Legends of the Smoke Jaguars

by Mattwho81

Born from shadow and blood the Smoke Jaguars stalk the dark places of the galaxy in their hunt for murderous traitors and those who prey on the weak and innocent. Torn between the twin calls of justice and vengeance that seethe in their blood these elusive warriors walk a path that could well lead to their damnation. These are the Legends of the Smoke Jaguars. Art by Judd Abinuman

91. Chapter 91

Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 91

"We could have done this on our ship," Veteran-Sergeant Oroton muttered.

"Allow those deviants to sully the sanctity of our vessel, I think not!" Chaplain Bulvok scoffed.

"Could we not have gone over to their ship then?"

"And grant them the privilege of a First Founding Chapter attending upon a Successor, over my rotting corpse!"

"So we just stand in the rain and wait?"

Nemkir overrode the debate, "That is how it must be, we will meet on neutral ground where nobody holds an advantage, then we can look them in the eye and measure their worth."

The Raven Guard stood among the billion graves of Lafayette IX, dripping wet from constant rain. A cold world, of endless grey sky and heavy clouds. Vast seas fed constant storm cycles that made the ground waterlogged night and day, unfit for cultivation or industry. The Imperium had found use for it though, designating it a Mortuary world. Continents of memorials and cenotaphs, city-sized acreages of tombs and endless fields of gravestones, numbering more than the population of a Hive World, constantly being worn down by the endless rain. Nemkir had chosen it for their rendezvous in hopes it would impress the solemn dignity of the Imperium on the Smoke Jaguars.

In the shadow of a weathered monolith the Raven Guard waited in squads. Their depleted numbers had been reorganised, two tacticals and a Devastator squad, none of them much greater in number than a combat unit. Oroton's Stern Guard stood at the fore; their combi-plasma-bolters held upright as rainwater fell from the stocks. The remainder were Scout-novices, making up half their force. This was all that remained of three hundred Astartes, the hard-bitten survivors who had given so much. Nemkir had no right to demand more of them, and yet it was not he who asked, it was the Emperor and no Astartes would ever shirk from his duty.

Oroton glanced upwards and then shook rainwater from his eyes, "I wonder who that obelisk was dedicated to?"

Nemkir answered solemnly, "The War of the Beast. Lafayette IX was one of the worst losses of that conflict, the ecological fallout ruined the climate forevermore."

"Damnable Orks," Bulvok growled.

Yet Oroton frowned, "Wasn't it Orks the Smoke Jaguars have been fighting all this time?"

"Indeed," Nemkir replied.

"Oh, I see," Oroton smirked, "I trust the symbolism isn't lost on our cousins."

Nemkir's eyes flickered upwards as a trio of dark silhouettes disturbed the cloud layers. Coming in from orbit on a circumspect course, three Shadowhawks descending towards them. Nemkir scrutinised them closely, marking differences to Raven Guard gunships. They were surprisingly uniform, some minor alterations to the thermal baffles, inferior patterns of auspex deflectors, a feline skull in profile for a Chapter icon, apart from that they could have been built on Kiavahr.

The Shadowhawks settled upon their landing claws and Nemkir felt hot wind blasting his exposed face, soaked with water droplets. Downdraft swirled about the Raven Guard's ankles but they did not flinch, standing firm in parade perfect lines. Their discipline was absolute and their resolution unwavering. As the engines cycled down they held still as statues, awaiting the appearance of the Smoke Jaguars.

"That seems promising," Oroton whispered.

"Do not be deceived by fair appearance," Bulvok warned as he lifted his Crozius a hair.

"If they maintain such rarefied technology they can't have deviated so much."

"We shall see."

"Just wait and see, they'll be no stranger than the Raptors, I wager my..."

Oroton trailed off as the Smoke Jaguars appeared, marching down the embarkation ramps with heads held high. Nemkir fought to keep a look of disgust off his face, for the Smoke Jaguars' appearance was shocking. Ceramite plate was adorned with symbols of death and horror, bones and animal skulls and strange runes that hinted at fell intentions. Mark VI faceplates were daubed with grinning devil faces, or savage animal maws and one whole squad was plated over with chewed bones. Nemkir had seen such marking previously, worn proudly by the Word Bearers. Save that they were in grey, not crimson, the Smoke Jaguars could have passed for Chaos Marines.

"Throne..." Oroton grimaced. Nemkir understood his sentiment, the urge to open fire causing his trigger finger to itch. The Smoke Jaguars advanced without any sign they were aware of the response they generated, seemingly slinking between raindrops instead of marching proudly. Nemkir was struck by how well they fitted in among the graves of the dead, far more at home among macabre dread than the Raven Guard. Even the Dreadnought stepping out of the last Shadowhawk seemed ideal for this planet of the dead. The short man skipping along at the rear, carrying a bright red umbrella, seemed forgettable by comparison, despite standing out like a sore thumb.

