A Warhammer 40K fanfic
Karia's Search
Written by Spiritblade
Author's note: I posted this story along with Siege of Iyanden a long, long time ago on and , two of my favourite Warhammer 40K sites. And yes, I still am a WH40K player. Warhammer 40K is the property of Games Workshop.
"Lady Lileth, the mon-keigh base shall soon fall to us, but resistance is heavy. We shall win, but casualties will be high," spoke Karia Goreblade, a succubus of the Wych cult of Domination, as she gazed at the cold, impassive, masked facade of her leader, Lileth Hesperax, who led the merciless wych cult of Strife. The Wych cult of Strife was a sub-cult and part of Lord Asbrudeal Vect's massive Kabal of the Black Heart. Karia gazed at her leader, whose beauty and skill was matched only by the Archon Kruellagh of the Kabal of the Emasculators, and her feud with the deadly Archon was legendary on Commoragh. Karia waited for her leader to answer, and the wait seemed to wait all eternity.
What was going through her mistress's mind?
Had she discovered her ambitions to one day replace her? Had she discovered her prized Dark Angels sword that she had wrenched from the hand of her injured opponent and left him there to die?
She remembered the helpless fury in the Space Marine captain's eyes, promising vengeance. She relished his helplessness, wanted to disgrace him further, but he had been a worthy opponent, and thus, deserved to die where he had tried so hard to defend to the bloody end.
Finally, Lileth answered, "Excellent, Karia. You have done well. The losses are of little consequence, but you must accomplish your mission. That outpost holds information that I may find interesting."
Karia did not know what her mistress was looking for. No doubt the information on which of the pathetic of the mon-keigh's leaders were the worthiest opponents. Like that of that captain. She remembered the way he lashed out and parried. She shook her memories aside, and answered, "It will be as you ask, mistress."
"See to it."
Karia turned to the warriors, wyches and scourges under her command, as they knelt before her, silent and awaiting further instructions. "Slay all the pathetic mon-keigh if you desire, or take them prisoner, I care not. But do not damage the computer consoles and any vital information on pain of death, do you understand me?"
"Yes, Archon!" came the resounding reply that was deafening within the Dark Eldar stronghold.
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Dark Angel Captain Raziel gazed at the map of the small planet of Gorion III. It had been a small agricultural colony on the outskirts of the Felharan system, and he had been stationed there as part of the garrison to protect its people. Raziel took his responsibilities seriously, and he had seen to it that he raised PDF troops and Imperial Guard regiments on the planet. And a good thing, too. Thirty years after its colonisation, the evil Dark Eldar entered the system, their dark intentions clear. Battles were raging on every planet in the small, four planet Felharan system. Raziel had fought Dark Eldar before, and back then, he had been wounded terribly, and left to die, his blood spilling onto the steel floor from
the succubus's deadly weapons.
They had been poisoned, but his body's metabolism neutralised the deadly toxins, but could not seal the wounds. He remembered, with deep loathing, her mocking laughter and the way her eyes sparkled in malevolent desire as she licked his bloodied lips with her tongue, the way she saluted him mockingly with the power sword she had ripped from his hands. The Ultramarines relief
forces, led by Captain Krueger, and the Imperial Guard contingent, led by General Virias Allatarn, had swept in an hour later, catching the pillaging Dark Eldar by surprise and slaying many, but that cursed woman who had defiled him with her touch and defiled his honour, had eluded the vengeful clutches of the Imperium.
Raziel never forgave himself for being unable to help his brothers as the Dark Eldar swarmed defensive positions in the city and slew its brave defenders. Though Lord Azrael had held him blameless, and that he had faced overwhelming odds - and was damn lucky to be alive - Raziel could not forget. How many good men and women were slain or captured during the defense of the hive city of Okarias hive?
The proud and beautiful sister superior of the Adeptus Sororitas Deanna, whom Raziel had fond feelings for; Captain Marius Blackblade of Cadia,whom Raziel could trust his life with(and for a Dark Angel, that was saying a lot), Garith Hammerhand of the squats and several others. They were either dead or taken away by those cursed Dark Eldar - maybe rescued when the relief forces had arrived. Either way, Raziel did not know, for the Ultramarines had taken him to their ships for treatment.
