AN: I'm sorry this took so long. Originally I was attempting to release this chapter as one gigantic one (30k word count minimum) but I've decided to release it in parts. The news with Alfa and TTS has demoralised me so fucking badly. Honestly... it's been a sad couple days. I'm not striking or anything, just found it hard to be creative and or 'positive' in this story. Once again, sorry it took awhile. More at the bottom.
Soil, charred and bunched together like an endless sea of tempered charcoal, rolled beneath his feet with every gaunt step taken. Great masses of black and purple, like pusteous streams of multicolored ooze, stretched and writhed far up into the starless sky of this world. The sight seared itself into Lucian's brain, but he could do nothing else as he marched on, toward the sight before him.
As he bare feet trudged across this cursed earth, the boy noted how it felt cold, but burningly so.
Heat, and yet... not.
This false warmth came not from the sky, as there was no bright star, no sun which cascaded light upon this world. The only thing which illuminated any of the features around him was the city.
A city whose details lay far beyond his own eyesight, but seemed like an oasis in comparison to the hellish landscape which he traveled.
Lucian tried not to look around himself as he marched, naked, toward his presumed refuge.
Refuge... Safety… Home…
Safer than these umbral damned plains, the likes of which were scattered with the screaming masses of monstrous life, constantly forming and unforming at some unknown dictation.
One second these strange creatures would form, howling their existence to this demonic cosmos around Lucian, before seemingly being shredded by the very shadows of the world.
They were amalgamations of life, bastardised, monstrous. Lucian knew of mutants and abhumans with far more natural formations than these unholy beings.
Come… city… safe…
'Right.'
'It wasn't safe out here. The city would be safe, the city would be-'
The ground shifted beneath his feet, causing Lucian's eyes to dart downward in sudden surprise.
But nothing happened.
Looking up again, his destination had shifted.
Finding himself closer to the glittering white marble of the city, Lucian felt a powerful shiver wrack his body. His hands moved to cover himself, trying to find some kind of protection to these… constantly shifting physical feelings…
His eyes could barely take in the city before him, its grand structures towering high above him.
Pyramids…
'Yes. These are… pyramids… libraries….'
Pyramids. Made of brilliant gold and beautiful white marble. They reflected the image of the night sky, a tranquil blanket of stars pushed throughout the cosmos. The entirety of the structure appeared transplanted, completely un-belonging upon the hell-scape that he had found himself in. This city of Pyramids and buildings was raised upon a bed of white and then grey stone, a paradise artificially attached to the ever changing world it was found upon.
From where he stood, steps, made of the same white material as the Pyramids, extended from the charred earth toward the city.
Lucian took his first step up and away from the plains onto the grand white staircase before him.
Come…
He began to climb.
Each step was gigantic, forcing Lucian to have to clamber up each individually. These were not steps for normal men, let alone his young form.
Eventually he made it to the top.
Reaching the summit of the stairs, Lucian found himself far more exhausted than he could imagine. The task had been somewhat straining, but physically it should not have been so tiring. An ache had settled in his bones, a powerful weight settled upon his shoulders, and his mind began to form the pieces of a savage headache.
Still, he managed to stand tall, his eyes barely focusing on the space around him as his eyes narrowed upon the tallest structure of the city. How could he not?
The length of the tower stabbed itself to the sky, a massive upper deck that umbrellaed over the other structures of this odd city.
It was like a gigantic flower, constructed of an odd black unlike the Pyramids, Libraries and walkways of this grand city.
From an edge of this dominant spire and the huge observatory floor that rested atop it, Lucian could just barely make out a figure.
Tall.
Large.
Imposing in every way, shape and word if the boy were told to describe it.
Large wings, like that of the raven, extended from the figure's back. Lucian was able to discern the horns which pointed out from the colossus' form, most noticeably its head.
His coloration was strange too…
He was…
Red.
A horned, red, and winged giant of a being.
Welcome, Brother.
Vownus' eyes snapped open.
It only took him a few seconds for the world around him to come into full focus.
In the dark of his cabin he had felt it, the chilling but brief flow of the Immaterium that slinked through the body of the Tempests Advance.
The Vessel had been traveling through the warp for nearly two standard months now. It was being projected that another week would pass before they were to arrive at Balor. So far, it had been an uneventful two months. No bumps, Warp eddies, shifts or adjustments. Nothing strange at all had occurred, nothing that could disturb Vownus' peaceful break while traveling through the chaos infested Immaterium.
Until now.
Slipping his legs from his blanket, he snapped his fingers. Vownus planned on conjuring just a small jet of flame above his thumb, in order to light the candles by his bedside.
Instead, this small jet spurted flames in every direction.
"Shit!" Vownus hissed, leaping from his covers to extinguish the fire that lapped onto his desk and clothes on the floor.
Protecting both his feet and hands with energy from the Immaterium, he either stomped or patted out every last fire from existence.
In the darkness, Vownus sighed once, before carefully making his way to the light switch on the fire side of his room.
'Really need to ask Cortetis to bring me a bedside lamp' he thought to himself, shutting his eyes tightly before turning the lights on.
Opening them carefully, Vownus adjusted to the now bright room very quickly. In a minute he had scrounged up his hastily discarded outfit, slipped it all on regardless of the small singes and burns, and armed himself by the door.
He tapped the small vox caster by his neck, his direct communication to Olivina.
"Captain" he uttered quietly into the device, hoping she wasn't asleep as he slipped out the door of his quarters.
As he strode through the halls, it was only a minute or two later before the device spit back a reply.
"Yes Inquisitor?"
Even with the distortion of the Vox channel, Vownus could hear the layered annoyance and grimeyness of sleep in Olivina's voice. It seemed he had woken her from her slumber. But this was of no concern at this moment.
Vownus stopped a moment, noticing the lights of the hallway junction flicker, ever so slightly. Shadow swallowed the corridor ahead for only a moment, before revealing light returned.
Vownus' hand slipped to the hilt of his power sword, Slight Jest.
"Captain. I need you to listen to me very carefully"
He entered the junction, carefully looking both ways of the hallway. The lights flickered once more, and in the darkness he saw nothing.
But he felt… something.
A presence. It was moving, traveling through the ship in the direction toward the aft end.
"Alert all ship wide patrols to keep their eyes open. I want them to begin sweeping the ship and report it every ten minutes,'' scuffling and the indecipherable sounds of movement blurted quietly over the Vox. The Captain was getting out of bed, probably dressing as Vownus continued to relay his orders.
"Check on the Gellar field's integrity as soon as possible Captain. If there are notable fluctuations, contact me immediately"
"Yes my Lord" her tone had settled back into a professional one, "shall I wake the Guard?"
The lights dimmed, the temperature of the corridor he was traveling suddenly plummeting. Vownus could just barely see his breath mist in the air, even as the lights tried pitfully to illuminate the steel grey walls he passed through.
"Do it Captain"
A horrible feeling settled in Vownus' stomach, his stride picking up pace as he nearly began to jog down the flickering corridor.
He hurried with a purpose, his path taking him toward the 6th deck.
Where Lucian was…
He touched the warp again, attempting to contact the nearest possible help.
Lucian's eyes slowly opened, the grit of sleep hanging just beneath his eyelids. With a blink or two, he realised why he had woken.
With a short gasp he pulled back in his bedsheets, sliding away from the huge figure that stood on the other side of his room.
It was Creepy. The Space Marine.
'Aethod?' Lucian thinks, trying to recall correctly the name Vownus had shared with him. He prefered to remember them by his nicknames, still miffed at their haughty attitudes.
Aethod would forever be creepy, especially with how he never had to blink. At least, Lucian had never seen the Space Marine blink.
With his hood down, Lucian could clearly see his lightly frowning face was fixed upon Lucian's half clothed form.
"My Lord" Lucian said, breaking the instinctive yawn before it could form, "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you-"
"Get up Child. The Inquisitor wishes to speak with you"
Lucian's mouth flailed silently for a moment at the stark command, before he slipped out of the bed, immediately looking for his shoes.
"Yes my Lord, one moment, I'll just-"
The large figure of the Librarian moved slightly, catching Lucian's eye as the object the Space Marine had been holding was tossed at him. Catching it, the boy realised the large warrior had pre-empted his search, already having retrieved his shoes.
