840 M30
The air tasted of death.
Of all the gifts she'd been given by the Empress, she wished such taste buds weren't. Of course, an ultra-developed sense seemed more than attractive to many mortals. But there was no point when a good piece of roasted meat only tasted of its fundamental chemical components. No point when she could taste the poisoned piss she and her children called mjod from dozens of meters away, ruining the thrill of cracking open a new barrel.
In any case, she doubted that mjod would taste the same after this humiliating battle.
It was a real massacre.
She could smell the dirt, the mud raised by the constant barrage of projectiles and artillery shells, the mix of explosives, the blood, and the light rain falling on them.
Like all the missions on this crusade, it should have been simple.
Scout ships and probes had discovered a planet suitable for human habitation, except for the layer of clouds covering its upper atmosphere. However, it was inhabited by a race of "primitive" xenos.
Torfan.
A squad of her legion's scouts had been deployed on the planet. Radio contact was quickly lost. Their emergency transponders had been activated.
She'd descended on the planet with one of her veteran companies, straight to the position where they'd lost contact in drop pods. Throwing herself, sword in hand, into the lion's den, a lightning and decisive assault. If possible, rescue the scouts, and if not, exterminate the xeno vermin.
At least, that's what the plan should have been.
Murphy's Law really was a big, beautiful bitch.
As it turned out, Fenrir's jaw was far too big for the Vilka Fenryka's blade.
The first foot on the planet had been on a mine. And as primitive as they were, these xenos had weapons worthy of the third millennium, and this was enough to enable them to take down an astartes in large numbers. Even a gunpowder weapon, if advanced enough and in large enough numbers, could topple one of the Empress's legionnaires.
A veritable deluge of fire descended on them.
The proud space wolves were surrounded from the very first second, the transponders having served as bait. While the xenos had assembled what looked like half their planet to face one of the Vilka Fenryka's companies.
So much destruction that the other Astartes legiones would have blushed. The proud Astartes, reduced to taking refuge in the trenches that had been dug beforehand by who knows what.
It was just another trap. Once immobilized but protected from direct xenos fire, the latter rained a barrage of artillery down on them.
Ridiculous, futile, predictable.
This was the way she had led her troops.
Straight to the slaughterhouse. She who would have thought of showering the Empress with glory. To make her understand that she could be a source of pride. That, contrary to what she'd been led to believe on Fenris, she had her place as a general and a fighter.
The distance and firepower were enough to make any breakthrough a real suicide. All the proud wolves could do was wait there, falling one after the other. Their front line was far too thin.
No other tactic was optimal, and all were tantamount to suicide.
Their only meagre hope was to contact the fleet in orbit. But the bastards seemed to have succeeded in blocking all forms of communication.
?: Bjorn! Move your ass!
Her eyes caught sight of one of the shells coming down in a dangerous arc, straight towards one of her children. With a movement faster than anyone here could have hoped for, the matriarch grabbed the astartes and threw him a little further away, before hiding her face with her forearm.
The shell exploded, sending out shrapnel that didn't even scratch the paintwork on her armor.
The astartes in front of her slowly got to his feet, still shaken from being thrown by his matriarch. But at least he was unhurt.
?: Communications!
Astartes: We can't do shit matriarch ! Their jamming systems are so powerful that we can barely send a vox link to the other side of the trench!
Bjorn: Those fuckers are charging again!
Through the violence and chaos of the battlefield song, the only punctuation was the occasional charge from the xenos. It was at these moments that humanity's proud fighters could admire the ugliness of these creatures.
All that remained of their organic beings were throbbing masses of shapeless reddish flesh, organic eyes as their only senses, resembling those of insects. Their flesh intermingled with machines, even more chaotically than the priests of Mars. Leaving this inexplicable but immense feeling of disgust in the purely human sense.
?: Get ready!
Quite a few were huge, the size of tanks, and just as tough if hit in the wrong places. And they knew how to arm themselves having mounted picks and cannons on their heterogeneous forms.
With every charge. It was one or two of her children who fell... But she could feel it like a wrench deep inside her.
By now she should have gotten used to losing her men, but no...
She felt every death like a real bite.
Her sword and axe were gripped firmly in her hands.
