The Dark Angels had set up a temporary base deep within the catacombs and tunnels of the Rock, its depths so remote that it required a robust logistical connection to their facilities near the surface to sustain their operations. The inner halls of the Rock were large enough that they were able to bring in heavy equipment and armored vehicles to assist them in their search, all of which required accommodations for fuel and maintenance. They also had apothecary facilities to treat the growing number of wounded and, unfortunately, occasional fatalities. Indeed, excavating the inner sanctums of the Rock was proving to be more like assaulting a Space Hulk than anything else - complete with a liberal usage of terminator armor. Within the heart of the Dark Angels' encampment, Grandmaster Librarian Ezekiel pored carefully over the ancient and decrepit maps of the Rock. They were in poor condition, often incomplete, and in some cases, they even seemed deliberately incorrect, likely as a further layer of deception to hide the immense fortress's secrets.
Sometimes I truly loathe our legion's secrecy… though I am doubtful whether we would have survived this long without it. Ezekiel thought.
Supreme Grandmaster Azrael entered the room where Ezekiel was studying. He had been supervising the excavation outside, to little success. The various seals and sigils that locked the crypts which contained the 1st Legion's secrets were immensely strong, only able to be undone by extreme applications of force and excessive patience. It was proving a slow and costly affair, and with the deadline imposed by the Custodians during their prior meeting weighing heavily on their minds, they wanted to avoid whatever the Legio Custodes had planned for them if they failed to deliver.
"Greetings, Ezekiel." Azrael said. Ezekiel was slightly relieved to see a familiar face after spending so many hours scrutinizing the obscure and esoteric texts that detailed the Rock's interior. His isolation even extended to the ubiquitous Watchers who normally accompanied them and assisted in their efforts, now eerily absent. It seemed the Watchers wanted nothing to do with their current task, scurrying off into the dark whenever one of the marines assigned to the excavation project approached them.
"How goes the search, brother?" Ezekiel said.
"Speaking truthfully, old friend… it has been fruitless." Azrael said. "The crypts are proving extremely difficult to open, and even more difficult to clear safely. Some contain highly unstable weapons or munitions, one of which was activated simply by attempting to breach the crypt's defenses. Thankfully, none of the marines were killed, but they did sustain serious injuries. They will be unable to return to service for another month. We even opened one chamber to find what appeared to be a preserved Rangda warbeast - luckily, it was trapped in stasis and appeared to have been mortally wounded before being captured. If it had been fully awake, I fear that we may not have been able to destroy it even with all of our concentrated forces." Ezekiel's face went pale upon hearing the word 'Rangda', fully aware of the grave threat they posed even with most of the information having been expunged by the Inquisition millennia ago. "Brother, have you made any more progress in decoding the security protocols or identifying what each crypt contains? Either one would greatly accelerate our efforts to reach… the Lion."
The Lion… the reason behind and goal of their extensive excavation efforts. Even speaking their Primarch's name seemed taboo, for what it represented. Their inherited shame, their secret history… the fact that their lost gene-father had been hidden under their noses the entire time almost seemed like a great cosmic joke… or perhaps the most fitting punishment for their ancient treachery. Both Azrael and Ezekiel had had fleeting thoughts of whether the Lion would even consider his sons worthy anymore, especially as Luther and the Fallen were still at large. However, this task was given to them by none other than the emissaries of the Emperor of Mankind himself. He had tasked them with finding his son and waking him, and no amount of fear or trepidation would ever prevent the 1st Legion from doing everything they could to complete this task.
"...No, I am afraid not. Our predecessors truly did not want anyone uncovering these secrets, even us." Ezekiel said. He would have enlisted more help to pore through these ancient documents, however the secrets they contained were so sensitive that none save those in the inner circle could lay eyes upon them. "To think… our ancestors spent millennia burying these secrets to protect the Imperium… and now we are forced to dig them up in order to save it." Ezekiel said.
"Perhaps… or perhaps they merely did so to save themselves." Azrael said. His words hung in the air, weighing down upon both Grandmasters' spirits. "Very well, then. I will continue to have the Deathwing search the crypts one-by-one… I am not willing to waste valuable Astartes simply to achieve our goal faster. We will need them in the battles to come."
"That is wise, Supreme Grandmaster." Ezekiel said. "I will continue my search through the ancient documents… if I find anything I shall notify you immediately."
"I wish you luck, Grandmaster Librarian. May the Emperor guide you."
