Chapter Text
The world of Tharnis Primaris was a battle zone.
As Cadia had fallen to the forces of Abaddon the Despoiler, a tear in the very fabric of reality had been ripped open, and across a thousand worlds and a million battle fronts, the forces of Chaos and Daemonkin had flooded into reality, seeing this as their chance to finally tear the Imperium asunder, begin their mass sacrifices, and, for the honored few, Ascend onto Daemonhood. Tharnis was one such system, nearly every one of the worlds, Primaris, Secundus and Tertias, under attack, and held off by multiple siege and assault regiments of the Imperial Guard.
The 561st Mordian Defense Regiment was holding the line, as always, against the invaders, every single edifice and portion of the gardens of Tharnis Primaris' palace, turned to defense, portions of it dug up, torn up and turned into defensive positions and fortifications for the Guard Trooper platoons holed up and pouring down fire on the approaching Chaos forces. Cultists were cut down by Autocannon and Multi-laser fire from Tank and gun emplacements, as the azure-suited Guardsmen stoically and silently pouring las fire down on the scared and tattooed wretches, bearing their various swords, autoguns, pistols and whatever other tools they could grab, Lasgun rounds shredding through their marked flesh and bodies with ease, but another million charging through the walls of the palace to take their place.
Behind them, came numerous mutated and inhuman hulks, massive, pulsating beasts of impossible muscle and bulk, their various arms an assortment of claws, fused-together hands and tentacles, faces resembling mollusks, humans, dogs and all sorts of others, fused together and twisted into shape, the various eyes jammed into their faces and other parts of their bodies wide with pain and horror. Even so, they shambled forward, ignoring every lascannon blast against their frame, every bullet that shredded muscle. Whenever they came upon an unfortunate platoon, the creatures threw themselves at the humans, flailing and whipping their many-limbed parts about in a chaotic rush, not caring what hit the foe, as they ripped Guardsmen apart by the dozens.
Blood coated what few trees and fine flooring panels remained in the garden, as General Anton Von Rauch surveyed the chaos. He was a slight man, almost unimpressive, were it not for the numerous scars that crossed his face, or the machine implant in place of a right arm. A power sword hung at his side, while his blue uniform, once pristine, was now a mess of smeared black dirt and grease, mixed with blood. He bore a thick mustache on his face, and thinning hair. His expression was grave, focused, as he poured over every piece of tactical data flowing into his cogitator read-outs.
One of his aids yelled over the chaos. “Sir, Colonel Kessler has reported his Death Korps' basilisk and Manticore artillery are running low on munitions.”
Another shouted over. “Sir, Colonel Nizari has engaged a Chaos force attempting to take the Armory of Cordan on the West Walls of the city.”
A Commissar approached, left hand gloved and drumming against his holstered las pistol. “General Anton, we have the Chaos Cultists and their mutated war beasts at bay, for now, but Traitor Space Marines have been reported at every front. I worry if they decide to show their hand, our regiment might not be able to hold the palace.”
Anton's expression did not change, remain as stoic as ever. “Deploy the reserve platoons, and our Riesengarde Ogryn detachments. We're going to hold this palace until reinforcements can arrive.”
The Commissar tapped his pointer against the pistol handle twice. “Sir, I would recommend keeping them in reserve. If we lose too many of them, especially our Ogryns, facing the Heretic Astartes will become all the more difficult.”
“And if the regiment losing too many platoons now, it won't matter,” Anton replied gruffly, glancing over at the Commissar. “The reserve troops will lessen our loses, and blunt the Chaotic forces.”
The Commissar nodded slightly. “If you are sure, sir. I will carry it out.”
He hurried off to deliver the news to the reserve forces, as Anton kept pouring over the data, issuing commands to his officers and regimental advisors. Even with the heavy support and iron-hardened infantry, Anton was alert as ever. He knew his regiment like he knew his own children. They had broken the Ork advance at Narkaradon V, repulsed the Draxian Hegemony at Hive Magabi and faced a thousand other alien and heretic threats that would make a man's blood run cold. This was merely one more in a long list of campaigns, but in that time, General Anton had learned not to let any battle, no matter how easy, fool him into complacency.
Any Ork could either be an uncommon genius like the Beast of Armageddon, or the ones in the past that had destroyed an original Astartes Chapter. Any Xenos could be a blood mad beast, or a cunning manipulator. Heretics were no different. This could be some misguided cult throwing most of their people in a desperate assault, or the beginning of something worse.
Several Hab-block away, the Chaos leadership was watching with baited breath. Most of them bore the usual signs of corruption, a few having extra eyes in odd patterns, tattoos and scars bearing the ritual symbols of the Four, but seated before them all was the leader of the Cult. Or rather, former leader. Amelia Izharad had organized this Cult for years, taking over for the former Magister when they had passed. Years spent cultivating the oppressed and downtrodden masses to accept the service of Chaos, and finally, turning them loose on the Hives of Tharnis. In their rituals and meditations, they had summoned the blessed Daemons of Chaos, and, following that, the Annointed Faithful. The Chaos Space Marines.
The Chaos Lord was dressed in full powered armor, black as night, with blue trim along the edges, and the skulls of many beings hung from his waist, while both shoulder armor pieces were designed to look like the snarling demonic faces. Across his bald, darkened face, was the white war paint, designed to look like a skull. He carried a large Maul in his hand, energy sparking and arcing across its form, from handle to head.
Amelia was a slight woman, who almost would've blended in with anyone else, except for her long raven hair, and almost white skin. Her angular face and skin would've made her desirable for anyone that saw her. She wore black clothing, including armor on the shoulder and work pants, baggy and comfortable, while having sharp, lambent green eyes. She looked up at the gigantic Marine, her expression unmoving. She was personally terrified of this Lord of the Dark Gods, but would not show it, not give him the satisfaction.
“My, Magister Izharad, I am quite impressed by how willing your Cult is to throw their lives away for the Dark Gods,” Chaos Lord Zaaras remarked in a polite tone, but his expression barely contained, sneering contempt. “Soon enough, their blood will pave the way for our victory.”
“You could be helping.” She replied in an icy tone.
“I have heard from the Daemons bound to my service, of the Mordian Iron Guard.” He replied with the same genial tone as before. “How they do not break, that even when Mordia was falling to Chaos, they fought hard for positions, retreated, and kept fighting, never giving in. I will engage my Space Marine Brothers only when I have bleed the Mordians and ensured they are too exhausted to fight.”
“And my followers are decimated.” She stated in a cold tone.
“As is with everything, the Astartes lead, the common follow. The Common bleed and die, while the Astartes claim victory.” He stated, hefting his maul up, and across his shoulders. “You wish to change that, consult the Dark Gods.”
She breathed hard through her nose, but said nothing, merely bowing her head to him. To speak as she did was already pushing it, and she would not cross a Chaos Space Marine. She had worked hard to free them from the Lord this planet, an indulgent, uncaring brute of man who treated the citizens like slaves in the mines, the foundries and everywhere. Her grand-father's grand-father had started the ground work, and she had taken the cause and brought it to battle.
He turned, leaving their ad-hoc command post, as the sounds of battle still echoed outside. He had sent the Chaos Spawn, the damned and thoroughly lost of his brethren in first with her Cultist, a small piece of assistance in breaking the central palace. It was clear, he was waiting for something more. She had a feeling she knew what it was, what he wanted to see, but did not dare even think it. If they were here, it meant there was a high chance she and the entire cult would meet their end just so Zaaras could have a slight advantage over his enemies.
As the cultists threw themselves at the Mordians, Swords and maces raised and striking, as the Mordians parried and struck with bayonet, the sky darkened, as Mordian and Cultist alike looked to the skies, a massive, monolithic ship eclipsing the sun for a moment, as fighters and gunships flew off from the great vessel, engaging the forces of Chaos in the air. Over their heads, four drop pods falling from the ship. They were a deep green in color, falling through the air. As they drew closer to the sight of those below, Cultists turned their weapons upwards, firing everything they could, as the Mordians stoically withdrew, giving space as the drop pods slammed into the ground, the earth shaking and floor tiles shattering under the weight. The pod doors opened with a hiss, as the mighty Space Marines marched out.
The Cultists turned their fire on the Adeptus Astartes, as the Chaos Spawn charged at them. The Marines were covered in green armor, their shoulders colored red, and the symbols of their chapter and companies light gray. A few lumbered into position, bringing their Heavy, powerful bolters to bear and opening fire. The first few Cultists at the front disappeared in a cloud of red, their comrades screaming in terror and diving away, as the more mobile ones charged forward. Bolters barked and roared, rounds smashing into Cultist bodies and exploding in a shower of gore, limbs and organs sprayed across the palace gardens. Las pistol and autorifle rounds struck against their frames, their powered armor barely effected by the strikes.
