8.412.000.M42 - The Warp
A single guardsman of the Cadian 831st walked throughout the corridors of the "Cadian Vengeance" Imperial cruiser, he was alone his squad asleep within their barracks. But he couldn't sleep, no matter what he tried the sight of his home world cracking apart tormented his every moment. The trooper entered a grand hall built in the gothic style of holy Terra, with a great stained-glass window depicting a giant clad in golden armor with a sword of fire towering over a field of dead alien foes. The window peered into the tormenting madness which surrounded the ship, the light of this hell reflecting across the hall illuminating everything with an array of beautiful, yet maddening color. It is within this light the guardsmen's armor could now been seen clearly, reveling his Cadia pattern carapace armor and status as an elite storm trooper of the fortress world, a Kasrkin. The Kasrkin turned to face the hell outside the window, and removed his helmet showing him to be a young adult with brown hair and ashy skin. He placed a hand into a grox leather pouch attached to his carapace armor and removed a small sealed package of Lho sticks, contemplating if he should break the wax seal holding the cap in place. While he himself rarely smoked a member of his squad, Creed Ekhter was an avid user, so he always carried a pack just for him.
"Sergeant Bask." The now identified Bask turned around to see his squad's medic standing several feet behind him.
"Greetings Gryf." Bask replied as he walked towards the youngest member under his command stopping about 5 feet away "I thought you to be asleep with the others? I mean after all you've had a long day patching up at least half a battalion."
"I was unable to stay asleep, a problem I am sure plagues you as well."
"Many things plague me Gryf, insomnia is not one of them."
"Would I be wrong to assume Lho stick addiction to be one." Gryf stated as he gestured to package within Basks hand.
"I carried these for Ekheter, anyway what was it you wanted to talk about." The sergeant replied, placing the pack back into his pouch. The medicae let out a tired sigh before he spoke
"I hear whispers amongst the rest of the troops, they say that the followers of the great enemy have taken notice to our little "crusade". I am worried that they may be waiting for us when we leave this horrid realm."
"I would not worry Gryf, we stood against the foul spawns of the warp countless times, it is about time they have come for us, my trigger finger has grown an Itch." The sergeant let out a hearty chuckle at the thought of facing more traitors and heretics in battle, soon he would get his wish.
"I pray that you are wrong sir, it not wise to underestimate the enemy, much less grow as bold as you have."
The sergeant smirked before placing his helmet back upon his head "The Emperor Protects" he said before promptly continuing his patrol through the ship, though several thoughts did continue to dwell within his mind. What if the followers of the ruinous powers had already infiltrated the ship and alerted their masters as to where the Cadian Vengeance had planned to attack next. The idea was not as far-fetched as Bask liked to believe. Nevertheless, he wasn't one of the Emperors Angels, meaning he still had to sleep. Bask promptly turned around and began to head back to the barracks, the bottle of amasec stashed in his backpack should help him sleep.
While on his way back to the ships barracks an uneasy feeling fell over sergeant Bask his mind had begun to play tricks on him, well he had hoped it was playing tricks. He saw twisted visions within the ships walls, visions of men being torn apart by voracious daemons, visions of traitorous astartes laying siege unto imperial worlds, but of all these visions none tormented him more than the sight of his beloved home being crushed in the palm of the Arch-Fiend. Despite all this Bask remained calm as he knew what had transpired. The Gellar-field had failed.
Bask reached behind him and grabbed the hellgun magnetically attached to his backpack, as soon as he connected the cables from the powerpack to the weapon foul chaos daemons flooded the ship. 5 of the foul beings tore through the corridors wall appearing some 20 meters away from the Kasrkin, they stood taller than a man with a deep red skin and long flowing horns each of them carried a massive black sword. They were Bloodletters, daemonic servants of the war god Khorne, upon casting their gaze over to the lone guardsmen they unleashed a thunderous roar and charged down the corridor. Bask raised his hellgun, aiming for the center mass of the beasts and held down the trigger unleashing a stream of bright red lasers which burned through the first two daemons, reducing them to nothing more than a charred husk. This sight however, did nothing to hinder the remaining daemons who now stood about 9 meters away. Bask aimed his hellgun and began to fire while advancing towards the daemons taking down two more warp spawn, however the fifth and final Bloodletter had descended upon the kasrkin and swung its great hellblade aiming to cleave his head off his shoulders, but the soldier was quick and able to duck and avoid this decapitation. dropping his hellgun to the floor to free his hand and draw his combat knife from its sheath and plasma pistol from its holster.
