Coryphaus
664.M35
He was entranced by the beauty and grace of the Angel Sanguine's armour. It was a marvel of artistry and imagination, the wearer anointing his plate with skill that made it as much a work of art as a machine of war. The gold chasings on the pauldrons gleamed, the fresco of the Primarch Sanguinius in deathly pose upon the breastplate a sight to bring tears to the eye. The bifurcating line between red and black halves laser precise. Yes, such talent demanded respect, it was only a shame the Angel Sanguine was trying to kill him.
Kasarox saw a bolter coming up to point at his faceplate, the muzzle promising a swift execution. Yet the range was close and he wasn't about to accept being killed. He threw himself at the angel's son, closing the range even as a red finger squeezed the trigger. The bolt shell flew across the narrow gap separating them and struck his pauldron, cratering the flaming Daemon's head set upon it. The impact rang through Kasarox's bones and made his teeth rattle in his jaws but the shell failed to detonate in time and glanced off, doing no further damage. Kasarox grinned under his faceplate as his foe went for a shining knife but too slowly. Kasarox's left arm hurtled around like the fist of a Dark God and the bulky gauntlet encasing his hand crackled with power. Before the knife left its sheath he struck, slamming his power fist into the dead centre of his enemy's mass. The fresco of Sanguninus was ruptured by the crackling disruption field, reduced to atoms as the bones and organs behind were blown out of the back. The Angel Sanguine swayed slightly for a moment then keeled over, hitting the muddy field with a dull splat.
Kasarox spun about to take in the fight but found his squad-brothers victorious. In a tangled knot Word Bearers stood over the corpses of Angels Sanguine, their ritual knives slick with blood. In contrast to the corpse god's lackeys, the Word Bearers were adorned with marks of damned glory. Their maroon plate bearing infernal symbols of the Pantheon and pledges of slaughter to Those Who Dwelt Below. The Word Bearers followed the true gods of the universe, the hallowed scriptures laid down by the Arisen Lorgar inscribed on their armour. One more icon touched their pauldrons, the Mark of the Crooked Path Chapter, the warband of the Dark Apostle Abulaz.
Kasarox took in his squad and was distressed to see the Angels Sanguine had not fallen easily. Five Imperial lackeys lay in the mud but alongside them were three sons of Lorgar; even with weight of numbers the fight had been ferocious. Kasarox was about to ask for orders but then he saw one of those in the mud was Vinata, Aspiring Champion of the squad, which left them leaderless. He spent a millisecond lamenting their losses but then realised they were standing idly in the middle of the battlefield, a perfect place to be gunned down.
"Come!" Kasarox yelled, "We must link up with our Brethren!"
"Hold on there," snarled Tomeddon whose armour was scorched by Daemonic flames, "Who put you in charge?!"
"We have no time to argue," Kasarox barked at the defiant warrior, "We move or we die."
Tomeddon growled, "Newborn whelp, you think to lead us, you who weren't even born when the great truth was revealed to us."
Kasarox braced for a fight but then to his surprise Kinawa hissed from his multi-eyed helm, "Shut up and do as he says."
Tomeddon snarled, "You would follow a mewling babe?!"
Kinawa snapped, "At least he's never been afraid to spill his own blood. Kasarox has saved all our lives a dozen times over."
To his surprise the rest of the squad were nodding along, agreeing with the sentiment. Tomeddon saw he was outnumbered and relented. Realising he was now Champion Kasarox turned and sprinted away, leading his squad to link up with reinforcements. He looked over the muddy battlefield and saw the Crooked Path engaged heavily with the Angels Sanguine. The sky was obscured by smoke, blocking the twin moons of Fraeas from sight. Underfoot blood and engine oil made the ground slick as fire licked at piled corpses and ruined tanks. The smells of roasting flesh and boiling blood and opened bowels were as familiar to him as his own sweat, a pleasing odour on most occasions but not when it was his side burning.
In the distance the city of Weatsa stood inviolate, its bastion walls unmarred. The Crooked Path should be mounting those walls right now. They had been driving through the paltry defenders with ease, then the children of Sanguinius had fallen from the sky on wings of fire, meeting fury with fury and fire with fire. The Word Bearers had been caught completely out of position and slaughtered, unaware of the incoming attack. They should have had some warning, from their ship in orbit if not their unholy allies, but it seemed someone had epically screwed up.
Kasarox led his squad west, towards the sounds of the heaviest fighting. He spied a knot of Word Bearers beset by black-clad warriors, whose armour bore red crests and jagged saltires. Death Company, the inheritors of Sanguinius' wroth, known and respected even among the Traitor Legions for their reckless bloodlust and insane ferocity. They were pushing hard into the western lines, a speartip driven into the soft flank of the Legion. The Word Bearers were fighting ferociously but were out of position and dying in droves. Even the presence of Cordano the Coryphaus was not enough to stem the tide.
"Follow me!" Kasarox cried, "For Lorgar and the Word!" He bounded over the muddy fields, angling to strike the Death Company in the rear. At their back loomed a Land Raider Achilles, a rare variant with twin multi-melta sponsons and an artillery cannon set in its prow. It was lending fire support to the Death Company, fending off a pair of Hellbrutes trying to close the range. Kasarox threw himself across the distance, desperate to engage. The drivers of the Land Raider saw them coming and swung their left gun about, unleashing a beam of fusion fire into the closing ranks. Kasarox threw himself out of the way but Tomeddon was not so swift. The beam struck him squarely and eviscerated him, leaving a smoking pair of legs dripping gore where once a Chaos Marine had been. A warrior who had fought through the fires of hell itself, undone by a ray of heat, a cosmic jest of the Dark Gods in Kasarox's opinion.