At the front, was one in gilded armor, his right shoulder armor covered in a golden wing design, his left painted with a front-facing wolf's face, snarling at any who starred at it. A cape of red billowed from his back, bearing the same wolf symbol. His chest was adorned with fetishes of strength and power, the pendant holding cape up bearing a skull symbol, while a red cloth hung from his waist. His pointed his Plasma Pistol, aiming and quickly firing, blue bolts of molten plasma flying through the air and hitting enemies, melting them to the bone and causing their burning bodies to fall to the ground. The power sword in his right hand was short, at least compared to him, the top slightly curved, as he met the first cultist and simply bashed through her with his shoulder, utterly pulverizing the heretic, as he continued firing at the traitors. His face was darkened, from many suns, a small mustache on his face, and three metal studs over the right side of his forehead.
“Warriors of the Hound Keepers, lay down fire on the heretics, show these traitors the might of our Chapter!” The Space Marine roared above the din of battle.
Bolter fire rang out, as the Captain charged forward. Two Chaos Spawn charged at him, one having a dog-like head, two right arms, and numerous tentacles, the other, looking as if its head had split in half into a twisted mouth, while its malformed arms were club-like now. He easily dodged their clumsy flailing and swings, even his armored frame untouched by the hulking masses before him, swinging his sword through the middle of one, thick black gore spraying from the strike, even as it kept coming, before swinging upwards, striking off the left arm, and kicking the creature into its partner, side-stepping them both, and firing plasma rounds into them numerous times. The second Spawn pushed the other aside, charging forward, as the Captain fired a few more rounds into it, before stopping to let his pistol release the heat and hissed, as he swung his sword, power sword cutting through its midsection, a clean and swift strike like a razor blade, its black blood and organs spilling out. The creature continued stumbling at him, hands swinging at the Space Marine. His sword danced in a blur of silver and blue, limbs and tentacles flying from the creature as he did.
The Mordians did not let their shock of seeing the Emperor's Angels stop them, continuing their fire until the Cultists had retreated, and every Chaos Spawn was killed. General Anton and his staff could only watched in stunned silence. In all of his deployments, Von Rauch had only seen them in passing during the battles against the Draxian Xenos, their theater of war wholly separate from his Iron Guard. To see them now, so close, was like a dream of some kind, Anton almost believing he was delirious, the stress of battle making him snap. The ground shook as a mighty dreadnought, bearing the green armor platting of his chapter, strode forward, past the stoic guardsmen, grabbing a Chaos Spawn by the head, and grounding it to mush in an instant.
The Cultists fled, the Space Marines taking up positions and checking their ammunition and weapons, as the Captain began to head back to the Guardsmen, a Sergeant bearing three studs on his forehead, and a thick beard and mustache, approached.
“Captain Nureddin, we have secured the Palace Plaza, and the Heretics are in full retreat.” He reported, bracing his chainsword across the top of his shoulder armor. “Orders?”
“Maintain position Sergeant Hafiz. We're done yet.” He commanded simply, before stopping before the Mordians, who watched him with the same stoic coldness as they did everything else. “Honor to you all Guardsmen. You have proven worthy of your name, and remained as hard as Iron in the face of Heretic and Daemon attack. Without you, we Hound Keepers could not have done our duty. You have saved this world.”
A deep, hissing laugh echoed through the plaza, as Lord Zaaras marched into the plaza, hefting his Maul up and palming it in both hands. Every Space Marine trained their weapons on him, laser sights and crosshairs dancing across his armored frame.
“What a wonderful speech, Emperor's pups. But slaying a few meat shields and those out of favor with the gods is not an impressive feat.” Zaaras declared, grinning madly at them.
Nureddin grinned slightly, as he stepped forward, pointing his sword at the Chaos Lord. “You know how many of you Chaos wretches I have slain? I almost lose count. For all your False God's favor and gifts, you continue to fail and blunder through war little better then Orks.”
“I'm an Ork, then? Well, then watch me smash your lines!” Zaaras declared, lifting his Maul up and slamming its pommel end into the ground. The ground shook and trembled, small statues and pieces of masonry falling and shattering.
Nureddin took a fighting stance, grinding his teeth slightly. He knew what that rumble meant. He prayed to the Emperor that what was coming was something he could handle. The troops behind him were battered and faced intense fighting already. He expected the Mordian Iron Guard to fight on no matter what, but even such famous troops had their limits.
A great Predator tank, matching the colors of Zaaras and the Chaos Space Marines that followed into the palace in its wake, smashed through the fine, ornate walls and rumbled into the palace garden. The vehicle was covered in putrid symbols of Daemonology and the occult, the 8 pointed star of Chaos on the front and sides, while, mounted on spikes over the tread armor and top near the turret, were the skinned and bleeding corpses of humans, their mouths opened in a permanent expression of terror.
His Chaos Marines followed, dressed in the same black and blue armor has he, eyes glowing red like spilled blood, hand prints of actual blood smeared on their faces, parts of their chests and shoulders. They carried Bolters, some with belt feed ammo instead of the large, curved clips, while others bore Autocannons and Lascanons, others hefting one or more chainaxes in hand.
The Predator turned its mighty turret, the barrel of the gun resembling a snarling, draconic maw, and primed it right at Nureddin. He braced himself and the Holy Iron Halo for the impact. Before it could fire, a sharp whine sounded through the air, before a shriek went through the air, and a lascannon shot blazed through the air, the red-orange beam burning through the zone between the Leman Russ and Predator, and striking the Chaotic Tank in the front, and burning through the armor. The Predator rocked from the hit, Nureddin looking over his shoulder with some surprise. The guardsmen had reacted without a moment to be told, preparing and attacking the larger tank the moment it had appeared.
Most mortal men would've balked at the sight of the beast. Nureddin remained impressed by their skill, as he hefted his sword up. “Men and Women of the Imperium, Hücum!”
Bolter and Lasgun alike barked in reply, lances of energy and powerful shells flew, as the Heretic Astartes answered in kind. The Predator surged forward, Heavy bolter guns spraying the Palace Garden with rounds, whatever few trees were left, shattered and cut to kindling, as Guardsmen and Space Marine alike dove for cover, the unlucky among them shredded, or reduced to a cloud of blood and gore where once a mortal man stood. Nureddin charged towards Zaaras, gripping his sword tightly, as two Chaos Marines charged at him, one swinging his Bolter at him and firing, Bolt Rounds striking against the armor and its Halo shielding, Nureddin charging through, and leveling his pistol, firing two plasma bolts at the traitor, striking him in the chest and stomach, knocking him back, as the second swung his first Chain Ax, Nureddin striking the ax away, and as he lifted the other ax to strike, the Hound Keeper Captain swung his sword up, striking through the traitor's chest armor and out through his back. The Chaos Marine roared in rage, lifting his ax up to strike, even through the injury, as Nureddin simply pointed the pistol and fired into the Traitor's head, plasma exploding the Marine's head, the front half of the skull and helmet utterly vaporized, what little blood remained spraying out, as Nureddin kicked the traitor's corpse away, sword torn out, his face utterly unmoving, like stone, almost serene in a way.
The first pointed his gun at the Captain, Nureddin firing a few more plasma blasts at the Chaos Marine, knocking him back, as he yelled in shock, The Hound Keepers' leader closing the distance through the chaos and bloodshed of battle, swinging his Power Sword and striking the head of the Chaos Space Marine right off his shoulders, the Marine's finger locked on the trigger, blindly firing rounds as his body hit the ground, Nureddin turning to Zaaras with a cold, rage-filled glare. The Chaos Lord and Captain said nothing, the latter simply glaring at him with some surprise for a moment, before hefting his Maul up.
“Come then.” Was all Zaaras said, before charging with a speed even Nureddin struggled to keep track of.
He brought his blade up, his sword and halo's shield blocking the first swing, knocking him back a few inches, before the Chaos Lord swung his Maul back around. Nureddin swung his blade into the middle of the maul. It did not bisect the weapon, but the force of the hit, and the energy released, knocked both away from each other. He staggered back, bringing his pistol up and firing a round, before Zaaras swung his maul again. Nureddin silently cursed, as the maul sent him off his feet, only the Emperor's grace letting him keep both hands on his weapon, and from biting his own tongue off. He forced himself down, feet slamming into the ground, taking a deep breath to focus himself as he did.
This Lord was a powerhouse, every blow hitting with a force to shatter mountains. Nureddin was skillful in his strikes, swift in his attacks, but he was not foolish. He had not reached this rank by being foolhardy in his battles.
'Such a field favors him. I wish I could ambush him in his command, where his swings would be utterly useless,' He thought, narrowing his eyes in concentration.
