Throughout my long years as a man weighed down by a reputation that he can never hope to live up to but is forced to maintain, I have seen a lot of things I wish I never had the chance to encounter. It seems that The Emperor has a sadistic sense of humor, as not only has he done everything he could to send me, Ciaphas Cain, Hero of the Imperium, into harm's way through my superiors' insistence that one man is all it takes to change the tide of battle but also seen that I come out alive every single time in order to face yet another deadly enemy the next day.
While it is true that my actions have saved the lives of who knows how many loyal citizens of the Imperium, the only reason I have managed to do so was through attempting to save my own skin from the threats I was desperately trying to avoid. Yes, I, the man who countless billions look up to and try to emulate in the heat of battle, am nothing more than a deserter worthy of a quick execution courtesy of a commissar and his trusty laspistol. It's a shame that I am that commissar and have no intention of dying anytime soon, let alone by my own hand.
After having survived a trip to two necron tomb worlds, countless romps through undercities filled to the brim with ravenous mutants and 'stealer hybrids, countless Ork WAAAGHS, and all of the other xenos scum that have tried to kill me over the years, I was certain to live long enough to enjoy a peaceful and well deserved retirement on a nice tropical planet while everything else could frak off for what I cared. So long as I still had Jurgen by my side, as malodorous and antithetical to any attempts to spend time to any woman, save the inquisitor that has tried killing me almost as much as most xenos have, not that she did so intentionally I presume, I thought my trip to one such planet would have been as uneventful as anything else I did.
Of course, it was as uneventful as anything else I did. I never willingly or knowingly stumbled head first into the midst of a hibernating tyranid brood or threw myself into the vacuum of space, yet I found myself in those situations nonetheless and survived each time regardless of how hard the universe was out to get me. I should have just taken the job on Perlia training the next generation of the commissariat instead of tempting fate like I did. Everything had been going too well for me, and like always, I barely had enough time to notice the tingling in my palms before I was thrown into the midst of another Emperor forsaken world with no frakking hope out of my current situation.
I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning of where this frakking mess began, and hopefully things will make more sense to whoever reads this if they don't think I've lost my mind should my recollection of recent events survive longer than I do.
And Amberley, should the worst come to pass and if you are the one whose hands these fall into, just know that I tried my best. As infallible as some might believe me to be, I am under no illusions that you fell for my façade. Destroy what I have written as soon as possible, records be frakked. Should you not heed my warning now, then you will see why soon enough.
I have to admit, jumping through a portal conjured by a crazed chaos cultist was not one of my most brilliant plans, but considering the alternative was fending off a horde of daemons with only my laspistol, chainsword, and whatever scarce supplies Jurgen still had left, I'd like to think that I picked the better of the two options presented before me. Even as my mind was faintly gnawed at by the denizens of the warp as I desperately tried to keep myself close to my aide as we fell through the portal and waited to see whether or not it would bring us to our salvation or was just delaying our inevitable deaths. For every second that our bodies were not being torn asunder by creatures that made my most depraved nightmares seem inadequate I felt more and more confident in my choice. I had already defied far worse odds and survived travelling through a necron teleporter and after having travelled throughout the warp several hundred times during my time in the Imperial Guard, I'd like to say that things were not as horrible as they could have been. This was not the tropical paradise I had been expecting to enjoy today, but still better than whatever was being done to the psyker I had shot and left behind for the daemons he summoned.
After what felt like an eternity the falling sensation that I had become accustomed to ended, I felt solid ground underneath my feet and the myriad shadows dancing in the warp on the edges of my vision were replaced with complete darkness. My old hiver's instincts kicked in before I realized I was somewhere deep underground, Emperor only knows where, and I checked my weapons to make sure they were still functional after my impromptu escape earlier. Before I could call out to see if Jurgen was nearby, the familiar smell of body odor and whatever rancid materials he kept sequestered away in the netting and pouches that covered him in the same way ice and snow covered his frigid home world assaulted my nostrils.
"Ah, Jurgen, there you are. I was wondering if you got lost somewhere." I called out to him, trying to make out the walls of whatever structure we now found ourselves in.
"Never left your side, sir." He replied, as blunt and to the point as always. For a moment, I envied his inability to imagine anything other than being a commissar's aide and ignore anything that wasn't relevant to his position, as I would have welcomed the ability to forget the horrors I had seen from the corners of my vision almost as much as I wanted a cup of tanna tea right now.
