"Excellent," proclaimed Araghast as he stood over the prostrated Eliphas. "The Black Legion could use one such as you. Now, Kagor."
Treachery, as Eliphas had expected. As soon as he saw one of the guards lift their bolter to execute him, he sprang towards him, slapping the weapon out of his hand. The armoured Marine flicked a knife out of a hidden compartment and came at him with a looping overhead swing that Eliphas had no choice but to catch. Even with Eliphas' experience and power, the guard's power armour gave him a distinct strength advantage. The monomolecular blade inched ever closer to the Word Bearer's eye. In a desperate effort, Eliphas twisted, trying to flip his opponent, but with the practiced movements of a battle-hardened veteran, the foe disengaged, then drove the knife into Eliphas' chest – only a jink at the last moment had saved his primary heart from being speared.
The pain was minimal, thanks to the augmentations and daemonic gifts bestowed upon the once-favoured Word Bearer. Muttering a quick prayer to Khorne, he dragged the weapon out of his wound, holding it in a reverse grip and a cautious stance. Meanwhile, his enemy had stepped back and was now bringing up a bolt pistol.
Eliphas threw the knife and managed to cut a finger off the armoured Astartes, making him drop the pistol. Lunging towards the bolter while the enemy scrambled for the pistol, he managed to get to a weapon first, rolling onto his back to aim and fire.
The bolt caught the Black Legionnaire square in the face, penetrating through the glaring helmet and exploding within the cranium, blowing the unfortunate's head apart dramatically. Unthinkingly, with instinct born of centuries of drills and training before the Heresy, he switched targets to the other guard. Less accurate this time – the first bolt exploded harmlessly off the pauldron, and the second burrowed deep into the upper arm before detonating, brutally amputating the limb but failing to kill the target. From the cry of ecstasy emanating from the vox, Eliphas knew this mewling traitor had dedicated his soul to the Prince of Excess, as the remaining enemy turned to face him, with a plasma pistol in hand.
Leaping quickly to the decapitated corpse in a last attempt at survival, Eliphas already knew the futility of his action. He was the hapless prey and he was already caught in the talons. Trying to hoist the armoured body before the Slaaneshi could sight and fire, the Word Bearer braced himself for the incinerating blast.
A massive bang, far unlike any firing sound a plasma gun should make. The sound reminded him of the Great Crusade, when the battle-brother beside him, wielding a massive plasma cannon, had suddenly blown up in a blinding flash and a deafening roar.
Could it be?
Eliphas risked a peek behind his improvised shield. The Legionnaire was now utterly armless, with severe scorch marks down the left side of his armour where the plasma pistol had exploded, and the stump that was left from the explosion was cauterised by the extreme heat.
Roaring in triumph, Eliphas discarded the corpse and began to fire shell after shell into the Slaaneshi – even decapitation may not instantly kill a Space Marine pumped on combat drugs and unable to feel pain. Each shell utterly devastated the traitor's torso. The pulped remains of his organs were littered and sprayed across the floor. Blood poured forth from what was left of his body, pooling at his quaking feet.
By whatever means, the traitor still stood, his arms severed, his torso less meat and more holes. Eliphas had exhausted the magazine, and dropped the bolter to saunter forward to the doomed Slaaneshi. Stooping and picking up the bolt pistol without breaking stride, he stopped in front of the standing corpse. Tearing off his helmet, Eliphas saw a beautiful androgynous face. Perhaps a mortal, maybe even an Astartes, would look upon this face and lose their soul to desire. Eliphas gazed deep into the Marine's eyes and felt nothing. The face was twisted with fear, the glistening green eyes wide, pupils dilated. Trying to breathe, cycling air through its throat but with no lungs to support him. Mouth open in a silent shriek.
Eliphas sneered. "Why does anything think I can be killed?" he asked, raising his voice for the benefit of his terrified audience. Grabbing the long brown hair of the Slaaneshi, Eliphas raised the pistol to its neck and fired, showering him in blood as the body fell backwards. He looked into the traitor's eyes as the life left them.
He turned to Lord Araghast, clad in only blood which sheeted over his body. Araghast had done nothing to aid his guards, only watched as Eliphas had brutally slaughtered them both. Now he stood, hulking, monolithic, expectant. He regarded the Dark Apostle through his helmet.
"Kneel, worm," he proclaimed, and Eliphas obeyed. He was not confident that his bolt pistol could kill the Terminator Lord, even fresh from victory.
"I pledge myself to your cause, Lord Araghast. I think I have amply demonstrated my capabilities to you."
In response, Araghast drew a mighty sword. Eliphas could sense the malevolence that seemed to drip from the razor edge. Daemon.
Eliphas knelt, as many had once done before him, and he knew Araghast could dub him a Black Legionnaire or merely swipe his head from his shoulders.
In parody of Loyalist dubbing, the sword descended, biting deep into Eliphas' left shoulder. The pain lanced through him, more severe than the knife wound in his chest, but he did not react, focusing his gaze on the floor.
The blade swept up and cut into his right shoulder. He had endured far worse pains, both on the battlefield and in the cursed Basilica. He would not fail here.
"You are a member of the Black Legion, whelp. You have killed my most accomplished guards, and now I find myself in need of new ones. You will suffice for now. I am the Master of Hounds, and you are now my dog. Follow me and carry the bodies. Your new brothers will be most anxious to meet their newest arrival."
Eliphas bent down to pick up the bodies, struggling a little under the weight of their armour. Once he was stood up and the corpses were resting on his shoulders, it was easier to bear. He left the gore and blood pooled and splattered over the floor, though. The cultists and their servants could clean that up.
Following his new master, Eliphas walked out of the door and into a new chapter of his cursed, blessed life. Of course, Araghast was a useful tool. He had a warband and vast power. However, when a tool has no further use, it is to be discarded.
Eliphas smiled at the possibilities. Revenge was near.
A/N: Thanks for reading! As always, criticisms, suggestions and corrections are more than welcome. I'm super inexperienced with writing fight scenes, so any criticism pertaining to that would be especially wonderful. If anyone is looking for more Warp-dabbling and daemon stuff, that'll be around in the next chapter.
Now, I ask: I'm planning to follow this up to (or perhaps a little past) the end of Retribution. Should I follow the canon Space Marine ending, or the Chaos ending where we get to see Eliphas kicking ass all the way to Daemon Princedom? The choice is yours, but I'm leaning more towards Chaos at this point.
It is a good pain, brothers.