Zaaras did not give him a moment to think any further, lunging at him with brutal strikes, his Maul swinging to and fro, heavy, skull-splitting strikes barely missing the Captain, as Zaaras' face lite up with glee, a wide, twisted smile on his skull-painted face, like a child just too delighted to contain their excitement, yet, his movements still restrained and controlled, clearly, the Lord experienced enough to know not to waste his energy on useless strikes. Nureddin noted that, while he would strike with an assured hit, would often wait and feign hits, before trying to strike again with a real hit.
He heard the rumble of foot steps behind him, the snap and click of a Heavy Bolter being loaded and readied, before diving out of the way, tucking and rolling away as three of his Devastator brothers opened fire. Zaaras' eyes widened in shock as the guns roared like thunder bullets striking into his armor, one slashing across his check, and causing him to dive for cover as well. The Chaos Lord ducked behind the corpses of the Chaos Spawn, bolter shells striking into their thick, brutish hides. Lascannon rounds from the Guard, the Leman Russ, and another Devastator squad fired, the laser rounds striking and burning into the armored hide of the Predator, as it fired a shell at one of the Space Marine squads, sending the four flying from the point of impact in multiple directions.
Nureddin took a sharp breath in, Chaos Marines and Loyalists fighting hard. Bolter rounds, plasma shots and grenades flew through the air, Assault Squads slamming down into the midst of their traitor kin, Chainswords slashing and striking through powered armor. The Captain marched over to where Zaaras had dived into, senses alert for whatever the Chaos Lord had up his sleeve. Chaos Lord was never to be underestimated. Nureddin had faced plenty of Champions and Lords before, and all of them were far more then the average devotee, far more then the blood-mad, psychotic killing machines then they lead into battle. The sounds of battle were overwhelming now, all around, soldiers and warriors locked in combat, but Zaaras was no where to be seen. Nureddin frowned deeply, looking around in apprehension, grinding his teeth, eyes wide and alert, sword and pistol raised and ready. He had no time to prepared himself, when the next strike landed.
From the skies, came a roar, Nureddin turning upwards just in time to see five Chaos Raptors flew through the air, and slam down with enough force to shatter a mountain, and send him flying back. Nureddin felt his pistol flew off into the debris and dust of the battlefield, as the Raptors approached, the Aspiring Champion, his face bearing the same skull pattern paint on his face, held up his Chain Axes, reeving them up theatrically for the Captain to see.
“Blood for the Blood God.” He said in a near whisper, stepping over and slamming his metallic talons down on Nureddin's chest, pinning him to the ground.
The Raptor lifted his ax up, before the ground began to rumble, heavy, lumbering footsteps shaking the Earth. The Raptor Leader turned in surprise, before a large, stout, muscle-bound beast, barely resembling a human, charged in, slamming his large, brutish gun and its sword-like bayonet into the chest of the Raptor, shoving him away with a yell.
“Get away from him!” The Ogryn yelled, dressed in the same azure uniform as the Mordian Iron Guard, complete with red epaulets, a spiked helmet on his lumpy, tusked head, red side of his eye and face bearing a cybernetic implant. “Emperor like him!”
The rest of the Ogyrns charged home, swinging their ripper guns with little regard for themselves or anything else, their swings clumsy and unfocused, but swinging with all the brutal power their species could muster, smashing aside the Raptors and any other Chaos traitors in their path, ignoring bolter pistols or swords, claws and axes striking into their flabby frames. Nureddin got to his feet, grunting and shaking off the surprise and shock from himself. He wasn't aware of Mordians ever using Ogryns, but this was a wide galaxy, and war made for the mother of innovation.
As he got to his feet, the Ogryn Bone 'Ead swung his Ripper into the Raptor Champion's midsection, impaling him, before grabbing his bare head in both his mighty, meaty hands, and as the Champion yelled in rage and horror, found, after a moment, a horrific crunch sounded, as the Ogryn leader's hands came together, mashing the Raptor's bear head with his hands, leaving them and his front caked in blood. The Ogryn grabbed his gun and tore it free, before lumbering towards Nureddin, quickly coming over with a worried expression, and began to dust off his armor with his open hand.
“Are you okay, sir?” The Bone 'Ead asked in worry. “Not hurt are ya?”
“I am quite fine, thank you Ogryn.” Nureddin replied wearily, carefully trying to get some distance from the gigantic abhuman.
“Emperor happy right? Yous his favorites, so he happy, yes?” He asked, with all the worried, nervous energy of a child eager to please a parent.
“Very happy, your dealing with the traitors was impressive.” He replied with a polite smile to the abhuman, as he looked around to try and find where Zaaras had run off to. “There are still traitors, so do as your general wishes, and kill any you can get your hands on.”
The Ogryn saluted with a toothy smile. “Yes Boss, sir!”
Nureddin let a wry smile come to his face. An Abhuman the Ogryn may have been, but his loyalty and desire to appease the emperor were to be admired, even if they were mutant. But that merely brought him to the next subject at hand. 'Where is Zaaras?'
The Predator was now immobilized, one its heavy bolters burned off, its pilots obviously desperate to fire one last shot before they faced the final judgement. He could hear curses and roars of rage from within, before the Mordian's Leman Russ fired one more shot, hitting home, and causing a destructive explosion, Chaos and Loyalist alike ducking for cover as the corrupted machine was finally wiped from existence, left only a shattered, burned husk. With the destruction of their tank and most of the force, Chaos was in a retreat now, the Chaos Marines pulling back, their Bolters and weapons sometimes barking out, holding back the Emperor's Faithful even as they withdrew through the breached walls and into the wider city.
He did not have time to worry about that, turning back to the assembled Imperial Forces. They were battered, they were bloody, many were being desperately attended to by Imperial Guard Medics and Apothecaries, but there were enough to still push back and take this world back. He brought his free hand to his ear, contacting the fleet above and the rest of the companies of Marines.
“Hound Keepers, this is Captain Nureddin Ozdemir of the 3rd Sekban Orta, we have secured the Korvin Da Palace of Tharnis Primaris, and may begin landing further forces from our Chapter,” He ordered as he made his way towards the ad hoc command post, by now, General Anton and his staff having left, to look at him in shock and surprise, and most of all, gratitude. “Be aware, the Cult has escalated in strength. We have Chaos traitors among our foes now.”
As he walked, the Mordian Iron Guard stopped what they were doing, to bow to him and his Battle Brothers, dutifully falling to one knee and averting their eyes. The other Captain replied in turn. “Affirmative, heavy armor and specialist detachments will be deployed at once.”
He walked past the other Marines and Guardsmen, giving silent hand signals to his brothers to comb the area and ensure no further Chaos forces were detected in the area, before focusing on the General. As Nureddin walked up to them, the General and his staff began to fall to their knees, Anton grunting in discomfort as he did, before Nureddin held up a hand to stop them. “No need for that, General. The business of war is paramount over pleasantries.”
“Thank you my lord,” Anton grunted, getting back to his feet. “All respect, my last organic knee ain't worth losing just yet.”
Nureddin gave a wry smile and a slight chuckle, before speaking again in a more official tone. “I am Captain Nureddin, as you probably heard. My Chapter has come here to assist your combined regiments for the defense of this world.”
“I'm honored my lord, I am General Anton von Rauch. My troops have been fighting hard for the last week, so your blessed warriors will be what we need to finish this front.” He declared. “Your wisdom will be most welcome.”
Nureddin nodded, stroking his mustache gently with his free hand, using the other to plant his sword into the ground, deep in thought for a moment. “Have your Command Staff bring their reports of this world and Cult to me and my brothers, with due speed, and leave nothing out. Agricultural reports, production quotas, everything you can on this world. We must prepare for every possible attack these traitors will make.”
Anton gave a quick bow of the head. “Yes, Lord. I was careful to follow the same precedent, but your eyes are sharper. Any flaw we have you'll pick up.”
Before he could reply, a deep, rumbling voice, powerful enough to silence a cannon, spoke up. “I would hope so. The Young Captain has been known to forget himself and his duties.”
The dreadnought from before lumbered up to them past the reverent Mordians, Nureddin swearing he could hear him grumbling. “I'm a damn Astartes, not a god, save your ass-kissin'.”
“This would be our venerable brother, Yakub.” Nureddin said with a tight smile to the Imperial Command Staff. “You must forgive him, transfer into the blessed Dreadnought has left him...irritable...at times.”
“Don't talk about me as if my hearing has failed. My first heart is gone, my legs are in a Kroot's bowels, and my right arm was yanked off by an Ork, but the one thing I still have is my ears!” Yakub growled in response, his booming voice as threatening as the heart of a thunder storm.
