The Fluffiest Servants of Khorne 2: If you go down to the Woods today…
Date: Sometime in the relatively distant future.
Inquisitor Wormsley smiled with satisfaction. Everything had gone as intended. When he had been called to the presence of the great Lady Inquisitor Von Hellfire, along with a number of other relatively junior Inquisitors, and she had explained her scheme to them, he had thought it dangerous, but the meticulously planned operation had been pulled off without a hitch.
He looked around at the remains of the ambushed convoy. The bodies of heretic USA troopers were scattered about. Some were probably still alive, as their Power Armour had proven irritatingly resistant, and their use of Panacea auto injectors would probably be healing them right now, but the Stormtroopers who were currently rounding up their targets would soon take care of that.
He looked over at the group of civilians currently under guard. About 60 children with their parents, all huddled together, and for some reason he could feel fear and anger radiating from them, most of it directed at him. Little fools. Didn't they realise they had been saved from a horrible fate and would be given a chance to serve the Emperor?
It really was an inspired idea. When Lady Von Hellfire had been made aware of the Protectorate Psyker Corp, an entire military unit made up of those cursed with a tie to the Warp, and its training facility, the misleadingly named Crèche for the Gifted, the Protectorate's abominable answer to the Scholastica Psykana (his own Alma Mater), she had immediately recognised something that needed to be crushed as soon as possible.
Of course, they couldn't hit the facility itself, it was in the heart of Cainopolis, and was about as heavily defended as could be imagined, and their graduates were hardly vulnerable. So the obvious answer was to target their intake. Deploy infiltrators to other Protectorate worlds, find out when they scheduled the collection of newly found psychic children, and then steal them out from under the nose of the Black Commissar.
She had picked 6 planets which were known to only recently have foolishly defected to the Cainites, and therefore were probably neither properly fortified yet nor secured by those upstarts from the Ordo Ciaphas, and sent for 6 suitable inquisitors, all sanctioned psykers, judging them to be best suited to this task, and all with strong Puritanical credentials. She had issued each of them a company of Inquisitorial Tempestus Scions and a small starship from her personal fleet, and sent them off to glory.
Wormsley himself had been dispatched to Centum Iugera Lignorum, a forest planet that until recently had provided lumber, fruit, and luxuries such as refined sweet insect secretions to the Hive Worlds of the sector, until a minor uprising against the planetary governor over something insignificant to do with an 80% flat income tax had risen into a full blown rebellion when Protectorate ships had arrived in system, and within weeks all contact had been lost. It had also been several years since it had been graced by a Black Ship, so the harvest should be rich, an ideal target.
They had exited the Warp well outside of all previously known Auspex monitoring station ranges and, running silent, had eased their way into the outskirts of the system and took refuge in the debris belt. Hidden there, they had used stealth shuttles to place spies on the planet. Over a period of months they had observed the movements of the heretics, and how some of their Sorcerers would occasionally be escorted by USA troopers to visit outlying settlements and spend time with the children there, talking to their parents and teaching a select few minor cantrips.
They had subtly broken into the homes of a few such families, and found what could only be described as brochures detailing the 'wonderful opportunities' awaiting the psychic children and their families on Slawkenburg, and details of the alleged curriculum at the Crèche for the Gifted which Wormsley had quickly discarded as obvious manipulative propaganda. The Scholastica Psykana had certainly never had a Grudgeball league or music classes, and he couldn't even picture an Arch-Heretic like the Black Commissar giving seminars on leadership.
It was obvious that the only thing awaiting these families on that accursed world was either sacrifice to the Ruinous Powers, or worse still, an eternity in willing service to them. More importantly however, his men had also discovered documents containing instructions regarding the schedule for their transfer to Slawkenburg. The Inquisition would be ready.
A few days before the Protectorate flotilla which was to escort the child psykers and the families to their new home and eventual doom arrived in system, Wormsley and his Stormtroopers were camped out with their stealth shuttle in the woods near the road leading to the planet's main Starport. Come the day, they had set their ambush, and when the convoy carrying their targets rolled through, they had taken them completely by surprise. The few USA troopers escorting them had put up a fierce fight, but sheer overwhelming numbers had won out.
And now all that was left was to herd his cargo onto the stealth shuttle, and get out of the system before any heretics could catch up, and all the way back to Lady Von Hellfire's headquarters, where she had assured them a Black Ship would be waiting. He was under no illusions that the escorts wouldn't have been able to get a vox message out before they fell, so time was of the essence.
He turned to his new charges, and cast a critical eye over them. The majority were prepubescent, huddling near their parents legs and staring at him in undisguised fear. Good, they would learn proper respect once they were underway. He knew that examples would have to be made. Through mere association with the forces of Chaos, their souls would be tainted, and purification would be necessary.
He had Interrogators waiting onboard the ship well trained in the use of Excruciators and Porta-Racks, and a Sanction Warden of the Ministorum ready to administer purifying branding rituals. They would learn to be grateful for his efforts to protect their souls, and it would prepare them for the trials of the Black Ships (Wormsley himself had never experienced that, having been born on Holy Terra itself, but his less fortunate classmates had sometimes screamed in the night).