The Smoke Jaguars advanced in a loose knot, entirely unlike the rigid lines of the Raven Guard. They stopped short of knife range and their leader took off his helm with one hand, the other being an archaic model of lightning claw. Nemkir at last found something about these Smoke Jaguars that didn't make him want to shoot them. His counterpart's face was classic of Corax's bloodline, skin pale as a ghost and eyes black as space. He looked cautious, but not hostile, as if bemused by the stiff greeting.

The strange warrior spoke first in a thick accent, "Light of the Dawn be upon you."

Nemkir replied stiffly, "Greetings from Deliverance. In the name of our Primarch Corax I acknowledge the shared blood between us."

"I am being Damchak, First of Umbral Flame, Almsman of the truths of Sedaxus, chosen Shadow-chieftain of Q'umarkaj and voted Prowlmaster of this hunt."

"Captain Nemkir, 10th Company, Raven Guard."

An awkward silence fell as both groups stared, taking in the other. The Raven Guard found their kindred to be feral, undisciplined and slovenly. What the Smoke Jaguars thought of their progenitors was unknown. Nemkir was beginning to think this was a bad idea. Millennia of isolation had twisted the Smoke Jaguars into strange forms, perhaps too strange. The mark of Heresy could imposed for lesser crimes than an odd appearance, which it often had.

"Ahem!" the mortal man chimed in.

Damchak's eyes narrowed in annoyance, "This is being Crovin, the Stranger."

"Hello!" the Rogue Trader chimed in, "Thought it best I tag along, as a translator if you will."

Then the Dreadnought spoke in surprisingly clear Gothic, "I am Aapo, the Umbral Flame and I have long wanted to lay eyes on our noble ancestral Chapter. You are everything I expected from pure sons of Corax."

Nemkir was taken aback by the clear tones and respect of the Dreadnought, a strange occurrence, but yet he said, "Wait... I thought this one was Umbral Flame."

Crovin butted in, "A hereditary title, passed down from Sergeant to Sergeant. It's... complicated."

Damchak nodded as rainwater dripped off his nose, "I am being First of Umbral Flame Prowl, this is Bone Gnawer Prowl, Ghost Cry Prowl and Night Caller Prowl."

"Prowl?" Nemkir frowned.

"Squad!" Crovin chimed, "They mean squad!"

Nemkir accepted this, "May I present Chaplain Bulvok and Veteran-Sergeant Oroton."

A Smoke Jaguar to Damchak's left sniggered, "Hedmar Tuvak Neersh Ka."

"Abizil!" Damchak snapped, "Kree!"

"Sah, mudde sah."

Nemkir scowled, "What was that?!"

Damchak faced him once more, "My blood-brother was merely asking what purpose this world serves?"

Bulvok answered, "You stand upon a Mortuary world, a shrine to the honoured dead. Chaos, Xenos and treason have claimed many and the sacrifices of those who laid down their lives for the Imperium are never forgotten. From the days of the War of the Beast, when the Ork menace nearly destroyed everything, to the great divide of the Imperium itself. Here lie the greatest heroes of half a Segmentum, interred in body and name so long as memory endures."

The Smoke Jaguars shared loaded glances and Damchak mused, "You choose to meet us in your Stair Abyssal, wrought into an entire world. You honour us deeply, such munificent spirit is true Kinsmanship."

That had not been Nemkir's intent at all and he said only, "It seemed fit."

"For our vaunted kinsmen a potlash we propose," Damchak declared, "The gift of all that we are."

A warrior to the right uncovered a leather bag and pulled free a thick tome, bound in tanned leather and written in dark ink. Damchak took it reverently and presented it to Nemkir. The Captain grasped it in his gauntlet and tried to keep a baffled look off his face as he peered sidelong at the book, hoping the leather wasn't from where he suspected it originated.

Damchak announced, "The Testimony of Arkqas the Wise, the foundation stone of our hearts."

"Thank you..." Nemkir said uncertainly.

Hastily Crovin explained, "This is the Smoke Jaguar's principle tome of tactical doctrine and warrior philosophy. Think of it as their version of the Codex Astartes."

"A mighty gift," Oroton interjected.

Aapo added, "An ancient copy, written in original Gothic."

"I shall peruse it back on my ship," Nemkir agreed, "In return a copy of the Codex Astartes shall be delivered to you, I expect you to be familiar with its principles by the time we arrive at our destination."

Damchak frowned, "Where do we fight and whom?"

Nemkir tucked the book into his hip as he said, "The Tellarite rebellion, another week in the Warp from here."

"Rebels?" Damchak blinked, "Not Orruk, or the devil-sons?"

"That is my decision," Nemkir asserted.