Before they could continue, another dropship flew overhead, circling overhead. Both Anton and Nureddin looked to the dropship in confusion, the Captain turning to the other. “Where you expecting reinforcements?”
“That isn't your Chapter?” Anton asked in equal confusion and bewilderment.
“It bears no symbols of ours.” Nureddin replied, as three of his Tactical brothers and Hafiz approached, weapons ready, as the gunship touched down before them all.
The back of the gunship opened up, steam pumping out and the machinery groaning, as Hafiz gave a quiet nod and motion to the other brothers, silently telling them to be ready, as the ramp opened and the occupants came out. Leading the trio was a man obviously of the Inquisition. He was a man who appeared to be in his 30s, black hair and a thin mustache, with segmented armor over his chest and waist, wedge-shaped shoulder armor, all colored a faded bronze. On his right collar, was the traditional “I” symbol of the Inquisition, while on the opposite side was a strange, other symbol, one resembling two triangles connected at a point, like a sideways hourglass. His cloak, a deep crimson color, billowed behind him as he stepped off on the gunship.
Beside him to his right, was a Death Korps Grenadier, bearing the black-skull mask, and matching carrapace armor, with a dark blue coat underneath, as well as matching pauldron over the right shoulder, marked with a lighter blue, as were the markings on his chest and mask armor. On him, the Grenadier carried multiple pistols, holstered at his hip, combat knives of various sizes, and grenades. To the Inquisitor's left, was a dark-skinned man, his brown skin contrasted with his clean cut white hair, his left eye cybernetic, and the side of his face covered in scars, while wearing a night-black robe, covered in the pages and passages of the Lectitio Divinitatus, while the book was bound to his hip, while bearing a bolt pistol on the other hip, and a chainsword slung across his back.
Nureddin raised an eyebrow in surprise, looking at the Inquisitor with surprise. He hadn't been told one would be arriving on the world. 'Though what the Inquisition wants to do is often their own, and we have to merely adapt to their whims.'
“Greetings. I am Inquisitor Serizawa. I've come here to prepare this world for something your Astartes and Guard aren't ready for.” He greeted with a single, curt nod, his tone polite and courtly.
“The Chaos forces have been put to rout,” The General stated, in a cagey, guarded manner. He knew well enough the Inquisition had a job to do, but that didn't mean he had to like it. “Do they have something else up their sleeve? An Ancient Daemon, a relic, more forces from the Warp?”
“That is not my concern. My order did not send me to deal with Chaos, from what I've seen you have a handle on this battle,” He explained, looking around the city, the marching Guardsmen and patrolling Marines, more forces being brought in by the second, before focusing back on them. “No, something more important is about to hit this world, and I must have things prepared for it.”
“More important then Chaos? Are you...part of the Ordo Xenos? Is an Ork or Aldari incursion imminent?” Nureddin asked with furrowed eyebrows.
“I'm not of that Order either.” He answered, walking past them all, as every Aide and Marine watched him in a mix of befuddlement and annoyance. His eyes were scanning the palace gardens, the defenses, and the wider Hive City visible just beyond it, as if taking mental notes.
“Then what blasted order are you a part of?” Yakub grumbled in anger, before muttering to himself. “Typical Inquisition, never answer a question when the mystery can get more killed.”
Serizawa turned back to them. “I am of the Ordo Monstrum. You've never known us, but we've been tracking the movements of ancient predators that ruled Holy Terra before humanity took its first breath.”
Everyone, even Yakub, was silent for a moment, staring at the Inquisitor as if he was insane. His two guards stayed at his side the whole time, the Grenadier hooking both thumbs under his belt, while the Inquisitor seemed to be quietly speaking about the wider city.
“Creatures that predate humanity? Wha...Surely you jest?” Anton asked, shaking his head in shock.
“No.” Serizawa replied bluntly. “The creature I'm after is primordial. It and many like it were active in the 20 and 21st Millennium, and were banished from Terra when the Emperor began his quest for rulership.”
“Banished? How? There's no signs of any gigantic creatures other then the Tharnis Mountain Worms, at 30 feet long, and those are native to this region.” An aide spoke up in disbelief.
“It's more then 30, but we need to prepare,” Serizawa stated, walking back towards them, waging a finger. “There are, four Imperial Guard Regiments, correct?”
“On this world, yes.” Anton replied with a nod. “Krieg, Mordian, Tallarn and Finreht. Siege, Armored, and two Infantry and Scouting regiments respectively.”
Serizawa nodded slightly to himself, stroking his chin. “Give me maps of this planet, and move your regiments accordingly to my words. We'll need to prepare for an aquatic assault.”
“What of the Chaos worshipers?” Anton asked in shock, looking at the Inquisitor in absolute shock. This seemed almost heretical within itself, forgoing the focus on the traitors who had turned from the Emperor to focus on some Zoo hunt by some deranged Inquisitor.
“Lure them there.” Serizawa ordered, turning away and beginning to walk away with his entourage.
Once he was a fair distance away, Yakub snarled in his same wrathful tone. “Yes. The Traitor forces. Infamously stubborn and easily lead into slaughter. I'm sure they'll love seeing the big dumb, whatever-the-hell the Inquisitor was rambling about.”
“I agree. This Inquisitor has been starrin' too long into heretical artifacts of some kind,” Anton remarked, rubbing his chin as he shook his head. “This is leading us to a bad position.”
Nureddin took a deep breath in, closing his eyes for a moment, as he felt his temper rise for a moment, before clamping it down. “Let's gather together, and try and adapt to this. And pray to Jaghatai and the Emperor for favor.”
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
Nureddin had been gathered with General Anton, and after several hours, had managed to get the Colonels in charge of the other three Regiments. Colonel Bach Kessler of the Death Korps, a strongly built soldier, in the long coat and breast plate, bare of any metals or baubles. Colonel Colin MacJurl, a large, strongly built man, his arms covered in the swirling blue runes of Finreht, as well the right half of his face, with long, barbaric hair and beard. Then Colonel Nazir Al'Muab, a slight, wiry man, face and hands dark and weathered from time in the desert sun, his armored uniform built for utility over comfort or show. At his side hung various swords and other weapons, his head wrappings parted to show his scared and battered face.
At the sight of Captain Nureddin, they all bowed their heads in reverence to him, and his advisors, the Fakir Al-Hashimi, adorned in green armor, and a psychic hood connected to his head, the back of his skull particularly. His shoulders and back were adorned with the furs of a great beast. His right shoulder and arm were blue in color, while various talisman and fetishes hung from his waist, resembling teeth, bones and icons. His face was weathered, old and battered, scars over his right eye, three over his lips, a thin mustache that was graying at the edges.
Al-Hashimi held tightly onto his staff, a brass wolves' head, flanked by two eagle-like wings beside, blue energy sparking across its surface. His face was impassive and seemed as set as stone, not moving or reacting to the Imperial Guard leaders entering the room, simply focused ahead, as if his mind and eyes were perceiving something the others could not. It may very well have been the case. Nureddin did not understand it all, but from what he had been told, the Fakirs of the Hound Keepers, and the Stormseers of their gene-fathers, the White Scars, were blessed with a small portion of the lightning and the fury of the heavens in their blood. It was they, with this power of the Great Sky, that could see the spirits of the stars and winds, commune with the Emperor himself, and so much more.
'His wisdom has never failed us, let him meditate on the Emperor and the spirits he sends to guide us.' Nureddin thought with a nod to himself.
The room they had used was once the personal quarters of the ruler of this planet, Duke Johannes de Lugein, a trove of books, which lay on his shelves covered in dust, a storage area of various wines and spirits from across the Imperium, including a very watered down version of Fenrisian Ale, with empty rows, showing the Duke had been quiet liberal in his use of alcohol. A fine table of his had been turned into a work desk for the various Commanders and Colonels of the Guard, other desks and tables bearing the tactical read-outs, causality reports and logistic needs. Again, the tables had once been used to hold ornate sculpture and decorations, without an other use.
'No wonder this mortal allowed a cult to develop under his nose,' Nureddin thought dismissively, stroking his mustache with one of his armored hands. 'When these baseline humans are allowed to run things without our involvement, indulgent man-children are more often the result.'
Of course, Nureddin respected even the mortal leaders here, Anton and the regimental Colonels, but could their children be trusted to run things? Or Grand-children? The Imperium would be better off without such a desire for hereditary titles and positions. If he and those like him had more say...
His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Inquisitor Serizawa and his retinue into the room. “Ladies, gentlemen and others, I am Hayata Serizawa, Inquisitor of the Ordo Monstrum. I have brought you all here today to assist me in one mission. It will not interfere with the destruction of the Heretics and traitors to mankind, but its importance cannot be understated.”
Al-Hashimi turned finally to him, his eyes now alert and aware. He looked at the Inquisitor with a weary glare. “We just have to redirect our forces based on a phantom from Terra's past?”
