It was quiet on the walkway above the yard of the old manufactorium. Abandoned long ago for reasons only few know, this is now the playground for the forgotten youth of the ancient city and gangs from the Hive city that loomed to the North. However, the walkway was occupied by someone who was anything but young. A solitary figure stood silently on the walkway taking in the surroundings; nothing but an empty floor that once housed large machines. Content that the area was deserted for the time being, he headed into the sanctum of a long dead administratum. Inside, there was nothing but an ancient steelwood table and stool on a strewn floor of old parchment. There was a doorway leading into a back area where a sleeping palette lay on the ground. The man went to a large tome that sat in between two candlesticks on the table. He wrote an entry and began preparations to retire for the evening. As he kneeled in supplication for prayer, something in the air triggered his senses. Someone was approaching.
He silently returned to his lookout post near the covered walkway. On the ground below, a boy walked cautiously onto the manufactorium floor. He wore the markings of a local gang known to fight over this area. The boy looked young but had a physique that suggested a hard life of labor. The boy carried an old shotgun in dire need of repair, but the boy clutched it so tight that his knuckles were white. It looked as if the boy was sent out on a Trial to claim his spot in the gang. As he watched the boy from his perch, he registered another presence. His senses led his eyes across the floor to a form moving silently above the boy in the shadows of the catwalks. It was taller and it was armored. The slender form stalked the boy in the shadows until he came under the walkway. Silently, instincts tuned to battle took over and the hunter itself was being hunted as the cloaked figure crawled along a higher catwalk over the floor until he was over the armored form below. The boy continued right down the middle of the manufactorium oblivious of the danger that was targeting him from above.
The boy came upon the portal marking the end of the manufactorium and found it locked, as he turned around to go back the armored form dropped out of the shadows but not out of the figure's gaze. It was a Spyrer from one of the rich houses in the city. He was wearing close fitting segmented armor and his weaponry consisted primarily of a pair of long slender blades on the each hand. The boy nearly frozen in fear remembered to raise his shotgun and pull the trigger. The shot went wild. After the echoes subsided inside the vast structure, an electronic noise sounded out that could only be the laugh from the spyrer's vox-caster. Firing again brought the laughing up short as the shot again went wild but this was all the distraction the robed figure needed. As the sounds of the second shot rang out the figure leapt over the rail and landed behind the walking Spyrer who was again laughing. The spyrer began to move towards the boy when the robed figure reacted like a lightning strike, using his hands; he grabbed and twisted the head of the spyrer so quick that a loud snap let out. The spyrer's neck was broken and the body tumbled forward onto the ground. The boy stood there frozen like a statue mesmerized at what had just happened. When he looked up, the figure was gone and the body lay before him. The boy hoisted the dead form on his back and made his way back to the gang. Even if he did not kill it, the spyrer's armor and weaponry would still fetch a high trading price at the Guilder's Hall. The boy was still recalling what happened when he arrived at their gang's hideaway. He remembered very little except for one thing: the huge stranger had a symbol on his robe - a winged sword.
Back inside the manufactorium, the figure prepared to leave. Even if the boy did not tell the rest of the gang about him, the figure did not want to take any chances now just as he never took chances over the preceding decades. He was a hunted man, but not by typical bounty hunters. No, he was being chased by Space Marines of the Dark Angels chapter, because he is one of them and took up arms against them when they returned to their home world of Caliban. Veteran Sergeant Leviticus was one of the Fallen Dark Angels.
Leviticus walked alone through the wastelands toward a section of the old city that once housed a Precinct of the Adeptus Arbites. The Arbitrators patrolled this area some forty years ago, but uprooted when the chemical storms began and rendered the area undesirable. The ground was packed earth but showed no sign of vegetation. Leviticus could recall a time when this area was green and the city in pristine order.
He had worked in this area for a time at a warehouse close to the precinct. He was even a part of the workforce that helped build the precinct. It allowed him to hideaway items that he now sought out to reacquire.