Jurgen, as dutiful as always, seemed to have read my mind and produced a mug of tanna from one of his pouches and presented it to me like we hadn't just come moments away from a fate worse than death. The bitter taste quickly cleared my mind of worry and allowed me to focus on determining our next course of action.
"It's a shame we couldn't have asked that heretic where he was planning to escape to. I might have been able to have asked one of the daemons for a map before they tried to take our heads off." I joked, trying to relieve the tension following that tense battle and lighten the mood for us.
"Perhaps you could have also asked him to eat his own laspistol for you sir." Jurgen said as he attached an illuminator to the end of the lasgun he was still carrying on him, careful not to nudge the melta he still carried on his back. Not the safest thing either of us had done within the past few hours, but considering that we had no idea how close the walls were to us now it was for the best that he didn't have a weapon that was as likely to kill our enemies as well as ourselves. "Any idea where we are sir?"
"Frakked if I know." I told him, now able to make out the crudely dug out walls of the cave we had ended up in. "But when has that stopped us from making the most of things?" We weren't dead and nothing was trying to kill us, not like that wasn't liable to change in the near future, but for the time being everything seemed to be going in our favor. A little humor seemed appropriate considering what we had been through recently.
"Orders, commissar?" Jurgen asked, checking the area around us for any possible hostile xenos or heretics, only to discover dirt, dirt, and more dirt on all sides.
"Just keep moving and hope to The Emperor that we haven't jumped out of the flamer and into the promethium tank." I said, choosing one of the surrounding tunnels at random and letting Jurgen light the way as I let my hiver senses lead us to what would hopefully be the surface of an Imperium controlled world.
Our journey through the earthen labyrinth passed in complete silence, only the sounds of our footsteps and my chainsword humming in my hands accompanying us until I powered it down and sheathed it by my side. We must have travelled underneath the surface of whatever backwater planet or mining hab we were on for at least an hour, the only signs of life being our own aside from the occasional decoration left behind by whoever constructed the network of tunnels we were travelling through. Whoever or whatever they were, there was no doubt in my mind that they weren't Emperor fearing civilians and I could only hope that they were a xenos that had only just figured out which side of a pointed stick could be used to kill each other. The reason for this were the strange symbols scattered across the walls that Jurgen couldn't identify, despite their orkish appearance, and equally crude totems and other tools scattered in front of a few of the branching pathways we came across.
I clung onto the hope that whatever xenos had built these tunnels had died out long ago while also keeping an equally tight grip on my laspistol in case they hadn't. As I could see plenty of pickaxes and other archaic tools typically found on only the most remote mining and agricultural settlements on the fringes of Imperial space, I wasn't too worried about meeting their former owners. Instead, the thought of coming across a hibernating hive of 'nids that had finished consuming the tunnel's inhabitants long before my arrival was what frightened me. It wouldn't have been the first time something similar had happened, and I made sure to strain my ear for the sound of chattering chitin and slithering gaunts skulking around the shadows of every tunnel entrance and branching path we came across.
Our progress was slow due to my innate sense of caution, but it was far better that we made our way to safety in the slowest way possible rather than running head first into the jaws of a hungry hormagaunt or worse. It was only once we came across footprints not unlike our own that I began to relax the grip on my pistol, until the sound of fighting made me draw my chainsword on reflex.
"Jurgen, shine your light on the floor." I told him.
"Right away." He complied, confused as to why I was so interested in it but following my trusting my word as always. Much to my horror, the footprint wasn't from the standard order boots worn by most guardsmen and other soldiers in the Imperium, myself and Jurgen included. Although I couldn't quite determine what exactly had left the small impression on the floor in front of us, it was at least human sized and shaped with what appeared to be the correct number of toes used to create it. Whatever we were dealing with wasn't Tau, and thank The Emperor for that because I never want to deal with those blue skinned freaks again.
That still left the question as to who or what had left that footprint, and with the sounds of fighting continuing from the darkness beyond Jurgen's illuminator there was only one way to find out. As unwise as it might have been to involve myself in a conflict between xenos, I have found it quite useful to know what it is that you are intending to run away from before attempting to do so. While running in as fast as humanly possible and stopping only to take care of whatever chitinous horror is millimeters from removing your head with its talons works against most tyranids, the same can not be said for orks or any other species capable of killing you from a range.