Her fangs clenched and the electricity charged in her gaze. She'll drown in their blood. Before they have the pleasure of slaughtering the last of her children.
The matriarch's ears picked up a sound in the sky other than artillery. And before long, the rest of her children also raised their heads in the direction of what might be their salvation.
The divine sound of engines.
Aircraft broke through the clouds, bearing no resemblance to the industrious yellow-painted beasts of the xenos, nor to the war machines of the imperium. Instead, these machines seemed more refined and elegant. Their allegiance was quickly recognized when they were targeted by enemy weapons.
Their role as air support was soon made clear when they began bombing enemy artillery positions.
Immediately, the vilka fenryka's morale returned to its peak, realizing that help had finally arrived. Even if two of the dozen aircraft were shot down by the enemy, who were so numerous that a titan would have been needed to purge them properly.
But her eyes did not leave the sky, for soon other objects began to break through the clouds. drop pods, similar in many ways to those of the other legions. Except for their heraldry, which told her nothing. The xenos' cannons began to target the aerial assault. Shooting down the pods in mid-air.
What a disappointment...
What little hope she had felt collapsed when she saw mortal corpses escaping from the metal carcasses.
One of these drop pods crashed into one of the charging xeno war machines, while the first intact pods hit the ground, releasing squads of soldiers. Men and women, weapons in hand, fired on the xenos as they rushed towards the trenches. Many of them were blown to smithereens by their mortal enemy. Their voices shouting orders and warnings in low gothic. Some were thrown by the explosion of artillery which, although reduced by air support, remained violent. One of these soldiers was thrown, her armor seemingly keeping her alive. As she slowly got to her feet, retrieving her weapon and positioning herself in the trench, she only glanced at the gigantic matriarch.
At least these poor fools seemed brave.
But courage saved no one. Another of these soldiers a little further on saw his head torn off by one of the enemy's shots. Those beside him barely moved as they were splattered with their comrade's blood.
The matriarch took a second to analyze these unknown soldiers. They were all taller than the average human on a standard world, though not quite as tall as astartes. They were clad in full khaki-colored armor, like the famous carapaces worked on by the priests of Mars.
She could only notice one thing about this army, which soon numbered around fifteen to twenty for each astartes. The men and women were all in their twenties and forties and all had violet eyes.
?: Soldier! Where is your superior?!
Her heavy, forced Fenrissian accent made her gothic barely comprehensible.
The soldier turned to the matriarch, terrified to hear this howl of lungs and vocal cords, capable of eclipsing the chaos of the battlefield.
Captain: The castellan jumped last, my matriarch!
Who the hell was this Castellan?
Soldier 2: there!
All the soldiers in green turned their gaze to a drop pod like no other, still alone in the sky, seemingly heading straight for the enemy charge.
Xenos cannons targeted it, and in a thunderous explosion the pod was engulfed in flames.
The day was one disappointment after another.
A figure fell from the steel carcass and the ball of flames, its armor once again different from that of the others. The khaki figure fell. But what she and her fellow Astartes were able to see, thanks to their visual acuity, was that the bastard was still alive, weapon in hand.
He seemed to stabilize in his fall and slow down when blue flames from small reactors in the armor plate on his back activated. The xenos who had led the charge targeted him. But he, by sheer luck or the near-terminal speed he had acquired, dodged their shots, before shouldering his weapon.
A rifle quite unlike anything she'd ever seen. The man who had fallen from the sky fired several shots, and his weapon, despite its size, had a more than destructive effect on the xenos, who seemed to be hit by a veritable cannon, so much so that they were reduced to spare parts and carrion in a matter of moments. By less than a dozen shots.
One of these xenos fixed his insectoid eyes on the man falling from the sky and aimed one of its weapons, which appeared to be some kind of proto-railgun. Electricity coursed through the weapon's ramp, and just as the shot went off - which only she could see clearly - the soldier dodged with his thrusters and landed on top of the beast.
The xeno waggled in all directions but failed to bring down its enemy, who strafed with his mysterious weapon of devastation. Reaching the ground. Another volley of artillery was heard, as this mysterious soldier turned his back on the enemy and began sprinting towards the trench, zigzagging across the mud hills, his speed far greater than that of a man running for his life.