“Yes. I just need prove of its existence, and I need it to be contained from entering the wider Hive-City.” Serizawa explained.
“What exactly is this creature?” Nazir asked. “You have been vague on the details.”
Serizawa rolled his armored shoulders slightly and grunted, nodding. “Right, that's the tricky part. My superior consulted the Emperor's Tarot, and it informed us of the approach of one of the creatures we long sought. Anything more could not be divined.”
“How big are these beasts, you speak of them as gigantic, but how large are we talking?”
“Larger then an Warlord or Warmaster-class Titan.” Serizawa stated point-blank.
The Imperial Guard officers and Commissars looked among each other in shock and horror, murmuring for a moment, as Nureddin looked Al-Hashimi, as if trying to confirm that they had indeed heard the same thing. Al-Hashimi blinked a few times in quiet shock, scratching the side of his chin with a single finger.
“A Warmaster is 50 meters, no machine or living creature can get any larger then that,” Colin remarked, shaking his head as if dealing with the ramblings of a madman. “There's a reason the Tyranid Titans are small and mobile.”
“These things are not normal. They are creature of ancient times, that feed on radiation itself and grow from it. Their abilities are often beyond even the creatures of the Warp.” Serizawa explained.
“I don't believe this.” Colonel Kessler stated firmly, tugging at his long coat. “The Adminstratum and Inquisition have recorded all the beasts of the void and earth that Mankind must face. You want support, bring the evidence first.”
“How did the Inquisition and Imperium record those first foes without contact, Colonel?” Serizawa said pointedly. “We must be the first to see this for ourselves, and in doing so, prepare it for the public record of the entire Imperium.”
'What isn't hidden in red tape.' Thought Anton, shaking his head. All this sounded too nice, too naive, for anything involving the Imperium. The Emperor was great and holy, but the Empire that claimed to devote itself to his vision was not. This would merely be one more example of that. 'Best thing to do is just fight the enemies where they appear.'
“According to the Tarot, the Beast will rise from the Seas, after 20 millennia of not being seen, and wage war upon two armies in the North East of a world long forgotten, destroying one,” Serizawa explained. “The coordinates lead me to believe this is the world, and our army is ready to face Chaos. All that remains is the beast.”
“Wage war on two armies. That means there is a chance it will come for us, right?” Nureddin asked at least. The others turned to him in surprise, as if forgetting the Astartes had been there, so silent he and Al-Hashimi had been.
“I have read through, and in the ancient times, Psykers would appear on Earth, influenced by dreams to predict the arrival of the beasts, and even guide them away from the forgotten cities and fight one another.” Serizawa stated. “With the help of the Sanctioned Psykers of the gathered regiments, and the Honored Librarian, Al-Hashimi, I want to make contact with it.”
Al-Hashimi spoke, his voice a deep, rumbling tone, almost a match for Brother Yakub's own voice. “I have read of the Chief Librarian of the Ultramarines, Varro Tigurius, leading a cohort of Librarians, tried to read the Tyranid Hive-Mind, and most of them died and went insane from the effort. Is this going to be something similar?”
“It'll only be one creature, and I will be channeling your shared powers to contact whatever comes.” Serizawa answered in a patient tone, before tapping his left finger twice onto the table. “All that is needed is to bring the Chaos wretches to the area to break them as well.”
Anton and Nureddin didn't need to say anything to the other to know that both had the same idea. They were both here to reinforce the Planetary Defense Force, what remained of it, from the vast Chaos Cult and now the Chaos Marines and Daemons. Wherever they deployed, the it would be of the Chaos Cult's choosing, not the Loyalists and their armies.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
Zaaras stepped into the Cult's headquarters within the city, armor battered and marked with bolt rounds. Amelia looked up in surprise, as Zaaras pointed his maul at the Cult leader, causing her to freeze in terror for a moment, wondering if this was him cutting loose ends and destroying some of the middle-ranked cultists to secure more centralized leadership.
He spoke in a terse hiss, causing her to shake in her boots as she stared at him. “Gather your inner-circle and what you need, we're leaving.”
“Leaving? The palace...” She began, pointing out of the hab-block window at it.
“Is reinforced. Whatever you did, a Space Marine chapter of the Corpse Emperor's dogs have been drawn here.” Zaaras said, lumbering past the cult leader, moving beside her, and grabbing the map of the world. “Do you have other hide-outs?”
“Many.” She answered, her voice tight and terrified. 'Space Marines? The Emperor's Angels? They're not suppose to be here. Why have they come?'
“Show them to me, we will go there.” Zaaras ordered, forcing her out of her thoughts. “We need to prepare our forces in a far more coordinated manner.”
Another set of steps came into the room, both turning in slight surprise, as a strange creature came into the room. It was a squat, pink-colored being, two right arms, and one left, his left holding a large staff, the top of it having a crescent, while a blue fire burned within the crescent. His secondary arm held a grimoire. He had two horns twisted from the top of his body, while a beak came out of his 'face'. The creature had four yellow eyes on the left side of the face, and five on the right.
“Herald Vffarith'Fyrm, what do we owe the honor of Tzeentch's chosen?” Zaaras asked, turning to the Daemonic Herald.
The Daemon Herald hobbled forward, hopping twice into the room, before pointing his finger at the paper map of the world and its cities. A bolt of fire hit the map. Both Cult Leader and Chaos Space Marine Lord jumped slightly, as the fire burned a tiny hole into a corner of the map. Zaaras looked to the map, furrowing his eyebrows.
“There. We go there.” Vffarith'fyrm ordered in a jittery, excited tone, beak turning to manic grin. “We'll meet them there.”
“Any reason in particular?” Zaaras asked.
“Because Tzeentch wants it.” The Herald answered, giggling slightly. “The surprise will be fun for all.”
The Daemon snapped his fingers and teleported away, as Zaaras turned to Amelia. “You heard the Herald. We move there.”
She had doubts about this, but the Herald was a messenger from one of the Gods. He spoke with their favor, and it was not their place to judge. One of the greatest Heroes of Tzeentch, his champion, had said to just be happy with the part you play. In that case, Amelia would serve. It was one more step to doing away with the cursed governor and the rest of the Imperium.
Whatever came next was up to them and their mercurial favor.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
For the next week, the Imperial Forces chased Chaos through the streets of the hives, in a running battle, Chaos Cultists, Damned Soldiers and Heretic Marines giving an organized retreat, in Razorback, Rhino and other armored carriers. Finreht and Tallarn scouts traced through the cityscape, disabling the traps and the like that would've set Imperial forces back in their advance. The Imperial tide came, Mordian tank divisions pressing the advantage, the Hound Keeper's own Predators and Vindicators charging into the thickest areas of resistance, whenever Chaos forces became entrapped, quickly leaving nothing but broken Chaos powered armor, and shredded and torn open bodies of Cultists. It was large losses, but the Chaos forces' commanders, Lords and Champions were not bothered. A few platoons and mobs were nothing to the large number of devoted that remained.
The area that Vffarith'fyrm had desired was a coastal port, used both to process merchants from across the Imperium, as well as processing salt water into either drinking water for the wider Hive City, or to power parts of the Factoriums across the smaller city near the port, crafting everything from tools, machinery and, for the Imperial Guard and local PDF, vehicles. So of course, the Cult had set its roots down here near the beginning of its existence, converting much of the populace and workforce under the noses of the factory foremen and managers. The terrible hours, dangerous work conditions, all of it made them easy converts to a revolutionary group, even if many were unaware of their actual loyalties.
After several weeks of pursuit across the world, Chaos had held up in the Port of Corval, erecting defenses, setting down their captured Leman Russ Tanks and Predators, converting every building and portion of the city they could. By the time the Imperials would arrive they would find the Port-city a veritable fortress, untouchable and impenetrable for any attacker.
Colonel Kessler had a response to that. Watching the city and all its defenses from afar, with special cogitators, he contacted General Von Rauch. “We know the extent of their defenses?”
“Most of it. The Highlanders' scout squads have managed to get as much as they can.” Anton replied.
Kessler did not waste a moment. “Permission to fire upon them?”
“Bring down the skies like your people did at Vraks.”
Bach gave a tight grin behind his mask, before raising his hand up for his regiment to see, then closing it into a tight fist. “Death Korps 204th Siege Regiment, open fire!”
The deep boom of Basilisk and Manticore fire sounded, missiles and shells flying through the air with a sharp whine, before coming back down to the ground. At the flank of the earth, further south and away from the seas, Nureddin nodded to the 4 Whirlwinds under his command, their own missiles joining the slavo. Seconds later, explosions, big and small, tore through Corval, blooms of red and black rising from the city, factoriums and manufacturing zones blown completely to dust. While it was true they were firing blind, Corval was one of many manufacturing zones on the planet. The Adminstratium wouldn't mind losing one if the entire planet was brought back.
