I claim no ownership to any Games-Workshop material used here.
Erasmus stalked forward across the stream, the water sloshing around his armored feet, a startled fish swimming away. On his flanks, his squad followed his lead, listening for anything that might betray the orks location. Even with his Lymans ear filtering out extraneous noise, he could hear nothing. It was unlike orks to conceal themselves like this; usually one could hear them from a mile away. Erasmus was wary of this, the orks were probably in ambush, and he did not want to blunder into it. A hiss of static sizzled into his ear, the vox had been going in and out in these damn woods and he had lost track of Scout Squad Regna, which had pushed forward to investigate a down savior pod, that came from an Inquisitorial ship in orbit.
"Serge…Erasm,… ca…you…hea…me? Thi…is…Sergea…Regn…" a voice came through the vox, interrupted by hisses and moans of static, occasionally the crack of gun-fire cut through.
"Yes, go ahead, Regna, I can hear you." Responded Erasmus quickly, the gun-fire in the background was probably not a good sign, since Regna squad was only five strong.
"Erasm,…the…ork…wer…wait…need…assist…now. Our…locat…wil…foll..." With that, the transmission ended, but Regna's coordinates came through anyway in a burst transmission on a VHF channel.
"Alright, squad, we are moving out in support of Regna. Stay on your feet, who knows what the hell is out there." Erasmus gestured to the south, deeper into ork territory, were Regna was fighting for his life.
The underbrush was thick, and most of the plants had nettles, or thorns that rattled against the power armor the Marines wore. Erasmus ran through them, uncaring of ambushes now, the orks were most likely being drawn to Regna's position. Behind him, his squad charged with him, Gunner's Morenas and Jorres at the fore, where their flamer and plasma gun would be best.
The sounds of battle were increasing now, numerous bolt reports, the crack of the orks crude slug weapons, and the whoosh of a flamer. Crude orkish war cries were filtering back, shaking leaves off the trees. One cry rang true over the orks, and it was:
"DEATH COMES FOR YOU!"
Erasmus drew his chainsword and cycled it, the engine whining and singing, and swung it over his head, gesturing towards the scout's position and answered the cry with one of his own:
"FOR THE EMPEROR!"
Erasmus charged through the trees, foliage smacking against his face and slowly him slightly, but he kept going, after all, his Battle-Brothers were deep in the fighting, and no Space Marine would leave a Brother to die. As he cleared the crest of a low hill, he was confronted by quite a sight. The scouts were in a semi-circle, with their backs against the savior pod. A tall man in a black storm-coat was with them, as well as a half-dozen heavily armed men, an old, robed man, and a woman in the livery of the Sisters Hospitaller. The man in the storm-coat exuded a calm aura, even though dozens of orks were attacking them. He gutted two, maintaining the calm aura, as if he was in ablutions, or eating breakfast. Erasmus thought it was disconcerting, but that did not matter.
Erasmus charged down, into the rear of the orks, his chainsword swinging left and right, cleaving apart the nearest orks in a shower of dark green blood, their bestial howls alerting the rest. One giant of an ork, with armor riveted to his body, turned and swung a gigantic hydraulic claw, almost shearing him apart. Erasmus thrust his sword, and sliced up, flaying open the ork. Morenas was firing his flamer in a nest of the green bastards that had set up some kind of heavy stubber and sending thick chains of fire over the heads of the scouts. The ammo detonated with a fiery flash, vaporizing the crew, and leaving a blackened crater five paces across. Jorres was at Morenas's side, his plasma-gun shrieking as it recharged, the plasma coils glowing red. Erasmus raising his bolt-pistol, and sent a dozen bolts into a group of the orks counter-charging his squad. Three of the orks went down, their crude armored jackets worthless against the mass-reactive bolts.
Four Brothers stood in a firing line, pumping dozens of rounds into the remaining orks, who were split between the scouts and Squad Erasmus. The orks went to ground, their crudely fashioned rifles chugging. The man in the storm-coat ran forward, his retinue fanning out beside him, bolt and hell-guns blazing. The orks did not quietly, turning around and opening fire on the easier targets. Two of the mans bodyguards fell, their torsos shredded. The man also took a hit, but remained on his feet.
Erasmus rallied his squad and went over the greet Sergeant Regna, but the bloody man stepped into his way. Then, the man raised his palm, and an Inquisitorial electoo flashed into focus.
"Are you Sergeant Erasmus Harkon?" the Inquisitor spoke, his voice serious, but still eerily calm.
"Yes, yes I am, Lord Inquisitor." He responded hastily, even Space Marines had just cause to fear the Inquisition.
"First of all, I cannot claim the title of Lord Inquisitor. Second, my name is Mikal Kovash, and you are coming with me…"
Erasmus sat quietly, with his hands folded in his lap, in the Inquisitorial void-room. Inquisitor Kovash strode around him, his hands behind his back, maintaining the damn aura of calm. After the scouts had been rescued, the Inquisitor had taken Erasmus to an orbiting Battle-ship, the name of which Erasmus had not caught, stripped him of his armor and weapons, and left him in the void-room for several hours, before Kovash came.
"Do you know why you are here, Sergeant?" the Inquisitor began, leaning against a low table that ran the length of the small room. Erasmus remained silent for a moment, thinking.
"No, no I don't." he said at length, he could think of nothing that he had done to warrant Inquisitorial attention.
"Some time ago, when you were involved in the re-claiming of Greta Major, you lost your arm to a chaos (he frowned when he said the word) daemon or rune sword, is this correct?" The Inquisitor continued; his face impassive and unreadable.
"Yes, yes I do remember this incident,' unconsciously, he flexed his bionic arm, still immaculate and unmarred, 'But I don't understand why that would concern the Inquisition. No offense meant, of course."
"You see, Sergeant Erasmus, Chaos corrupts all it touches, whether it is flesh, steel, or spirit,' he said the last word with a slight strain in his voice, as if remembering something, 'when the daemon/rune sword cut off your arm, it may have corrupted you, be it your flesh, your mind, or your soul. I have been sent here by my masters to determine if you have been corrupted, and if you have, remove your taint, permanently." As he finished, he stared hard into Erasmus's eyes, as if staring into the Marines soul.
Erasmus sat back. The Inquisitors words had unearthed so many questions. What if he was tainted? What if he spread his taint, if he was tainted, to his Brothers? How would the Inquisitor test his purity? Would he be found pure? So many passed through his mind, but one came to his attention.
He spoke softly, anger straining his voice, "How will you test me?"
The Inquisitor quietly stood up, rubbing his left arm and
This information is classified. Access denied. Inquisitorial mandate required for access.
Just as an aside, I do plan to continue this, so don't flip out. N. Kage