Vibrant Energy

The training decks of the Eternal Storm was one of the most heavily utilised areas in between campaigns, but the crowd that had gathered easily surpassed the usual. Vukona thought that it was no surprise; how often does one get to see the First Captain of the vaunted Luna Wolves spar against the First Captain of the equally formidable Storm Eagles?

Vukona and Azan were seated next to Gwaine and the Mournival. Hastur Sejanus and Little Horus made comments while shouting occasional advice. Tarik Torgaddon was just heckling the occupants of the practice cages. Azan, Gwaine and Vukona simply observed intently.

Vukona had to admit, combat in Terminator power armour was not as straightforward as he had believed. The weight of the armour hampered movement that came naturally to the Astartes, yet momentum and constant movement were keys in taking advantage of the prodigious strength enhancements the armour provided on top of its vaunted defence.

"Thoughts?" asked Vukona to Azan.

Azan frowned thoughtfully. "Incredible strength enhancement. Movement's slow and you'd need momentum to keep fighting effectively. That's where that toughness comes in handy. But then, this is one on one sparring. Actual combat will be a different story."

"These Terminator armours will be at a disadvantage in open combat," commented Gwaine. "A more mobile enemy can simply run circles and wear them down. The enhanced strength means nothing if you can't hit them."

"Enhanced strength doesn't necessarily mean close combat," pointed out Vukona. "You can carry some serious armament in that armour. Something with great range and firepower will remove the disadvantage."

"That's true," conceded Gwaine.

"In close combat, tighter quarters would be where this armour excels," added Azan. "Someplace that won't require the user to move around too much."

Vukona nodded in agreement. "Asghar's doing very well, isn't he?"

It was true. It had taken Asghar just under an hour to grasp the mechanics of fighting in Terminator armour, and he was now giving Ezekyle Abaddon a serious run for his money. Both Astartes had forgone their weapons in favour of hand-to-hand combat; Asghar's armour a dull unpainted grey in contrast to Abaddon's black. Both helmets' lens visors glowed red. Every time they clashed, the sound boomed deafeningly, almost drowning out the cheers and calls of the crowd. Another testament to the toughness of the Terminator power armour was, aside from the scratches, remained mostly intact despite the thunderous blows Asghar and Abaddon were landing on each other.

Growling, Abaddon thundered forward, lowering his head into Asghar's chest. He drove the Storm Eagle back, raining blows to the midsection.

Grunting, Asghar lowered his stance, using his great strength, amplified by the Terminator armour, to grind Abaddon's charge to a stop. With great effort, he shoved the other Astartes back before landing a clean punch to Ezekyle Abaddon's face. The impact of the gauntlet hitting the helm made a great clanging noise that rang throughout the training chambers. A stunned silence followed, swiftly replaced by a great roar of appreciation from the onlookers.

Abaddon stood still for a split second; both he and Asghar knew that had he not been wearing his helm, the blow would have easily killed him.

Recovering with a snarl, Abaddon threw his own savage punch which landed on the side of Asghar's head. The Storm Eagle took the blow, and returned one of his own.

Abaddon responded by returning another.

As did Asghar.

And Abaddon.

And Asghar.

The sight of two First Captains exchanging man-stopping blows like two men in a bar room brawl was enthralling for the onlookers, but Gwaine, Azan, Vukona and the Mournival quickly sensed the danger of the sparring session devolving into something more serious, and quickly called a halt. It took a fair bit of shouting.

Asghar and Abaddon stood apart face to face. Both of them removed their helms, their eyes locked onto each other. Both were breathing a bit harder than was their usual wont. Abaddon glared at the First Captain of the Second Legion, almost choleric. Asghar returned the glare with an intensity that was so uncharacteristic of him, even in battle.

Around them, the men were cheering and applauding.

The noise eventually registered and the First Captains slowly looked away from each other to acknowledge the cheers; Abaddon by raising a fist into the air, and Asghar with as dignified a bow as the Terminator power armour would allow him.

"This was a fruitful session, First Captain Abaddon," said Asghar. "Thank you for your guidance. I will be sure to put it to good use."