Captain: Cover the castellan!
One by one, soldiers pulled their heads and weapons out of the trenches, offering suppressive fire to the man running alone in the middle of the battlefield. Even a few astartes roared their bolters and volkite weapons, more out of politeness than anything else. The fire from the soldiers' laser weapons provided a veritable curtain of death.
Soon there were explosions left and right that the man was forced to dodge. Mud was thrown everywhere. And while many could see the scene heroically, the matriarch could see the footsteps of a man just trying to survive. Just as she could hear the man muttering under the helmet that covered his entire head, "shit" repeatedly, as if cursing his fate.
As the last ten meters separated him from the trench, bullets and projectiles rained down all around him, a final shell exploding just behind his back, tossing him into the air like a rag doll.
The soldier seemed to pull himself together in the air, activating his thrusters again, braking and slowing him down to land against one of the trench walls, as if on a trajectory calculated to perfection.
Soldier 1: Lord Castellan?!
The armored man raised the thumb of his left hand slowly, the right still holding his weapon as it was embedded in the mud.
?: Captain, sit-rep...
He was definitely a man, judging by his voice.
Captain: Aye, Castellan! We lost fifteen pods on the way down-
?: Sixteen. Mine was there too.
Soldier 1: Communications are being restored. Techos are doing their best.
?: Good...
The man emerged from the mud wall as the artillery and bullets began to whistle again, the soldiers returning to the safety of the trenches.
The miraculous man faced the matriarch, stopping at a distance few others had the courage to imitate. For a second he did nothing. Leaving the matriarch to assess him, she who had remained silent throughout the whole debacle, preferring to analyze quickly in silence rather than jump to conclusions.
Seb pic
Unknown armor. powered at first glance, even if it wasn't really her area of expertise. But he was tall. As tall as rather small Astartes. And a build almost equivalent. Thinner under the armor, however, which suggested a more normal human and not the organic tanks that were the Empress's children.
Even if she had a sneaking suspicion that this soldier was sizing her up too. Raising what she imagined to be his eyes behind his visor to meet those of the three-meter-tall half-goddess. The soldier rectified his position, putting his right hand to his forehead. It seemed to be a salute, unknown to Imperial forces.
These men and women were not part of the solar auxilia. As the Solar Auxilia had been created to guard planets conquered by Astartes legions. Nothing more than police militias barely trained to hold a siege.
None of them would be trained or equipped to carry out an assault as they had just done.
?: Lord Castellan Sebastian Petrenko, of the Cadian sector my matriarch. Our sector was isolated for nearly a century by warp storms. Asthropathic messages could get in but not out.
A time-delayed shell landed just a few meters from them, sending the human soldiers screaming for cover.
The helmeted man drew his weapon and fired at the shell mechanism. Rendering it totally inert. It hadn't even taken him a second.
His reflexes were not human.
The matriarch still wore the same expression shaped by the sharp fenris winds. One of judgment and barely concealed savagery.
Sebastian: Me and two thousand of my men are at your command, and more as soon as we've established an air corridor.
Direct, answering all the questions she hadn't formulated, and without nonsense.
A good soldier.
?: Freya Russ. Matriarch of the Vilka Fenryka. Do as you please, but break this fucking encirclement.
Sebastian: Right away, my matriarch.
Captain: Castellan! We got a few minutes of ground comms opened!
The man placed two fingers on his helmet.
Sebastian: Aralakh Company, heat formation, I lead the charge, I want a heavy weapons squad with us. Steel wing, you cover the flanks.
He returned to his weapon, checking a gauge on the side.
Sebastian: Shit... Everybody! Make sure you use your Foamcrete grenades!
The human soldiers understood and drew their strange grenades, while their leader holstered his weapon behind his back, which seemed to cling to a luminous strip of his armor.
Instead, he grabbed a handgun from his belt before putting it back after some hesitation. The matriarch raised an eyebrow. Even if the rifle seemed effective against the semi-organic armor that was these xenos, she doubted that a weapon the size of one of her gauntlet fingers would be as effective. On the other hand, she raised her eyebrows slightly as she saw him grasp a tube in his right hand.
