Leonid I

The crisp smell of ionized air invaded his senses, as beams of las fire rained down on his forces turning mortals to smoldering piles of carbon, the seemingly endless stream of las fire of the corpse emperors puppets held his forces at bay. It was insulting that these mere mortals were an obstacle that had to be maneuvered around, that his warband of 100 marines and multitudes of cultists was repeatedly repulsed by nothing more than las fire. The plating of his own armor was greatly damaged with numerous little holes that exposed his very skin and scores of plating scorched off the frame, multiple systems inside were damaged and were unresponsive he had to convey orders through cultist carried vox casters. His brothers likewise did not fare well and some were already in their deep sleep as the damage to their bodies were severe enough to require it, his cultists with fear evident in their eyes as countless were dying around them making little progress. The only comfort in this dire situation was the barking of his storm bolter, as he blasted apart scores of guardsmen with every press of the trigger, a blood red mist emanating from the trenches as his munitions exploded, but he knows this comfort is temporary as he continuously expends his munitions the closer he gets to finding it finally silenced from lack of munitions.

The ice and snow a bright red from the gallons of blood and gore it bore witness to, a hellscape worthy of Bloodthirsters with blood and slaughter fit to make a meager offering, the irony of smelling ionized air in a frozen death world where warmth is a foreign concept and comfort is a dream. The sheer volume of las fire heating the ambient temperature of both trenches a few degrees higher than their surroundings, charred corpses frozen solid by the baleful winds.

"You! gather your men we attempt one last assault on their position" Leonid bellowed towards his vox carrying mortal.

"Yes my Lord, right away my Lord" the vox carrier immediately spoke into his vox.

"I will reap a terrible toll before I fall to these puppets, For the Blood God" shouted Leonid as he sprinted towards the Imperial Lines.

"Blood for the Blood God" shouted the others that joined in his charge.

They charged the Imperial Lines, with his cultists dying by the dozens and his marines falling one by one to concentrated storm bolter fire, though their charge remained cohesive and his men's faces held an unnatural bloodlust as their fears turned into rage as a blood red mist blew in from their rears.

"Look to the skies, the God Khorne has blessed this day, fight!, fight!, and die for the Blood God" bellowed Leonid rousing his followers into a frenzy.

"Purge the Heretic" replied the guardsmen in their trenches as they continued to saturate their enemies with fire, even though the said enemies were almost to their trenches they held firm.

They quickly approached the trenches the deaths around him steadily increased as they closed the gap, though not without reaping their own toll on the guardsmen. This close the carnage of his storm bolter were apparent as limbs of guardsmen littered the trenches and dozens of gore caked guardsmen still fought on.

His storm bolter barked it song of death towards the guardsmen's storm bolter and a mist of blood was the response, a few brave guardsmen redirected their weapons fire towards himself and bathed his armor with their crimson beams, he felt pain as he noted at least 3 las shots tore into his body, he swung his storm bolter around and unleashed fury on those mortals, but only one bark left his weapon and killed only two or his foes whilst their comrades replaced their power packs. He saw only one course of action to take, attack or be finished by another volley of fire, and so he drew his combat knife and sprinted with all the strength his body could muster into the imperial trenches.

"It does not matter who's blood is spilled" Leonid bellowed as he leaped into the imperial trenches bisecting a guardsman in the process.

"Die filthy heretic" bellowed a guardsman swinging his chainsword attempting to cut Leonid in half, only to be nimbly avoided.

"Your corpse emperor cannot save you now" Leonid taunted as he kicks the offending guardsman a good 10 feet away, most likely killing him in the process.

"The emperor is my strength" said the dying guardsman.

"He has brought you to your doom" Leonid stated as he kicked the guardsman over.

"And you have arrived to yours" stated the guardsman holding a melta grenade.

Upon seeing the grenade Leonid leaped for cover, his armor weathering much of the blast. His flesh seared underneath his armor, and he fell to the ground his armor reduced to slag and his body clinging on for dear life. A cloud of purple fills his failing vision as his body entered the deep sleep.