"Hurry" the Astartes said, and departed the room with a swift turn and thudding steps.
Racing to pull his shoes and a loose shirt on, Lucian followed him.
He was glad he had enough time to put some clothes on.
After all, the ship seemed to feel colder than usual.
Lucian figured he'd blame Vownus for messing with any kind of environmental controls. Unless of course this was more of Lynwood's unique training methods.
He paid it no heed as he exited his room.
Nor did he really complain about how dark the hallway was, the lights not nearly as bright as they normally would be.
'Vownus is up to something' Lucian rolled his eyes.
Creepy had already crossed the length of the hallway, and was standing impatiently at the end of it, his arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed the junction between the hallway of rooms and the chapel.
Lucian noticed how the Marine had his head tilted more toward the chapel.
Before he could speak to the Marine, the giant was moving, a somewhat quiet, "hurry boy" snapped over his large armored shoulder.
As the unhooded Astartes disappeared around the corner, Lucian began to follow quickly.
He hoped this wasn't going to take too long.
Aethod was not truly asleep when a familiar presence brushed against his consciousness. His eyes opened from his meditation as he stood, the very definite, yet oddly submerged, voice of his friend now drifting through his consciousness.
'Aethod'
The Librarian glanced around his room as he mentally replied.
'Vownus… this is an odd hour for you to be-'
'Don your hood, expand your feeling'
While his tone might have been garbled and somewhat fractured, Aethod could hear the worry. The concern came across very clearly.
So he did not hesitate to do as Vownus ordered.
As the protective layer of power enclosed his bare skull and wrapped his mind, Aethod stiffened.
'There is a foreign presence onboard the ship'
'I know' Vownus' own presence flickered ever so slightly in the warp before it continued.
'Aethod, I need you to guard the boy. Keep him safe until I arrive'
The connection separated right after that. Aethod did not waste another moment, striding over and around his piles of books as he exited his room in a hurry.
Opening the door to his own abode, Aethod was prepared to immediately turn right and walk into the boy's room, if not for the feeling of the air within the corridor.
It was dreadfully cold. And far darker than the standard lighting settings onboard the Tempests Advance. Aethod's head twitched slightly at the first whisper that echoed down the length of the darkened hallway.
It was unnatural and strange. Aethod's mind scoured the possibilities, but of all the conclusions his brain was coming to, one statement rang far more true above all.
Something was dreadfully wrong.
With a sharp inhale he jarred the boy's door open, striding in with determination and purpose.
What he found after rounding the short corridor and anti chamber that mirrored his own space... was an empty room.
Young Lucian was gone.
Aethod darted to the bed, reaching down to examine it under the gaze of his keen vision. The Occulobe, a Space Marine's tenth genetically engineered implanted organ, allowed for a near perfect examination of the bed in the darkened room. Recently disturbed sheets. Aethod reached down and touched the center of the bed's material.
The haptic feedback through his gloves and the black carapace informed him the bed was still warm, heat having been absorbed from the body of the boy.
Sweat had been absorbed into the mattress too, the dampness coming across to the Librarian's acute senses.
Lucian had left recently.
He had also likely been experiencing some kind of stress in his sleep, if the dampness was anything to go by.
Aethod turned from the room, striding down the corridor and banging on the doors of his Brother's as he contacted Vownus mentally.
The Witch-hunter felt the mental connection touch him just as he exited out onto deck six. The words followed a moment later, and Aethod's sentence nearly caused his step to falter.
'The boy is gone. I feel a stronger presence in the warp, but it is masking itself and its direction…. I believe it has the boy. My Brothers and I are attempting to pursue'
Vownus was quick to reply.
'Where are you currently and in what direction are you heading?'
'Deck six, junction twelve. We are following the presence toward the starboard storage halls'
Vownus' mind quickly recalled the diagram of the ship, each of its paths and routes now on display for his brain to carefully process.
He flicked his Vox caster on as he replied to Aethod while issuing another order to Captain Olivina.
'I'll meet you at the offshoot of Junction fifteen. Inform me if your path changes,' and Aethod sent him an immediate feeling of affirmation. Vownus was already hailing his intimidating Cadian Captain.
"Olivina, I want a standby alert on decks One through Five, and Seven through Twenty-five. All Guardsmen are to be armed and ready to move at any moment. All patrols on deck Six are to guard the nearest junction to their position. No one is to pass them without my or the Astartes presence"
"Yes my Lord"
The vox snapped shut. Vownus knew the entire ship would be awoken within ten minutes. This would give the Tempests Advance a fighting chance if some warp-fuckery was about to occur.
...Vownus feared however, it might not be enough.
This in mind, his pace quickened further, as he charged through the flickering lights of the deck toward the designated Junction.
His streak of luck wasn't going to end today.
"My Lord?"
"Yes child?" Creepy answered the nervous prompt, still not turning back to face Lucian, or breaking from his long strides that the boy struggled to keep up with.
"If I may ask, where are we going?"
Aethod did not reply immediately, and for a second Lucian wondered if it was wrong to ask him such a question. He didn't want to offend the powerfully built Astartes, but at the same time the hallways of the ship were getting darker and colder.
"A storage chamber boy. You are to be taught something… something very important"
Lucian nodded slightly. Vownus had said he'd soon be teaching him new things about the warp and his powers.
After all, besides that one previous lesson about intention, feeling and asking with the Immaterium, Lucian had hardly seen much of the Inquisitor. The Helios native had returned to his regular training under Lynwood and his lessons with Caius while the Tempests Advance traveled through the Warp.
"Here we are" Aethod stopped at the sealed doorway before them, and tapped on the controls on the side of it. A moment later, and the sealed door parted, revealing the storage chamber, an over glorified cargo bay.
A very dark cargo bay. The upper ceiling lights were still working in the massive crate stacked room, but only just. They provided the bare minimum of brightness to pierce the shadows each contained cast upon the steel grey grill of the deck's floor.
The Space Marine gestured forward into the ominous space.
"You first boy" Creepy stated simply, standing still and motionless by the door's entrance.
Lucian swallowed, a touch of uncertainty rippling through his body.
He found steel and merritt in his spine, a bravery working its way through his whole body, suffusing his being as he strode forward.
He didn't even think twice as the door sealed behind him.
Germael heard Vownus' footfalls before the Inquisitor appeared from around a far off bend in the ship's many sprawling corridors. Aethod had informed all of his Brothers and Germael that Vownus would be joining their forward search.
The Librarian had also of course briefed them on the situation.
An aspect of Chaos was potentially loose upon the ship. And it had the boy.
The Astartes had never prepared for combat faster. They had recently been informed of the boy, and what he could potentially mean to not only Vownus, but to the Imperium. So upon learning of Lucian's disappearance, the battle-brothers had formed into a fast action position. Germael stood beside the leading Aethod with the others arranged behind them. Dominius, as usual, brought up the rear. Raduriel and Dominius were armed with bolters.
Tiberec with his chainsword and bolt pistol, and Rhamine, with his power-axe and bolt pistol. Both were itching for a good fight, ready to add more numbers to their personal competition.
Aethod had yet to draw his sword, his focus directed towards his tracking efforts, but Germael had both of his blades out and ready to attack their foe, or to defend his brother.
As the pointed hat of Vownus finally reached them, Aethod spoke once more.
"Vownus. I apologise for failing to notice the presence, I do not-"
The Inquisitor waved his words away as he moved into formation with the advancing group, "later Aethod. Focus on the kid right now"
Only Germael and his brothers were capable of noticing Aethod's clenched form. Their Librarian brother was feeling shame, enough of it to be noticed by Astartes standards, but not by their mortal leader.
"The boy still remains on this deck… but I am unsure exactly where..."
"What kind of Daemon obscures its presence, Brother-Librarian?" Raduriel asked the leader of their advancing column.
"Hopefully a big one" Rhamine uttered out, rolling his axe in the air with a singular motion "I've never had the honor of banishing such a foe"
Tiberec snorted at his brother as they jogged side by side, "size doesn't affect the tally Brother. A single enemy is a single enemy, regardless of its bulk"
Rhamine was about to retort, but Raduriel snapped at them, "Quiet you two. Brother Aethod, if you would?"
