Milord Cato Sicarius }bows respectfully{
You favor your servant with your attention. Know that the Queen of Omega shall endeavor to meet your expectations and will indeed provide a story worthy of the archives of fanfictiondotnet.
And should I fail to do so, I will gladly provide the bolt round you shall put through my head :P
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The shadow of the Imperial vessel loomed over the desert world of Eriad VI, its form made traceable as it nearly eclipsed the planet's sun. The Iron Revenant took pause as its crew regarded the surface with meticulous scrutiny, scanners sifting through its crust to locate any trace of the holy artefacts their order so passionately sought for.
Archmagos Belisarius Cawl stood at the helm of the expedition, giving command for the landing party to begin descent while he contemplated on recent events.
This world was empty, left barren after the close of the Despoiler's 4th Black Crusade. Formerly an Imperial naval station, Eriad had the potential for harboring valuable findings, but anyone would've turned a blind eye to it and searched elsewhere.
Unbeknownst to his underlings, however, Belisarius arrived on the barren world guided by the enigmatic eldar Shadowseer Sylandri Veilwalker. A secret meeting had given him enough information to determine the whereabouts of a powerful artifact hidden below the surface of the desert world. Lured by the promise of such a gift, Cawl uneasily heeded the xeno's words and embarked on the expedition, his fascination for all things technological overcoming his initial suspicions and hostility towards the eldar.
Although it was easy for him to follow these portents, the Archmagos remained cautious, knowing that by dealing with the xenos brought along misfortune as a price. It did not matter as much, for the Adeptus Mechanicus always comes prepared- and never alone. Confident with an army of battle-servitors, Skitarii and other war-machinations to back him, Cawl reached forth to claim his prize.
But as it turned out, he was not the only one drawn to the dead planet.
"WAAAAGGGHHH!"
The Archmagos' eyes flitted to the dunes of the east in annoyance. With a single thought the command was given unto the Skitarii, who disembarked from their transporters and dug in deep, ready to stand the green tide about to surge into their position.
A large drill was erected upon the dig site following the expedition's planetfall. As the mechanized warriors engaged the Orks pouring down from the hills and mountains, the construct was activated, sending a bright orange beam to bore upon Eriad VI's surface.
The nav-computers had mapped out the catacombs beneath the desert world, which initially came as a surprise to the expeditionary fleet. They never anticipated the discovery of what looked like a Necron tomb. Upon this revelation, the caution was doubled, but the search must go on.
"I will not waste this opportunity." The reverberating, mechanized voice of the Archmagos declared. "Keep digging." He turned his attention outwards, watching the struggle between his forces and the greenskins laying the assault.
The technology of the Adeptus Mechanicus, albeit crude compared to the xenos in the galaxy, proved too much for the Orks amassing at their gates. Bodies piled high alongside shattered vehicles, blood and sands mingling together once more as the Skitarius troopers sent wave after wave of galvanic rifle-fire against the green tide.
The corpses themselves became the sandbags, offering better protection against the raging storm as the shoota-boyz returned fire from the backs of their wartrukks. Rokkits sped across the dunes and struck the Skitarii positions, digging up clumps of dirt and scrap as they hit the ground with wild abandon.
Aiming was not the Orks' forte, and neither was subtlety. They bellowed every tactic their simple minds could think of, much to the Archmagos' amusement, as they sought to overcome the well-fortified position of the Machine Cult.
Charging in all at once was doomed to fail, and so was being 'sneaky-like'. These marauders weren't led by a formidable boss, so their assault on the expeditionary forces was little more than an annoyance. Soon, the Orks were put down. There was without a doubt there will be more in the following hours, so Cawl put the brief respite to good use.
The bridge echoes with the thunder of a giant's footfalls. The men, tainted by the touch of the Ruinous Powers, found themselves abandoned by their malevolent patrons and now cowered in fear for their judgement. Only O'Knor stood tall, defiance clearly written on his battle-scarred visage as he stared down the chamber, seemingly eager to meet his executioner.
The doors burst open with a loud crash, flinging scrap metal and reinforced locks all over the floor, heralding the arrival of the Nameless vanquisher. The captain bellows his command, "Fire!"
A thousand bolter shells were expended, a thousand bolts were hurled, but none scathed the awesome figure dressed in purest white. It was like the Emperor himself sent one of his angels to personally deal with him, a thought that caused a mad grin to force its way into the traitor captain's face.