The sky was bathed in a crimson glow, shimmering of countless lights peered through the blood red sky, the surface scorched to a thick black ash that invaded the mind and body across the entire planet, the the armies of countless automatoms marching against countless other automatons in wading across sea of claw and acid, between the two great forces stood a gold and black throne.

"Rise for fate has decided you may still live" a formless voice spoke.

"Rise for their is more blood to be had" another voice spoke.

"Rise for decay has yet to embrace you" a third voice spoke.

"Rise for the galaxy has yet to experience what happens next" the final voice stated.

With a gasp he awoke from his vision, his body ached and felt like glue. Taking stock of his surrounding he was jammed between the ice walls of a crevace, his armor barely providing excess clearance from a hundred meter fall to the bottom. He tried to flex his left arm only to find his armpiece welded to his pauldron and unable to move, he tried his right which made a wet tearing noise as he felt his fused skin tear at the flexing of the arm, he looked to his feet and only found one remained, the other a cauterized stump.

With the amount of wounds he had taken it was a blessing from the dark gods he was still alive. He then remembered the voices and their message, Rise for fate, Rise for Blood, Rise for Decay, Rise to experience, the dark gods did intervene and spared his life, the life of a marine killed by mere mortals, an abject failure compared to others but still draws breath thanks to the dark gods.

With one arm and one leg Leonid climbed himself out of the crevace to the sight of white, an absolute white out even with superior vision his eyes barely saw a meter ahead of him as a blizzard that would kill any other creature blew across the surface, he crawled forward confident about the favor of the dark gods would lead him to their will. A journey of faith, forged in the heat of battle, tempered by the cold embrace of death, and a belief of a greater plan.

For days he crawled towards an unknown destination, and the blizzard hounded his progress and kept the world a blinding white that further strained his journey. He crawled night and day rested only his mind as he mindlessly crawled forward.

His mindless crawling was interrupted when he had collided with something, he reached out with his arm and felt the object, its sharp jagged surface raked across his skin the familiar sensation of rock, and curiously unweathered by the baleful blizzards that hounded him, that meant it was only recently shattered. With a renewed sense of vigor he crawled the perimeter of the rock, using his hands to feel if he was still close once in a while. His efforts were finally rewarded as he crawled, the white around him ceased and he found himself inside a cave.

The mouth of the cave was large enough to accommodate a Leman Russ, and the little light that filtered in was sufficient for him to observe his surroundings. The cave had room to spare its back sloped down presumably the entrance to a cave system, though its seemed the farther he went the darker it would get.

This did not dissuade him, and he crawled once again towards the pitch darkness of the cave into the jaws of the unknown. He dragged his body down a gentle slope, using his sense of touch and hearing to hopefully make some sense of direction he was headed, he grabbed a loose stone and threw it into the darkness, the sound of the stone hitting objects and such gave him a relative picture of the cave, centuries of war honed his senses to identify the direction of where sounds came from.

He crawled a few dozen meters ahead, and once more grabbed a stone to make his heading, with a resounding clangk his stone had hit something metal. He hurriedly crawled towards the metal, but with a crunch the ground beneath him became familiar, the sensation of frozen corpses filled his touch with all the cloth and armor that came with it, reaching around he found his prize, the cold and sleek feel of the las gun.

He set the weapon to fire at the lowest setting, hopefully to conserve its charge. He pulled the trigger that briefly illuminated the entire cave, though the undisputed shape of a Leman Russ and a dozen bodies strewn in piles around it. This was his prize a feast to regain his strength and tool to traverse the wastes.

In a few minutes he devoured some of the bodies and scavenged whatever weapons and supplies these poor souls had on them, a dozen krak grenades, two melta grenades and a badly damaged chainsword. It was nice to finally have something to defend himself with, though it was not his storm bolter but these petty las guns would have to suffice. The other important piece of hardware was this Russ and its condition, was it damaged beyond use, its armor clearly exhibited battle damage with armor plates blasted off and gun muzzles blackened from continuous use, was it empty on fuel and could not be moved, was its systems still working especially its long range vox.