Zaaras was safe and secure far away from the artillery strikes, watching as the ground shook, portions of the city shattered and some of the positions were completely vaporized. He was surprised they were willing to fire blind, but this was the way of things since Horus and his followers had bravely declared the False Emperor a fraud and attempted to first cast him down. The Corpse-worshippers and the enlightened would spare no quarter for the other.
After a few minutes of the bombardment, Zaaras grinned to his gathered Cult leaders and Champions, and gave a small gesture. Across the city, colored red, brass and black, and covered in the profane symbols and icons of the Chaos gods, were Basilisks of their own, groaning and moving into firing position by the Cultists and traitor Guard operators. Once they angle was right, the sharp, thunderous boom of artillery fire sounded, followed by several smaller explosions popping off around the city, Traitor Militia mortar teams firing their own mortars. The projectiles screamed through the air, burning through the air, leaving trails of hellfire through the skies, before crashing down into the massed ranks of the Imperial Guard. Guardsmen Troopers hurried and scrambled about, screaming and yelling in terror, as the artillery of the traitors came down upon them. Commissars and Priests yelled over the chaos, attempting to get things back in order and advance. One of the Leman Russ Vanquishers was hit, crippled, and as its crew tried to scramble out, was hit again and exploded in a fireball.
Anton snarled, slamming a hand down on his command post table. “Kessler, reload and fire at once!”
Colonel Colin spoke next through the Vox signals. “My kinsmen couldn't prob too deep. Sorry General, but I think they've been preparing for this for a while.”
“Just as with Vraks, Taros, etc.” The Inquisitor remarked, looking over the display of the battlefield in question. “Never underestimate the capacity of such traitors to use the Emperor's gifts for their own debauched methods.”
Anton had no idea what was Taros was. Something about blue-skinned, cannibal Xenos of some kind on a desert, but he understood the premise. They had spent years planning this revolution and revolut against the Duke and Emperor. They wouldn't go down easy.
“General, if I may intrude with a plan of my own,” Captain Nureddin commented within the Vox channels. “My Marines can break the artillery with a quick, precision strike, if the Imperial Fighter Corp can help.”
“Explain, my lord.” Anton replied tightly.
“The Hound Keepers' Bikers, Sipahi, are masters at quick, brutal strikes at great speed. I will lead the spear head into the city under the cover of artillery,” Nureddin explained quickly, not wanting to waste a second. “Some of my Rhinos can then dispatch Marines to sweep through the city, while the Chapter's Acemi-Oglan mark positions of their artillery placements.”
Anton didn't waste a second to respond. “Go ahead Captain. You know your troops better then I. Use them as you wish.”
“Thank you, General Von Rauch. The traitors will soon feel the sharp kiss of our blades.” Nureddin declared.
At his corner of the battlefield, as artillery shells exploded all around, he turned to the Hound Keepers' Bikers, standing stalwart and stoic, in through the chaos and din of battle. They bore the same green armor over their frames, with a red sash across their chests, golden eight-pointed stars across them, while their helmets bore two feathers placed on the top of the helmet.
“Brothers of the Hound Keepers, Sons of Jaghatai Khan, and Grandsons of the Storm of Chogoris!” Nureddin declared, as a bike was brought to him. “We take to the Assault Bike as he did long ago. Show these traitors the Wrath of the Emerald Killers! Let us go, Sipahis!”
“The Hounds Hunt!” The Sipahis shouted as one, some placing their helmets on, other readjusting their sash, before mounting their Assault Bikes, preparing their bolt pistols, Chainswords and power swords, before looking to Nureddin for his word.
He swung his sword forward, as 12 Assault Bike Marines and their sergeants reaved up their machines, and followed after, speeding off towards the flank of Corval's walls, now burned and leveled from the artillery bombardment. Many areas beyond it were in ruins, fires still burning from the artillery strikes. Another rounds of Whirlwind missiles shot out from the Hound Keepers' artillery, screaming through the air like banshees, before pulverizing further blocks of the city. They were firing blind, but the point wasn't to hit anything, but merely to provide a smoke screen of cover.
Indeed, as the Sipahis of the Chapter zoomed at high speed, a few dug-outs and troops remained in place around the city. The Bike Squads quickly closed in, past the walls, just as a group of Cultists, dressed in various robes, garments, and spikes and Chaos symbols across their back and bodies, bearing autoguns in their hands. They had scurried out from cover, converging back on the streets, just in time for the Space Marine Bikes to be upon them. The first Cultist barely had time to react, before he was impaled through Nureddin's power sword. Bolter rounds from the front-mounted weaponry on the bikes shot out, shredding the half-dozen cultists a part in no time, one trying to run off, taking a street to the left and running, only for one of the sergeants to pull out his bolt pistol, and firing a single round, the bolter shell hitting the cultist's chest and exploding in a shower of gore and bone across the city streets.
They continued on driving, not losing pace, as a heavy weapons stationed in a building above them saw them, loaded the rounds into the Heavy Autocannon, and began firing, heavy bullets tearing through the city. Rounds struck at the Marines, a few lucky ones tearing apart their ceremonial sash, before one of them pulled out a frag grenade popped the pin, and driving closer, used his super human strength to toss it in. A scream of horror sounded, before an explosion tore apart the tower, reducing the top of the building to a smoking ruin.
As they sped through the city, Rhino APCs came up behind them, 3 of them, bringing up the rear. The drivers waited patiently, slowly and steadily going through the ruins, treads crushing the already tattered remains of the Cultists left in Nureddin and his Biker wings' wake. The time for battle would come. For now, the battle brothers within, were silently reciting prayers of their own within, focusing themselves for the battle to come.
The Sipahis continued their journey, coming to the first artillery encampment, four profane basilisks, their crews opening the cylinders, and beginning to load-in another volley, as two Traitor militia on guard, wearing rebreathers and crimson flak armor, one pointing at the approaching dust cloud, both beginning to raise their lasguns for a fight, only for a bolter round to hit one of the Traitor Guard and reduce him to chunks. The other staggered, blood, bone and meat splattering his body, as he blindly fired at them. The las fire struck the armor of some of the Marines, before a barrage of the Bike-mounted bolters turned him into red mist. As the bikers flew forward, they tossed Krak grenades, onto the platform holding the gunner crews, the explosions tearing apart most of the basilisks, the grenades igniting the shells and blowing up the artillery in a a massive fireball.
A traitor militia remained on one of the ruined towers, firing down at them with lasgun fire. A shot burned Nureddin's check, the Marine Captain looking annoyed for a moment, before pulling out his plasma pistol and firing it. The bolt of plasma hit the traitor guardsmen, his upper body disappearing into a flash of fried gore and blood coating the wall behind him, as his body flopped over and fell to the ground, smoke rising from the body.
The rhinos came in right after, coming to a stop, disembarking their various Marines, and prepared their weapons and equipment for further combat. Several platoons of Scouts, came out, holding Sniper rifles, shotguns, bolt pistols and combat knives on them, ready to go. They were clean-shave, a few having combat scars, but most fresh-faced and young compared to the full battle brothers. A few Sergeants were with them, bearing the combed mustaches and groomed hair of the other Marines.
“You have the mission. Divide up, and seek the locations of the Artillery encampments,” Nureddin ordered quickly, pointing his sword throughout the city. “Move swift and silent, like a spirit in the night.”
The scouts all nodded, silently moving out. For many, this would be their first mission outside of the academies and training fields the Sergeants oversaw them at. It was the chance to prove themselves and show they belonged in the chapter. Their sergeants lead the way, each carrying a sniper rifle, and silently gesturing, using hand signal and movements to direct them throughout the city. In times of war and battle, these Scouts had been taught a language of posture, hand movements and gestures, so to move silent and be able to attack without ever alerting the foe.
As they dispersed throughout the city, following the triangulation of where the artillery fire had come from, and the sound of the explosions. Chaos Militia, Cultists and even the odd Marine could be spotted, but what was noted by one of the sergeants leading the scouts, was the lack of their numbers. A few Aspiring Champions and Chaos Marines, but none in any squads or fire teams. It didn't take a genius to realize the Chaos forces were reserving their marines for something far more important. Most could guess it had to do with the inevitable final battle of this siege, and reserving their time and energy for the true enemies, their counterparts in the Hound Keepers.
Indeed, within the central compound, where Zaaras and his gathered Champions and Sorcerers were gathered, with the remaining leadership of the Cult with them. One of the Sorcerers bore a helmet shaped like a skull, chrome, with glowing red eyes, and a head crest rising from it. He leaned on a staff, a twin-pronged weapon, with an eye in the center. His armor was the same black and blue coloration as the rest, but with an eye in the center of his shoulders and chest armor, while scrolls were secured to his hip, along with a bolt pistol.