The look on Abaddon's face suggested that the Luna Wolf would rather see Asghar spitting out his teeth, but his reply was polite enough. "You catch on quick, First Captain Asghar. We should do this again, one day."

The tight smile Gwaine saw on Asghar's face suggested that the Storm Eagle would rather not.

II II II

"That...was interesting," said Gwaine conversationally.

Terminator armour was so massive and elaborate that it required a large team of tech priests to oversee and handle the wearing and removal of the armour. The process was significantly time-consuming. Gwaine and Azan stood nearby, watching as the tech priests bustled about, fussing as they carefully removed the armour piece by piece.

"What? This?" asked Asghar. "Or the sparring?"

"You did very well considering it's your first time in that armour," said Azan. His frowned deepened. "But that brawl at the end was unseemly. It's not like you, Asghar."

"I've never seen you lose control like that," remarked Gwaine. "Were you enjoying the fight that much? Or was it something else?"

"Fighting is a duty, not an enjoyment," answered Asghar.

"Then what was that about?" asked Azan. "Is this about your personal difficulties with Abaddon?"

Asghar looked as though he would rather be anywhere else. As it was, he could not move until the tech-priests finished removing his armour. He remained silent.

Gwaine chuckled. "There's nothing wrong with giving yourself to the battle-fever, Asghar."

"I am First Captain, Gwaine," answered Asghar. "I do not have the luxury of giving myself over to emotions. I must maintain a clear head at all times to react to situations and make the best possible decisions. I must be a general, not a warrior."

"Then Abaddon brought out the warrior in you?" said Gwaine, grinning. "I have to say, I like it."

"This is not funny, Gwaine," said Azan. "We have what could be a long campaign ahead with the Luna Wolves. We can't have any friction, real or not, between the First Captains of two Legions."

"There will be no problem, Azan," said Asghar. "It's true that I find Abaddon...unpleasant. But I have stomached him before, I can do it again."

"In which case, you should cut loose more often," said Gwaine. "It's not healthy to keep it all in. Things like that fester…"

The vox bead on Gwaine's armour chimed, cutting him off. He thumbed it, listening to the message before voicing his acknowledgement.

"The Primarch requests our presence as soon as you're done Asghar," said Gwaine.

Asghar nodded and Azan bowed his head briefly.

"I'll take my leave then," said Azan.

"No, he wants you there too, Azan," said Gwaine. "An urgent matter came up. Vukona will also be there."

II II II

Asghar, Gwaine, Azan and Vukona found themselves in Thorondor's quarters an hour later.

They had only been waiting for several minutes before Thorondor strode into the room from his inner sanctum. There was an energy about him that had been absent for so long.

"Gentlemen, thank you for…" the Primarch trailed off, noticing the four warriors lined up side by side like regicide pieces, as still as statues. His smile widened.

"I believe I told you many times before not to comport yourselves with such stiffness in private. Please, sit. Take some wine."

Slowly, hesitantly, the four sat, taking the drink Thorondor pressed into their hands.

"As you all know, we'll shortly be deployed alongside the Luna Wolves, White Scars and Iron Warriors against formidable resistance," said Thorondor, sitting down. "It will be a hard campaign, I know, fighting against fellow humans who have been deceived by xenos. But with our fellow Legions, victory is already assured. I fully expect us to minimise unnecessary human casualties, as always."

"Of course, my Lord," said Asghar as the others nodded their agreement.

"Horus has already briefed me of the battle plan and our respective rolls, I will get to that shortly," said Thorondor briskly. "Horus will have chief command for this campaign, with Jaghatai Khan and Perturabo serving as second. And so…"

"And you, my Lord?" asked Asghar, noticing that Thorondor had omitted his own name.

"I was getting to that, Asghar," said Thorondor, smiling to show that it was not an admonishment. "The Emperor has assigned me another task and so, I will not be taking part in this campaign."

The Astartes all looked at each other, looking uncertain at this development. It would not be the first time that Thorondor would depart from the Legion. He had done it before, leaving the Storm Eagles in Asghar's hands. But that this was happening on the eve of a great campaign was unusual, unwise even.

Sensing their uncertainty, Thorondor smiled reassuringly. "It is a matter of utmost importance, or the Emperor would not have commanded me to do so. That said, I have absolute confidence in the Storm Eagles to prosecute this campaign in my absence."

