Virgil stared about him in revulsion, the scene before his eyes one of depravity and destruction. The youngest of the Astartes brothers, those newly inducted into the ranks of the Knights were horrified at what they witnessed. Each one of them understanding with a final clarity what they would become. Everything seemed to revolve in slow motion around Virgil, each scream or sickening crack played out longer than it had any right to be, the bright spray of blood cascading like a rain pour down to the earth beneath their feet. What Virgil witnessed was debased savagery common of the Flesh Tearers or in fact, more shockingly, the World Eaters.
His gauntlet clad fingers tightened upon the stock of his bolter, the ceramite squeaking with the pressure. He gazed around the shattered flagstones of the Governors plaza, the blackened, smoke belching palace rising before him. Astartes he had held unmatchable measures of respect for were tearing the world down around him, venerated brothers of the First Company, exemplars of the Chapter, were in a frenzy of bloodlust. He watched one of the Veteran brothers, his black and silver armour thick with gore and the stains of war, swoop down upon twin jets of flame from his jump pack to punch his clenched fist through the body of a fleeing human, tearing one of his arms from the mans shoulder and then tearing the dying guards throat out with his teeth. Chain weapons and bolters were used to bludgeon and rend screaming men to death, heads were crushed between hands, flesh was torn from bodies in ravenous hunger. The Astartes were mauling the humans like savage dogs.
Virgil witnessed the massive form of Veteren Brother Tios, resplendent in his baroque Terminator armour, once a magnificent sight upon the field of battle but now resembling a lapdog of Khorne. The man lifted his power blade, the blade a haze of white incandescent light, a purple smoke playing about its edge, flicks of energy cascading from two pylons upon the blades hilt. The sword came hacking down to connect with what Virgil assumed to be one of the traitors commanding officers. The man was sheared in half, the flash of white hot light from the contact left after glare upon his eyes. Tios was a man possessed, his face twisted into a snarl, his fanged mouth drenched in blood. The giant armour he wore was decked in trophies, several helmets hung from his waist, eldar, ork and even those of once Imperial origin. His gauntlets were tipped in razor talons much like Chaplain Grakars, each plate of Tios armour was studded with spike tipped bolts, his huge shoulder guards jutting out in winged pauldrons, all manner of chains and scraps of litany scrolls hanging from them.
The Terminator vanguard behind the Veteran Sergeant crushed men to pulp with their massive power fists, hurricane torrents from their storm bolters annihilating men, turning them into chunks of steaming meat in blood red clouds. Virgil could feel bile rise in his throat momentarily, in all his days as an Initiate beneath Tiberius in the 10th Company, he'd never witnessed a bloodletting of this scale. His eyes watched as one of the black clad warriors of the Terminators cast aside his storm bolter, with his power fist he tore his bulky helmet from his features and let it clatter to the stone beneath him. His hand shot forward and snared a limping human, the hulking warrior lifted the screaming man, crushing his waist with his powerful grip. His teeth came down in a vicious head butt to the man's face, shearing the flesh from his cheek. The Terminator gripped the man's shoulder with his other hand, the power fist's energy field searing and bubbling the man's body, cooking him in its fierce energies. The Terminator began to take chunks of the man's face off, swallowing down the flesh and cracking his body until it was broken and limp. He cast the man aside, the body scattered like a torn rag doll across the stones, a dark smear left along the ground.
A gauntlet clamped down upon Virgil's shoulder and his helmet snapped to stare at it. Each plate upon the fingers was slick with blood, but he could make out the scripted black armour beneath, litanies curling round each finger plate in tooled carvings. The fingers ended in viciously curved tips, like the talons of an eagle, the knuckled ridge was decked with sharp pyramids of adamantium. Virgil knew exactly who had hold of him and with a dread surfacing in his throat he slowly turned to face the towering form of Grakar. The Chaplains bald head was smeared with dark blood, frothy tendrils of saliva roping down his red stained chin. His eyes glowed like daemon fire, their red halo's piercing and seeming to peel away the layers of Virgil's very soul, the smile that spread across the Chaplains flesh clogged teeth did nothing to comfort Virgil. The young Astartes could no longer keep the venom from his voice, his shoulder pulling back away from the Chaplains grasp. The bronze plated grille upon Virgil's helm crackled into life as his voice spilled from the vox unit.
++ My lord! What is this barbarism? ++
The Chaplains smile grew in intensity, becoming shark like and taking on a vicious air. He lifted his other hand and Virgil turned a lip at what he saw clutched in the Chaplains grasp. It was human, well it had been, it was missing an arm and a leg. Its face had been stripped and there was only ragged clumps of meat and blood stuck to the skull, great gouges and tears had been shredded down the man's body and tags of flesh dangled from the Chaplains deadly clawed hands. The words that came from Grakar's stained teeth smashed into Virgil with all the force of hammer blows, his mind reeling from what was said.
" Why, the Emperors work, young Virgil. "
Then with a sickening dawning, Virgil realised not one of the Knights before him bore the symbols of the Death Company. He despaired to think what savagery and evil his Chapter committed in the name of the Emperor of Mankind.