"Blood for the Blood God!" He screamed, raising his powersword and rushing at the two astartes with the maddened horde at his heels. The guardsmen carried little more than bayonets or chainswords to the fray, which registered as a foolish act by all perspectives, taking into account that they were engaging astartes!
Horus did not consider it an honor to slay these traitors, he only felt disgust in their misplaced fervor. Such a trait could've been used in the name of mankind, such a waste indeed. These thoughts ran through the reborn primarch's mind as he cut down the last of the corrupted alongside the sergeant. His spear impaled the captain and burned his body away at the touch of its blade. O'Knor screamed a thousand curses as he died, falling silent as the flames reduced him to ash.
Horus pried his weapon away from the traitor's remains and wiped the heated blade clean from the ashes. His gaze scoured the whole room for any sign of hostility, resting easy once he found none.
Aggregius welcomed the conclusion of this purge, finding satisfaction in performing the duty on behalf of the Imperium. His thoughts turned to prioritizing the cleansing of his armor and weapon, both of which were stained with the blood of traitors and daemons. Soon, very soon, he will have that luxury. "Aggregius to Golgo's Respite, do you read?"
"We hear you, sergeant, loud and clear. Your armor's signal has been traced, are you truly aboard the Agony, my lord? Has the heretic O'Knor been vanquished?"
"Yes, this traitor flagship has been purged successfully." Aggregius reported, "We're onboard the vessel's bridge, awaiting extraction."
There was a pause on the opposite end as Maranda arranged for a carrier to pick up the stranded lords, "Give us a few minutes. I shall have a Valkyrie transporter sent to your position, over."
In the background of these events, the Great Deciever watches with growing interest at the unfolding of these fates. While it is contradictory in most perspectives, Tzeentch's opinion on Horus' progressive path to redemption had shifted from annoyance to gradual approval. Chaos is utterly unpredictable, and so it is with the Master of Plots. With great amusement, Tzeentch twists his long fingers into the threads of time and space, reaching out to his followers scattered across the expanse, knowing each and every one of them were eager to carry out his commands.
Change was coming, and so he welcomes it with open arms.
There was a certain calm feeling in Horus' mind as he beheld the faces of his fellow humans. While altered to be superior in every way by the Emperor himself, Horus never considered himself above the common people, having been brought from humble origins himself. The calmness was replaced by an intense feeling of vigilance, a desire to protect these people, such as the nature of a sentinel of mankind brings.
On the damaged ship Golgo's Respite, however, the crew and the guardsmen halted in their duties for a moment to gaze in awe at the towering figure dressed in unblemished white.
Unbeknownst to anyone, even Horus, the Emperor had shielded him with a psychic aura so great that it masked his identity to prevent any suspecting eye from recognizing him outright. This same aura projected a cleansing brilliance that seemed to burn away anything that touched his armor, even blood or viscera taken in combat. The end result was always a renewed and cleansed form, free from the stain of battle. This did not keep anyone from noting the imposing figure that Horus was, and the lesser men and women of the crew bent the knee in his presence.
"Stand!" Horus declared immediately, knowing he hardly deserved any form of exaltation. "I am a servant of the Imperium, same as any of you!" Aggregius follows his friend's lead, "You kneel only before the God-Emperor, and none other!"
The crew exchanged glances and rose to follow their lieges' commands. Although standing upright, that didn't stop them from saluting the two transhumans.
Captain Maranda wasted no time getting the formalities out of the way, receiving disturbing news of more Chaos incursions sprouting from different sources all over the sector. To her, the arrival of the two was an invaluable boon in her mission to protect the Imperium, but came as a small comfort in comparison to the daunting task of facing the heretics spawning from the warp rifts opening all across the Obscurus.
Horus gauged the woman with great care, avoiding being judgemental of the captain because of her looks.
Maranda was quite young for a woman of her station, bearing the years of at least the latter of twenties. Her hair was stark silver, mirroring the Aquila icon she bore on her uniform. Her eyes were bright green, yet bore the stern testament of experience and her harrowing years as a leader. Her face hardly had any wrinkles on it just yet, but betrayed the exhaustion that only battle can bring.
Yet even as she stood unsteadily with a hand to prop herself up from her chair, Horus found admiration in the woman's composure."I am Captain Maranda Goodwill of the Battlegroup Imperatis, how should I greet you, milords?"