Moving up to the blast doors, Leviticus saw that the rune pad was damaged beyond repair. He proceeded around the compound until he got over to utility access hatch covered over in a thick layer of muck and debris. Clearing the way, he opened the hatch and lowered himself down into the small cavern. The floor crawled with life that would make a lesser being shrink away in disgust. The foul odor of years of neglect, excrement and death permeated air so thick that Leviticus began chanting a battle meditative chant that allowed him to focus on his goal. He found the power shunt for the precinct and the plascrete wall into which it dove.
Typical, the Adeptus Arbites were always paranoid and fortified their precincts from every conceivable direction. However, they never prepared to have a member of the Legio Astartes amongst their charges. Leviticus made sure that he worked on this section of wall. One block bore a sigil of a winged sword. He pressed on the block and it moved. Crushing anything under his feet, the Marine planted his feet and with a mighty shove, he pushed through a number of blocks into a void behind the wall. Entering into the void was like entering a tomb. It was eerily quiet. He found himself in one of the holding cells of the Arbites. The light radiating down from the access hatch provided little light into the cell, but it was more than enough for Leviticus, his enhanced vision picking up minute details in the gloom. Looking around revealed a pile of bones and one complete skeleton.
Cannibal. They should have died with what little honor they had left instead of feasting on his fellow man. With a face of disgust, Leviticus crushed the skull of the complete skeleton. With anger in his blood rising, he turned to the cell door and heaved it out of the wall. With a loud clatter that sounded like an explosion in the gloom, he walked over to where the Marshall's sanctum was located.
Inside there was nothing, light trickled into the room through dust-caked windows high above, revealing a room that was bare except for the bookcases along the wall. Pulling the bookcases away from the wall, he withdrew a long combat knife and picked at the mortar to around the blocks below where the bookcases sat. Working a block free, he was able to heave a few more blocks revealing a hidden steel door below the floor. Once placed as an emergency escape route, it was later blocked up to prevent the builders and usurpers from gaining access through this alternate route. The route was only partially finished, but it was more than enough for Leviticus' needs. Breaking the seal, a number of glowbulbs lit up the tunnel below. This tunnel remained immaculate, no signs of detritus could be seen and that pleased the Fallen Angel. He made his way underground to a large room deep underground. This bunker within a bunker had never seen any other use than what Leviticus gave it many decades ago. Within moments, he plunged into the portal of an adjacent chamber. In there was his destination. In there is what he came to retrieve.
Two steps within, Leviticus could do nothing more than kneel in supplication for what stood before his eyes, it made his two hearts beat with long forgotten pride and the memories contained within.
Before him stood ten polished black suits of power armor, each standing at attention. Each suit had been repaired and maintained before placing them into this chamber to rest until the time was needed for them to be used again. Behind each, was rack carrying the weapons used by each suit of armor.
Leviticus knew each occupant of the other nine suits of armor. They had been his brothers back in the time of the Great Crusade. Each brother had honors heaped upon him in the time of the Crusade. Two of them, Lauviah and Caliel, still kept the laurel wreaths upon their helms. Even after all that has happened, they continued to believe in the honors granted to them by the Emperor. The events on Caliban never sat well within them, but they were loyal and followed their orders without question. Of the ten, they were perhaps, the most innocent of the squad. Perhaps it is because of that, that they were both granted a noble death. Death protecting the Imperium they once helped build. Their remains entombed within their suits of armor. Their final battle chronicled on a piece of parchment and affixed on their right shoulder pad below the sigil of the Dark Angels. A book of their achievements since Caliban rested on the hip of each Marine. Leviticus brought both fists over his two hearts smartly, and gave each Marine a Warrior's Bow.
Beside them was the armor of Aftiel, his armor was empty. It has been sixteen years since he was captured by the Angels of Redemption. His armor had very little adornment. No book on his hip, it was taken. Only a necklace rests around the neck of the hollow armor. On the necklace were four black feathers and one white one. Each one represents ten Brothers that he killed; the white one representing those that he has killed since the destruction of Caliban. Most of them with the now inert plasmagun sitting behind the armor, he always yearned for battle and discovering the thrill of the challenge of fighting armored marines gave him a fight he could not ignore. Becoming a mercenary, he went off to fight for money; leaving behind only those totems that linked him to his ancient legacy of the Dark Angels. Apparently, it was not enough.