Strangely resembling the handle of a sword.
When his hand was fully clasped around the tube, a cloud of black dust appeared from the tube, forming a two-handed sword, blade and guard a dull black, like a cloudy night. Simple in appearance, as if a child had been asked to draw a sword. But soon, the blade of this sword began to vibrate, and the matriarch could see that along the hilt and blade, the strange material was moving. The edge of the blade quickly turned red, then orange, giving off great heat.
She could see the cadian captain smiling.
This poor fool was going to fight with a sword...?
Sebastian took a deep breath. He climbed to the top of the trench, seemingly oblivious to all the gunfire around him. Most of the bullets seemed to miss him. The few that did hit him ricocheted off the armor plates, or seemed to be stopped by a solid light covering the suit at times.
He turned towards the inside of the trench.
He felt no fear.
Neither did his men.
Sebastian: Everyone with me ! The time has finally come to serve the Imperium, show them what I know you're capable of!
His voice resounded through the helmet, despite the gunfire and explosions. The soldiers' eyes fixed on him, as if he were speaking to their own hearts.
He turned to the enemy, pointing the tip of his blade at them.
Sebastian: Glory to the first man to die!
A single voice rose from the trenches. A deafening war cry that, if only for a moment, silenced the enemy's weapons.
The Russ could see the rage in their eyes, the violence in their hands, the hatred in their blood and yet the control of it in their legs.
The first grenades were thrown onto the battlefield.
Sebastian: Charge!
Men and women ran out of the trench as if their lives depended on it. Their leader at the head of these troops. Grenades hit the ground and exploded, creating large structures of grey foam that stopped the enemy's projectiles. Creating safe spots in the middle of the no-man's-land.
Hundreds of soldiers charged, screaming as one. Quickly, they took cover behind the moss structures. Passing from shelter to shelter, throwing grenades to create more and more, the only ones stopping from shooting or running were the dead who collapsed to the ground in the mud, or those who were blown to bits by artillery shells.
But one thing was certain: they didn't hesitate for a second to throw themselves forward with abandon, as the dead fell again and again, spearheading their advance towards the xenos to break the encirclement.
When a line appeared on the battlefield heading straight for the enemy, xeno tactics changed, some concentrating to reinforce where the spearhead would strike, others attempting to flank them, led by the armored kind of xeno.
Attempt was the key word. For as soon as they advanced across the muddy plain, Allied aircraft flew back under the clouds to bombard the positions, saving the lives of the formation of soldiers.
Soon, however, cries began to echo from the trenches, a glance cast towards her back, and the matriarch could see that the xenos on the opposite side of the battlefield were moving, trying to come towards them, tightening their encirclement.
Clutching her weapons, she wondered for a moment what strategy she should adopt. But before a thought could ripen in her head, she heard her vox-caster come back to life, with a chaotic voice on the other side.
Sebastian: They see us as the main danger. If they get closer and their formation is no longer stretched, we'll be screwed!
That bastard...
She was the only one to hear it, her fangs tightening.
She was one of the empress's daughters. Created by hand, with the utmost care. What primitives, and many men and women even if they hid it, saw as a demi-goddess. A force, an intelligence, capable of crushing thousands of men.
And yet she lacked one thing...
A cruel thing that her creator could never have given her.
Experience.
It had been six months since she had been found by the Empress. In six months she had fought twenty-two battles on behalf of the Empress... And these xenos were the most advanced of all her enemies so far.
So she was fallible. More than many mortal generals, and immensely compared to her sister Isis.
Even compared to these soldiers. She could be sure they'd seen more combat than she had.
And that bastard Castellan, or whatever his title, had seen his experience immediately, perhaps when he assessed her.
Her brain began to race.
Freya: First pack! With me! The rest cover our asses!
Her voice burst through the comm link as the matriarch took her first step out of the trench, the chaos of battle and war echoing ever louder. Her fangs tightened as her gaze shifted to the spearhead, led by the armored man moving from cover to cover.
She raised her blade proudly, her heart racing. This was what she was good for. Not to be a silly little princess like on Fenris, fit only to be later traded to a prince as Thengnir thought. She was a wolf, raised among ferocious beasts.
And she'd set this whole universe on fire if she had to prove it.