Aggregius spoke first, "I am Sgt. Aggregius of the Blood Ravens 2nd Company. We spoke on the vox-channel a few hours ago, captain." He turned to Horus and took pause before making the introductions, "This…this is my companion, Nameless. It may sound strange to most of you, but my friend is on a quest for redemption. Until he has atoned for his sins, he shall remain as such…nameless."
"Welcome aboard the Golgo's Respite." She greeted her lieges, "I would drone on with the pleasantries, but I have my duty to the Imperium to perform. The sector is under attack by the forces of Chaos. Spacial distortions render long-range communications inaccessible. As dictated by Cypra Mundi, I am to give command to the highest ranking commissioned officer present." She turned to Horus, "I believe that would be you, milord?"
"Yes?" Horus replied, reluctant to take command.
Captain Maranda bowed, "I and all vessels at my disposal are at your service."
Inwardly, the Lupercal was grateful this commander was not the suspicious kind, otherwise he would encounter greater resistance. He seized this opportunity to win their trust, and so he took upon himself the honor of leadership once more. "Thank you, Captain Maranda. You have done well leading this fleet even in the face of defeat, a credit to the Imperium of Man."
Maranda's lips cracked into a smile, "Thank you, milord. What are you commands?"
Horus walked into the observation deck and peered into the glass, watching the tiny purple rift in space that could only be the Eye of Terror. Any lesser man would have gone mad staring as long as he did, but not Horus. He had seen madness face to face and did not blink. His purpose became ever clearer as he thought of all those worlds out in the Obscurus under siege by the dark powers.
"Is the Golgo's Respite ready for action, captain?" He inquired.
"With the disruption of the Warp, any travel has been rendered impossible save for sub-light." Maranda reported, "But aside from that, yes milord, she is ready to get back out there."
"Then take us on our way, captain." Horus instructed, "To the nearest Imperial outpost, if you will. With luck, perhaps we can regroup with the rest of the defense fleets against this incursion."
"Excellent strategy, sir." Maranda remarked, relaying the command to the remnants of the fleet. That way, they could better coordinate a counter-assault to repulse the scum threatening the Imperium.
Breaking free from its respite, the Battlegroup Imperatis makes a steady headway for Cadia Prime. Signal fragments were picked up along the way, indicating a massive assault on Imperial controlled worlds in the sector. Horus realized O'Knor's traitor fleet wasn't the only one plaguing Obscurus, and his heart felt heavy with purpose as he imagined how things would've turned out if he remained in the Warp.
The shadow of war loomed over the heart of the Imperium, mankind weakened considerably as its heroes were torn from its grasp. The Emperor looked and saw the lack in its sentinels, another reason for bringing his son back from the other side.
The Lupercal grew ever more eager to carry out his task, though he did not show it as much as the burning passion in Aggregius' heart.
As the Golgo's Respite entered the battlezone, their eyes beheld a mere glimpse of the horrors of the Eye. Agripinaa, a forge-world vital to the sector, was under attack by the forces of Chaos. In reference to O'Knor's assault, however, this was larger by comparison.
Ships of all shapes and sizes dotted the Agripinaan airspace, imperial and traitor battlecruisers exchanging lasfire and bursts of white-hot plasma as they circled one another. Imperial armor was just as strong as its traitor counterpart, so the fight largely centered on battering each other to submission.
There was a collective of Chaos vessels in the distance, however, heavily damaged and seemed to limp away from the fighting to repair themselves. Maranda's fleet wouldn't do so well in an open battle, so Horus instructed her to remain subtle but make use of the opportunity.
"See those voidships behind the battlelines?" Horus indicated, "I'd wager they act as support for the enemy fleet. If so, they are vital to their assault on this system. Are vox-channels open for hailing yet?"
"No, milord!" The comms-officer reported, "Something's jamming our communications!"
Horus knew what it was even before hearing the crew's observation, "Psychic distortion." He looked towards the limping voidships and spied a large construct nestled safely within the protective formation. It was an amalgamation of flesh and metal, one that used to be a ship yet was reformed in chaotic likeness of the Warp. Strange bright red lights emanated from its core, this same aura he had witnessed pulling apart space-hulks back on his journey through Hel'Nkuza. "That thing is responsible for your jamming dilemma, crewman. It is likely the source of the traitor fleet's repair capabilities. Destroying it will not only shatter the enemy's resolve, but it will give way for vox-transmissions."