The Sergeant was spooling for a fight, and knew that if one was on the horizon, he would gladly know all he could about whatever foe they were potentially up again.
Aethod replied.
"Lesser Daemons give off only slight yet noticeable traces when they enter into real space… A Greater Daemon cannot hide itself from someone such as the Inquisitor or myself. We would be able to acutely feel its disgusting presence, no matter how the beast would try to mask itself. This one is different..."
Vownus' body shivered slightly, obviously from a rather unpleasant memory.
A very soft tone spoke up next. The most silent and still of all the Astral Knights.
"Do you know what exactly it is that we hunt, Brother Librarian?"
Dominius had asked the question, his bland and inexpressive voice merely seeking information from the two most understanding of the Warp.
"No," Aethod growled, a change in the air leading them down a different path at the next junction, "I believe we are dealing with something far worse, and far more devious, than a simple beast…"
Vownus couldn't deny those words.
Even though he was not a member of the Ordo Malleus, as his specialty was in the hunting of Psyker's, knowledge of Daemons and entities of the warp was a very important aspect to his job.
After all, when a Psyker that's managed to slip through the Imperium's net decided to muck about with their powers…
Well, it never ended well.
But out of all the information he had gleaned from the other members of the Tyrant Cabal, Ahmazzi being the number one source of reliable Daemon intelligence, Vownus hadn't ever heard of something like this.
Whatever had managed to pierce the gellar field and sneak aboard was something no one had ever encountered before… or it was something that people had encountered, but any who did never got the chance to tell another living soul.
Vownus felt his insides twist in discomfort. His gut was telling him that it was the latter.
The storage room was stuffed with grand metal crates. Each and every one of them stamped with the Imperial Aquila, towering above in large spires of varying length. The tallest were packed against the ceiling leaving no room for movement or sway. The others were stacked high, but only reaching halfway or even less than their counterparts.
"Vownus?" Lucian called out, staring down an aisle created by the towering lines of the crates.
From what he could see in the near complete darkness of the bay area, no one else was within this space.
The lights were still dimmed.
And the room was still so damn cold.
Maybe…
Maybe this wasn't-
"Up here kiddo!"
Lucian spun about as his head snapped skyward, looking up to one of the taller stacks of cargo that didn't quite reach the ceiling.
Beneath a flickering amber light fixture was the barely revealed figure.
Perched on its edge, legs swinging back and forth and an insufferable smirk on his features, was Vownus. He was in his regular witch hunting attire, his hands perched on either side of him as he so casually observed Lucian.
"It's cold and I'm tired" Lucian stated clearly and directly, crossing his arms over his chest in the dark room, "so can we please just get whatever this is over with?"
Vownus tisked, hoisting himself up and dropping down to the next shortest stack of cargo.
"Still so rude" he tutted, slowly but surely descending from the place he had been sitting, "but I suppose it can't be helped"
Lucian scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"Did you really bring me here to critique my manners?"
Only a few meters away from him, but still relatively high in the air, Vownus stopped, dropping into an odd crouch. He seemed like he was considering something, his arms resting across his knees. Of all the words rolling around in the Inquisitor's mind, only one came out to answer Lucian.
"Nah"
The youth blustered, an angry veneer coating his face, "so what in the name of the Emper-"
He didn't even get a chance to finish blurting his outrage.
The lights dropped out completely, startling the boy as he was submerged into complete darkness. His words had faded away instantly as the inky blackness settled around him.
"Vownus?" Lucian called out, constantly turning on his heels ever so slowly, trying to spot something in the darkness, "Vownus, where are you?"
An inkling of fear was beginning to build in his spine.
'Fuck this'
Lucian stretched out a hand, reaching for the rows of stacked crates or even the door he had come in through. Searching for something solid in the darkness, Lucian figured he would have to navigate blind.
Screw Vownus. He wasn't waiting around in this creepy place any longer.
Just as he began his timid advance the lights flickered back on, returning their ever so slight amounts of light to the canyon-esk room.
And then a voice, disembodied yet directed, echoed out from around him.
"I apologise for the theatrics, young Lucian"
Lucian froze.
That wasn't Vownus.
That wasn't Creepy.
That wasn't a human voice. Raspy and high strung, contorted by a destroyed throat and a tone that almost failed in its pronunciation…
Lucian shook himself, his eyes darting around the room to find the speaker that seemingly spoke from everywhere. Understanding the language was causing a pain in his head.
The words were wrong. They were twisted by the voice, a disgusting rendition of a language never to be spoken aloud by whatever it was that was speaking.
It was with a notable amount of horror that the youth realised the door was gone… he was surrounded by the many stacks and rows of crates that acted like an impromptu Labyrinthe. Shadows creeped in from every corner and walkway, whispers at the back of his mind as the room grew even colder.
"But My Master bid me to speak with you, and you alone"
At the last word, the echoing all-consuming presence of the voice narrowed into one compact direction. A spot that Lucian drew his eyes to.
Before him, down the shadowed aisle created by the towers of crates, a figure emerged.
A hooded being, as tall as the Astartes but hardly as wide.
Lucian could not make out a face beneath the hood, nor any other physical features beside the pale blue arm which clutched a long staff.
The dark robes possessed no great detail or scuff, no identifying features or unique aspects besides its deep blue flowing texture.
The staff however, was very identifiable and unique, a detailed patchwork of many components. It's body was a light silver, ringed with a welded cord that curled up its length all the way to the headpiece.
At the tip of it, positioned over the edge and surrounded in flowing pieces of blackened parchment, was a skull. To Lucian, this ornamental headpiece seemed to be of an avian nature. A bird of prey, a large hollowed beak hanging over the stand it had been fixed to at the top of the staff.
It was an unnerving skull, its hollow gaze seemingly fixed on Lucian. The shadows contained within the large white dome of its skull… Lucian couldn't bear to look at it any longer.
All the trails of black parchment caught his gaze next. They were glowing. In particular, the text was shining with colors and hues that normal papers and writing certainly would not.
Lucian stopped focusing on the weapon, taking a step back instead to look at the entire image that was being presented to him.
…
His mind came to one conclusion out of every likely possibility that tread through his consciousness.
Daemon.
Still, he attempted to stall whatever action the creature might wish to take.
"What are you?"
This creature never moved as it spoke, its eerie and inhumane voice still rattling Lucian's brain. The boy did note that the staff twisted in its hand, the skulled headpiece turning ever more so toward him.
"In this instance, a messenger. From the moment of my conception, I have served my Master, the Great Architect, however I please… after all, our joys, pleasures and purpose are… shared"
The words felt twisted and conniying. Whatever this being was, it did not deal in truth. Not directly. Lucian was as worried as he was hardened.
Unconsciously, his hand opened by his side.
He knew though, that he was in some kind of explicit danger. A creature of the Warp did not appear for any old reason, as he had been learning so recently. They were the predators of his kind, the beasts which hunted weak Psykers.
"...and why have you lured me here, Daemon?"
But beasts were animalistic. This one talked. It communicated, and no matter how wrong this communication seemed… Lucian would turn this to an advantage.
By now the youth was aware that the Creepy had not been marching in the cold hallways with him. It was not Vownus who had been atop the stack of crates.
The creature chittered a screeching laughter, resting heavily on his cane as its Warp stained voice uttered out once again.
"You must pay better attention, boy…" it's fingers curled tightly around the length of the staff, "I am here to tell you of important matters"
A cascade of shadows swallowed the cloaked figure, rising up from the ground as if to consume the being like a ravenous beast.
As the wave settled down, the figure reemerged, changed and different to what it had been.
Lucian felt his shoulders slacken, his body drawing itself gaunt at who now stood before him.
Clad in familiar working clothes, broad shouldered and proud, his huge beard hanging low and proud-
-was Ostus.
Ostus Barrow, smiling and jolly.
"Lucian my boy, it's been awhile"
The 501st had the 2nd Platoon of 3rd Company running patrols across the Tempests Advance. That meant when the Alert went up, only one hundred and forty souls actively patrolled the decks.