And now, this was a repitition of what happened all those years ago. But this time, Raziel swore, by the Emperor and the Lion, the ending was going to be different! Those who were attacking were of the Kabal of the Black Heart, and Raziel had a feeling that his old enemy would be among them, shouting commands to her warriors.
But, if reinforcements did not arrive, Raziel knew, it WOULD be a repitition of what happened the last time, and this time, if his old enemy was there, she would not spare him again. Either she kill him or take him prisoner. And considering matters, Raziel would sooner kill himself than fall into her hands. He put his hand to the point where her cruel, serrated sword had struck and inflicted the wound that had caused his defeat.
The wound had all but healed, but the scar remained on Raziel's powerful form, a momento of his defeat. His trusty power sword, Slayer, had fallen into her hands. Slayer was the finest sword he had ever held, and had been given to him as a mark of courage by his captain when he was but a
scout oh so many years ago. Slayer had tasted the blood of the Emperor's many enemies. From Eldar to orks to rebels to the cursed Betrayers. It had seen so many battles, and the sword had nigh become a part of Raziel's consciousness that he often forgot about his plasma pistol in favour of using his sword. What was his enemy's name, Raziel wondered.
An explosion shook the bunker as alarms wailed throughout the imperial stronghold. Imperial Guards, PDF troops and his brother marines rushed to their defensive positions as the familiar booming sounds of the heavy bolter and lascannon emplacements opened up upon the advancing foe. Raziel quickly took the bolter that rested upon the war-room's table and took out his plasma pistol before following the soldiers that rushed to their defensive positions.
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Deadly laser bolts swept the plains as the Imperial Guards and their PDF brethren opened fire upon the dark-armoured invaders that swept in like a tide of darkness bent on destroying this puny bastion of Light that had turned back three full attacks. The Ravagers' dark lances sent beams of darkness against the heavily armoured bunkers and the Imperial Guard trenches. Imperial Tanks retaliated in kind. The bodies of the slain laid strewn upon the plains, and the remains of wrecked Raiders, Ravagers and reaver jetbikes, along with scores of Dark Eldar warriors bespoke of the stronghold's formidable defences.
The Ultramarines contingent that had rushed to the aid of the beleaguered planet of Gorion III numbered fifty, including a Dreadnought, which was sending missiles sailing from the stronghold's battle-emplacements. Ultramarines captain Falcon Atreides fired his plasma pistol, and one of the Dark Eldar warriors collapsed as the superheated bolt tore through its armour.
Within the bunker, one of his Devastator squads, wielding a heavy bolter, was sending off shot after shot, sending curses with each furious shot. The other, wielding a lascannon, was taking careful aims with his lascannon and sending deadly laser bolts the Dark Eldars' swift Ravagers and Raiders. His aim was impeccable, and one of his strikes had once destroyed a Ravager and three Reaver jetbikes when the former swerved sideways.
All Falcon heard was his victorious words, "Feel the justice of the Emperor, alien scum! You are unworthy to live in the Emperor's galaxy!"
Really, I must give him a Marksman Medal, should we get out of this alive, Falcon thought, and winced as a shots from a splinter rifle slammed close to the place he was taking cover.
The ten-man tactical squad unleashed a hail of fire with their bolters and heavy weapons from their well-dug emplacements near the stronghold's bunkers. Falcon had to give Captain Raziel of the Dark Angels credit. The defences of the Felharan system were formidable, and though they could be taken, it would be at great cost of lives and equipment.
Throughout the time the Dark Angels captain had been stationed here, he had devoted every fiber of his being to the erecting of its defences, and that was why the cursed Dark Eldar were finding it so bloody difficult to even move a yard without having blood spilt. But, the stronghold had taken heavy casualties, and there were lesser than a hundred fifty man to hold out a force that was nigh five times their number. Victory was a star obscured in the darkness of the clouds.
Even Raziel said that victory was remote, but their defense here would buy the populace time to evacuate. A majority of the air forces and Imperial Guards were guarding the city, and Raziel demanded reports each hour on the city's evacuation - an order the Imperial Governor did not dare disobey. Raziel
had the wrath of an Interrogator-Chaplain, only worse when he was moved to ire.