Most of them would probably be given to the Adeptus Astronomica to power the Astronomicon, not being trusted enough even after hypno-indoctrination to become Sanctioned Psykers despite the obvious power he could feel radiating off at least a few of them. Maybe a couple of the more powerful ones would be taken by the Ordo Sinister to feed their terrible Psi-Titans. What would happen to them wasn't a concern of his though.
He noted that almost all of the children were clutching some kind of stuffed toy, a sort of anthropomorphised plush ursine. They were all 'armed', most holding little toy axes but some carried bolters, chainswords, or had disproportionately large claws, and all were wearing small faux brass helmets ornamented with horns or a crest that he recognised as being distinctly Khornate. Clearly these children had already been touched by by the allure of Chaos.
"Drop those heretical things immediately!".
When none obeyed, merely cowering away from him, he reached out to the nearest, a small girl about the age of 7 who didn't appear to have any parents to hide behind, and whose toy was holding a pair of chainaxes and had spiralling horns on the side of its helmet, tore it from her hands, dashed it to the ground, and ground his heel into it, although it turned out to be surprisingly robust, and he didn't do any damage beyond making it slightly dirty. The little girl, who had shrieked in horror when he did this, looked up at him, face streaked with tears but set in fierce defiance.
"You're a BAD man! Mr Void said bad things happen to bad men like you!"
Wormsley sneered. Such wilful disrespect would be stamped out very quickly. This girl would be make an excellent example to her fellows of what defiance would get them. First however, there was one last thing to take care of. They were only here for the children after all, not their parents, who were all guilty of willingly cooperating with heretics, for which there could only be one punishment. With a hand gesture, he instructed his Stormtroopers to raise their weapons to cover the adults. He was about to give the order to fire, when he felt it.
Something, a lot of somethings, were pressing against the line between the Materium and the Immaterium nearby, trying to break through. Wormsley immediately exerted his will, trying to reinforce the barrier of reality further. He shouted orders at the Stormtroopers, and they snapped to it, taking up defensive positions around him and their valuable cargo. The pressure was increasing by the moment, and whatever it was felt indescribably angry. They weren't managing to force a breach though, there wasn't anything causing a weakness for them to use. Wormsley breathed a bit easier.
Then he felt power stirring behind him, uncertain but very potent, ripping away at reality. The children! He spun about, Force Staff raised, ready to unleash the Emperor's fury upon whichever little reprobate dared to stand against him, but it was too late. The girl whose toy he had stamped on, eyes glowing with Warp energies, screamed.
The scream echoed through the forest and into unreality, tearing at his mind, breaking his concentration, but also tearing a portal straight into the Warp a short distance down the road, and the scream was answered by a clamour of howls and roars that made his blood run cold. Every Sanctionite learnt to fear that howl early on, for it meant doom had come for them.
Flesh Hounds. The attack beasts of Khorne, created to hunt down those who earned its ire, and the bane of all psykers. The monstrous reptilian daemon beasts wore great brass collars forged to protect them from the sorcerous tricks so despised by their master, sucking the power from them without weakening their unnatural wearers, and they reputedly would never stop chasing their prey once they had a psyker's scent. He had once seen one tear 3 other Sanctionites to bloody ribbons, and only the concentrated fire of the Sororitas contingent who had been escorting him had preserved him that day.
He shouted more orders to his men, who had already covered the portal with their Hellguns. He refused to fall here at the final hurdle! The portal rippled, and the Flesh Hounds began to spring forth. Wormsley... hesitated. The Hounds were small. Very Small. Normally the size of a horse, these ones were barely larger than a cybermastiff. If they were canids he would have described each and everyone of them as a runt. Whats-more, they were wearing tack. leather reins were attached to the sides of their terrible collars, leading back to...
He blinked.
He looked down next to his foot, where that accursed girl's toy was still lying.
He looked back up.
Mounted on the backs of the Flesh Hounds were tiny daemons, about a foot tall and covered in red-brown fur, that were almost a mirror image of these unholy stuffed animals. There were minor differences he could see, they were a touch more bestial looking, they had mouths that were full of large fangs, and rather than being mere coloured beads their eyes glowed with a furious yellow light. Most importantly however, their weapons, claws and helms looked very real. As the flow of mounted daemons through the portal slowed, one last Flesh Hound came through, and this one was the size he knew as normal. However, this one had what he could only describe as a brutally ornamented brass palanquin strapped to its back, with 6 more bear daemons standing on it, holding miniature bolters. Including those, he counted at least 50 of these strange beings.
Despite their elite training, his men were obviously just as taken aback as him. This gave one of the daemons the chance to raise its axe over its head and give what could only be described as a squeaky roar, which the others picked up, and they charged. Too late, Wormsley screamed the order to fire, but they were already amongst them, and truly, it was Chaos.