Swinging his knife in an upwards motion Bask hit the daemon in the jaw, surprising it and allowing him to place 2 shots from his pistol into its chest and one in its head. The plasma bolts seared the daemons body before it collapsed on the floor, its chest partially liquified. Satisfied with the beasts dead Bask pressed the gas venting switch on his plasma pistol causing a thick steam of corrosive plasma to vent from the weapons coils. He placed the knife in its sheath and pistol in its holster before retrieving his Hellgun and continuing along the same path he had before now at a quicker pace, his squad needed him.
But they would never get the chance to receive his aid as the walls around him began to crack apart, and what little cover the now brittle metal could protect him did not matter as he felt invisible hands creep through the cracks, their cold yet strong fingers wrapping around him, dragging him, into the realm of madness. The kasrkin uttered a silent prayer to the Emperor, he prayed not only for his safety, but for the safety of all aboard the now doomed vessel, for all his loyal subjects lost within the immaterium. He felt as if he was falling, and yet he also felt as though he was rising, he heard no sounds except the twisted voices of daemons in the back of his skull. Offering him things such as knowledge or power, wealth and women, anything he desired, all he had to do was offer himself in service to chaos. He did not dignify these voices with a response, he had heard them since he was but a child, and not once did he even think to stray from the Emperors path.
August 11th, 2010 - Antarctica 04:38
After what felt like seconds, or days, Sergeant Bask of the Cadian 831st infantry regiment awoke in an imageless land of snow and ice, a thin crust of frost that had frozen onto him was broken when he stood up and gazed into the night sky. He saw and array of beautiful stars and single pale moon, but something troubled him, for all his searching he could not see the familiar purple haze of the eye "perhaps this planets rotation has not directed this face of the world into the eyes view." He thought to calm himself. Bask switched on his armors vox communicator, hoping to make contact with any Imperial forces, alas he received naught but static "must be out of vox range" he thought to himself, "or there is no imperial presence on this world." He glumly concluded before switching off his communicator. He began to pour over his equipment to ensure nothing had been lost. Backpack: check, Hellgun: check, plasma pistol: check, power sword, melta bomb, and grenades? Check, check, and check. Still he lacked any environmental survival gear, and while he was trained to endure artic environments, he only had six field rations, half a canteen of water and some grox-jerky, hardly enough food to sustain himself for more than a few days.
The ideas of doubt were quickly eradicated when bask could make out the silhouettes of approaching vehicles on the horizon, though he could not determine if they were friend or foe, and as a precaution readied his hellgun, either way his question would be answered within a few minutes. The vehicles approached and appeared to be armored personnel carriers designed to carry soldiers through thick snow, he counted six. They stopped some 40 feet away from the kasrkin and several men wearing large winter coats (most likely with some form of body armor beneath) exited the vehicles carrying what appeared to be autoguns, a few even had some kind rifle with incredibly thin barrels and large canisters attached to the rifles stock. The fact that they proceeded to aim them at him brought him no comfort.
"I am Sergeant Karsk Bask of the Cadian 831st infantry regiment, and I request a meeting with your commanding officer, or the planetary governor." The PDF troopers at first looked perplexed by what he was saying, but not a single one of them removed the kasrkin from their line of sight. The leader of this group appeared to be speaking to someone via a handheld vox communicator. The fact that his armor could not connect to this signal started to worry Karsk. Suddenly the PDF leader and several of his men held up small grenades and threw them at him, the kasrkin was quick to react advancing backwards and opening fire on the commander. Within several seconds the grenades went off, though they were no ordinary grenades, these ones instead appeared to be a sort of stun grenade blinding the kasrkin with a quick flash of bright light and a deafening bang, while the kasrkin could handle one or two of these weapons without trouble, the several thrown out in rapid succession proved too much for the solider. He was rendered defenseless when the traitors shot several small darts filled with a sedative into him. Though several darts simply bounced off or broke on the ceramite plates of his carapace armor, a few managed to break through the armored fabric in between separate plates, injecting the foul toxin into his veins. In a matter of seconds the solider did what he was unable to do for several days, fall asleep.