It was not a word that escaped the matriarch's throat, but a roar, heard by all.
Freya pic
Her eyes charged with lightning, her muscles with courage, like each of her children.
She climbed out of the trench and ran towards the spearhead, covering the distance between herself and the enemy far more quickly than anyone else, leaving an impression of horror in many of the soldiers. Then, just before the clash between the two forces took place, she could see some of the human soldiers, sporting cumbersome, heavy armour with heavy weapons mounted on it, firing.
She felt as if the earth was shaking as the guns of these soldiers gave the impression of real artillery fire. All the more so when their shots hit the target, i.e. the point where the spearhead would impact, reducing the enemy's defenses and increasing the shock of the tactic.
There was a thunderous clash when Cadian troops made contact with the xenos. Their most basic forms of combat ranged from man-sized to astartes, bipeds combining brutal yellow-painted machinery, primitive gunpowder weapons and blades or melee weapons. Other biological forms, more advanced and larger, varied from quadrupeds the size of small vehicles to immense armored, hexapedal or artillery forms. Bolter fire from the first squad fell with the expected precision on the xenos, those with melee weapons cutting them in two. These xenos can be dangerous, although their technology was no match for that of the Imperium.
With their concrete shelters the cadians were able to fire their laser weapons at the xenos in relative safety, a single shot being enough to take out even the lightest forms. These idiots not having any cover, except for the hexapods. And a dozen or so rifle-armed infantrymen, with their iron discipline and concentrated fire, were enough to take out one of these armored vehicles in a matter of moments.
Some soldiers, more heavily armed than others, threw themselves closer to the enemy, light enemy fire ricocheting off their armour. Their weapons, rifles spewing out cone-shaped sprays of chaotic metal, crushed what little organic matter the xenos had.
The smaller combat forms threw themselves forward, while the armored ones tried to retreat to make use of their heavier weapons. The matriarch felt bullets ricochet off her armor as her axe and sword spoke the language of violence for her, dodging the most dangerous shots and raining blood. Dozens of primal forms fell with every mortal move.
There, her heart was at peace. Her mind calm, as if in the eye of a storm.
Then swinging another arc of her axe, roaring with rage, she perceived something out of the corner of her eye. The castellan, as the soldiers called him, ran towards her, propelling himself via the thrusters on his back, straight towards her axe, before sliding underneath to thrust his sword straight into one of the creatures, killing it instantly.
She gritted her teeth, understanding that nothing properly human should be so quick or with such reflexes.
Not to mention suicidal.
He threw himself among the xenos life-forms, slicing them one after the other with a sword that seemed far more deadly than anything that would have ended up in the hands of a member of the solar auxilia. Seemingly more adept with the blade than the rifle, he leapt from foe to foe before literally leaping into the air, his trusters once again extending his leap so that he ended up on top of one of the hexapods. The giant among men raised his blade and plunged it into the beast's carcass, which like a chainsword began to tear off pieces of flesh and metal and scatter them everywhere, the armored form finally falling heavily to the ground, to the war cries of the soldiers.
Something was definitely wrong with this individual. If it was his energetic armor that gave him so many abilities, then it was beyond any technology she'd ever seen from the Imperium. And if his armor wasn't the reason for his extraordinary strength, speed and reflexes, then he wasn't a man born like all the others either.
was it another of the empress's creations, inadvertently failed? A kind of first draft for the matriarchs' project?
No, she didn't feel that thrill deep in her soul like when she met one of her sisters. In fact, if she didn't see him, she'd have no idea he was there, he seemed so discreet.
Then his mother wouldn't hide something as important from him as the fact that one of their brothers is also lost among the stars.
Her thoughts occupied, the matriarch of the space wolves instinctively turned her head, her eyes darting towards a xeno armoured vehicle that had managed to retreat behind the lines of lesser creatures. This one was equipped with a heavy cannon that began to glow ever more brightly with a dangerous light. It was pointed straight at the matriarch, as were many of the xenos' heavy weapons, who had spotted her as the biggest target.
These scum thought she was just a bigger fighter? No, she was a goddess to these primitive xenos. Encased in armor that would stand up to hell itself. So she didn't move, baring her fangs. Opting for the fact that her armor and deflector shield would protect her, and that showing she'd survive the onslaught would terrorize the xenos.
