From the private journal of Sister Lia, 6 034.036.M42
Things had taken another turn towards the heretical.
We had journied as a small portion of the Millennial's fleet to a world deep within the Eye of Terror. The Millennial himself had brought two chapters of Astartes - the Trench Cleavers and the Erinyes - to the world in order to assist in its cleansing and situating, for use as another advance base within the Warp vortex itself. But unlike we expected - daemons were not all that existed on the planet's surface.
As we cut our way through the landscape, following the path of orbital bombardments as turbolasers rained down from above, ruins slowly jutted up from the skyline, carcasses of ancient buildings from millennia ago. The buildings glistened, practically pulsating with an unnatural sheen as we further proceeded into them. Walls were bedecked with stones - most of which were dead and lifeless, though some showcased a sort of energy held within - xenos witchcraft.
In the middle of a circle, arranged from such stones, stood a masked individual - one known as a Solitaire, wearing the colors of Craftworld Lugganath. The Millennial gave an audible sigh as he stepped forwards, facing the accursed xenos. "Great... What do you want this time?" I saw the Sister-Superior's face grimace with rage at the indication of them having previously fraternized. Soon they were exchanging some sort of letters before the witch vanished into thin air.
"Alright... So apparently, there's a way we can do this." He said. "So the Solitaire told me that there's an STC - one capable of entirely purging one's body of disease. If we get this technology, and if we find out it can be reproduced - goodbye, fucking Nurgle. That's one Chaos God pretty much entirely neutered."
"And what sort of issues are there regarding this?" Sister Erebus responded. "Surely we cannot simply rush in and take it."
"Now here's the fun part..." He smirked, seemingly giddy over the whole affair. "This STC is in Commorragh. Home of the Dark Eldar. To make things even more interesting - the STC belongs to the biggest Archon in the city, Aurelia Malys." Cries of disunity already began to be aroused thanks to the ever-increasing discord.
"And how are we supposed to perform an assault against a foe who fight like cowards and refuse to reveal themselves?" An Erinyes sergeant perked up with frustration.
"Well... There's a Webway portal located here on this Crone World. I and a select number of fellow individuals shall travel to this horrific place and acquire the STC. We have a lot to get done if we want to pull this off - not to mention I kinda have a favor to pay."
"Heresy..." Muttered a Trench Cleaver under his breath.
"I basically - okay, assuming that this works, I will have to use a dosage of the Panacea to travel into the Warp, into the Garden of Nurgle, and rescue some Isha chick. No idea what importance she has, but apparently it's enough that they asked for her in exchange for the Panacea. I'm not a dick, so... Yeah. That's what we're doing."
Blockheaded as always.
Trench Cleaver log of Sergeant Theta-17, 6 083.036.M42
The Inquisitor confused me. Despite the proscriptions of the Imperial Cult against consorting with xenos or utilizing corrupted technology, he seemed to pay no heed - occasionally chastising the naysayers with claims of "common sense" and "everyone else is fucking insane." Apparently, back in his time, the concepts as laid out in the Imperium did not exist, though the Emperor himself did indeed walk upon the sacred ground of Holy Terra. Despite these misgivings, it was he who blessed our homeworld with the gift of an Astartes chapter - who oversaw the year-long process of ensuring the first of our number were compatible with gene-seed despite our less than natural origin.
Cautiously, he grasped a holographic image, which showcased a pathway through the Webway to a Commorragh entrance, as indicated to him by the disguised xenos. We were nearing the location of the Webway portal itself, when a bright green beam of energy arced over our heads. Sergeant Uzziah of the Erinyes raised his chainsword menacingly, looking to eye what precisely was on the other side of the open pathway. Skeletal figures had taken up positions around the portal - Necrons. How they had managed to reach this world was a mystery, but considering that the Webway apparently did not act in the same form or fashion as the Warp, it was not implausible for them to have come through.
With our utili-tools, we swiftly dug into the crumbling stone, the energy fields forming a swarm of dust that our autosenses filtered out. In mere seconds, we were dug in, a shallow makeshift trench line having formed. Together we kneeled as one, bolter fire raining down upon the monstrous silver mechanons. They advanced further towards us, only for our weapons to cut them down. Despite this - they continued to rise up, shattered limbs slowly mending as the nightmarish horde slowly approached. Some of our number readied their utili-tools for use in another purpose - but we had no need. The Erinyes lept over our line, chainaxes whirring as the grate of ceramite teeth against renewing metal. I distinctly watched as Sergeant Uzziah grasped the spine of a Necron warrior, tearing it away from the monster's ribcage and snapping whatever circuits kept the synthetic creature active before dropping it to the ground and crushing its skull into a puddle of molten quicksilver.
With our battle-brothers on the offensive, we charged forward, leaping from our trenches and engaging the Necrons up close as well. The sudden rush of two groups of Astartes seemed to overwhelm whatever sort of scouting force the Necrons had sent through the Webway. The result was swift and utter annihilation of our enemy - those who could phased out, while those who were too damaged slowly dissolved into naught but a liquid-like form. "Apothecary - how many did we lose?"