Asghar bowed his head. "We will do you honour, my lord."

"I'll prepare your escort, my lord," said Gwaine. "Where are we going, and when?"

Thorondor held up a hand. "Gwaine, you will stay here for this."

For a moment, Gwaine sat in stunned silence. "But...but my lord," he stammered. "I am commander of the Storm Riders, your elite guard. My place is by your side."

"The Storm Riders are not my personal guard, Gwaine," said Thorondor gently. "They are the elite warriors of Tempestas. Their place, and yours, is at war. I think I have misled people in letting them think that the Riders are glorified bodyguards."

The Storm Lord addressed both Asghar and Gwaine. "I know I have allowed Asghar to lead the Legion in my absence, and you have done beyond well, my friend. Asghar, I know you are more than capable of running the Legion, but in this case, it will be a joint campaign, and you will also have to play diplomat to not one, but three Primarchs on top of your duties as a general. That's why, to help ease the burden on Asghar, I'd like to appoint Gwaine as joint commander of the Storm Eagles for this campaign."

There was silence following Thorondor's statement.

"My lord," said Gwaine, rising and bowing to the Primarch. "I would be honoured."

"Forgive me, brother," said Thorondor. "I have allowed your reputation as a general to be eclipsed by the perception that you are a glorified bodyguard. Show them what the Lightning Rider can do."

Gwaine grinned. "I will."

Thorondor looked to Asghar. "I hope you find this agreeable, Asghar?"

The First Captain inclined his head. "Of course, my lord. I would be honoured to work alongside Gwaine in command capacity."

Thorondor nodded, satisfied.

"But you will still require an escort, my lord," said Gwaine.

Thorondor nodded. "I think Sargeant Matharias and his squad will suffice."

Gwaine frowned. "You know I have great respect for Sargeant Matharias and his squad, my lord…"

"But as Primarch, you're far too important to travel with minimal protection…" chimed in Asghar.

"You are among the greatest warriors in the Imperium, my lord," said Azan. "But I agree with the First Captain and the Lightning Rider. We cannot let you go with just one squad to protect you. If anything were to happen…"

Thorondor raised his hand for silence. "I thank you all for your concern, but I was not done." He looked to Vukona, who had thus far remained silent. "Legion Master Vukona, by order of the Emperor, you and the Eleventh Legion will accompany me."

The organic side of Vukona's face frowned for a moment, before he noted the widening smile on Thorondor's. The Legion Master's organic eye widened in comprehension.

"My lord," whispered Vukona. "Then this task of yours...does it mean…?"

Thorondor nodded. "We believe that we have found your Primarch, Legion Master."

It was a rare sight, the grim Mika Vukona showing almost child-like wonder. Hope was etched on the human side of his face. Everyone in the room knew what it meant to Vukona and the Eleventh Legion. Azan gave a rare smile and clapped Vukona on the shoulder.

"So it's decided then," said Thorondor with finality. "I will go over the battle plan. But before I do...Asghar?"

"Yes, my lord?" asked the First Captain.

Thorondor's smile became mischievous. "Please try to be nice to Ezekyle."

Gwaine laughed, and Azan and even Vukona smiled at the jest. Asghar shook his head, chuckling ruefully.

This was what they missed; the vibrant, positive and infectious energy that radiated from the Storm Lord. It had been conspicuously absent over the past few years, but at last, it felt as though the old Thorondor was back.

Hi guys,

I didn't have time to write this during the last post because I posted from the office.

First, I would like to apologise for the very long hiatus I took the last time around. I actually had up to forty chapters written down and was going to release them bit by bit. But then my PC went wonky on me; and in retrospect, a moment of stupidity, I realised I did not back up any of my chapters except for the last three. Losing so much work was very demotivating and I had to start from scratch again, relying on nothing but handwritten notes.

As it is, I'm taking this as an opportunity to rewrite the path I had originally planned for this fic. And I'm planning to release two chapters at a time.

Above all, I'd like to thank those who stuck with me through reviews and kept on reading this fic during my long exile.

Thank you all, and have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Love,

Dorawarrior