Admittedly, it would probably work against orks unless they managed to land a lucky shot, but that simply was a risk I was not willing to take. Knowing my enemy would change what tactics I needed to employ against them to survive, and I had no intentions of fleeing from the mysterious fighters until I knew exactly who or what it was I needed to run away from.
I quickly had Jurgen douse the light that had been guiding us until now and slowly led us forwards as my vision readjusted to the darkness around us. It didn't take long for what was once pitch black darkness to be overtaken by the faint glow of a torch that had been discarded on the floor, the light source in question still burning which attested to how recently it had been abandoned. Whoever was carrying it was just as blind as we were without it if I were any judge, and with its owner more than likely the source of the clanging weapons that had grown only louder as we drew nearer to the sound of fighting, odds were that they were at a severe disadvantage against whoever they were fighting.
I could already see it now. Someone or something had invaded these tunnels, not unlike Jurgen and I were doing right now, and had come across its inhabitants who more than likely weren't expecting company. I still didn't know whether or not our fellow invader was human or not, but since shared circumstances often times forged unlikely alliances, a fact I was uncomfortably familiar with after having been in several myself, I was willing to risk our lives to help the mysterious trespasser if only for the sake indebting them to us and forcing further cooperation from them if they had the intelligence and reasoning to do so.
"Make sure your lasgun is charged, Jurgen. We're going in hot." I told him as I unsheathed my chainsword and activated its gnashing teeth in preparation for whatever it was I was about to get involved in.
"Already did sir." He chimed as we sprinted as fast as we dared to the sounds of fighting ahead of us, carefully scanning the terrain for any potential ambushes or traps as we did so.
Luckily, neither of us found anything through one means of discovery or another, and we soon found ourselves entering a large chamber that was well illuminated by the various torches scattered around its walls. One of the combatants laid dead in front of us, along with several of its companions scattered nearby which left me conflicted at having found a familiar enemy that, while far better than a horde of daemons, was not exactly the tropical beachside paradise I had been expecting to find myself on a week earlier.
With green skin that instantly told anyone familiar with the fearsome fungal foes that every Valhallan would not hesitate to shoot once encountered laying dead in front of us, it became clear to me that wherever we were, there were definitely more orks on the planet than the few dead ones we could already see. There were six of them in total scattered about the chamber, all of them the small, wilier variety of gretchin, snotlings I believe they are called if what I am recalling what little Amberley told me about the greenskins correctly, and not a single one of them were carrying shootas or anything more than a simple dagger or club. Seeing that whatever orks were on the planet were apparently unable to produce firearms at the moment was a small comfort I took solace in, before Jurgen interrupted my inspection of the carnage to direct my attention towards a more pressing matter.
"Permission to take out the ork that tiny space marine is fighting, commissar?" Jurgen asked me, instantly grabbing my attention with his use of 'tiny' and 'space marine' in the same sentence, words that should never be used so closely together like that.
Much to my surprise, when I looked to where my aide was aiming his lasgun, I saw something that looked as comical as it did look impressive despite having seen the same thing on a larger scale several times and experiencing it for myself. In the middle of the cave stood an ork, quite small for its species with a nose that was far too big for the rest of its face, trying to bash what looked like a juvie in a space marine costume he got for Sanguinala two years ago and had worn every day since then. Whoever was wearing that grimy looking armor was dwarfed by the ork's size and girth, although I myself probably could have looked it in the straight in the eye if I had ever felt particularly suicidal for whatever reason. Not the strangest pair I have ever seen, but definitely a pair that would have attracted quite a crowd if they ever tried selling tickets to a show should both of them survive their battle.
The ork was wearing nothing except for a loincloth, apparently possessing some modesty I was immensely glad for while its opponent more than likely appreciated having an unarmored target waiting to have its vitals pierced with the oddly short sword it was holding. There were already plenty of cuts on the ork's hide that were just barely oozing blood that I could see, and the space marine impersonator was clearly not content with just scratching his opponent. The ork, possessing a far greater reach with the club in its hand and the massive pair of arms carrying it was keeping its opponent at a distance as he dodged each blow with a certain amount of grace one wouldn't expect from someone wearing as much armor as him. Odds are it was due to a familiarity with his gear that spoke of a well trained warrior and not a fool throwing away his life pretending to be a hero.