"As with you, Supreme Grandmaster." Ezekiel said. Just as Azrael was about to turn and leave, the ground shook with great ferocity. The sound of gunfire and loud, mechanical screeching rang through the air, causing Azrael and Ezekiel to both rush outside. A chaotic scene unfolded in front of them, with the large host of Deathwing terminators and knights engaging a horrific abomination that had escaped from one of the unsealed catacombs. It was a hulking, spindly amalgamation that resembled a servitor, in that it was composed of unnaturally stretched and molded flesh stapled to a monstrous mechanical frame. The organic components however were clearly not of human origin, with bones and muscle cords as thick as a full-grown man and covered in a hide of thick, patchy fur underneath large plates of heavy armor. Its partially exposed skull was inlaid with crude mechanical augments, such as a number of glowing camera lenses acting as its insect-like eyes. The Deathwing veterans unloaded their Stormbolters and combi-weapons into the cybernetic beast, most of the rounds merely exploding harmlessly upon its thick outer plating. The monster shrieked with a piercingly unnatural cry, tossing fully armored terminators across the tunnels with its massive claws.
"It must have escaped from one of the crypts!" Ezekiel said.
"Brother Ezekiel, try to keep the beast at bay so it doesn't escape! I will find a way to bring it down." Azrael said, drawing his weapons and charging towards the behemoth. The Librarian activated his psychic hood, amplifying his abilities beyond their already exceptionally high level. An ethereal aura enveloped him as he concentrated his powers, focusing on restraining the rampaging beast. As Azrael charged ahead with his sword and combi-bolter in hand, the monster reared its half-decayed head and bellowed with rage. It swiped its claw, swatting away a squad of terminators like ants and charging towards Azrael and the rest of the Deathwing with a shambling, disturbingly quick movement somewhere between a limp and a gallop. Its myriad of uneven limbs scraped and dug along the stone floor as its immense weight caused the earth to tremble with each frenzied step. Its rampage was abruptly stopped when a number of barely visible psychic chains curled around its legs, throwing the beast off of its balance and sending it tumbling to the ground. Rather than being incapacitated, the monster merely continued to lunge forward, stumbling and slamming into the ground as it struggled against its telepathic restraints. Ezekiel clenched his teeth, both hands outstretched as he was physically pulled forward by the monster struggling against his telekinesis, his abilities only managing to slow it down. The servitor-beast smashed into the Deathwings' ranks, killing one Terminator and brutally mauling another.
"Fall back and cover me!" Azrael shouted, charging ahead of the other marines. He raised his bolter and fired a number of shots at the creature's armored head, not enough to damage it but enough to get the creature's attention. With a biomechanical roar it descended upon the Grandmaster of the Dark Angels, unleashing a flurry of frenzied lashes with its meter-long claws. Azrael deftly dodged and rolled to avoid the strikes, recovering just in time to block another strike with his sword. It sent him skidding across the ground, though he remained planted firmly on his feet. He baited the creature again by shooting at head, causing it to shriek and swat at its face in irritation. The servitor-beast slammed its fist down on Azrael violently, driving cracks through the earth and shaking the walls of the catacomb. The Grandmaster narrowly evaded the strike and drove his sword into the beast's arm. When it recoiled in pain, Azrael continued to hold on the dug-in sword and planted his feet on the creature's arm to stabilize himself. He charged the plasma gun attached to his combi-bolter, unloading a series of superheated slugs into a narrow gap in the monster's armored bicep. Its skin briefly glowed with a cerulean blaze before bursting into a hail of gore, causing the severed arm to fall to the ground along with Azrael. The beast fell to the ground, landing on its belly and flailing its limbs like an overturned spider. Yet, in spite of its injuries and restraints, the creature continued to lunge at Azrael relentlessly. It slid along the ground and snapped its huge, fanged jaws, attempting to swallow the space marine whole. Azrael dodged just out of reach, unloading bolt after bolt and a number of plasma charges directly into its face. The creature was relentless, advancing no matter how much Azrael injured it, its innards spilling out of its split skull while it continued to snap and gnash its monstrous jaws. Finally, Azrael leapt on top of its head and drove his sword into the beast's skull, causing it to rear up and thrash around to try and shake the Grandmaster off. Azrael poured his strength into his grip, wrenching apart the metal plates and thick bone just enough for him to stick the barrel of his plasma gun inside. He charged the weapon to its limit, briefly overloading the plasma gun's capacitors beyond their limit. Just as the mechanism threatened to explode from overheating, Azrael unleashed the full canister of superheated hydrogen straight into the frenzied servitor-beast's cranium. Blue light poured out of every orifice in the monster's skull, boring a hole straight through and pouring blue-hot plasma out of its gaping maw. The abomination jerked for a less than a second, before being rendered completely limp and lifeless. Its gargantuan head smashed into the ground, its vaporized flesh and brain matter seeping out as a grotesque steam. Azrael dismounted the fallen beast and reloaded his weapon. He walked up to the nearest Terminator Sergeant, wiping the gore from his blade before sheathing it.
"We need this carcass removed before the excavation can continue. Disassemble it, destroy it, whatever is required, just ensure that there are no obstructions. We must ensure there are as few delays as possible." Azrael said.
"Understood, Grandmaster." The Sergeant said. Azrael approached Ezekiel, who was still recovering from the immense psychic exertion of restraining the defeated monster.