The Alert ordered for all patrols on Deck Six to hold their nearest junction.
And each squad did.
Of the twenty squads in 2nd platoon, only ten were active on Deck Six.
Composed of seven guardsmen each, each with their weapons now hot and ready, pointed in each of the four directions they could. Only the Inquisitor and his Agents or the Space Marines would be allowed to pass them.
Anything else decided to waltz on by them?
Well the general plan was shoot first, ask questions never.
And that usually worked quite splendidly for the Guard.
Holding Junction 22 was Romeo Squad.
This particular cluster of Guardsmen was composed of four privates, two corporals and a Sergeant. Each of the privates had taken up watch of the four seperate directions that their squad could be advanced upon.
In the center of the four way defense, the Corporals swung their looks between each of the directions, a constant vigil emulating from the both of them.
Their Sergeant remained in the center, his weapon by his side, but ready to be drawn at a moment's notice.
"What exactly are we supposed to be expecting, Sarge?"
The speaker, Ezekiel, was the youngest Private of Romeo Squad. Blond haired and tattooed as heavily as any other Necromundan ganger turned Guardsman, he had his Lasrifle aimed down the northern corridor.
All of them had noticed the lights of the ship's corridors flickering weakly, the temperature steadily dropping the further they had advanced. Until the orders came, Squad Romeo had been on a keen alert.
"One more word Private, and I'll-" Corporal Henix, was a brute of a man, one who's violent gaze was directed at the back of Ezekiel's helmet. He didn't like the way the boy so casually addressed the Sergeant. But it was the Sergeant himself that prevented the completion of the man's violent threat.
A raised hand halted the Corporal's rage.
"So far, nothing" Sergeant Quilin uttered, his gaze shifting between the northern and eastern passageways of their current crossroads, "no word from the Lieutenant, just defensive orders for now"
He knew not to let Henix tear into Ezekiel. The Corporal favoured his rage when dealing with potential uncertainty, and the Private took comfort in chatter to quell his own nerves.
"Inquisitor probably summoned a Daemon by accident" Vartic, the solemn Private which surveyed the east. A rough man, grizzled by a longer service than most in the 501st. He'd seen his fair share of warfare. Many wondered why the man was still a grunt. But when they asked Vartic why he hadn't tried for officer, the man would simply say, 'I'm just here to follow orders'
He and Quilin had known each other for a long time, and Romeo's officer knew that the man had a very particular sense of humor. One that had indeed earned him lashings on multiple occasions.
But it was not the Sergeant who admonished the man's words.
"You shouldn't say such things" Elle, the Southern passage watching Private, hissed over her shoulders. The short and tenacious woman was Romeo's resident sharpshooter, always ready to pop off a quick comment.
Especially when her squadmates said something she didn't agree with at all.
She'd prefer not to be punished by the Commissariate, thank you very much.
"Var's probably right though, Elle," the ever sleepy voice of Romeo's Plasma gunner. Armed with the far more rapid firing but slightly less powerful Clovis Mark IV Plasma Gun, Corporal Grikken stood behind the last member of Romeo squad, the one guarding the West corridor.
Private Lawndus didn't say anything at all.
He kept his back to the squad, his front pointed down the western corridor.
Solitary bastard, always the quiet one. Kept to himself unless he absolutely had to. Some people were like that.
But he did his duty, and spoke when addressed by his superiors, so no one minded his silence.
With a yawn, the Plasma gunner leant away from the view, turning back to the squad
"Vownus is a danger junkie" Grikken yawned, rotating to look south, "one day or another his need for an adrenaline fix is gonna get us killed"
"You shouldn't-" Elle spoke up again at the man who hovered behind her, but Grikken just patted her once on the shoulder.
"Gotta face facts one day sport" Grikken drawled, "as much as he values us… we've all been a part of the missions he sanctions. Remember the Siege?"
"Dorrhitas or Gryphonne II?" Ezekiel blurts out in confusion.
Vartic grunts.
"The difference being…"
Some muttering is shared between the troops, but not before the Sergeant quells it.
"Stow it," Quilin orders. He couldn't fault them… but it was either him to tell them to shut up, or it was the Commissariat.
At least he cared a great deal more for them all.
There was some discontent among the ranks. Vownus constantly threw his troops into one fight after the next. Which any member of the Guard could expect. But for all the resources and capabilities that the Inquisitor had access to as a member of the Ordo Hereticus… and for a man who said time and time again to value those that fought for him… he seemed to chase conflict needlessly.
Many a time he had volunteered them for combat which local PDF or other associated forces could have handled. These grumblings of annoyance were only shared by the 3rd and 2nd companies of the 501st.
Those that had suffered the worst, especially during the more recent events upon Gryphonne II had seen a disastrous number of casualties for the 501st. But it was the 2nd Company which had suffered the majority.
The duty of the Ordo Hereticus was to expel internal threats of the Imperium. Quilin knew this. While the only Inquisitor he had ever met was Vownus Kaede, he did not operate as stealthily as Quilin would have expected.
If someone were to ask Quilin what he thought, the man would explain how he believed that while Vownus still executed the duties of his office, he was attempting to achieve something else. All these violent but short planetary campaigns, which usually just devolved into Vownus scouring the ranks of whatever planet they were upon for Psykers, must be serving some kind of greater purpose.
But what did Quilin know? He was just a Sergeant in the Guard.
All he was aware of was once they reached Helios, it had been the quietest period of time the 501st had had under Vownus Kaede.
Until now it seemed.
So if the Inquisitor had gotten up to some Warp stuff, Quilin just prayed that it wouldn't cost the Guardsmen of the 501st their lives so needlessly.
The Sergeant ceased his musings and keyed the vox caster he had placed by his feet.
"This is Quilin, Romeo Squad. Junction 22 is still secure, waiting for orders, over"
Static greeted him.
'Strange' the Sergeant thought. He activated the system again.
"I repeat, this is Quilin, Romeo Squad, Junction 22 is-"
A scream broke through.
"THEY'RE EVERYWHERE!"
The other heads of the squad all turned to stare at Quilin, still holding the receiver with a dumb look on his face.
Eventually he managed to snap out of it.
"At arms! Now!" everyone spun away, facing down their corridors with weapons trained on the shadows far beyond them, "you see anything that isn't human you blast it right back to where it came from!"
He knelt down, checking the channel that his Vox caster had received. The bright display sent a shiver down his spine.
Junction 30. Sierra Squad.
They couldn't be more than two hundred meters away.
He keyed the line, more than just nervousness filtering through body.
"Come in junction 30! Sierra, this is Romeo, what is your status, over!"
A static coated line blurted back, "*kzzt*- overrun! Bunch of little *kzzzzzzt*! We're falling back-"
Chittering, of what sounded like hundreds of tiny creatures, overlapped the distant shout of a Guardsman.
But Quilin heard it.
"They got the Sarge!"
And then the sounds ended, the Vox-caster on the other end of the line cutting out.
Romeo squad exploded into action.
Defensive action.
They had orders to hold their current Junction, and they would. Against any and all threats that were certainly now present onboard the Tempests Advance.
Qulin remained crouching, adjusting his own Vox-caster as Henix belted orders out.
"Elle, readjust! Junction 30 is toward the bow! Northward facing people!"
He had to report this into command, no matter what. Fiddling with the controls for a few more moments, he managed an open channel. Whispering a relieved prayer to the machine spirit and the Emperor, Quilin started to broadcast.
They needed to get the word out.
Something was on the ship now, and it certainly wasn't friendly.
The quiet presence that they had been hunting was swept away by the Immaterium's change in current. There was another presence now. Vownus and Aethod ground to a halt, the other Astartes stopping only a few feet behind their Brother-Librarian. Nobody moved.
Looking up at the giant super soldier, Vownus wasn't relieved to see that the Space Marine Psyker was also looking back at him.
Both of them locked eyes with the other, a mixture of worry and understanding across their features. Vownus took the physical initiative as Aethod closed his eyes and focused carefully into the waves and rolls of the Immaterium.
While Germael wasn't the only member of the Knights to notice the shared look between the Warp users, the Captain was the only one to make any kind of comment.
"What has happened?"