"Hurry!" Kasarox bellowed, "Kill them all!" The squad obeyed and climbed onto the Land Raider's back, ripping open hatches to slaughter those inside. The crew fought but two corpse-worshippers were no match for the Word Bearers and they died swiftly. Kasarox was already bounding past, throwing himself into the fray. A black-clad Angel broke off from his attempt to kill a Possessed Marine prone in the mud and met him with a chainsword, sweeping for his neck. Kasarox was forced to sway back lest he be decapitated, his power fist potent but cumbersome by comparison. The Angel Sanguine's helm had been ripped free and Kasarox was astonished by the mad fury in his eyes, the hate and the insanity brewing within. Fangs protruded from gums, marks of favour Kasarox would have craved in other circumstances. Yet the anger within him was uncontrollable, a current of rage that would have given a Khorne Berseker pause. Whatever strength burned in this one's veins it had proven too much for his mind and consumed him.
"I see you Horus!" the angel screamed as he stabbed for Kasarox's hearts.
"Mad fool!" Kasarox retorted as he twisted aside, "You are blind!"
"Our father shall not fall this day!" the angel screamed as he drew back for another blow.
"Your false Emperor is a corpse already!" Kasasrox roared as he swung for the head.
Power Fist met skull and exploded it into bony shrapnel. Brains and blood sprayed out and Kasarox grimaced as the remains of the tongue flopped upon his breastplate, sliding down the Ceramite to leave a gory trail. Kasasrox stepped back and surveyed his kill, satisfied this one would not get back up. He looked about and saw several more Death Company had fallen to the rear-attack, taken from behind in surprise. The weight of the battle shifted, as Cordano rallied the survivors, leading them forward to crush the remaining resistance. In moments the western flank fell silent, the Word Bearers having held the line.
A stir from the dirt signalled the Possessed Marine getting up, caked in mud and he muttered, "You saved my life, I suppose I should thank you."
"As the Pantheon wills," Kasarox replied, "What's your name?"
"Raruma," the possessed Marine replied snidely, "Tell anyone I needed help and I'll gut you."
Kasarox respected the warrior's pride and said, "Not a word."
The line shifted as the Word Bearers reformed and Cordano strode over, his plate covered in the tiny bones of children he had slain. The Coryphaus was the war-leader of the Crooked Path, dedicated to matters martial so the Dark Apostle could focus on higher matters. He did not look pleased as he ripped off his bone-encrusted helm and snapped, "Who led that counter-charge?!"
"I did!" Kasarox declared.
"You," the Coryphaus sneered, "A callow pup, not even hallowed by the Pantheon with a mutation."
"I serve the Word," Kasarox growled.
"As do we all," Cordano hissed, "But not today, make ready to fall-back and withdraw."
"Retreat?!" Kasarox gasped, "No!"
"Watch your tongue unhallowed," Cordano hissed, "I am in command here."
"Ha, Unhallowed, I like that," Raruma laughed, "But won't Abulaz be displeased?"
"Who knows," Cordano scoffed, "The Dark Apostle has vanished, scampered off at the first sign of trouble and left us to die."
Outrage burnt in Kasarox's hearts as he gasped, "The Dark Apostle is not to be questioned! You must have faith he is preparing a ritual to turn the tide."
Cordano growled, "Abulaz has abandoned us and we are getting out of here. Maybe we can salvage something from this debacle."
"No! We must advance," Kasarox implored, "The western flank is exposed, we can drive into the heart of the Imperial filth. We can turn their flank and win the day!"
"Speak to me again and I will end you," Cordano threatened, "I command here and I say Abulaz is a coward, he deserves only…"
He was cut off as Kasarox's fist slammed into his chest, punching deeply within. Kasarox closed his fingers around the Coryphaus' hearts and ripped them out, blood pouring over his palm. Cordano's mouth gushed blood as the hole in his chest sprayed vitae, then he collapsed to the ground and moved no more.
All around stunned Word Bearers froze in shock, unable to grasp what had just occurred. It fell to Kinawa to gasp, "What have you done?!"
Kasarox dropped the cooling hearts and growled, "He spoke against the Dark Apostle, he was faithless and unworthy. I removed him, as you all should have done."
"Abulaz won't be pleased," Raruma hissed.
"He will be when we deliver him victory," Kasarox proclaimed, "Make ready to move, we will strike up the western flank and break the defenders wide open!"
A Word Bearer from the back called, "You dare to claim the place of the Coryphaus?!"
Kasarox shouted, "I am going into the fires of war, if you follow me I shall be proud to stand shoulder to shoulder with each of you. Choose to follow or flee as you will, but the Pantheon's eyes are upon us. Your acts this day will mark you as worthy champions of Chaos or cowards. Eternal glory awaits or eternal shame, chose well, for the Pantheon is not forgiving. What say you: Champions or cowards?!"
Kinawa shouted, "I chose Chaos and glory!"
Raruma agreed, "If the Unhallowed leads I would be shamed to turn away. I go where he goes!"
"Unhallowed for Coryphaus!" another yelled and then the whole crowd was crying out their commitment to the charge.
Kasarox turned to the raging battle and raised his fist high as he led the Word Bearers to war with a cry of, "Follow me and we will shed corpse-lackey blood together as our act of worship. We will fight as one and my blood will be spent for yours and yours for mine. For Chaos, for the Pantheon, for Lorgar and the Word!"
With that the Crooked Path went to war, chanting, "Unhallowed, unhallowed, unhallowed, unhallowed, unhallowed!"