"Do you need assistance, brother?" Azrael said.
"No, Grandmaster. I… I am fine. I simply over-exerted myself." Ezekiel said.
"Understood. When you are able, continue searching through the ancient records. I will-" Azrael was cut off by a low rumbling, followed by a powerful tremor that dwarfed anything the rampaging beast had managed to cause moments prior. The ground shook so violently that it nearly knocked both of them off of their feet.
"What in the Emperor's name was that?" Ezekiel said.
"Stay here and guard the crypts." Azrael said. "I'm going to contact the surface." The Grandmaster rushed over to their communicator array with a direct line to the Rock's command center, tuning the voxcaster to the correct frequency. As he turned the knob, nothing came from the speakers aside from loud static and unintelligible noises. "Throne be damned, our communications are jammed!" Azrael said, turning to Ezekiel. "Half of the Deathwing Terminator squads will accompany me to the surface, while the other half stay here with you and guard the catacombs. The secrets within these chambers must not fall into enemy hands under any circumstances, understood?"
"Affirmative, Grandmaster." Ezekiel said.
A number of the Terminators followed Azrael as he ascended the long and winding tunnels back to the surface layers of the Dark Angels' fortress. They passed through several heavy seals and locked doors, emerging at the surface into a scene of utter mayhem. The walls shook around them as a series of explosions rocked the fortress. Astartes were scrambling through the halls in an attempt to respond to this unexpected threat, hastily gathering into combat teams and rushing to their assigned defensive positions. Azrael pulled one of them aside to question him.
"What is happening? Who is attacking us?" Azrael said.
"We've no idea, Grandmaster. We can't contact the bridge because all of our long-range communications are down." The marine said.
"Damn it all…" Azrael said. "Alright, go to your assigned positions and await further orders. Kill anything that boards this fortress."
"Aye, Grandmaster." The marines said with a small bow of his head.
"Deathwatch, we're going to the bridge. We need to find out just what the hell is going on here." Azrael said. Suddenly, the wall behind them exploded in a hail of debris. Chunks of rock and half-melted metal flew all across the room as smoke and steam filled their surroundings, pouring out of the massive hole. Vague figures moved around within the haze, forming into the shape of space marines before emerging from the clouds of smoke and dust with their bolters readied. They wore rough, heavy armor of dull gunmetal covered in black and yellow stripes. Their helmets were bulky, covered in horns and strips of bolted metal that gave them the appearance of steel patchwork golems. Their eyes glowed red, and a polluted smoke billowed from their rebreathers and exhaust vents.
Iron Warriors. Azrael thought. Of course, who else would have had the knowledge and expertise to besiege one of the largest and most fortified mobile fortresses in the Imperium? That, of course, did nothing to explain how they could have discovered their secret rendezvous coordinates and been prepared to ambush them without any backup… but that was an issue to worry about later. For now, Azrael had traitors to kill.
A lazy mid-morning breeze blew over expansive fields of golden wheat, hemmed in by large walls of iron-reinforced stone. The dawn sky was fading to a deep blue, filled with cotton-like clouds and pierced by the bright rays of a yellow sun… and if one looked hard enough, they could have even seen a faint reddish-purple eye peering down from the heavens. The cool wind carried the sound of songbirds chirping and livestock braying. Large, armored wagons, ancient in their design and powered by a mysterious internal animus, harvested the vast fields with great metal reapers. A commoner rode atop the powered chariot, waving to the two knights as they trotted past on their towering warhorses. Luther turned to Lion, who had a graven expression painted on his already brooding and serious face.
"Would it kill you to smile now and then?" Luther said with a look of sincerity. "I understand you aren't exactly… enthused about your betrothal."
"I know nothing about this woman. This is a waste of my time and a distraction from my duties as a knight." Lion said. Luther sighed.
"Listen, son… one day, you will replace me as Grandmaster of this Order. Certain things will be expected of you… things that fall outside the purview of beast slaying. Namely… producing an heir." Luther said.
"You adopted me." Lion said, his lack of subtlety cutting through the conversation like a knife.
"That was… a special case." Luther said. "Besides, the woman who you are to be betrothed to just so happens to be the daughter of the Grandmaster of a very powerful house… one that has feuded with The Order for many generations. Not only would this marriage rid us of a long-standing rival… but it would also create a powerful ally in our crusade against the Great Beasts." Lion remained silent, his expression inscrutable. Luther gave him a sympathetic look. "You don't have to love her, son. Chances are, the two of you will barely meet once you've been wedded."
"Very well. So long as my duties remain unimpeded by ritualistic nonsense… I will tolerate it, for now." Lion said.
"Good. Now come along, we've got to finish the preparations for tonight's ceremony. I invited the finest tailor from the metropolitan region to help you dress for the occasion. You can't just wear combat armor to your betrothal." Luther said. Lion's expression remained unchanged.
I may end up pitying your bride more than you, Lion… Luther thought, a hint of worry on his face.