Artillery support from the Hornet regiment was sending endless hails of plasma shells that exploded onto the war-torn battleground, but the Dark Eldar were moving in. Almost unstoppable.
Falcon snapped off every shot in his plasma pistol and reloaded it, as the sounds of Brother Caradius, who wielded the heavy bolter, roared up again as armour-piercing fire-bolts shot forth from the bunker. Grotesques, living blasphemies of humans, orks and Eldar, shambled towards them, only to be mowed down by the fire from the defensive lines.
The Dark Eldar were using the grotesques as a suicide force, hoping to see to it that they would wasted their ammunition on their cannon fodder. Lasguns and lascannons would not run out of ammunition, but bolters, missile launchers, plasma and multi-meltas would.
One of Falcon's brother Terminators, mounted upon one of the bunkers, unleashed a withering hail from his assault cannon. The Dark Eldar warriors that were rushing forward soon discovered, via the hard way, how deadly an assault cannon was. In retaliation, the heavier-armed elements of the Dark Eldar warriors turned splinter cannons on the space marine, who quickly dodged behind cover.
One of his brothers, however, was slow in withdrawing before the splinter cannon blew his head off. Falcon heard his scream and the blood-oath of his brother. He popped out again and fired at the offending Dark Eldar. The Dark Eldar was catapulted off his feet, his splinter cannon blasting an arc to the sky as though cursing his maker for his demise.
"Captain, look out!" a voice shouted as Falcon whirled, his power sword an arc of lightning and silver as the Dark Eldar Wych - a shockingly beautiful, dark haired woman - turned the blow aside with her falchion. Though lacking in armour, she made up for it in speed, and before Falcon could parry, the Dark Eldar woman slammed the falchion into his face in an expert blow that nearly tore off his helmet - and caused him to see stars.
How in the halo of the Emperor did this daemon-spawned woman get behind him?
His answer soon came, "Squadron Maximus, enemy is assailing eastern side of fortress. We are nearly overrun. Forgive us, Emperor.....yeaaarrrgggghhhh!!" . Falcon cursed, as an explosion sent thick smoke into the skies. The moment's distraction caused the Wych to strike another blow at Falcon's leg - and this time, the blow penetrated. Falcon did not hesitate as he turned his plasma pistol to the Wych,
who knocked it out of his hand, and with another stroke, knocked off his helm. By the Emperor, this woman was skilled!
"You're a pretty one," she smiled, "Such a waste....." and before she could finish, an impaler trident sailed through the air and sent her smashing into the bunker's wall, and she hung there like a gory battle-standard upon a fortress wall. Her blood poured upon Falcon's bared head like a waterfall, but even through that, Falcon saw his rescuer. Captain Raziel.
"I warned you to be more careful, Falcon."
"I know, but Squadron Maximus is being overrun."
"What?!! By the Emperor, a secondary attack force? I thought the damned scouts said there was only one main battle-group of those cursed Eldar?"
"Maybe this is the second force - by the Emperor, I don't know! We'd best withdraw into the citadel. Staying out here is suicide."
"I agree," said Raziel, and relayed his orders to the Commissars and captains to withdraw into the citadel, and to take as many ammunition casks as they could carry. Four regiments will provide cover, and all tanks were to withdraw quickly.
Upon a cliff overlooking the battlefield, Archon Karia gazed down upon the burning battlefield surrounding the proud Imperial fortress, where the double-headed eagle of the Imperium fluttered defiantly against its enemies, proud to the bitter end against the tides of darkness. As the second force advanced upon the bitterly defended, crumbling defenses of the eastern portion of the citadel, Karia saw that the Imperials were retreating into their stronghold. No doubt, they knew that if they were caught between two forces, they would be flanked and crushed. A stubborn imperial commander would stand where he was and died fighting, but whoever led this force was a cool-headed commander capable of keeping his calm under an assault. And obviously one who has seen many wars.
Mayhaps it was a Space Marine commander, or their Imperial Guard counterpart. No, it cannot be the latter. The mandrakes have reported a Dark Angel space marine captain leading them, and from the way he fought, they say he would have outmatched even the champions of Commoragh's arena. Several of their number had died beneath his power sword, and several of the Wyches had been held high while he strangled them to death. They had struggled, but the Dark Angel captain only held them tighter and tighter till he broke their necks.