Kasdaye was murdered by associates of the local magistrate. Kasdaye never liked seeing mere humans trounce on the ideals of the Imperium. Where he once solved issues with controlled bursts of his Heavy Bolter, now, he sought to bring down the Magistrate through politics. His bullish demeanor got him surrounded by a mob that overwhelmed him on his way home. Clubbing and stabbing him until his enhanced body could not take the punishment, Kasdaye made an awesome account of himself by killing a large score of his attackers. The kill tally of 37 was added to his parchment attached to his shoulder guard. The squad of Dark Angels that turned up a few weeks later was disturbed that the person they sought had died a violent death. It angered them more that the body was never recovered. Leviticus saw that he was memorialized as a Dark Angel here in this tomb.
Zikiel & Akhibel both were pressed into the Imperial Guard where their Marine Physiology became clearly apparent. The Angels of Vengeance captured the two brothers and destroyed all witnesses. Four thousand souls went to the Emperor instead of fighting in one of the Imperium's war zones. Just for two Marines in hiding. Leviticus said a silent prayer to the two empty suits and to all the souls lost just because the Unforgiven fear their secret shame being released. Too self-absorbed to remember their duty to the Emperor, they have forgotten the instructions personally spoken to the Dark Angels Legion. "Spread the Glory of the Imperium of Man across the galaxy, let none stop you for you are Marines and all will wither before you."
Liwet turned to the dark powers and became an aspiring champion of the Lord of Decay. Leviticus, Phanuel and Kasdaye both paid their former brother a visit. Liwet was personally dispatched and burned by his former squad mates. While his armor stands among the ten, no adornment has been added since his second fall.
Phanuel was crushed in a mishap in a manufactorium. He worked as a heavy laborer in a manufactorium. Asked to assist in the repair of a large ore crusher, Phanuel repaired the crushing drum when the agitated crew boss angered that the machine was still down after being told that it was repaired activated the machine. Phanuel was reduced to pulp by the very parts he was sent to fix.
Lastly, he came upon the suit of Omael. He was the original Sergeant of the squad. Omael knew more of the fall of Luther than the rest of the squad. It was intentional. Omael was a learned tactician and a hero amongst the squad. He listened to the whisperings and the talk that the Lion had betrayed them. Stating things like the Lion left them to rot in the rear while the younger brethren went off to cut their teeth in battle and gain glory. Omael was proud of the younger brethren, many of the Sergeants had been taught by him. His was content with the glory he had received and looked forward to becoming a Master of Initiates. Instructing those who were to become Space Marines.
Hearing all the talk of glory lost had saddened Omael. Nearly every Brother left behind had honors and glory enough that the artificers were still adding the adornments to a marine's armor when the Lion returned to Caliban. As the orbital defense batteries opened up, Omael knew that to fight amongst their brethren had begun. He was a traitor by association. He led the squad with all the tactical ingenuity that he could and forced the squad into a regimented fire discipline. Only shoot at those that attack the squad. The entrenched Fallen Dark Angels could not hold out against the fury of the Lion and the immense orbital bombardment. Omael began a fighting withdrawal, retreating toward a spaceport to extract his squad and get his squad out of a tactically unsound and insane situation. His withdrawal came to the attention of the Master of the Battalion and soon Omael fought against Marines on both sides of the line.