August 11th, 2010 Antarctica 05:47
Captured, Karsk Bask an elite Kasrkin, a man who once killed five eldar banshees by himself, who survived the madness that was the warp, was captured by some poorly armed members of a traitorous planetary defense force, by the Emperor that is embarrassing. And so here he was, held in some kind of prison cell jetting out of the floor, though he still wore his comforting suit of armor. These guards even had the courtesy of being so inept as to leave his wargear and backpack simply laying on a table around fifteen feet from his cell. Despite this and the calm body language he displayed; he was in actuality quite worried. Why, you might ask? This traitorous compound bore no holy aquilas, so it was not a conquered imperial outpost, nor could the foul symbols of chaos be found, which brought many a question into Basks mind. "Who are they?" "Where am I?" "Why haven't they simply killed me?" Soon he would have an answer.
A man wearing what appeared to be some kind of military uniform entered the room through the only visible doorway, he had a shaved head and was accompanied by five guards carrying compact autoguns, all of them wearing the same uniform of the traitors who captured him. The leader looked upon the Kasrkin and spoke to one of his men.
"Why is the prisoner still wearing that armor?" He said speaking in low gothic, though the accent was unknown to Karsk
"We weren't able to remove it, besides sarge thought maybe he needs it to survive." The grunt replied
"I guess that's as good a reason as any." The leader said before stepping directly in front of the Kasrkins cell as one of his men closed the door behind them.
"Listen. You don't know who I am, and I don't know who you are. But what I do know is that you got some nice toys, so if you show us how they work, we might just kill you before we strip that armor off and throw you out into the snow." He said threateningly as his men chuckled behind him. So, that's what they wanted, his wargear, and they needed him alive to show them how it functioned. It was a foolish plan. "These men must be horribly incompetent, no wonder their stationed out here, and that just makes my capture all the more humiliating." Karsk thought to himself, then he formulated a plan, a risky plan which hinged on these men being as foolish as the Kasrkin thought them to be.
"Very well, release me and I shall show what you want to know." The leader pressed a button on the device he wore around his wrist. Then the shackles holding the Kasrkin opened, alongside the cell's door. "they really are morons." He thought as he walked out of the cell over to the table, grabbing his plasma pistol, a small smile crept across his face when he saw the familiar glow of the weapons venting coils, they were a bright cobalt blue, the weapon was fully loaded.
"Mark three plasma pistol" he said aiming the weapon the weapon at the leader's chest. "Scion pattern." He continued as he pulled the weapons trigger sending a bolt of burning plasma into his chest, it burned its way through his flesh and organs before exiting his back and hitting another traitor in the shoulder, melting the joint causing him and his arm to tumble onto the ground. Four more traitors remained standing. The Kasrkin aimed and shot at three of them, the plasma bolts killing them shortly after making contact, however when the Kasrkin aimed his weapon at the fourth and final heretic, he simply placed his rifles muzzle into his mouth and pulled the trigger.
As his body collapsed the Kasrkin heard a whimper come from across the room and found that the man hit from the stray first shot was still alive, albeit missing his right arm. The man looked upon the Kasrkin, his face contorted into a horrific visage of fear. Karsk felt strange upon the seeing the mans weeping face, he had never been looked upon as one to be feared, that was a status left to the Astartes. He did not like this feeling and opted to end the man's life with a plasma bolt to the face before turning back to the table with all his equipment. He placed his pistol into its holster and put his backpack on before placing the rest of his wargear into the appropriate places. Then with hellgun in hand he walked over to the door and kicked it open revealing this room to be only one at the end of a long hallway. Several armed traitors had converged onto the area, no doubt alerted by the sounds of the Kasrkins escape. He held out his rifle and aimed it towards the traitors and opened fire.