"Captain Olivina" the Inquisitor pinged his Vox, holding up a finger in polite temporary deferral of Germael's question, "reroute this channel to the Guard channel being used on deck six"
"One moment Inquisitor"
As the Vox was adjusted, Vownus turned to Germael, staring up at the red eyed helm of the Astral Knight captain.
Vownus kept the explanation simple.
"Warp fluctuation. Something very not friendly has made it onto our boat"
"Connected" Olivina's voice chimed out, before it clicked off.
Vownus turned back to scanning the hallways as he adjusted specialised vox caster, "this is Inquisitor Vownus broadcasting to all Imperial forces on deck six. I need status reports of all squads guarding Junctions 18 and beyond"
The Vox crackled a multitude of responses not even a second later.
"Squad Victor, Junction 18, all clear my Lord Inquisitor"
"Squad Zulu, my Lord. Junction 19 has seen nothing"
"*kzzzzzzt* -unction 22! We are under attack! Daemons, my Lord! Hundreds of them!"
Vownus knew the Space Marines heard, and it was probably why they reacted so quickly and readily to his following order.
"Germael! Take your Knights and assist the Guard! Drive the Monster's back!"
"By you will my Lord" even as the Captain spoke, the other Astartes twisted about, Dominius now leading the advance as they thundered down the hallway.
Vownus had to admit to himself that there was only a short list of things scarier than a sprinting Space Marine. The five Astartes were nearly out of sight before he turned on the still waiting Librarian.
Vownus pointed at Aethod, "you're with me. We find the boy…." the Witch-hunter drew his Hell Pistol, Slight Jest finding its place in his other hand. The Power Weapon hummed with energy.
"...and banish whatever stands between us and him"
Aethod drew his Force Sword, igniting it with glowing blue fire, and the two continued their advance.
While it may look like Ostus Barrow, while it may talk like Ostus Barrow, and while it may laugh like Ostus Barrow, what dodged each and every single one of Lucian's strikes was certainly not the man who had died on Helios.
"Easy there"
Another swipe, another strike against thin air. The figure of the fake smiling Ostus, always eluding each and every strike.
"You're going to hurt someone"
A kick. Deflected by a lazy slap of a backhand.
"I mean, you can't hurt me. After all, I'm dead" not-Ostus chuckled.
Lucian saw red.
With a roar, and a considerable amount of Psychic force, the boy tackled the cackling being that mimicked the man he had so deeply cared for.
As they came crashing down onto the deck, the form of Ostus dispersed into a blackened mist. Leaving Lucian to bang his head on the metal floor as the shade retreated into the shadows, reforming out of sight of the injured youth.
The chuckling hadn't stopped, but it did switch away from the voice of the Helios fields forman. This knew voice however, was worn and proud. A commander's voice. A tone that brokered comforting agreement, yet could convince you of any need or desire… Lucian's vision swam as he looked up.
"There's no need for such violence…"
From his prone position on the ground, he was greeted to the sight of large armored feet approaching him. The Space Marines onboard the Tempests Advance, they were big… but the figure that now stood above Lucian… was massive.
Each step of the colossal figure should have shook the ground. The being was encased in armor, as black as night with highlights of bronze. Spattered among it were sections of red, with four crimson eyes dominating its front with a sclera of black. The largest of the red eyes were placed in the center of the being's chest and abdomen, while the other two rested on the corners of the two titanic and lightly spiked pauldrons.
The blackened and greying fur of a large beast, a wolf of some kind, was draped across the shoulders and back of the figure.
That was when the youth also noticed the clawed right hand of the gigantic black armored Space Marine. The being was idly tracing the rows of crates that made the impromptu walls of this corridor, its bladed talons slicing through the firm Imperial boxes.
'Run!' Lucian screamed in his mind.
Fear exploded through his dizzy head, and he acted on it.
But not quickly enough.
Lucian tried to skitter away. Alas, the enormous left hand of the being shot down and snatched him by the neck.
Raising the youth up to the level of the Space Marine's charming and chiseled face, Lucian's own hands grasped the black gauntlet which had ensnared his throat. The boy was trying to pry the monster's grip off of his neck. He was trying to escape.
The being's hand did not budge.
Lucian's legs kicked out beneath him, his body hanging far above the ground so very distant from his feet.
Despite the warm features of the face, its cruel smile upon the face of his captor belayed the severity of the young Psyker's situation.
Still remaining hoisted in the air, the huge black armored figure started to walk as it talked with the boy.
Idly chatting to the struggling and gasping figure.
"My Master was as surprised as they could be, as any of us could be, when you came into existence. After all, you were always a distinct possibility… a chance so miniscule, none of us believed your Father would ever attempt it..." the being pulled Lucian closer, examining his face as closely as he could.
Small feet managed to kick against the titanic chest. It was futile. Like a bug attacking a man. A mouse could not scratch a mountain.
Uncaring of the boy's struggling, the being continued its intense study of the gasping youth as it continued to stride through the aisles of the cargo room.
"...but here you are!" it mocked, a taloned finger reaching up to touch Lucian's cheek.
"You. Crafted to be so unlike your brothers…. And yet… you are similar, yes, but lacking most of their more distinctive traits…"
The talon pulled away, a trail of blood dripping down from where it had so callously sliced into Lucian's skin. Such was the sharpness of the bladed digit, that even a light touch would split the boy's flesh.
"Fuck-" the boy snarled and gasped, "-you!"
The figure, and by extension Lucian, stopped. His large face twisted into annoyance. They were once again near the entrance that Lucian had been tricked through.
A small part of Lucian's mind had registered the trap he had walked into.
Until a minute ago, the youth had been believing the fact that it had actually been Creepy to lead him here. He had also believed that Vownus waited for him within the cargo room.
That same part of Lucian's mind also regarded himself as an idiot.
The being expressed its annoyance, continuing to speak to a listener that still struggled to breathe.
"But so demure and fragile. So weak. You do not understand what is at stake…. And so it is among these Corpse-worshipers you believe you will be safe?" it scoffed with a thunderous bout of laughter, raising the gasping boy higher into the air.
"The one called Vownus will turn on you boy. Him and the other believers of that accursed Prophecy. They will let none care for you. They will kill any who would love you. And when you are finally able to serve your purpose? When you are ready?"
Lucian began to see stars in his vision, air failing to reach into his body. His hands were slowly losing their grip of the giant hand that held him.
"They will end you, Lucian"
The grip released, and the youth plummeted through the not so insignificant distance to the ground, striking the deck with just a sliver of consciousness. The boy slowly rolled on the grated ground in pain, gasping for air that he had been so deprived of.
"But not my Master. The Great Architect has gifted you a blessing, a protection against what the Inquisitor would intend to befall you…" Lucian rolled onto his back, his vision still blurring in and out.
Above him he could barely make out the flickering light, even as the behemoth moved forward to block it. His great shadow blotted out the sun.
"Do you feel it still?"
They began to resurface. Memories of tendrils, latching to his skin and slicing beneath his flesh, cords of living wire that had infested his body.
The little box. The little box in the maze.
The contents of which were within him.
It was still inside him…
"You do" the voice whispered in gleeful delight, "it is a gift, young Lucian"
A gift…
Lucian remembered those words, spoken by a voice so utterly impossible, it had not come from a mortal mouth.
The taloned hand swept forward, the index digit leveled over the panting youth's heart.
"Now pray boy... pray that your Father is watching"
With a swift lurch, the bladed finger sliced into Lucian's chest, piercing his heart in one steady movement.
The boy's mouth snapped open, his face morphing into a rictus of pain. Tiny hands shot forward to grip the talon, a noiseless scream upon Lucian's features.
Air currents began to swirl and spin around the macabre scene.
He managed one word, one quiet gasp as another entity began to form from the blood spilled.
It was breathless, as well as helpless. A life that the boy dreamed to be returned to him, to comfort him from such a dreaded existence. The one person he so dearly wished for;
"Mother"
Raduriel moved side by side with Germael, his Captain swiftly delivering orders over their team's personal channel as they approached the site of the attack.
Junction 22.
"Dominius, break off"
The silent Astartes at the head of their advancing column slipped away into a side path, vanishing down one of the many other paths of the ship.
