flow freely. Kasarox hissed, "You worship a corpse, bound to a throne. We worshipped him once and he repaid us with humiliation and disgrace. Embrace worthier gods, living gods, the truth of the Warp can elevate you to glory."
The man was crying now but still he gasped, "The Emperor Protects!"
Kasarox pushed his talon further, cracking cheekbones and making the man weep as he roared, "Speak the Words of Lorgar!"
The wretch was wailing now but still he cried aloud, "Emperor save me!"
Kasarox sighed and pushed his claw deeper, penetrating the brain and the man jerked violently as his life was cut short. Kasarox kept pushing until the claw ripped out the back of the skull, covered in disgusting gore. He held it there for a moment, letting all see his handiwork, then he dropped the body and licked his talon clean. Rich tastes cascades over his senses but he gave it no mind as he turned to the rest saying, "Who is next?"
As one the mortals threw themselves at his feet, pledging their loyalty to Chaos and begging to be spared, promising to do whatever he wanted. They eagerly sold their souls for a few more days of life and Kasarox smiled at their cowardice, this would suffice for his plans. The Unhallowed turned to the Anointed and said, "Summon the demagogues, teach these wastrels the glory of Chaos and show them the path. I want them all pledged to the Pantheon before we leave."
The Terminators moved to coral the crewmen but Burronox stepped closer and said, "Kasarox, about the other matter."
"Not here," Kasarox snapped, not wanting his other plan discussed out loud.
But Burronox hissed, "We've waited years for you to make a move, how much longer will you hesitate?"
"Plans are in motion," Kasarox growled, "But speak not of such things where we can be heard."
Burronox fell back but muttered, "You better hurry up, we won't wait forever."
Kasarox strode out of the bridge, heading back into the depths of the transport ship. Activity was dying down as the last of the crew perished and Kasarox knew his kin would be indulging themselves by making lurid sacrifices to attract the dark powers. He left them to it, he had what he needed, time to set the next phase of his plan in motion. Kasarox opened his armour's vox and called into the void, "Kasarox to Cruenta Caede, the convoy is ours. Dispatch tech-helots at once to begin the work. Dump the cargo and refit the hulls as specified."
A tiny mortal voice came back, squeaking, "Yes mighty lord, whatever you desire. For Chaos."
Kasarox spat back, "Tell them to make haste, if this convoy is too late the Imperial scum will grow suspicious. I am holding you personally responsible, if you miss my deadline I will rip out your spleen."
Kasarox didn't bother to wait for a response, shutting off his vox as he headed to towards a large observation dome set on the vessel's spine. It took him several minutes to reach it but he was not disappointed by what he found; his comrade Raruma waiting for him. Raruma was a possessed Marine, blessed by the Dark Gods with a Neverborn companion sharing his body, a most holy and envious state of holy union. Raruma had been the driving force behind Kasarox's ambition, goading him into setting his sights high. Doubtless he wished to ascend to power on the Unhallowed's coattails, but that didn't mean they disliked each other.
Raruma was kneeling besides a gutted mortal, shovelling entrails into a wide maw with his clawed hands. Spikes covered his armour and shadows described the outlines of wings while in his mouth burned the fires of hell. The possessed Marine was in his most Daemonic form and his head snapped up as the Unhallowed entered, hissing jealously over the corpse like a predator over a fresh kill.
"My kill…" hissed Raruma like an animal, "Mine!" Then he leapt over the body, lunging at Kasarox with his arms outstretched, talons scything in for the kill. It was a sudden and unexpected assault but Kasarox reacted smoothly, stepping into the attack with his monsterous hand clenched into a fist. His arm flashed, sending his fist into the possessed Marine's face and knocking him back on his heels. Raruma staggered drunkenly, blinking in shock then a most strange transformation came over him. His claws shrank, his spiked armour became more smooth and the fires in his mouth faded to a dull glow. Raruma rocked back and forth as his equilibrim rebalanced, his more human aspects coming to the fore as the Neverborn retreated within him. Raruma blinked and rubbed his jaw then his eyes focussed on Kasarox and he said, "Unhallowed, I didn't see you standing there. Did I offend you?"