Karia raised her magnifier once more and looked upon the burning battleground strewn with countless bodies and wargear. The price the Kabal had paid have been high, Karia admitted, but the dividends of their raids, and the thousands of slaves flown back to Commoragh have been
worth it. And soon now, she would launch an attack that would spell the end of the imperial fortress. She almost fantasised about taking the commander alive and torturing him, when one of her incubi bodyguards said, "Look, mistress. There is the one our mandrakes have spoken of."
"Where?"
"There, mistress."
"I cannot see him," she snarled, "Wait...."
Indeed, helping another space marine captain was the Dark Angel captain the mandrakes had reported fighting like a berserker. He had been unstoppable. Like every Dark Angel that Karia had met, this one wore the same dark green armour and crimson and silver colours of his rank of command and the silver and ruby inlaid flying sword of his Chapter. But Karia felt something in her heart leap in unholy joy. This Dark Angel Captain had shoulder-length white hair, even though hidden by soot, was still distinguishable. And only one man had that hair colour.
"Yes," she sighed, the sigh of a woman in the throes of pleasure, "I see him, indeed."
And she saw the name of her former opponent upon his shoulder plate. A man she had longed to take prisoner. A man that she had left to die, but who had survived, and no doubt, would want a re-match should they meet again.
"Raziel."
She never saw her incubi shudder at the sound of the covetous desire in her voice.
On board the Dark Eldar warship, Serratia, Lileth Hesperax gazed down upon the embattled planet of Gorion III. The system was small enough to be raided, and its military forces were not strong enough to repel a full-scale assault that Lileth had brought to bear upon the imperial system. The quest was not only to take slaves, but for her to acquire knowledge on which mon-keigh commander would prove an interesting challenge. Lileth wanted to build her power base and expand her Wych cult and, perhaps, set up her own Kabal. She shook her long hair with one graceful motion, and smiled at the thought of being able to at last challenge Kruellagh directly and take over the Kabal of the Emasculators.
One of her Succubi entered the room and knelt before her, "Lady Lileth, we have received reports from our outrider cruiser group led by Archon Valasco. He says that an Imperial fleet has turned on our position."
"How many ships?"
"Twenty."
"Twenty? How long will they get here?" asked Lileth, turning to face the kneeling succubus.
"I know not, mistress. At most, they will be here in five standard days."
"What class?"
"Archon Valasco cannot match their strength, milady. There are two Emperor class battleships amidst the fleet, a single heavy carrier with the rest being medium to light warships. Each of these is equipped with torpedo launchers and power rams that can cripple our most powerful warships and nova cannons that can destroy them before we even have time to blink."
"Does Valasco know of this?"
"No, milady. I have thought it wise to report to thee first."
"You have done well, Melith, and you shall be rewarded for your initiative. See to it that none of this information is known by Valasco."
"Yes, lady." said Melith, as she rose and left.
Lileth smiled. Now was a good time to be rid of Valasco. She could not slay him outright, for Valasco was one of Asbrudael's chief advisors. Lileth disliked Valasco, held him in contempt. While she killed her victims quickly, Valasco would draw out their torture, relishing their pain when they were already useless to him. Even Kruellagh agreed with Lileth on one thing - Valasco was a coward. But a devious, vicious coward if he had managed to live that long and rise to his current level on Commoragh, homeworld of the Dark Eldar.
Yes. His death would be most fitting. A pity that she couldn't torture him.
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Raziel helped the Ultramarines captain as his brothers gave covering fire as they retreated. Imperial Guards and Planetary Defense Force troops fired their lasguns. Many were cut down from splinter rifle and splinter cannon fire. Reaver jetbikes and their larger counterparts, the Raider
and Ravagers sailed forward, their occupants firing at the fleeing Imperial troops. Then, the comm-link in his helmet came alive, and a familiar voice echoed within. It was soft, sensuous, promising dark pleasure and pain, "Oh, Raziel, you are stronger than I have imagined you to be..."
No! It couldn't be! It's impossible! It cannot be her! It cannot! But no matter how much Raziel tried to deny it, it was the same voice that he had heard when he had been defeated by that same woman all those years ago. Her beauty and seductive fire haunted him as much as her cruelty.