"Be prepared for anything Brother"
And Dominius would be. Their stoic brother was a wraith, tempered to deal with any and all threats of the Imperium. Out of them all, he had faced missions and adversaries of a magnitude far beyond what many of the others had fought. He always came out the otherside.
Raduriel's attention refocused on the sounds and flashes of light ahead of them.
A hefty amount of small arms fire was scattered through the air. Lasfire… as well as a Plasma Gun.
"Tiberec, Rhamine," Germael's blades swung in eager circles as his pace increased, pulling himself alongside the two he had named, "by my side. Raduriel, rally the surviving Guardsmen. They will bring up the rear with you"
The Captain now spearheaded the charge, Rhamine to his right and Tiberec to his Left.
Raduriel exhaled, preparing himself for a test of his marksmanship.
The Sergeant slowed down, taking aim with his bolter to seek an opportunity for a shot as soon as a target presented itself. While his brothers were large in figure, Raduriel could still clearly spot enemies through the gaps between them.
He was not as excellent of a shot as Aethod was, but he was no slouch. He was Astartes. The Emperor's finest. He did not miss.
From what he could see beyond the bulk of his charging brothers was distressing. A furious wave of screeching and nashing beasts had descended upon the Guardsman's position. Merely the size of a mortal's waist, these pink beasts of the warp made up for their demeaning stature with their sheer volume. Their torsos were circular and nearly identical to one another, yet each creature possessed a different number of wiry clawed limbs that sprouted from the carrier of their serrated mouths.
Horrors.
These were Horrors. Servants of the Archenemy, the Daemonic entity known as Tzeenetch, the Trickster.
And the Guard had been subjected to these Horrors. Four Guardsmen still remained standing while Raduriel could make out what was left of the corpses of three others.
Even as his bolter began to spit out shells of death, each round that struck home managed to banish the Warp spawn back to where they had come from, the wave of Horrors rose up once more.
Another Guardsman of the surviving four was swallowed by the surging onslaught, his cries lost to the exclamations and anger of his comrades.
The chattering of the beasts, their mocking screeches of laughter, only seemed to increase.
It had happened in seconds. Yet still the mortals stood their ground, firing indiscriminately into their doom. They faced the monsters of the Warp with anger and righteous fury.
Raduriel's brothers saw it fit to relieve them of their immediate concerns.
"Send these monsters back to the abyss!"
The call to combat came from their comm line, and the three large Space Marines powered past the remaining Guard, in two cases having to knock them aside slightly.
Tiberec's chainsword roared with mighty vengeance as it ripped into the wave of Horrors. Their vast numbers might have guaranteed a victory against the Guard, but to Space Marines it just meant the mightiest warriors of the Imperium could be largely indiscriminate with their attacks.
Rhamine, not to be outdone so easily by his battlebrother, collided with the monsters, his power-axe rending his foes into clean halves. The bits and pieces of his kills were crushed under boot before melting away. Banished from the Materium.
Germael, probably the most incensed by the deaths of the Guardsmen, was nigh unstoppable. His master crafted blades sang their spirals of death as the Captain danced through the enemy. A fighting prowess honed from nearly two centuries of pure combat, Germael was always a sight to behold.
His weapons never truly stopped moving, his focus always on connecting each of his blades into the next enemy. Effortless and graceful, he was the exemplar Knight that the Neophytes held themselves too.
Raduriel had always been proud to call him Captain, and at times like this, respected what skills he had crafted from the great Warrior's tutelage.
Germael cut a bloody swathe into the horde, decimating the chittering Horrors as Raduriel finally reached the shaken Guardsman.
The remaining three, the fallen two now recovered at the sight of the Astartes pushing back the tide of Warp entities, now stood.
Raduriel's bolter fire drew their attention to the approaching Sergeant.
"Who is in command here?" the Space Marine Sergeant demanded, still firing the occasional round over his brother's shoulders.
His orders were to rally the Guard.
The one with the Plasma gun bowed his head forward, quickly coming to his senses as he was ordered.
"I am, mi'lord"
Raduriel squeezed off two more shots, nailing two horrors that were attempting to find their way between Germael and Rhamine. He turned his helmeted head to the man.
"Your name and rank, Guardsman"
The man was still somewhat shocked, terrified and rattled. As only a mortal could be when faced against the literal Horrors of the Warp. But Raduriel's presence as a Space Marine, as well as his authoritative voice, managed to center the man.
A glint of determination entered the Guardsman's eye.
Good.
The man was demonstrating that formidable constitution Germael often spoke of.
"Corporal Grikken, my Lord"
Raduriel nodded.
"Corporal Grikken. I am Sergeant Raduriel of the Astral Knights. Rally your men and follow me. We will be holding the rear of this advance"
"A-advance?" one of the other mortals stuttered, a youth by any and all estimation. He was the most shaken of them all, obviously failing to find any kind of strength of will to maintain his composure.
Raduriel spoke before the Corporal could. He decided to take a page out of Germael's book.
"We will drive this infestation back to where it came, Guardsman. We will avenge those you have lost, for the Emperor himself wills it so!" Raduriel turned back to the sight of his brothers slaughtering the agents of the Archenemy.
"Stand fast Guardsman. Or your comrades deaths will have been for nothing"
Raduriel returned to his advance, following behind his brothers and firing when a Horror inevitably managed to break through the ranks of his brothers.
Eventually, Lasfire joined his own, striking the creatures right in their squat bodys.
It seemed the youngest of the Guard had finally found his spine.
The whispers of the warp, and a new wave of intensity, grew ever stronger the closer they advanced to the starboard Cargo deck.
This was certainly the direction Lucian was.
Vownus gripped his blade with further intensity, his pistol sweeping each and every side passage he and Aethod moved past. The Librarian's flaming blue sword mirrored the Inquisitor's pistol movements.
"We are drawing nearer"
Vownus rolled his eyes, "no shit"
Aethod shot him a curious glance as they crossed a larger hallway, both briefly moving back to back as they watched down the blackened lengths of either corridor.
They resumed their side by side advance a moment later.
"You are worried, Vownus" the Librarian declared, calmly evaluating his friend even as he kept his gaze now respectfully pointed forward.
"Really pulling on the obvious today are we?"
Aethod sighed.
"I have never witnessed you to be so visibly distressed"
Vownus rolled his shoulders, a movement Aethod was now certain of being synonymous with the man's discomfort. As well as signs of aggravation. The Librarian was just trying to be a good friend.
"The boy is in danger," Vownus explained simply, "and if something bad happens to him…" the man trailed off, disturbed by his line of thought and obviously deciding not to finish it verbally.
Aethod believed he now understood.
"You are worried that the Prophecy is in jeopardy. With the boy-"
"Quiet!" Vownus practically snarled, his teeth grinding in an audible frustration that only a Space Marine could notice.
In the silence between them now, Vownus composed himself. His normal demeanor had been compromised, and he was quickly drawing himself back into a tight ball of control.
"Lucian will be fine" he affirmed, mostly to himself than to the Astartes Librarian that accompanied him, "everything will be just-"
They had finally arrived at the door to the cargo area.
Warp energy was rolling off of it, the waves sickeningly curling through the air. Frost lined the door, the whispers had turned to howls, and the crackling smell of ozone filtered into the air.
"-fine" Vownus muttered to himself.
Aethod's sword began to thrum with powers of the warp.
In an instant, the foreboding presence of the Immaterium was sucked away.
"Whatever is beyond that door..."
Aethod began to intone a prayer as Vownus reached forward for the door controls, speaking to both himself and the Librarian.
"...we shall face it. We shall fear no enemy that stands between us, and Lucian"
And with that, the door was opened.
As the metal slid apart to reveal what was beyond, Aethod and Vownus' charge was only halted by the sight before them.
A Daemon.
A really big Daemon.
It's black wings spanned the length of the room, casting long shadows above the large figure before it. It's bird-like head craned towards the Librarian and Inquisitor, screeching at them. A long staff, ordained with the mark of Tzeentch was held firmly in its three fingered clawed hands.
A Lord of Change. A Daemon that even Ahmazzi had cautioned against fighting so callously.