"Milord, your commands?"
"Prioritize that construct's demise." He replied, "If I have to board that thing and dismantle it from the inside, so be it. But it must be destroyed if this system is to be saved."
"Yes milord." The captain declared, "All hands to your stations, prepare for battle!"
Within the mists of the immaterial universe, the Emperor watched his son come to the aid of the noble men and women of the Agripinaan Sector. Confined to the Golden Throne, he could do little more than provide hints that manifested as thoughts within the mind of Horus. There was always that psychic link between the two that stemmed from the unbreakable bond between father and son. All others have seen the physical manifestation of the bond, such as his show of favor over the young Wolf of Cthonia. But deep down, this was the bond that prevailed in the Seige of Terra, one that allowed Horus to break free for just one moment from the control of the Chaos Gods aboard the Vengeful Spirit.
Horus was no perpetual like some of his sons, but the bond was unique in its own way, taking form by the will of the Emperor alone. Unbeknownst to Horus, this was how the Emperor brought him back from the murky depths of the Warp and into the material universe to fight by his side once more.
Through this bond, Horus will never find himself far from his father again. The Emperor was just a whisper away from providing aid.
Satisfied in seeing his son hard at work, the Emperor turned his attention to his loyal servants scattered across the Segmentum Obscurus, particularly the one entity trapped in the limbo between the materium and immaterium- Celestine.
The paragon of purity had been dealt a serious blow following the Promethean War, struck down by the Daemon Prince Gralastyx even as she plunged her Ardent Blade into his black heart.
Wounded but remaining in suspended animation in the vortex alongside the stiff corpse of the Daemon Prince, Celestine waited for untold centuries to be called to purpose once more. Today was that day, for the Emperor had amassed all the psychic energies at his disposal to drag the Saint back from the limbo and into realspace.
As it was with his visit to Hel'Nkuza, the disturbance of his departure caused billions of psykers- be it transhuman or mortal- to feel a pain so great that it ruptured their minds completely. Spacemarines were left dazed and bleeding while all others were rendered maddened or dead.
Such was the price of his interventions, a weight set heavily upon his heart, but means justified in the end.
His astral form shone brightly in the darkness of the void, casting its brilliance over the broken form of his warrior angel as she floated beside the traitor she brought down with her. The Emperor smiled upon the Saint and touched the gash in her armour from which a stream of bright red blood stemmed from. A flash followed, and the wound closed, armour mending itself as life returned to Celestine. Her hair shone just as bright as the Emperor's light, and her eyes opened to behold her god. The Saint was overjoyed at this meeting, the cry of her rebirth was so great that it brought with it a wave of inspiration whose ripples drove the warriors of the Imperium to fight harder- though many of them remained aloof to the origin of this inspiration.
Their combined pure psychic energies drove away the darkness of the void and burned away Gralastyx's faded corpse, finally wiping clean all traces of the hated foe.
Humbled by the presence of the God-Emperor, Celestine bowed low and prostrated herself. Her voice was as sweet as the sparrow's song, "My Emperor…My god…what would you have me do?" The Emperor did not speak, only touched the temple of the Saint's head. His thoughts were transferred to her, and he revealed his plan to save the Imperium. Celestine gripped the handle of the Ardent Blade and set her gaze outwards, mind aligned with the Emperor's Will.
Abaddon approaches from the Warp, his shadow upon Cadia with arm raised to shatter its gates. All the pieces were in place. With the war between the Ruinous Powers and the Emperor of Mankind reaching its peak, blood and fire will surely spill over the galaxy.
But to Celestine, it wasn't Man's blood that will be spilled upon the altar- it will be the Despoiler's.
And if this Horus Lupercal truly desires to redeem himself, even if duty-bound to obey the Emperor, the Saint will gauge his worth in the coming apocalypse. He drove the Imperium this low with his rebellion, such a sin would not be so easily forgiven. "My god, forgive me. But I must test him."
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Crom'Torak
How dare you daemon-spawn of Slaanesh taint the sanctuary of Fanfictiondotnet with your presence!?
On side note, yeah the Black Legion ( or Luna Wolves ) can have an arch where they'll join up as the newly formed Wolves of Terra. Still working on that idea, PM me if you wish-
Er...I mean- Begone Daemon!
XD