"Twenty-two casualties." He responded. "Five were killed. Seventeen were injured. I will begin the process of extracting their gene-seed." With that, he turned away from me - more deaths of fellow Astartes was unfortunate, but an inevitability. One day, we would all be cut down in battle against the foes of the Emperor. To fear death is heresy. To avoid it is futile. Honor is best gained through sacrifice.
The Inquisitor turned to us, giving a soft sigh as he stared at the bodies of the fallen battle-brothers. "Fucking dammit... Emperor bless 'em. They died fulfilling the mission he's set forth. For those like you guys - that's the highest honor I can think of." In truth, I doubted the sincerity of his belief in our Father the Emperor - though some from the Knights Inductor viewed him as nothing more than an Inquisitor with reasonable forms of dedication towards His efforts, others held more radical views. The Knights Repentant in particular viewed him as a sort of Living Saint, blessed by the Emperor with an ethereal touch unseen in ordinary men, though their beliefs were largely shaped around their worship and devotion to the Emperor. While he walked on the same ground as our Father, there was nothing truly supernatural about him. He rationalized his arguments with facts and study, never once showcasing even the slightest glimmer of His light within.
Yet he had not a single sign of corruption by Chaos.
Log of Erinyes Battle-Brother Tisiphonus, 6 086.036.M42
Our journey through the Webway remained perilous. It had taken the full psychic force of the Trench Cleavers' Librarian to activate the xenos relic. I could sense the distaste in the air for our usage of an abominable artifact, but to acquire the STC, we had no other choice. A cure for diseases, a method to make even the weakest of mankind impervious to the corruption of one of the Chaos Gods... It was the opportunity of a lifetime. Perhaps this technology could be used to destroy once and for all the traitorous Astartes of the Death Guard, and their accursed daemon of a Primarch, Mortarion.
Our weapons were consistently ready for action, and more than once were we forced to fire upon the beings within the shimmering tunnels. Large brain-like entities exploded under our bolter shells as we followed the Inquisitor, traversing deeper into the cavern-like arteries of the Webway even as we pondered whether we would be stuck here for eternity.
Soon, however, we were brought upon an inordinate sight - within this corner of the Webway was a man, of exceptional stature above even our own. His eyebrows and beard were strong and defiant, even as he found himself once more lashed by the razorflail of a Dark Eldar wych. A gathering of the malignant xenos surrounded him, watching and reveling in the pain and suffering he was experiencing, as though it was their only source of entertainment. The Millennial motioned for us to get into firing position from a distance as he slowly walked forward, the joints of his armor deliberately disabled to keep his approach silent as he slowly trudged towards the gathering.
Before we could act, the man locked eyes upon the Inquisitor, and with a burst of strength lept forward, grasping the flagellating wych by the throat and crumpling her windpipe. Sergeant Uzziah believed this to be a good opportunity to engage the enemy, and it was for this reason that we Erinyes yelled as one, charging forward with chainaxes ready.
I was surprised by the lethargy of the Dark Eldar. Though they looked as normal as heretical xenos scum could appear, their motions were dulled, their senses crippled as though they had glutted themselves on too much food for their stomachs to handle. For the most part, we were able to dispatch them, our weapons satiated with the blood of the foul enemies of mankind even as others of their ilk retreated further into the confines of the Webway. In due time, all that remained were us and the man before us.
"So..." The Millennial stepped towards the man, ignoring both the copious quantity of scars that covered his flesh and the fact that he wore not a stitch of clothing. "What were those crazy fuckers trying to do to you?"
"They..." He gasped, finding even managing a full breath to be a painful experience. "They attempted to break my spirit. I am far stronger than anything they have captured - even a taste sated their appetite far beyond what they were able to experience." He slowly stood up. "Who are you, and what are you doing here in the Webway? Were you sent to find me?"
"Um... No..." The Inquisitor scratched his head for a moment, trying his best to save face. "But we found you, so I guess everything turned out alright... right?"
"I have been stuck in this hell of an experience for millennia. I spent thousands of years wandering these maddening halls, my sanity slowly slipping away before I finally failed in my duty and was captured by these monstrous creatures. I have been subjected to horrors no man should ever be forced to undergo. Do not EVER -" He lurched towards the Inquisitor, intimidating him into taking a step back - "claim to me that this has turned out alright. They took something from me that I shall never be able to regain."
"O... Okay." A frustrated sigh crossed the lips of the Millennial. I had never seen him so... so humbled. This was a man who had accrued honor in combat from the destruction of many champions of the Chaos Gods - yet here he stood, on the verge of whimpering like a scared puppy. As my mind cleared, I spoke up, recognition of the man finally beginning to come to my mind.
"Hail Primarch Khan of the White Scars!"