But it was not the gigantic humanoid bird that was so distressing for the two Imperial aligned Psykers to gaze upon. The true horror was the figure beneath the beast, the one with a clawed hand stabbed through Lucian's chest.
A figure that retracted the finger with a winning smile, an expression that only would have been considered charming, had he not been who he was.
Even though it had been so very long since the Emperor himself had smote him, the face was unmistakable for those that knew the face of the Archtraitor.
"I was wondering when you'd show up" he, the First Primarch re-discovered by the Emperor, intoned. As he stood back up to his full height, a grin splayed across his features, as he continued to speak "but you'll find that you're too late"
Vownus' mouth did not move, but Aethod's body did. A gauntleted hand snapped forth, spitting lightning at the Black armored being with an accompanying roar of hatred.
"TRAITOR!"
The wing of the Lord of Change batted the Warp attack away, harmlessly twisting its wing back into place.
It screeched its defiance, but didn't move to attack. Not yet.
For a second, everything remained in a still silence between the two groups, a moment of calm right before the plunge. While the forces of Chaos did not attack for some unknown reason, Vownus and Aethod were still processing what they were seeing.
The Inquisitor in particular was having a hard time understanding the sight before him.
Because Vownus couldn't believe it.
Lucian's pale form lay but a handful of feet before him, blood pooling around the deathly still body of the youth, from a wound inflicted by what appeared to be the bladed talons of…
Horus Lupercal.
The Archtraitor himself.
And in the next second, Vownus had come to terms with this. Even if it didn't make sense, even if he couldn't understand why-
It didn't matter.
The Warp surged around his body and then through the Alpha Plus Psyker, his considerable power drawing a howling storm from the Immaterium to be pushed and pulled at his command.
Without another word or noise, the Inquisitor and the Librarian charged.
Ezekiel's left hand was still shaking even as it firmly grasped the underbarrel of his Lasrifle. The fluttering of his grip was barely noticeable to anyone else. He still shot straight, each red beam of his Lasrifle slicing cleanly into the few Warp creatures that managed to slip through the Adeptus Astartes.
But the quiver was there. Ezekiel couldn't get the images out of his mind. Even though they had just occurred only minutes ago, they were seared into his brain.
It had all happened so fast.
From the darkness, the chittering had started. Scratchy singing, from voices pitched higher than even the youngest of children Ezekiel had ever known.
Then the monsters had descended upon Romeo squad from the darkness. As soon as they were visible, Romeo had opened fire. Grikken's shots of superheated Plasma managed to hold the tide back, but there were too many. Even with their firepower, the creatures managed to surge forward.
Lawndus had been snatched up first.
Upon contact with the creatures, his body was divided up. Arms and legs simply sliced away, and a head pulled from his torso.
He died as he lived. Quietly.
Ezekiel had seen the sprays of blood, watched as the crimson liquid coated these deformned entities that chattered.
They enjoyed what they had done.
Then the telltale hissing of coolant, leaking from the only gun that really seemed to be effective against such a swarming mass. Grikken's weapon needed to cool. The downtime bought the creatures their next victim.
Elle was next.
Her foot was sliced off, causing her to collapse to the ground. She'd been dragged into the ever present hoard, screaming and firing her weapon into the Daemon mass. At least she managed to take a few of them with her, before she was reduced to pieces of flesh and bone.
Ezekiel watched the confetti that had once been his squad mate fling into the air.
It was horrifying.
Henix fell only moments later.
The Corporal had six spindly sharp limbs snap into his body. His flak armor hadn't done a damn thing. They pulled him apart as Grikken finally readied his weapon.
The blazing light of round after round of plasma felled the hoard. For a moment, as the mass was actually pushed back, Ezekiel had felt hope.
And then the tide rose once more, gaping holes in the massive number of creatures doing nothing to stop their onslaught.
They murdered Quilin.
In an instant, the Sergeant was dead.
Grikken was shouting something, but Ezekiel couldn't hear him. His pulse was pounding in his ears, blood flowing through his body in a constant flood of adrenaline.
Qulin was ripped apart. His roars of agony silenced the moment the creatures ripped up his head.
Ezekiel had felt tears on his face, even as he kept firing, too scared to stop fighting now. But the thought was in his mind now. As their squad was reduced from seven to three, his mind entertained the most certain eventuality.
He was going to die here.
And Ezekiel wasn't going to get the chance to prepare himself for his death. There were so many things he still wanted to do.
Make Lieutenant.
Or atleast Sergeant…
Or something.
The chittering mass was reforming. All their beady little eyes, shifting and wading, focused entirely on him.
The wave came for him, their disgusting limbs propelling their ever crawling mass toward Ezekiel.
Not like this.
He wasn't supposed to-
In the next second, a great force batted him aside, the thundering roar of the toothed chainsword accompanying it. The hum of a power axe followed. And then the swishing blades of the Captain. The three Astartes were more than enough to deal with these Daemons, the chittering cries shifting to screeches of death and dismemberment.
The Astral Knights arrived in the nick of time, saving Grikken, Vartic and young Ezekiel. And pushing now, with the Space Marine Sergeant Raduriel, Ezekiel finally felt some slack in his body.
With the majority of his adrenaline gone, the young Necromundan Guardsman was left with the repeating events stuck in his mind.
But he wasn't so far gone not to notice his comrade speaking to him.
"Ezekiel"
Vartic was beside the boy now, his stature putting him a head taller than the youth.
"Breathe"
The more experienced member of the Imperial Guard still kept his weapon forward, firing as they advanced down the corridor on either side of Raduriel, but as he continued to speak he looked at Ezekiel.
The youth could only stare back, as advice layered with experience was readily gifted to him.
"Just breathe. Stay focused. We're not out of the woods yet"
And like that, Vartic returned his attention to the front.
All the youth could do was follow through, attempting to compose himself as well as he could. A man's constitution was to be forged by the fires he was subjected to.
Little did Ezekiel know of the part he was to play.
The Great game had use for every pawn, no matter how insignificant they seemed.
Dominius had shifted the bolter to his back, instead opting for his bolt pistol and combat knife. Off of the main pathways of deck six's junctions, he had quite quickly found himself navigating far tighter corridors than his bolter could efficiently compensate for.
These pipe ridden and gaseous walkways harbored many dark nooks and hideyholes. Plenty of spaces the Astartes needed to carefully search as he advanced.
The need for his combing of these shadows was proven by the tiny Daemons he had encountered, and summarily dispatched.
Horrors of Tzeentch. Lesser Daemons, one's that could be banished through just the destruction of their corpse. To be technical, significant trauma inflicted to their bodies did the trick.
As he ducked slightly to avoid a low hanging pipe, Dominius twirled around with inhuman speed, driving his blade into the beast which had tried to leap upon him.
Like any lesser Daemon when its form was destroyed, the pierced pink body melted away, the Warp entity losing all of its rigid structure upon the catastrophic damage inflicted by Dominius.
The former Daemon oozed onto the floor of the walkway, the sludgy texture of its remains leaking through the grated floor.
But the Astarte did not keenly observe this. As soon as the Daemon was clearly reduced to a non-threat beyond all guarantee, he moved on.
His observant eye combed the dark, the shadows failing to obscure his superhuman eyesight. A few observations were being made in his head, taking clinical notes of the situation that he found himself in.
His pistol snapped to the left, dispensing two shots into the disfigured monstrosities that attempted to flee. Both of the explosive tipped shells struck their intended recipients, center mass. Or as center mass as you could get with the ever changing nature of Warp entities.
Dominius continued his prowl. The only noise he made was the slight clunk of his booster pack, adjusting with each wide step he took.
He'd seen enough.
"Brother Captain" Dominius spoke as he marched, his soft yet composed tone being lost in the metallic quality of the Vox link.
His knife flashed and his bolter spat death a few more times before a reply managed to return to him.
"Report Brother"
Even as he spoke, he continued his purge of the lurking Daemons, the ones that attempted to scuttle away from their main incursion point. They were attempting to stow away onboard the Advance, trying to set both physical and spiritual traps for any unsuspecting populace.