“The artillery continues on schedule, my lord.” The Sorcerer reported.
“Good. We will ground the Corpse-Worshippers down, before they can even get close,” He declared with a laugh. “They expected an easy siege, and have wondered into a killing zone.”
One of the Champions stepped forward, dressed in the blue and black armor of the rest, but his left arm utterly exposed, a pale, marble white color, covered in parts of the bicep and wrists in leather, studded straps, and nails long and painted black. His hair was long and jet black, while his eyes were a strange, almost glowing green, in contrast to his equally pale white, gaunt face. On his waist, were various swords and daggers hung and sheathed.
“Lord Zaaras, I know our goal is victory, but if I may beseech you, may I have the chance to duel the Hound Keepers' Captain, this 'Nureddin'?” The Champion asked, voice a low, hissing whisper. “My blades are ready. I have perfected my strikes for a fight like this.”
“You will have your chance, if he survives,” Zaaras remarked, looking back to the great holographic display of the entire city, giving a general location of their troops and the Loyalists. “Temper your passions, Telion. The greater picture is more important then single battles or duels.”
Telion narrowed his eyes, but nodded. “Yes Lord. As you wish.”
Amelia, however, was not focused on the conversation between the Chaos Marines and their master. She had focused in on something. The display of the entire cityscape and the battle before her flickered and shimmered, the base shaking and shuddering from the various explosions and shelling from the Imperials. Something was different about this map. Every 15 minutes, it would shut off, wait a second, and turn back on. She scrunched her eyebrows, looking over the display map. She furrowed her eyebrows and blinked several times, something sticking out to her. The Sorcerer noted it first, turning his skull-like helmet to her.
“Something wrong, Cult Magus?” He asked, turning his burning coal-like eyes to the display. “Is something wrong with the cogitator display?”
She nodded, pointing to a building, or the ruins of it, in the Southern portion of the city. “That tower. It took me a while, but that tower is destroyed, and nothing else around it.”
Zaaras furrowed his eyebrows, the Sorcerer growling in annoyance. “You waste our time with architecture?”
The Chaos Lord held up a hand, stopping the Sorcerer. “Hold Lekaeros. What are you getting at, Magus?”
“None of the other buildings around it display any damage that wasn't there before.” She explained, before turning to Zaaras. “Can we contact the Artillery crew there.”
One of the Cult leaders spoke up. “That is artillery Battery Augur B89. I can contact them, if you wish, master.”
Zaaras nodded, the Cultist holding a Vox Comms System to his ear. “Basilisk Battery Augur B89, report in at once.”
The Cultist furrowed his eyebrows, looking confused for a moment, before turning to Zaaras again. “It's dead air.”
The Chaos Lord raised an eyebrow in surprise, before turning to Amelia. “What could that mean?”
The way he asked it, made her feel as if he knew the answer already, but wanted another to confirm his suspicions, to ensure he wasn't perhaps being short-sighted or letting his desire to fight Nureddin and his Chapter get in the way. “I think...”
“What she thinks is irrelevant.” Lekaeros grumbled, shaking his head in annoyance. “The False-Emperor's tools have artillery too, Lord Zaaras. Why deal with conspiracy when the most obvious of answers is there.”
“Is it an artillery strike? They're firing blind into the city, and having to guess where our own is at,” Amelia spoke up, despite the terror she felt from the glare of the Marine Sorcerer. “Only one building and an entire artillery battery. That takes precision.”
The Sorcerer's eyes seemed to glow eve brighter, before he drew himself, tilting his head slightly to one side. “Explain.”
She was surprised a being who had been so arrogant and condescending to her had suddenly had turned around, as she took a shaky breath. “Well, my lord, I think, personally, this is might by anything from Imperial Stormtroopers, to even those Hound marines.”
“The Hound Keepers.” Telion corrected, before eagerly turning to Zaaras. “Let me take a section of our troops, and hunt them down. I will kill Nureddin in a single stroke across the neck.”
Zaaras studied the battlefield for a moment, before alerts sounded. The Chaos Cultists and Marines looked around in shock for a moment, before a Cultist ran in, pointing to the outside. “Lords and masters, the central artillery batteries and mortar teams have been hit with shells and missile strikes!”
“They must be getting coordinates from forces inside...” Zaaras muttered to himself, before raising his voice. “Sarthul!”
Another Marine marched in, this one covered in the same dark armor, but his shoulders and arms colored red, his armor lined with brass details, and his head exposed except for his mouth and nose, which was covered in a mask-like structure, steam pumping out with every breath. His skin was pale, lined with sickly, black veins across his face, and eyes that looked bloodshot.
“Yes, Lord Zaaras?”
“Sarthul, you and Telion will lead a squadron of our brothers into the Southern section of the City. Kill any loyalist you find,” He then turned to Lakaeros. “Sorcerer, you, Jakull and Yarxka, will lead another detachment to the northern artillery batteries. Whether it's mortal Guardsmen teams or the Loyalist pups, subdue them.”
“Subdue, my lord?” Lakaeros asked, tilting his head slightly in confusion.
“I wish to torture whoever is lending the mortal corpse-worshipers an eye on our own weapons,” Zaaras commanded coldly, his expression immovable. “I want to broadcast their suffering to the loyalists. But, if you find that they are just too resistant, too difficult to take...well, I would understand.”
“I will keep that in mind, my lord.” Lakaeros replied in a cordial, polite tone to the Chaos Lord, though Amelia could tell he was rather annoyed with his desire to flay and torture the enemy.
Still, he turned to carry out his task, as Sarthul marched into the rest of the war room, grabbing Telion by the shoulder, what Amelia could see, seemingly bending into a smile. “Come on, hedonist. Let's see who butchers the most this round.”
His tone was low and harsh, as if it hurt to speak, his breath a constant, dry rasp. Telion gave a sideways grin. “I will enjoy outpacing you as always, Berserker.”
The two hurried off, ground shaking slightly from the weight of their armor and muscle. Amelia looked after them for a moment, before turning back to Zaaras. He seemed pleased for a moment, before turning back to the display. “You have done well, Magus. Let's hope the Loyalists aren't in full force here, and we are only dealing with the meat shields.”
She was surprised for a moment at the actual respect given. She had thought her and her Cultists were disposable to the Chaos Marines. Perhaps now, her troops and their artillery and heavy weapons had proven to the Marines that they were worthy of fighting beside them. It filled her with even more determination to win this, to prove that not only was this world theirs, not some out-of-touch Duke, but also to prove her people were not meat shields the Guard they were fighting.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
Nureddin kept driving forward, the Sipahis and himself having cut down a number of Traitor Militia and Cultists, Bolt shell and blade spilling blood wherever they appeared. It had been an hour and a half by his estimates, and the Hound Keepers' Scouts were still fast at work, mapping out the city, marking targets, and relying the information to Imperial Command. For now, Nureddin and his forces were busy making themselves as much an annoyance as possible, killing Chaos wretches wherever they appeared and trying to draw out more to keep the scouts from being found.
As he drove through the streets, Nureddin saw a flash of something in the corner of his eye. He turned in an instant, raising his plasma pistol, as a Traitor Marine pointed a heavy bolter at him, and opened fire. He fired a shot at the man, as he turned to the other Hound Keepers.
“Break off!” Was all he got out, before the heavy bolter rounds screamed through the air, hitting most of the portions of his bike, and causing it to explode.
Nureddin fly off, as the bikes broke off, as other Havocs appeared, firing their own heavy weapons, bullets and rockets firing off and causing them to round and go down the other streets. Nureddin rose from the ruins of the bike, unsheathing his sword and gripping his pistol tight. He briefly put away the pistol, before contacting his ear piece.
“Nearby Tactical and Devastator squads, come to my position, we have more Heretic Marines!” He ordered, before turning back to the traitors. Many wore the black and blue armor, mixed with brass and crimson, while others had pink and purple on their arms, chest and helmet.
They bore Chain axes, either one or two, while the purple and black ones carried large Sonic Canons. Among the Noise Marines, was the crimson-armored Sarthul, bearing a large heavy bolter, bandoleer of bullets hanging open in the air, a large, rusted bayonet implanted below the barrel of the gun. Leading the Berzerkers, was the pale form of Telion, unsheathing the sword on his right hip, pulling the sword out slowly, grinning eagerly to Nureddin.
“Captain of the Hound Keepers, I am Telion Sairan, Champion of Slaanesh,” Telion introduced himself, giving his curved blade a twirl, before unsheathing the other sword. “And with a single perfect strike, you will be dead.”
