This is the first of the Word Bearer fics that I'm posting on this site, so I'm going to provide a brief explanation of what I'm planning to do. Each of these chapters can stand on their own merits. I abhore cliff hangars and refuse to inflict them on others. They do star the same main character though... Enjoy and review if you please. I apreciate all comments. Disclaimer at the end.
A Rain of Fallen Angels
The dark swarm of drop pods launched from the Word Bearer fleet like fleas from a dog. The baroque warships were lit only by the glow of their ancient engines as they swept through the shadow of Duran IV toward their targets on the other side of the planet. They left the swiftly falling drop pods behind them to skirt around the world's atmosphere before dropping into the ocean of air that enveloped the green world. The pods were diminutive in comparison to their parent vessels yet they held the deadly half of the chaos attack. They bore veteran members of that most fanatical of traitor legions, the crimson armored Word Bearers.
On one of those twisted drop pods, Mikaihel, Dark Apostle and Daemon Prince and his personal raptor body guard were engaged in intense prayer. Faith was of utmost importance to the success of any endeavor and Word Bearers spent much time honing their faith. Mikaihel knew that the rest of his warriors were engaged in similar prayer and hoped that the gods saw fit to reward their faith with victory. He was aware that such aid would likely be needed to see his Host through the coming battles. The chanting of chaos hymnals overrode the sounds of the ancient machine around them preparing to undergo its traumatic journey into the turbulent sea of the planets' atmosphere.
A massive clang rocked the pod sending waves of distortion through the crew compartment. One raptor was fried in his armor as an arc of power jolted through him. The Dark Apostle glanced at the indicator screen on the pod ceiling and saw that a near miss by a defense torpedo had sent the pod reeling and that their landing on Duran IV would be harsher than expected. Mikaihel gestured to his warriors to cease their prebattle rites. "The weapons of the False Emperor's minions have tried and failed to destroy us. They have succeeded in damaging the chaos blessed machine we ride in and we will be coming in steeper than expected. Prepare yourselves for combat and gather your weapons. With the guidance of the chaos gods we will be in battle before the rest of our sacred Host." The predatory raptors nodded, few taking note of their revered leader's grim tone as they anticipated the glory that was battle.
Mikaihel suspected that the shot hadn't been aimed at the near invisible drop pod, but at one his warships that were even now smashing their way into the imperial fleet. This was academic, but the hit would be the death of his guard and banish him to the warp if the daemon infested machine spirit of the drop pod couldn't compensate for the damage. A whistling roar indicated the start of the pod's descent into the planetary atmosphere. The chamber rattled and shook as the machine was buffeted by the winds of Duran. The lights of the pod flickered on and off casting crazed shadows from the Dark Apostle's new razor edged metallic wings. He was silent as a crushing fist gripped the pod's passengers in forces even space marines would be hard pressed to ignore. Eventually the pod's passage stabilized as retrorockets engaged and reduced its fatal headlong velocity. Even so the landing set off internal alarms that blared through the cramped chamber as exit doors blew off their hinges.
Mikaihel released his grip on the safety rungs as his robe unfurled with a fluid motion and he rose to his feet, "With me! Out of the pod and take positions for battle! Lorgar guides our path." The raptors responded in a quiet tone as they filtered out of the damaged drop pod without a backwards glance at their two dead comrades, "The Primarch guides our path." The white robed figure emerged and surveyed the spectacle spread out before his eyes. He and his guard had landed early and out of position atop a wooded bluff above the developing battle. The Dark Apostle gestured for his guard to retain position as he observed the conflict. Blood frenzied Khorne berserkers and dreadnoughts ran at the Black Templar and imperial guard force arrayed before them. The hulking forms of defilers dominated the rear of the force and rained shells on the imperialists before them. The imperials were led by black armored marines advancing towards their foes with less speed but no less determination. Sepheroth noted the presence of an inquisitor and several of those imperial daemonhosts such as had recently begun to be more and more common after the maniac storm of the Cadian gate. The ranks of the imperial guard spread out in vast lines before the relative handful of khornate marines. The sight of a pair of dripping leathery wings emerging from behind a bunker drew the Apostle's mind back to the battle at hand.
A massive khornate daemon prince ran at the head of the berserker mobs, powering itself forward with massive sweeps of its wings, bearing a flaming glaive. The hulking figure roared continuously as it charged, ignoring the shots that blasted massive chunks from its blood soaked form. The inquisitor stepped forward with his retinue accompanied by one of the felonid daemonhosts that were so visible to Mikaihel's daemonic sight. He sensed the strain of the other daemon prince as it forced its way past the inquisitor's wall of psychic power. The inquisitor struggled desperately to strike at the fearsome figure with his weapon before the enormous flaming glaive cut him in two with a single stroke. The prince roared his victory over the steaming corpse as the inquisitor's retinue was cut down by one swing of his weapon as they attempted to flee from him. The futile impact of imperial weaponry only enhanced the ferocious being's pleasure.
A small robed figure leapt onto the back of the blood wet daemon lord, its' silvery weapon gleaming amidst the flames of the daemons' mane. Sepheroth recognized an imperial warpspawn as it voiced its fury in a silent frenzy of blows that ripped the back of the khornate horror below it apart and released twin gouts of glowing life fluids that splattered the ground. The larger being batted the now ichor stained figure loose with its wings before goring it with a massive horn blow. The gathered forces of both armies were forced to close their eyes as a pillar of light blasting from the robed body ripped the daemon prince's skull from its neck and sent its massive corpse slamming into the midst of its more rapid followers.
The Dark Apostle glanced up at the sky and was pleased to see the entry trail of drop pods descending to the rear of the imperial force. The rest of his Host's drop pods had evaded any imperial fire support and were coming in safely. The pods impacted the earth and unfurled their entry doors in rapid succession as the Khorne berserkers reached the imperial front lines and began their savage assault. The wordbearers began to assemble into assault groups as they emerged from their blackened and drained pods, a sonorous litany of malevolent faith rising from the Host of warriors as they closed with the rear of the now embattled imperial army. The guard and loyalist marines were caught between two deadly forces, one the mindless worshippers of a brutal god and the other the elect of Lorgar and the Chaos gods. Mikaihel's living robes rippled as he allowed the sight before him to stoke his emotions.
Mikaihel gestured for his sleekly armored raptors to move as he pumped his metallic pinions in preparation for the descent into the flank of the imperialist force. He raised his barbed Crozius high as he leapt from the bluff and the others ignited their ancient jump packs. Sepheroth and his guard free fell for a few moments before they halted their descent and powered straight towards the battle. A black templar scout detected their approach and a squad of assault marines all bearing skull marked storm shields diverted their charge into the khornate mobs towards the daemonic figure rushing into their army's flank. The raptors broke off from their charge hovering in place to unleash a hail of fire into the black clad marines. A meltagun blast sent one of the assault marines spinning into the ground but the rest bulled into the Dark Apostle who met their assault grimly. His weapon lashed out and glanced off an upraised shield, unleashing a spray of sparks that lit up Mikaihel's lean hooded features amid the general insanity of the rising battle.
Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer 40k in any way, shape or form. That honor belongs to Games Workshop and I'm not contesting that. I don't plan on making any money from this work and hope this doesn't get me sued. Please...