"You!"
"I thought you dead, Raziel. This time, you shall not be able to run away."
"Emperor's halo, woman. This time, I swear, you are going to die."
"We shall see, Raziel."replied his long-time adversary before terminating the link.
Another voice cut in through Raziel's hate-induced miasma. Falcon, "Raziel, come on, you bastard. Those bloody Dark Eldar are almost on top of us!"
Raziel whirled to see the swift advance of the Dark Eldar raider transports as they dislodged their warrior passengers. Raziel cut off communications and helped Falcon into the fortress, where the Imperial Guard and their tanks unleashed a withering barrage of fire from the last line of bunkers built right into the stronghold.
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For three days, the imperial stronghold held off the Dark Eldar forces with a wrath borne of
righteous fury, but many of its defenders were dead, slain during the withdrawal three days ago into the fortress and the near constant flurry of attacks. But now, only twenty four Space Marines from the Ultramarines and Dark Angels Chapter, along with more than twice the number of Imperial Guards and PDF troops remained. There was not enough to man the citadel, and Raziel loathed to sacrifice these fine men in the defense of this doomed place.
I shall die here, thought Raziel to himself. He thought he would feel afraid, feel the fear of darkness unending, but he was disappointed. To die now would only mean rejoining his long dead brothers and those he had been proud to call friend. He had fought so long for the Imperium and
its people that the only true reward was to die for them. He remembered seeing the happy, gurgling face of an infant on Coriolis II as it waved its tiny fists at him, almost beckoning the hulking space marine captain to come closer - and he did.
So innocent, so frail, and so wanting of nothing more than love and protection that its parents could provide. But if evil such as Chaos and the Dark Eldar, such as tyranids and the orks, had their way, then that child would have no joy in his life. It was not worth it. He remembered words spoken by a Blood Angel captain, and now he found wisdom and sense in them.
Duty is a harsh mistress, demanding everything, giving back little. What you do here will affect the people we have sworn to protect against the Darkness that strives to destroy everything we love. No matter how hard we try to put ourselves above the common people, never forget that we were once as they were. This is the path we chose. If anything, dying for the sake of our people will be our ultimate destiny - and our ultimate reward. This be that they shall NEVER see the black smoke of their burning homeworld destroy all that they have held in their hearts in their short life-spans. The way we have....
Yes, the Blood Angel was right. He was young, but his wisdom was one borne out of pain and endless wars. And, perhaps, there was one way not to sacrifice Captain Falcon and some of the younger recruits. Raziel turned towards a defeated Falcon, and said, "Falcon, I want you to take your men and my brothers and flee to the capital. I have left instructions that the light destroyer, Maelstrom Rider, be left for your departure."
"What? Are you telling me to retreat?"
"Yes."
"Do not tell me you intend of defending this stronghold alone, Raziel."
"I am."
"You're mad."
"Falcon, please, do not argue. I have no wish to dishonour my Chapter by saying that I have lost here - and no wish to disgrace yours, either. That is why I want you to leave. I shall lay all the blame on myself instead."
"Brother captain Raziel, you do not know what you speak of! This course of action will see you severely punished for dereliction of duty."
"I know. But I want all of you, my brothers, to go."
There was no room for argument in the Dark Angels Captain's voice, and every man in the room lowered their heads.
"You have done well here," said Raziel, "The Emperor and the Primarchs cannot ask for more than what you have already given. And I know you will never forget this battleground, nor the dozens of others that you will see in your lifetime - because I haven't. Not one. Nor those who have died and suffered with you. The Emperor needs you to stand fast against its enemies. There comes a time when we know when our time has come. For me, that time is now. Do not dishonour me in this. Go, while you still can. The rhinos will get you far from here."
The men and women in the room saluted Raziel as one, and saw the pride for him shine in their eyes. He smiled.
Falcon nodded at Raziel, and left the Dark Angel captain alone in the command room of the battered stronghold. He knew what Raziel was going to do.
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ndeed, the Dark Eldar swarmed into the citadel, finding none to oppose them, whooping and cheering in shrill voices like daemons out of the warp. Karia smiled, as she drew the Dark Angels power sword from her belt and said to her lieutenant, "Secure the fortress and search for anything important that might interest Lady Lileth."