Disgust crossed his face as he fought against brothers who had given themselves over to the ruinous powers. He began to fight with fury against his ruined brethren. He had forgotten that there were Marines who were not corrupted by Chaos dying under his blade. Omael stopped giving ground and tenaciously held his ground. The squad followed suit, fighting against Dark Angels of the Lion and Dark Angels of Luther. Omael had started a three-way fight that never boded well for any in the fight. Only a massive explosion from an orbital torpedo broke up the fight and scattered Angels everywhere. Omael rose up out of the debris left behind by the massive shockwave. Had it not been for his armor, the shockwave would have turned him inside out. He requested a sit-rep from his squad and sighed that they all registered alive. In this hellish dream made manifest, there would be no funerals for those that died here. The whole squad showed up at his side with damaged armor and multiple wounds but they were alive enough to continue fighting. Members of his squad were delivering the Emperor's Mercy to many of the fallen brothers though Omael could see that a few of the squad were enjoying the deliverance of mercy.
Kasdaye covered the squad with his Heavy Bolter, firing a short burst of bolts toward anything posing a threat to the squad. Aftiel had retrieved his plasmagun and he began firing heated death toward any living thing in range. He always fired twice when he found a tainted Marine.
Satisfying honor, Omael rounded up the squad and withdrew them into nearby catacombs. With the orbital bombardment continuing all over the planet, there were not real safe places to go, but up. He his men were fatigued, wounded and low on resources. His mind was reeling with all that had happened on this dark day. How could the Dark Angels have fallen so low that they would turn against each other? How can Luther fire upon his best friend? How can it be that Dark Angels have turned to Chaos? Too many questions… Too many questions…
Leviticus awoke from the memory. For the remaining days of Caliban, Omael led Leviticus and the rest of the squad on a number of surgical strikes. Vanquishing Chaos infected Dark Angels and garnishing enough supplies and materials to get off world. The squad survived to see the fires of their home. They saw vid-feeds of the battle between Luther and the Lion. Supplicating themselves in prayer, they prayed for help in sorting out the Civil War with the Legion. That one day the Legion may one day be whole one again, that this stain on the record and honor of the Dark Angels will be removed. As they escaped Caliban in a Thunderhawk Gunship, a violent warp storm erupted. The little ship was battered by the debris of the dying planet. In a flash of multi-colored light, they awoke somewhere else. Far from Caliban, far from everything they knew. Flung through space and time, Squad Omael arrived in a planetary system far from the ruins of Caliban and several Millennia later.
Omael landed the Thunderhawk and prepared for the squad to disband and dissolve back into Imperial society. The found the settlement Leviticus stood under and made all efforts to return to society, but the grief in Omael's twin hearts was too much for him and after chronicling the last days of Caliban. He passed command onto Leviticus and then committed ritual suicide.
Leviticus stared up at the armor containing his mentor, friend and commander. Giving another Warrior's Bow, he reached out to the suit of armor to the right of Omael. His own suit of armor; long has it sat empty. Reciting the prayers to the armor's machine spirit, he took the armor apart and began to clean and repair the ancient suit of armor. Continuing with the Rites of Consecration followed by the Rites of Adornment he donned his suit of power armor minus the arms, backpack and helmet. On the weapon's rack behind were the bolt pistol and power sword given to him by Omael. The sword was black as his armor save for the gold on the hilt. Omael was given this sword by the Lion himself for his tactical prowess.
Putting the sword and the last bits of armor into a large rucksack, Leviticus prepared to leave the shrine to his comrades. Perhaps someday this place will be unearthed and the suits of armor and the few occupants can be returned to the Dark Angels with the respect and honor they deserve. Barricading the entrance to the shrine, Leviticus left the underground chamber by the same way he came in. Blocking all the entrances again and made it appear less conspicuous.
It was night when he climbed out of the access hatch and his senses registered nothing out of the ordinary. His armor stiff with disuse, it still functioned after all this time standing in the shrine. The power in the backpack long since dead, Leviticus walked with the full weight of his armor on him. He did not mind, he remembered several times where he fought without the backpack so that the enemy would never detect their energy signature. He looked toward the hive city looming out of the ground in the distance. For whatever reason, he felt a need to leave this planet and go somewhere else. Where he did not know? But deep down, he was disturbed by the thought of being led into a trap. A trap set for him by the Unforgiven. With that on his mind, he set out on what can be only a quest into the past. A quest into the unknown …