Kasarox demurred, "If you had, you'd be dead. What were you doing?"
Raruma cocked his head and said, "Not sure… my Neverborn grew restless, it needed to be given free reign. What have I missed?"
Kasarox sighed, "Everything, the transports are ours and Burronox at least knew how to follow orders. I have the means and the access codes to infiltrate the Imperial naval base."
Raruma shook his head and said, "All this fuss, sneaking into the system one ship at a time, lurking around the jump points capturing random transports. Why not storm the base outright and simply level the place?"
Kasarox rolled his eyes and said, "Strategy, that's why. If we moved our fleet in one mass the throne-worshippers would notice our arrival. Even their blinkered Navigators couldn't miss the Immaterial bow-wave of a fleet this size. No, better to sneak in and regroup where they won't see us. I have plans in place to break open their defences."
Raruma laughed, "Always thinking, that's your problem, you don't know how to enjoy yourself."
Kasarox snorted at that, Raruma had always been a glib one but exposure to Chaos had exaggerated that. Chaos encouraged extreme emotion, exaggerating any mortal failings to their most grotesque degree. Raruma was no more capable of taking things seriously than a Khorne Berserker was able to stop killing.
The Unhallowed sighed, "All is proceeding according to plan, soon everything shall be ours."
Raruma chortled, "Good, Abulaz is getting on my last nerve. I want him dead."
Kasarox started at that and hissed, "Don't speak of that here."
But Raruma laughed, "Relax, my Neverborn tells me nobody is listening."
Kasarox relaxed a hair, but not too much for their Dark Apostle was powerful and paranoid. Abulaz was a potent warp sorcerer and a fiery orator but he was tactically incompetent, hence the need for Kasarox. The Crooked Path had suffered from their Dark Apostles' blunders, none more so than Kasarox and he had finally decided the incompetent fool needed removing. Raruma looked up at the cold stars and said, "Abulaz is a blundering oaf, even now he ignores the real fight to croon over his new gun."
Kasarox's eyes followed, seeing the cruiser Cruenta Caede hanging in the void. It was a bleak and brooding Hades class, not the biggest or most powerful ship in the fleet, but long the home of the wandering Chapter. Its lines were familiar to him as the back of his hand, save that now its prow featured a huge bronze Daemon's head, mouth wide open to allow a dark barrel to protrude through. The marriage of Word Bearer power with Alpha Legion cunning, the Daemon-Maw cannon.
Raruma was still looking up and he pondered, "Do you think it will work?"
"That Alpha Legion's sorcerer seemed confident it would," Kasarox replied.
Raruma snorted in disgust, "You trust them?"
"No, I'm certain they have some ulterior motive," Kasarox laughed, "But they will be in the thick of the fight once the Shadow of the Emperor arrives. They wouldn't risk their most prized asset if they expected us to lose."
Raruma sneered, "I still don't like it, working with those devious snakes."
Kasarox reassured him, "This is a Word Bearer campaign, not Alpha Legion. I will be running the attack."
Testily Raruma spat, "You should have been running things years ago. You built this fleet, not Abulaz. You forged a pact with Kor Phaeron for his ships, you lured the snakes into this. You should kill Abulaz and seize power."
Kasarox however demurred, "Victory lies not with he who hits first, but with he who hits the right target. I have plans for our Dark Apostle, rest assured he will not live to see the Indomitus Crusade fall."
Raruma laughed at that and declared, "That stuck-up popinjay of a Primarch, the self-righteous lord of Ultramar, I wish I could see his face when we burn his precious fleet to ashes."
Kasarox permitted himself a rare grin and concurred, "He will never see us coming. The Indomitus crusade will be crushed and the corpse-Emperor's last gambit will fail. The end of days has finally come for the False Imperium and Chaos shall triumph at last!"