With a single hand he climbs the sponson turret and onto the chassis of the Russ, afterward attempting to open the hatch to enter the tank with a strained grunt he attempted to open the commanders hatch which refused to open. That proved a great deal problematic for his immediate situation he needed to enter that Russ to see if it could be of use, he could attempt to open it with one melta grenade but it could also prove the destruction of the entire turret, krak grenades would not do much to help his situation and las fire would pack too little punch.

He was frustrated this task was normally delegated to a cog boy and he normally only had to issue an order to them, but now he himself lacked the technical skill to open a goddamn hatch further driving the point of his incompetence and abject failure as a Space Marine. The task of unsuccessfully trying to forcibly open the hatch had had slowly infuriated him, and half tempted him to turn the entire tank into slag.

His earlier attempts proving unsuccessful he resigned to slowly melt through the hatch with his acidic saliva, and drop by drop he drooled on the hatch layering it in thick corrosive acid. He resembled one of those drooling Space mutts on Fenris, such an unsightly action would have earned him scorn from even the lowliest of mortals but luckily the ones around him were dead.

After half a day of incessant drooling did he finally melt through the locking mechanism. With a pained heave he broke open the hatch and eagerly went inside, only to find a boltpistol levelled to his head, with practiced ease he slapped aside the firearm and was given resounding thud, he moved towards the assailant only to find a half frozen corpse with its arm shattered and the boltpistol clattering on the floor.

With his resounding success at entering the Russ he quickly shot a few more las shots to make a mental image of the entire interior of the tank. The vox communicator seemed undamaged alongside a most of the other systems inside, he reached for the activation switch and the tank hummed a steady tune of activation until it completely stopped and once again died. He frustratedly slammed his hands onto the console at which the activation sequence restarted, maybe those damned cogboys really do have a reason why they praise wargear.

He grabbed the vox and inputted the frequency that they utilized, and after an hour or so of waiting a response came in.

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!" bellowed the vox.

"Shut your damn gape, I need extraction on my location" Leonid chastised whoever was on the other side "Do it quick or face my wrath!"

"I don't take orders from a lost damned cultist" the operator replied clearly irritated.

"I am no damned cultist it is I Leonid, combatant ID 256884210102, do it now mortal I need extraction" Leonid commanded to the silence of the other side.

"Right away my lord" a mechanical voice sounded with the familiar sound of a skull crunching in the background.

In the mouth of the cave, he stared up to the sky where the familiar silhouette if a thunderhawk broke through the whiteout and landed with thud a few feet from him. It was not looking very pristine with scores of armor blasted off and potch marks of las fire, even the landing was unnatural a thunderhawk in the hands of a competent pilot would make no sound upon landing.

With a smirk on his face he limbed to the thunderhawk where his ever reliable cog boy stared in disbelief at the extent of his injuries.

"I require internment into a dreadnought, see it done" Leonid commanded as he lifted himself onto the co-pilot seat, which snapped the cog-boy out of his calculations.

"Yes my lord" the cog-boy snapped to attention and hurriedly lifted the ramp and ran towards the pilot seat.

The empty void of space was littered with the remains of voidships, that drifted lazily across their heading with massive pieces of bulkheads and the shambles of imperial iconography. His ship the _ strike cruiser the sole victor stood resolute amidst the drifting wrecks, his ship though relatively new was not pristine, it has already seen its fair number of conflicts in its century of service, this conflict another mark on its growing tally seen from the massive hull breaches on its starboard and aft.

"Worry not my lord, she remains space worthy and more than capable of fighting what remains of the local voidships" the cog-boy informed.

"Who commands her whilst I was away" Leonid questioned.

"Brother Sexrex commands the warband now" the cog-boy informed.