Aapo cut in, "All must give obeisance to the Sun-Emperor on His Throne of Gold. To turn one's face from the father of Corax is a sin unforgivable. The Smoke Jaguars know well the danger of those who glorify the individual and refuse to abase themselves. We shall exact vengeance for His sake, by Sedaxus it is sworn."

Damchak looked less than pleased but Nemkir accepted, "Then it is agreed, but one more thing I require of you. As the senior Chapter I expect you to conform to Raven Guard tactical precepts and obey my commands in the field."

That caused a stir among the Smoke Jaguars and Damchak bristled, "Give fealty to one not of Copan?!"

"It is you who seek our favour. The scales of judgement are in the balance and the sanction or condemnation of a First Founding Chapter will decide whether you are accepted or rejected."

"This will not stand!"

"You need the Raven Guard more than we need the Smoke Jaguars!" Nemkir demanded.

"Raven Guard is a name of legend," Damchak growled, "But Nemkir we know not, what kind of deed-name is 10th?"

Tension bloomed among the ranks as grips tightened on bolters but Crovin hurriedly interjected, "The Smoke Jaguars respect the deeds of the individual not the institution! Merit above all, the idea of rank without personal renown is anathema to them. They merely seek to know the kind of leader they follow, perhaps if you regaled them with some of your many, many successes they will be suitably impressed."

Nemkir's lip curled, "To boast of one's victories is self-aggrandisement!"

But Oroton spoke for him, "You address Nemkir, the conqueror of Chaos at Miserth Keep! When our appointed leaders fell to the machinations of the Traitors he stepped forward and led us with unflinching courage. Three hundred and eighty-seven days of hell, a year and more of grinding slaughter and harrowing losses. Our fighting spirit was reduced to ashes, but Nemkir never faltered and he never let us despair. Immovable, unbreakable, unyielding. This Marine led us through darkness, through fire and through death and we emerged stronger for it!"

The Raven Guard slapped the stocks of their bolters thrice in salute, hard bangs ringing off the memorials as rebounding echoes. The Smoke Jaguars were silent but Damchak bowed his head low, "The esteem of your Kinsmen is worth more than a thousand rank titles, this is a tale worthy of a deed-name."

The mouthy Jaguar to the left however sneered, "Reshal nem, Tuun-Ok!"

A snigger ran around the strange crowd and Bulvok snapped, "What was that?!"

Damchak shot a look of vehemence at his squad mate and covered, "Tuun-Ok translates to Jade Foot. It is a deed-name of certainty and deliberation. We applaud your inexorable purpose and uncompromising zealotry."

The mouthy one switched languages, "Truly, you march in straight lines."

Nemkir saw the tiniest shifts among the Jaguars and suspicion bloomed that they were mocking him. Whatever this title sounded like he suspected there were cultural connotations that were less than flattering. He was being insulted to his face and the fact they thought he wouldn't notice was the worst affront of all. These Smoke Jaguars had made a poor impression on him and then lived down to it. The idea that they claimed common descent from Corvus Corax was galling.

Nemkir was about to rebuke them but then Aapo spoke over them all, "The Dark One haunts the night but the Ravenlord flies in the day! Tuun-Ok walks in the light of the Sun-Emperor and his blood carries the purest echo of Corax. Truths we have forgotten are his to bear, lessons we must relearn if we are to serve the Sun-Emperor. The Smoke Jaguars shall follow our progenitor chapter to war with joyful hearts and shall heed the words of Nemkir as the wisdom the ages passed down. He who defies the Jade Foot shall make an enemy of me. Thus it is written, thus shall it be!"

The Smoke Jaguars fell silent, their mirth quashed by the fierce rebuke. Nemkir didn't follow all of that, but it seemed the Dreadnought was equally displeased with their cheek. Whatever strange customs these twisted Astartes followed they dared not argue with an annoyed Dreadnought. It was the first sensible thing he'd heard out of the lot of them.

Damchak bowed his head, "We humble ourselves before the mighty Raven Guard, First Blood of Corax. Lead us to battle and we shall heed your decrees until it is done."

Nemkir was less than reassured but said, "We shall fight shoulder to shoulder, and learn each other's natures."

Crovin bounced on his feet, "Then let us be off!"

Nemkir allowed, "Indeed, return to your ship and study the Codex intently. We shall speak again in the Tellaris system."

The Smoke Jaguars left without another word, marching back to their Shadowhawks. The rain drummed on their pauldrons and the darkening sky seemed to absorb them as they slinked away. Nemkir was greatly disturbed, this had gone very poorly and boded ill for the campaign to come. He resolved to study the Testimony and scour every word for potential Heresy. Woe betide the Smoke Jaguars if he found any taint lurking within. Until this moment he hadn't really believed he would need to deploy his virus bombs, but after this encounter he suspected the Exterminatus was the only resolution the Imperium could countenance when it came to the Smoke Jaguars.