Instead, a soldier positioned himself directly in front of the matriarch and raised a hand straight at the xenos, who began to fire. Shrapnel, bullets, rail gun slugs and plasma shots flew straight at the two, but the soldier's raised hand seemed to do something.
All projectiles were stopped dead in their tracks, as if caught by a web, or net of energy, which took the form of blue lightning shooting from the soldier's hand. When the enemy assault ended, there was a moment when the xenos war machines stopped firing. As if hesitating.
She obviously recognized that it was a psyker who had protected her. But after a quick glance, she could see that it was the soldier she had seen at the very beginning of the Cadians' arrival. The captain. Naturally, she was surprised to see that the psyker didn't stand out from the others, and reinforced the impression that these men and women, despite saving them, were dangerous.
The aircrafts flew by again, destroying the last of the xenos' hexapod platforms with surgical precision. Soon, however, another piece of information titillated her comm link.
Astartes: My matriarch, the xeno counter-offensive has been halted, we're chasing the remnants towards you.
The chaos of battle began to fade slightly, with victory just a step away.
Until the ground shook. The ground shook as if an earthquake was coming.
They all turned towards the source, not needing a combination of their senses to know where the danger was coming from. In the distance, a mountain that wasn't a mountain was approaching. A gigantic monstrosity was approaching. A mixture of machine and metal and raw flesh.
A xeno titan, the same size as an imperator-class colossus from the adeptus mecanicus.
As the blood of all the humans present began to cool, one of the titan's arms rose.
*boom*
The matriarch was alarmed by another explosion a little further away, as one of the only remaining armored vehicles in its ammunition magazine was hit by a projectile and propelled away of the tank, landing in the mud right at her feet.
This famous castellan.
Freya: Concentrate the fire on that thing!
Bolter and Cadian heavy-weapons fire rained down on the advancing titan, its main cannon making a deafening noise and growing ever louder. But the allied fire had no effect on the colossal abomination.
Sebastian got to his feet, rising out of the mud, before firmly taking up that handgun again, the vox link sounding again.
Sebastian: Everybody get away, I'm firing the Supernova.
When he raised his right hand towards the titan, the matriarch frowned. No weapon contained so much power in such a small object. However, the allied soldiers all ran away from the castellan, their fire towards the titan having stopped redirecting towards the last xenos.
The weapon he was holding bore a striking resemblance to the primitive weapons used by mankind before the tenth millennium. She knew this perfectly well, for one of the gifts she had received from the Empress was one of these weapons, a purely decorative relic.
A revolver. That was the name of the object.
The man's helmet turned towards the matriarch for a few moments, before redirecting himself towards the target.
Freya: Shoot!
Sebastian: There's the moon of the planet behind. I have to adjust my shot.
The titan's cannon was almost ready, judging by the noise. And for once the matriarch was afraid, for she herself didn't think she could survive what was about to come out of it.
Freya: Shoot for fuck's sake!
A moment passed. Then the giant pulled the trigger. Immediately, everything seemed to go darker, but the reason was that the weapon had begun to glow so brightly that the world went dark in comparison. Tethers of red energy danced their way to the weapon, where a tether running the length of the barrel, red as blood, was blinding. Then, when the strands were all captured by the weapon, the apocalypse was unleashed.
A jet of vaporizing matter or energy was spat from the barrel of the innocent pistol, and a deafening howl of displaced wind threatened to deafen or throw those closest to it to the ground. As the cone of danger disappeared, so did the titan, and continued well beyond.
After a second, the gun stopped firing, and a deafening calm took over.
The last xenos had been eliminated. And the titan was gone, all that remained of him were a few fragments of the machinery on his feet. The shot had annihilated everything in its path, even the clouds and mist behind the titan.
The giant looked at his weapon, which was smoking slightly.
Sebastian: Well, it worked out better than I'd expected.
The victory cry of the Cadians shook the earth, quickly joined by that of the vilka fenryka, celebrating a victory ardently won. As for the giant, he sheathed his weapons.
The matriarch remained motionless. The whole thing was ridiculous...