"Do not inform him of my survival, our lives depend on it, I must be interned into a dreadnought, I am incapable of ousting the pretender as of this moment" Leonid commanded leveling his scavenged bolt pistol to the cog-boy head.

"Absolutely my lord, the dark mechanicus has sworn itself to your cause not to that upstart" the cog-boy clarified.

"It would seem having the dark mechanicus as an ally is better than having brothers" Leonid smiled and lowered his weapon.

"Excuse the intrusion my lord, but that weapon does not seem to be in optimum condition" unnamed cog-boy noted.

"Nothing I have is in optimal condition nor is myself for that fact, nonetheless cog-boy if I reclaim my warband you will have an ample position of power as a reward" Leonid stated as they entered into one of the hanger bays.

The hangar bay was deserted only the remains of daemon engines populated the interior with the occasional cultist drifting from the doors. The walk through those halls with his superior hearing clearly gave him a feel of the overall morale of the warband, inside dormitories you could hear cultist engaging in angry sex with male or female, with a few screams of sheer terror near the communal lavatories and trails of blood along the very hallway he walked on.

"The Mechanicus needs no release from pent frustrations, such emotions are a weakness of flesh" the cog-boy stated as they walked the halls.

"It does not matter whose blood is spilt" Leonid said as he pulled himself across the halls.

"Our progress is hampered by your lack of limbs my lords, permit me to acquire a means of transporting you more efficiently" cog-boy stated looking back to the crawling space marine.

"Speak anymore of my missing limbs and I will remove yours, move on and prepare the dreadnought I will arrive as soon as I can" Leonid threatened at which the cog-boy walked forwards.

The manufactorums of the Mechanicus were as noisy and dirty as Imperial Forgeworlds, the soot that covered every crawl space and thick black smoke belched out from tall smoke stacks, it was not very sanitary nor safe for someone without sufficient knowledge about the place. With dozens of mindless servitors and cog-boys engrossed in their work, seemingly oblivious to the world around them as the toiled away at these production machines.

"Through this door my lord" THE cog-boy said, having noticed Leonid's entry into their workplace, at which Leonid promptly followed through.

The dirt and grime of the earlier room was gone, the walls had a mirror finish and the smell of scented candles filled the air, there was no noise coming from the loud manufactorums only a steady hum coming from the assembled dreadnoughts. These dreadnoughts he did not personally know, but to be in the presence of such accomplished and feared warriors also made its impression, the likes of which he would join.

The cog-boy walked towards a dreadnought and his mechandrites started plugging themselves into ports not easily accessible nor seen, and for a few minutes the cog-boy stood there attached to the dreadnought motionless. With a loud hiss the sarcophagus of the dreadnought opened and the mechandrites detached themselves, the cog-boy giving a bow towards the machine before walking back towards Leonid.

"The machine is ready my lord, enter the sarcophagus and be one" the cog-boy stated, gesturing towards the now open sarcophagus. Leonid crawled forward and climbed himself into the sarcophagus, the cog-boy likewise approached once more.

"What comes next may be quite painful my lord" the cog-boy informed.

"I have been blasted to bits already whatever pain may come next will be of little consequence" Leonid said "Get it done"

"Yes my lord" replied the cog-boy and his mechandrites once more interfaced with the dreadnought.

The moment those mechandrites interfaced with those ports, a searing pain invaded the back of his head, as a rod of some metal struck the base of his spine and blasts of electric shock reverberated across his body. The feeling akin to being struck by a rain of autogun fire across his entire body, his superior physiology could not help when faced with a direct neural attack, the only remaining course of action was to endure, and if he survived having almost all his limbs blasted off he would survive this. After a little while the pain became unbearable and even with all his strength his body's nervous system yielded and he fell into unconsciousness.

"This is the first conscious internment of an Astartes into a dreadnought, the process is done to dying Astartes for fear of ending their lives early if done incorrectly" a mechanical voice stated.

"If the Astartes did not survive we will have to tear that great machines sarcophagus out in order to remove the body, which is very likely we will have to do" another mechanical voice stated.