They were devilishly fast, darting in circles around the feet of the Stormtroopers, who attempted to shoot them or stab them with their bayonets, but mostly missed or even hit each other if they were on full auto. Many desperately kicked out, to little effect. A few bears were hit by lasrounds or knocked off their mounts, but they mostly shrugged off the damage and charged back into the fray.
The Flesh Hounds were biting at the guardsmen's legs, distracting them enough for the riders to jump off their mounts and onto the guardsmen, clinging on while attacking with a ferocity that stunned. The ones with bladed weapons aimed for the vulnerable points in the Tempestus pattern carapace armour around the joints and neck.
The gunners on the palanquin took full advantage of their elevated position, aiming for the heads of the immobilised soldiers, while their vast mount barrelled through his forces, knocking them over and allowing the other bears to swarm over them, hacking and stabbing.
It was the ones with the large claws though that really horrified him. They climbed all over their victims, digging in their talons, looking for weak points. Even as he watched, he saw one insert its claw through the eye slot of a soldiers helmet, being covered in the blood that spurted out in response, and another wriggle in through a gap left by a poorly fitted chest plate, after which the soldier started to scream and beat at his own armour as he was comprehensively disemboweled.
And all the while the Flesh Hounds kept biting, tearing, leaping at the necks of his men to bring them to the ground so they could be finished off by their fearless masters.
Wormsley desperately shook off his stunned state, and tried to bring his Warp talents to bear, but the presence of so many Collars of Khorne in one place had rendered him quite impotent. He couldn't even summon a simple bolt of Warp lightning. Dropping his Force Staff, he drew his bolt pistol and combat knife from his side, and prepared to join battle.
But then suddenly it was over. In an astounding blitzkrieg, these unholy terrors had wiped out a full company of the Inquisition's elite troops. And Wormsley was alone, a fact that became all too clear to him as the tiny daemons and their stunted mounts formed a ring around him. He saw several of the Flesh Hounds start sniffing their way towards the children with distinct interest, which given they were psykers was easy to understand, but suddenly their riders were beside them, hauling on their reins or bashing the more stubborn ones over the nose with the flat of their weapons, and they were swiftly brought back into line. The largest Flesh Hound was kept at a distance, prowling back and forth amongst the bodies of his slain men.
Wormsley turned on the spot, trying to cover the entire circle of hell beasts that had hemmed him in. The bears weren't attacking, just standing there, staring at him with their glowing yellow eyes, somehow expressing rage and utter distain despite being completely expressionless. Then one stepped forwards. It was holding a pair of chainaxes, and had spiralling horns on the sides of its helmet. Wormsley again looked down at the toy by his foot, and then back up at its near identical twin. He didn't understand how this was possible, but he did know a challenge to a duel when he saw it. He raised his weapons in its direction. The little daemon clashed its chainaxes together, then rushed him.
He let off a volley of bolter rounds, but it was surprisingly fast for something which didn't have visible knees, and he underled by a considerable amount. He awkwardly tried to slash at it with his knife as it approached, but it easily parried his strike, and then it was by his feet, and he howled in agonising pain as one of its axes dug into the back of his unprotected ankle, severing his Achilles tendon. He dropped to the floor and tried to scrabble away backwards, but it jumped onto his stomach. It walked up to his chest, batting away his desperate attempts to fend it off, and looked into his eyes as it swung its axes together towards either side of his neck.
Hylda Julados looked on with interest as her bear cut off the Bad Man's head. She was feeling tired and achy after she had screamed like that, but she had wanted to watch this. She was aware that her bear was still sitting on the ground where the Bad Man had thrown him, but she knew that this was her bear too, the other part of it that usually guarded the door in her head from all the nasty things on the other side of it. Some of her new friends were still cowering behind their parents legs, but they had nothing to be afraid of, their bears were here too, she could see her bestest friend Octus's one standing on the back of the super big lizard doggy with its shiny bolty gun she had helped him make.
She watched as the bears started to get back on their lizard doggies, getting ready go back through the hole to the Other Place she had helped make, but her bear waved two of its friends with big sharp finger nails over, and between them they lifted up the Bad Man's head. Her bear meanwhile picked its other self up from the ground, and after looking at itself for a moment carried it over to her, holding it over its head. She tenderly took it, brushed it off, then hugged it to her with one arm while waving thank you at her bear and all its friends with the other. It waved back with one of its axes, climbed on its lizard doggie, and followed by the two holding the Bad Man's head between them, and all the rest of its friends, rode back through the hole to the Other Place, which shut behind them.
As the adults started to move around and talk, and Octus's mummy and daddy who were both medi… medica… People who made you made you feel better when you got hurt started to run around checking on everyone and looking after the nice guards who had been hurt by the Bad Man's helpers, she whispered something that she had heard the guard the other ones called Sarge shout as he tried to protect her and her friends.
"Skulls for the Skull Throne…"
Credit to FluffyVoid for the comment that inspired this sequel, and 101RomanSoldier for letting me use his character Lady Inquisitor Von Hellfire.
I am really happy with this, I think it's the best thing I have ever written. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.
Edit: If you are curious, Centum Iugera Lignorum roughly translates as "Hundred Acre Wood"