DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING WITHIN THE WARHAMMER UNIVERSE!
He looked down at the corpse below him, it's lifeblood completely drained, pooling around it. The body was garbed in Power armor of a green and golden livery. The mark III helm had been fashioned to resemble that of a dragon. The body was riddle with bolt rounds, chest place ruptured, massive holes revealing the damaged organs within. The barrel of his boltgun still smoked, fresh from the kill. It was his weapon that did this. It was his weapon that felled the warrior that lay in front of him. It was he, the wielder, that has slain another of his kind. Another of his brethren. He had known this warrior.
He had fought alongside this Son of Vulkan on numerous occasions. Fought alongside the Salamanders during the most grueling of combat. Forged bonds strengthened by fire and blood during the thickest of combat. Look where these bonds had gotten them. This warrior... this astartes who lay dead at his feet. He knew him. He knew his name. He was brother Ke'shan of the Salamander's 3rd company. He was a rather jovial and compassionate individual, much like the rest of his legion. Perhaps the first outside of his legion and his own primarch to show this Word Bearer the meaning of true affection. He would even go as far as to say that he considered this warrior a friend. It was a shame that he fought under the wrong banner.
If only he could have seen the light of the gospel preached by the Urizen. If only he could have seen the folly of his ways and too fought under the banner of the warmaster.. No brother perhaps. Though they were both sons who fought under different fathers. He did not need to be slain in such a manner. A warrior of his caliber could have made great addition to their side. A worthy ally whom he could have continued to fight alongside.
Alas... these dreams would never come to fruition. He had made sure of this himself. How many more would he have to kill? How many more former brothers would he have to slay in the name of Horus? In the name of the Urizen? How many more would fall to the righteous fury of his boltgun? These had been his fleeting thoughts as he trans versed the battlefield these last couple of hours. Much had changed since the legion first returned from the pilgrimage. None of his brothers were the same. No not even just his brothers... His very own gene-father had changed as well. At first he thought it was just those among the Gal Vorbrek. Those few who had been blessed with the gifts of the immaterium. He had been wrong. Though many had changed physically much had shifted in the legion both mentally and spiritually. Even his own primarch was no untouched. Yes, they had fought with religious zeal and vigor before but something had changed in his brothers. He could see it clearly now. The manner in which they fought had not shifted. No it was not the manner that had changed but the reasoning for which they bottle had shifted.
Originally when they fought it was to preach the workings of the Emperor. Each world conquered, another opened to the ways of the true gospel. To the rulings of their true lord and savior. There was purpose in their endeavors. Purpose in their killings. Much of what they did was for a reason. But this. This was different. There was no purpose in their actions. It was just mindless slaughter and revenge. Just an outlet for them to release their pent up fury. Yet the ones whom their righteous hate were not here. The one whom needed to face the full might of their holy force were not present. The Ultramarines. Yes, they were their true enemies. They were the ones who shamed them. Humiliated the Urizen and his sons. They were the ones who razed their perfect city. Devastated their utopia.
They were the ones who had broken them…Broken... Broken... He turned this word over in his head multiple times. Yes, the destruction of their city had humiliated them. Robbed them of that which they had yearned for…but had this action truly broken them? Did it truly shatter their psyche enough to cause them to do this? To cause a once great legion to be set down such a dark path. To commit such atrocities against their fellow Astartes. Against those whom they once swore to protect. To pit brother against brother. Legion against legion. Primarch against primarch. Kin to kill kin. He thought as if lost in thought then slowly shook away these thoughts that plagued him. He had to focus. He could lose his self in thought here. Everything the Urizen ordered was for a reason. Everything they did had purpose. Right? The loud chatter of communication on his vox channel tore him from his thoughts.
Yes, he truly had to regain his focus now. He had a mission to undertake. He and many of his brothers would be travelling to the realms of Ultramar. They would be facing off against Gulliman and his sons on their own home world. It would be on the soils of their own grounds that they would rain down righteous retribution upon these blasphemers. It would be here that they would finally gain justice for the wrong that had been upon them.
These thoughts would plague this nameless Word Bearer for years to come. For battles on end. It would not be until the onset of the conflict on Calth that he would see the error of his ways. The wrongdoings of his legion. The corruption of his lord. The straying of his legion form their divine ways. He would surrender himself to the Ultramarine, seeking atonement for the sins he committed. Retribution for all the atrocities he had done in the name of Lorgar. It would not be for many years that he would finally be able to redeem himself. Not until he came face to face with his wayward brothers under a new guise... The Anchorite.
END