"The Astartes survived after sustaining wounds that would have killed any other marine, I have no doubt he will awaken as a dreadnought" the familiar voice of the cog-boy said.

"My resilience is without question, yours however is in dire constraints" Leonid spoke as he levelled his armaments towards the two doubting cog-boys and turned them into a shower of parts and gore "The targeting on the left armature is off by three millimeters, see that it is fixed"

"Yes my lord, immediately my lord" the cog-boy bowed and approached extending his mechandrites and interacting with the armature.

"When you have finished I suggest you find that little upstart so that I may show him the error of his ways" Leonid the dreadnought stated.

The path towards the bridge was clear, the crew and cultists gave a wide berth for the passing dreadnought that was Leonid, a few Chaos Space Marines were looking questionably towards the massive construct though none approached to question. The bridge itself was as he left it, with a dozen servitors manning different cogitators and a few CSM to provide security, who let him enter the fortified bridge without question, the respect given to the dreadnoughts were ingrained into the collective Astartes minds.

"Who gave permission to wake one of ours great brothers" Sexrex bellowed clearly irked by the presence of Leonid.

"I need no permission from anyone, I am commander of this warband and you are just an upstart" Leonid said through the vox speakers of the dreadnought sounding very mechanical with a flat tone, and leveling his armaments towards Sexrex "I Leonid challenge you to single combat for command of my warband"

"Leonid died at the hands of the enemy, his souls is with Khorne now, do not presume to be him" Sexrex glared at Leonid whilst powering his power claw which hummed to life.

"Leonid is alive and stronger than he has ever been, you now tremble from the sight of my new form" Leonid said as he unloaded a stream of promethium that Sexrex barely avoided.

Sexrex drew his bolter and fired towards Leonid, the rounds bounced harmlessly off the shell of the sarcophagus "You will need more than a few bolters to destroy me, you on the other hand I have more than enough to end"

Leonid once again turned and unleashed another stream of promethium once again being narrowly avoided by Sexrex, though incinerating a few servitors caught in the crossfire "Your promethium tanks will empty before even a lick of flame will touch me, use it more liberally so I may rend you from that shell"

"Your words are all but air, even now my flames lick your armor, you can feel the heat can't you" Leonid said as he sent stream after stream towards Sexrex, all of which grew succedingly closer to turning Sexrex into slag and subsequently alighting most of the bridge on fire killing most of the mindless servitors, with only a few CSM remaining to oversee the combat whilst the cultists fled.

The streams of promethium halted and from the nozzle only a few drops of the fuel fell to the ground "Your out of fuel and out of luck"

"I am but you are out of space" Leonid mechanically said, at which Sexrex looked to his flanks where there was walls of promethium layers thick that made him unable to maneuver "I don't need weapons to defeat you Sexrex, I will crush you under my power fist"

As Leonid approached his footfalls grew louder and louder, with Sexrex attempting to escape through the gouts of flame only to be repelled by the intense heat and his armor claxons warning of severe damage. Resolved to escape alive, Sexrex rushed towards Leonid and managed to cut a few deep gashes into the hull of the dreadnought and removing one armature, but eventually met his pulverizing end at the hands of a dreadnought power fist.

"Who is next" Leonid said, turning towards the two CSM that observed their bout, but none stepped forward for the challenge "Then call the mechanicus for the bridge needs serious repair"

The familiar face or augments of cog-boy and his colleagues entered the bridge, with them a few servitors carrying sheets of metal and cogitators. They began their work shortly after and wordlessly fixed the bridge with promethium torches and other tools connecting cogitators to the ships network, the eerie hum of the mechanicus working was reminiscent of the blizzard that hounded him earlier. He spied himself through a mirror polished sheet of steel being carried across the room, his form was that of a mighty dreadnought and it was glorious, the bloodied gauntlet of his power fist and adjacent sides of the armor gave him a menacing look, like looking at raw strength.