Whether or not he was a fool for other reasons had yet to be seen, although considering that none of his allies were in sight, even amongst the dead, I was not inclined to believe him to be as sound of mind as most Adpetus Astartes I have met. The Reclaimers I had personally known were hardly the most sane people I had ever met, but even they had the common decency to clean their armor and repair most of the wear and tear it had accumulated unlike the little space marine.
"Hmm, although I would hate to deprive him of the satisfaction of taking down an opponent that is twice his size, I can't think of a better way to introduce ourselves to this man than by showing that we have the same goal in mind." I told Jurgen as I gave the order I knew he was dying to hear. "Fire at will."
The crack of his lasgun filled the air and his shot caught the ork directly in the back of its head, splattering the contents of its head all over the little space marine in front of it just as he managed to find his way inside his opponent's reach. The ork's body fell backwards with little ceremony, revealing a blood-soaked space marine that looked completely unperturbed by our interference in his fight. If anything, I would have said he hadn't noticed our presence at all, as he simply changed the grip on his sword and plunged it twice into the ork's chest. He was more than likely ensuring that it was truly dead, an act I could understand the intent behind, although one that seemed a little redundant given the smoldering stump above its neck.
"Seventeen." The little space marine droned, his voice as emotionless as a tech priest acknowledging anything that didn't have to do with his precious Omnissiah.
"Hello there… you." I said, struggling to find the word to address him before settling on some basic Gothic I wasn't even sure he could understand. The little space marine tilted his head, clearly hearing my words although whether or not he understood me I had no idea. I decided to continue speaking to him as if he did, and made my best attempt at negotiating a truce until me and Jurgen could see what face was underneath his helmet. "My apologies for the intrusion, but it seemed to me that you are sorely lacking the same help that me and my aide here could use. Perhaps you wouldn't mind us accompanying you for the time being until we manage to reach the surface to discuss things further there?"
The little space marine just stood there, either pondering what to do or having no frakking idea what we said to him. Then again, maybe he was a space marine and he was just acting as indifferent to my aide and I as they typically did to us unenhanced humans.
"Do you think he understood us?" Jurgen asked me, voicing the same question I had.
"Frakked if I know." I whispered back, just in case the answer was yes.
It turned out to be a good thing too, because when the little space marine finally did decide to give us an answer it was in clear Gothic much to my surprise. "Sure." He said.
"Great!" I exclaimed, finally excited at the chance of getting some much needed rest in the near future now that I had a potential Imperial citizen agreeing to help me. Even if he was a sad excuse for a PDF soldier for whatever planet I've found myself on, I was going to take whatever help I could get. "I am commissar Ciaphas Cain, and this is my aide, Ferik Jurgen." I told our newfound companion in an attempt to hold a conversation that he seemed to have no intentions of continuing. "Who do we owe the pleasure of meeting down here in Emperor knows where?"
"Goblin Slayer." Goblin Slayer answered, sounding almost as uninterested with us as Jurgen was to the self important officers and officials that took his position as my aide lightly.
Huh, Goblin Slayer? Not the most intimidating title I've ever heard of, far more practical than 'Hero of the Imperium', but I suppose one that was just as recognizable. If I had known just how right I was, I would have ran away from that man as fast as I could and taken my chances in the tunnels along with whatever else was down there.
Author's Corner:
CIAPHAS CAIN, HERO OF THE IMPERIUM, who better to represent the Imperium of Man within the Goblin Slayer? Plenty of people if you ask me, but none one else can cause quite as much chaos as Cain while still managing to salvage something out of the situations he finds himself in.
I'll admit, this idea came to me in a bit of a fever dream but after being able to write this much in a single go and feeling far better about it than most everything else I've done, I figure I'll keep this little side project of mine going on for quite some time. For some reason, throwing Cain and Jurgen together seemed like a pretty funny idea at the time, given what they would think of the goblins of Goblin Slayer's world compared to the greenskins they are familiar with. Although they have yet to see their depravity for themselves as of yet, I can imagine that Cain's opinion of them would be just four choice words.
May The Emperor have mercy on the greenskins, for Cain and Goblin Slayer have none to spare.