"Flamer units will need to be deployed, Brother Captain. The Guard will need to proceed section by section carefully, but I fear multiple sweeps will still be required before the mortals discover all of the hidden Daemons"
The silence he received was not due to his Brother battling, but because Germael was considering what the Infiltration and Stealth veteran was telling him. The whole purpose of Dominius being deployed into the side lanes was to gauge the Daemon's exposure, to see how far the Archenemy's rot would spread.
His verdict was rational as well as fortunate.
Germael was merely debating potential outcomes.
"Brother Aethod will need to confirm the sanctity of each searched area, to be sure no taint remains onboard the Inquisitors Vessel"
Dominius slew another maddened beast before halting his search and replying.
"Agreed, Brother Captain. Your orders?"
A Horror coiled in the shadows, preparing to spring itself right at him.
Dominius watched it with a minor touch of interest.
"Raduriel will direct the Guard. Brother, search out however many nests or large gatherings as you can find. Once we have dealt with this tide, we will join you. Dorn and Emperor watch over you Brother"
The Warp denizen screeched as it leapt at him, completely forgoing whatever stealth it had seemed to have been attempting.
Such was the nature of Tzneetch's minions.
Dominius bisected the beast.
"By Dorn and the Emperor, your will be done Brother Captain"
The Tactical Marine's form vanished into shadow.
His hunt had begun.
The Archtraitor was huge. At nearly twelve feet tall, the black armored body of the Imperium's greatest enemy, the Traitor, completely dwarfed Vownus.
And while this size difference would be extremely daunting for most people to gaze upon the behemoth that was the form of the corrupted Primarch, Vownus found one very significant spark of motivation.
The blinding wave of hatred that powered him forward. Talons clashed with Slight Jest, sparks from their contact flickering with each superpowered strike, while the Inquisitor's Hell Pistol failed to even scorch Lupercal's armor.
Willingly opting to accept the defensive, the Archtraitor decided to goad the Witch-hunter. Vownus saw red as he followed after the backstepping monster, each snide comment pushing the limits of his fury.
His words did far more damage than Vownus' powerfully flung attacks could inflict, something that the Traitor was seemingly aware of.
The small grin on his once charming face merely added fuel to the flames.
"Poor boy… caught up in a game he was too young to play..." his tone was mocking, each word emphasised with a dark humour as he retreated step by step through the stacks of crates.
Gritting his teeth, Vownus twisted his sword as he pulled on the Immaterium. The slash was rebuffed by the clawed hand of Horus' figure, but the staggering blow of force that Vownus had generated with his mind?
The Traitors gigantic feet scraped against the floor as they slid back, his expression completely blank.
"You honor Khorne, Vownus Kaede. Even one such as myself must admire such blistering rage"
There was a moment of break, only the sounds of Aethod's battle with the summoned Daemon permeating the space between the two combatants.
'Don't let him get to you'
And then the break was gone.
Vownus lunged forward once more, his attacks recommencing. The deep bolts of scarlet launched from his hell pistol were absorbed by a black gauntlet, the limb shielding the targeted face.
For a second, the eyes of Horus were blocked by the Archtraitor's own hand, the defensive move costing him his vision for only a heartbeat.
The powers of the Warp augmented his senses, and the Inquisitor took advantage of his enemy's momentary blindness. The waves of the Immaterium further bolstered the Psyker, and as he leapt into the air, his Sword angled itself forward.
Slight Jest was a slim sword, its handle far thicker than the actual blade itself. It's length gave the impression of it being a thrusting weapon, but its tensile strength and sharpness could pierce most armor.
That of a traitor Primarch however?
He would be needing just a touch more force.
It was still a power weapon, one designed for moves such as this.
Vownus had his sword pointed directly toward the barrel chest of the traitor Primarch, his eyes quickly zeroing in on where the heart would be. At the zenith of his leap, his eyes flared. The Immaterium stretched through him, forcing his form to power through the admittedly short range Gate of Infinity he had created. This wasn't to take advantage of the natural movement of this technique, but to utilise the natural generation of kinetic force.
In a sense, to use the speed of the travel and transition it into a devastating attack.
Vownus had executed this move before.
Only once.
He knew what it could do.
The world stretched as his body passed through the gate, the Immaterium howling around him for another split second.
"Let's not be hasty now"
The large clawed arm of Horus swatted him aside, turning all that force into a careening spin. Vownus slammed into a crate, his natural and trained defenses absorbing the majority of the strike. The box he had hit, not so much. The contained warped with a groan, folding in on itself as the Inquisitor projectile folded into it.
Unable to support the stacked containers above it, the pillar of cargo collapsed. This in turn, disturbed the other stacks and piles of the corridor Vownus and the Archtraitor were fighting in.
Cascading crates of ammunition, food, basic raw materials, weapons and supplies fell to the grated floor, nearly half of the containers breaking and dispensing their contents indiscriminately.
As the collapse was just starting to settle, Vownus found his feet. His vision swam.
It was a powerful blow, enough that even his Psychic protections couldn't completely absolve him of damage.
His ribs were probably bruised or-
"Fascinating technique"
The black figure of Horus blurred before him, the gigantic body of the Primarch moving faster than Vownus properly comprehended in his addled state.
"A solid barrier… an incredible display of power and finite control"
A large boot, the size of Vownus' torso, kicked the man to the sky, sending him flailing into the air. No sooner was he launched upward, a spray of blood shooting from his mouth, before a grip of steel locked on his arm.
Vownus was hurled through space, colliding with another unfortunate stack of crates. Upon impact of his body, they folded and broke, leading to another crash of falling containers.
Vownus was on his back, blood dripping from his nose and mouth.
"A shame that such talent is wasted among the servants of the Anathema"
The Inquisitor was blearily able to note the sauntering approach of the behemoth.
"But I suppose you have to be thanked… after all, you practically handed him to us on a silver platter…"
Behind the large figure of the monologuing Horus, Vownus could both see and hear the clashes of blade and staff, lightning and other forces of the Immatierium.
Aethod was winning, but slowly.
"Either now or later, his corruption or demise was inevitable"
The light was blacked out by the giant.
Vownus forcibly exhaled, coughing up blood as the large boot came to rest on his chest. He was pressed further into the damaged crate he had impacted, the metal of it crumpling from the forcible compression.
"You always were so indulgent… not to mention careless and naive to squander such blatant potential"
Vownus was pushed further, a strain building in his very spine.
"Your instruction could have saved him, but it would appear-"
Just as he thought his back was going to shatter, the foot that kept him prone disappeared. Not that it was withdrawn, but the actual limb vanished, washing away into a shadow.
As did the rest of the Archtraitor's armored body.
In the flickering lights of the now ravaged cargo bay, Vownus managed to barely lift himself onto his shaky legs. The Inquisitor could only exhaustedly observe as the same shadows which had claimed the Lupercal's body swirled and shifted, congealing into a new mass.
Staggering forward, his feet thankfully finding a clear piece of ground for him to stand upon, Vownus witnessed as the mass of shadows dissolved.
Revealing...
A scarred man, in a black, wide brimmed and pointy hat, his clothes the same midnight as Vownus' own.
The charismatic voice of the Archtraitor shifted away, the gritty and accented drawl of a man that had passed a long time ago taking its place.
"Seems you managed to fail another one, kiddo"
AN: And that's a wrap. Some updates. Going on vacation soon for a few days, so expect a bit of time before the next chapter release. Sorry about this taking so long. Um, considering I'm not actually as far ahead in the story as I am, I'm going to be asking for y'all's help again if you wanna give it. Thanks so much for some guardsmen characters, I've appreciated the PM's from some of you, great stuff. But if any of y'all would like to help me for the next chapter, I'm putting together an entire COMPANY for the Spacewolves. Who will be making an appearance either next chapter or one after.
Because this is taking so long, ORKS have been delayed for now, so the pole is still up. It's been pointed out that Orks A vs B (it makes no difference who you vote for) so I'm just gonna put it down now.
Orks A is a Prim-ork / Krork lead WAAAAGGGHHH, while the other is Blood Axes. One ends with a lot more violence, one ends with a lot more sadness.
Currently, Blood axes is winning.
2-4.
Taking up most of my time by reading Lore and making sure my writing is accurate.
Y'all would not believe how hard it is to find out the color of Horus' eyes.
Much Love,
Freedom.