"Yes, Archon."
She strode through the interiors of the Imperial fortress, the power sword humming in her grasp. He was here, waiting for her. She could sense the power of his spirit and his strength was as this fortress. Unbreakable, unconquered, still defiant in the face of defeat. She opened the pressure doors to the command room. There he was, waiting for her, on his knees in his final prayers, his power sword and fist
on the floor. When the doors hissed open, he stood up, put his armoured hand inside his power fist and picked up his power sword before turning to face her. He was still as noble-featured as before, though older, and his eyes impaled her as though they were steel lances.
"So, it comes to this, Raziel."
"Aye, my old enemy. You never did tell me your name, Archon."
"I am Karia Goreblade."
"So, Karia, are you prepared to go to hell?"
"We shall see who goes to hell first, Dark Angel," she smiled, her eyes burning with a dark, cruel flame.
And they both charged, their battle-cries echoing in the massive command hall.
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Captain Falcon ordered the rhinos to halt, as the survivors of the now-taken imperial fortress turned and gazed in the distance at the place their comrades had given their lives to hold. "What are you waiting for captain?" asked one of the Imperial Guards.
"A sign that Raziel did not die for nothing."
Everybody looked perplexed for several moments, but then, the meaning caught on, and each one's face turned grim and solemn as they gazed into the distance.
"He doesn't mean to-" one of the robed Dark Angel Space Marines began.
"Yes, he does." replied Falcon quietly, "This is one death he would die proudly. For amongst the enemy forces, Raziel has a foe he wishes to settle a score with."
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Raziel slumped back against the control panel, wounded. Even Karia was one her knees, blood pooling from several wounds. "I will not die here, Raziel," Karia snarled as she struggled to get to her feet, using the power sword as a leverage. Several ribs were broken, and her left arm was a bloody mess from the stroke of the Dark Angel captain's power fist. Karia had wounded her adversary several times, and his armour was now dark with blood. And yet, she was not surprised he was still standing. The Dark Angel captain had been a worthy opponent then - and he was surpassing her expectations now.
Her mind drifted for a brief moment when she had picked up - as part of the spoils of a raiding sweep - an old terran literature book. A weak-minded author by the name of William Shakespeare had written to story of love and of when the man's lover chose to commit suicide and die with him. Karia had scorned the weakness of humans, but now, she was understanding that it was their strength. She almost laughed out loud when a tiny voice in her asked her if she wanted to die in Raziel's arms, just like the character's lover in the tale. Strangely, however, she found it fitting. If she was to die, she would take Raziel with her. No other witch from another Kabal would take him away from her. He was hers, and hers alone. And for a woman who possessed little, she was content.
With a scream, she threw herself at Raziel, blade lowered as she charged Raziel, slamming the power blade through his power armour, through his powerful body, and out his back. Raziel gave vent to an anguished scream as the power sword tore through him. She punched the blade all the way to the hilt, as she gazed up into Raziel's anguished facade. His eyes opened, and Raziel gazed at his adversary in her gray eyes, drinking in her dark beauty that seemed to take away the pain. He saw the joy of possessing something that one had long wanted. With agonising slowness, he wrapped an armoured arm around her, crushing his enemy to him so that she would not escape his grasp. Karia gasped at the strength that still remained in him as he activated the monitor overhead. Karia looked up, to see, in blood-red, the numerical sequence of a self-destruct counting down.
She turned back and smiled at Raziel, content, and lowered her dark-haired head onto his bloodied, armoured chest, and sighed softly. Despite his pain, Raziel wondered why his enemy was smiling. .
"Mine, at last, at long last." she sighed, before the entire citadel blasted apart in an earth-shaking explosion that could be seen from ten kilometres in every direction, obliterating every living thing in a four kilometre radius.
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Captain Falcon and his men gazed at the mushroom head that heralded to the destruction of the fortress. He lowered his head. There would be no tomb marker for the brave man who had sacrificed his life for the good of the Imperium, for its people. Falcon took an oath to continue Raziel's quest, as he drew his power sword and walked to a nearby column of rock as he carved the words before slamming his power sword through the rock:
If we die here,
It shall not be for nothing.
In memorandum,
Captain Raziel of the Dark Angels
Hero of the Imperium