As for the giant, he went off to sit on the carcass of a xeno's machinery, giving orders and appearing to relax.
Freya Russ walked towards him, determination showing in her steps, her sword firmly in her hand. Before anyone could understand, glimpse or react to this action, the matriarch raised her blade, depositing the edge on the giant's neck.
A deathly silence hung over the shoulders of all who witnessed the scene.
Freya: Take off your helmet.
She showed her fangs. Her eyes held lightning. The long blond hair resembled a beast's mane at that moment.
He sighed under his helmet, looking at his soldiers who seemed to be panicking, before waving his hand, the grip on their weapons loosening.
The giant put his hands on his helmet, and with the sound of depressurization, he was able to remove it and place it on the metal plate he was sitting on.
His eyes were directed straight at those of the matriarch.
Eyes that weren't purple, like all other cadians. But green, green as emeralds. His skin was olive-toned, his hair and beard short, ebony-black. His face gave no indication of age. And the only remarkable feature, if you could call it that, was that he had a small scar on his left eyebrow.
Sebastian: There's nothing glorious to see there my matriarch.
Freya: You and your men arrive as if by miracle, from an unknown sector and planet, with an unknown force, letting its psykers run around, just, to help us...? I'm not fooled. I want the truth, the whole truth.
The giant took a deep breath and straightened up.
Sebastian: The warp storms cleared three weeks ago. Your fleet was the closest. So I thought it best to get in as reinforcements on the front line for you.
He leaned forward again, his eyes shining with determination.
Sebastian: I've got billions of men and women who just want to fight and serve the Imperium. I must have already had a hundred deaths here. If you want us to prove ourselves again, fine. But please, don't doubt our loyalty.
Soldier: Sir! Communications are fully restored!
For a moment, the giant and the matriarch looked into each other's eyes.
The astartes were the empress's worthy fighters. Her sword, ready to cut down every enemy. But these men and women had just proved themselves capable on their own scale too. And had saved them.
It was the one thing she couldn't ignore. But Freya Russ hated the unknown.
She took a step closer, towering over the man, who was still sitting. Yet he didn't move an eyelash.
Freya: I have more questions. For later.
Sebastian: Well, if you like, I have a collection of books on the history of my people in orbit.
The Russ remained motionless for a picosecond.
Freya: Orally.
She hated reading.
Sebastian: Very well my matriarch... There's a mountain an hour's walk from here where my men are descending from orbit to build a FOB as we speak. I'll tell you all about it once we get our butts out of this death zone.
She sheathed her weapons and turned away, the tension disappearing, a small drop of sweat beading on his forehead.
Sebastian: Shit day, I need a drink tonight...
From the compartments of his armor, he pulled out an object that turned out to be a flask as he watched the matriarch of the space wolves gather her men, count the dead and wounded and give her orders just a few steps away.
As the giant sipped water from his gourd, the cadian captain approached him with a yellow-painted metal plate in her hand.
Captain: Shit! Sir, I should have known that as soon as I shot the first one of these things...
Sebastian: May I ask what alarms you, Captain Creed?
He said before taking another drink, as the captain pointed to the metal plate with a symbol on it.
A circle, with a crescent, both pierced by a kind of arrow.
The giant dropped his arms onto his thighs with as little energy as he could muster, the same emotion of exasperation showing on his face.
Sebastian: Fuck me sideways!
The matriarch turned around, looking primabordly angry due to her usual facial expression, but deep down she was surprised and wondered why the giant had suddenly exploded.
Freya: What's the matter.
Captain: These xeno scum, they worship the whore.
Sebastian: At the very least it's the whore. Don't feel like fighting the shitbag today.
Freya: The what ?
ALL the Cadians' gazes turned to her, all those who had heard the conversation, and there seemed to be many, looked at her as if she'd just uttered the most infamous of insults or eaten one of her boogers.
Sebastian: What do you mean, the what?
He asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
A/N: Phew… I haven't updated this book in like… An eternity. I mainly lacked inspiration for this first chapter. Of course, I'm not an expert of 40K lore and especially pre heresy lore. But if ya'll have any questions, doubts or anything to ask concerning the divergences from the og timeline and events, just ask me by commenting here.