Nureddin immediately pointed his pistol and fired at Telion, the Champion dodging away quickly, as several of the Berzerkers rushed at him, yelling and shouting, frothing at the mouth and reeving up their chainaxes, and closing the distance. Two of them swung their axes, Nureddin blocking one strike, before quickly flipping it around and slicing one across the middle. The second Berzerker stumbled away, grunting in pain, as the other kept wildly swinging, ax roaring through the air, Nureddin blocking and deflecting blows away, before swinging his sword and impaling the Berzerker through the chest, before tearing out, turning and firing his plasma pistol in the traitor's head, vaporizing it a wave of burning metal and fried bone and meat fragments.
The other yelled, more a series of angry, enraged yells then any real battle cry, and charged again. Nureddin turned, and as the Berzerker closed the gap again, simply pointed his sword upwards, and let the Heretic run himself through the blade. Nureddin merely chuckled, giving him a mocking, disappointed shake of the head, before pushing him off the blade. He turned back to the others, only to be met with a barrage of Sonic Cannons and Heavy Bolter fire, Nureddin running through the hail of attacks and firing his pistol at them as he dove for cover.
His earpiece buzzed, as one of the Sipahis spoke. “Captain, should we engage?”
“No, encircle the area, there is significant heretic Astartes presence here,” He ordered through the hail of Noise blasts and Shells. “Entrap them, and ensure they are cut off from reinforcements.”
“Understood. Emperor keep you captain.” The Sipahi responded in a cold, professional tone. It was a tough battle, even for their leader, but they were Astartes. Every battle risked death. They had been trained and bred to accept that in every landfall.
“You as well.” Nureddin responded, as the attacks temporarily stopped, the Chaos Marines stopping to reload and cool their weapons. 'At least the Noise has briefly stopped. My ears almost popped from such cacophony.'
He looked over the cover for a moment, trying to get an eye on his foes, when he saw a Berzerker swinging his chainsword downwards at him. Nureddin barely had time to tuck and roll away, before the Berzerker was firing a barrage from his Bolt pistol at him, letting it strike his back and shoulder armor, before turning and firing a plasma bolt at the Berzerker's chest, knocking him back, as Telion charged past, brandishing both swords. Nureddin fired another shot, hitting Telion, though he was moving so fast, he couldn't tell where it had landed, before his pistol released a hiss, blue smoke pumping out of the sides of the pistol, as he silently cursed.
'Perhaps the other Captains were right to warn me about the untrustworthy nature of Plasma vs Bolters.' He thought, as he prepared himself for the attack.
All the preparation in the world couldn't prepare Nureddin for the chaotic maelstrom of blades Telion threw at him, striking and cutting with a precision and strength. Telion's bored expression had given way completely to a look of pure ecstasy and excitement, grinning madly, blood dripping in small drops from parts of his lips and the corners of his mouth. Nureddin remained focused, simply blocking and parrying strikes, waiting for an opening. Even for a Space Marine, Telion was fast, dangerously fast. Their blades struck hard and fast against each, energy sparking off and flying from every strike.
Telion stopped for a moment, breathing hard and still grinning like mad. “Ah, the dance of battle!”
“Consider it your last waltz.” Nureddin said stoically, but was not so sure of that. This Champion's speed and skill were impeccable.
“I can smell your fear, your doubts, Captain Nureddin,” Telion replied with a chuckle, bringing one of his blades in front of his faces, his pupils widening to almost take up the entire eye. “I respect your acting talents, but please. Stick to war, with what little time you have left.”
His jaw clenched, Nureddin glaring at the traitor with pure venom. He was used to the mad fury of the Khornate worshipers, the brute savagery of the Orks, the Bashi-Bazouks, as his chapter called them, but very rarely had he crossed blades with Slaaneshi worshipers. He had usually cut them down while on his bike with the Sipahis.
The Khorne worshiper with a Heavy Bolter shouted to him, annoyed as ever. “Finish the fight, or I'll gun him down myself!”
Telion turned, his quiet confidence turning to rage. “Sarthul, do not interfere with my battle!”
Nureddin did not waste a moment, swinging his power sword around, and striking Telion across his armored chest, the Slaanesh Champion barely backing away to avoid a deeper cut, and, as he tried to swing his left blade about to counter, Nureddin fired, hitting him in the shoulder with his pistol and knocking him back from the recoil, before slashing again, this time across his middle. Telion shouted in anger, and as Nureddin went to stab him in the chest, Telion regained his composure and swung his blade, parrying the strike, before giving a stab of his own, Nureddin angling his body away so the strike chipped against his right shoulder armor, the Chapter's icon grazed. It was not desirable, but better he could still see it refurbished.
“I grow to love this battle more and more!” Telion shouted, swinging two more strikes, at him, a downwards slash, Nuredding intercepting it. “Every weakness, every strength, the best warriors use every advantage. You are quickly becoming one of my favorite enemies.”
The remaining Berzerkers and Noise Marines gathered around to watch, many enjoying the show, or simply waiting for an opening to attack Nureddin himself. It appeared that, even if he won, the other Chaos worshipers, scum that they were, would bounce upon him like starved jackals.
'Emperor give me strength to take as many of your enemies down as I can.' He thought, sparks of energy flying off their blades as they struggled against each other.
The loud, Chunk-chunk sound of bolter fire going off sounded, the Berzerker furthest to Nureddin's left, exploding in a shower of gore from the bolter of one of his brothers, as more quickly appeared, heavy weapons brought to bear, and many of the traitors cut down in an instant. The Havocs and Noise Marines turned their weapons on the Hound Keepers, as the Loyalists fired and charged, yelling and roaring their disdain for the traitors. The Berzerkers broke off, leveraging their Chainaxes and swords, a few firing their bolt pistols at the Marines. Noise Marines fired Sonic blasts at the charging Hound Keepers, only for a roar from the heavens to sound, Sarthul and the other weapons teams turning upwards, to see half a dozen Assault Marines charging down from the skies.
They slammed into the ground, some crashing directly onto the traitors, others swinging hard into the traitors. The teeth of the chainswords bit hard, carving into the other, again and again, until blood finally sprayed from the wounds, carving through corrupted armor and tainted flesh like a breeze passing through the blades of grass. Nureddin did not hesitate, continuing his assault, swinging and striking at the Slaaneshi champion, taking the initiative, pressing hard against him. Telion did not say a word, batting and parrying aside attacks from the other, trying to press, only for Nureddin to counter and stab at him, not willing to let the Champion gain the upper hand again.
Sarthul, meanwhile, was able to easily handle the Assault Marines. They were aggressive, and they hit hard, but he had not risen to be one of Khorne's favored by being scared of a little thunder. He swung his heavy bolter around to the closest charging Assault Marine, the bayonet slicing through his neck and nearly taking the Marine's head clean off, as another fired at him, a few shells hitting his chest armor, before he tilted his head to the left, narrowly avoiding a shell to the head.
'Why did I choose not to wear any helmet? I remember that Sorcerer from the Black Legion telling me how he killed a Space Wolf with a shot to the head, I should've damn well learned.' He thought, as he swung his gun around and fired, spraying the area with Heavy bolter rounds, cutting down both Assault Marines and Noise marines before him. 'Even if Khorne has blessed me with a face of death, doesn't mean its bullet-proof.'
He pressed a finger to his ear piece. “Lord Zaaras, Marines of the Corpse Emperor have entered the city.”
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
At that moment, Lekaeros and the other two Sorcerers with him had confirmed the same thing, the streets caked in the blood of the Scout Marines, that the Hound Keepers were playing a part in the destruction of their artillery and gun emplacements. He smiled grimly within his helmet. He knew that that cultist leader Amelia was right, deep down. He knew more then anything the Loyalists wouldn't stay out, but he had hoped, on some level, this fight would at least be somewhat easy. Regardless, even if this was a battle against Corpse Loving Marines and three Guard regiments, they had more then enough forces to grind them down and take this world for themselves.
Lekaeros stalked through the city, looking around for more loyalists to kill. Every little soul he sent to the warp hastened his path to Godhood. As he stepped forward, before something burned across his mind. The other Sorcerers looked to him, equally shocked and frozen in place. Something was coming. Something powerful, something otherworldly. Not anything from the immaterium or material world. What was coming? Was there another power coming to join the fight? Its pressence was...looming...overwhelming almost. Vffarith'Fyrm popped into existence beside the three, Lekaeros almost jumping out of his armor.
He turned to the daemon, his eyes narrowed at the Herald, before he spoke. “What is this thing I sense from the Warp? Has some Greater Daemon or Daemon Prince been summoned?”
“No, unfortunately not. But our masters are so eager to see if that can be changed.” Vffarith'Fyrm practically giggled to himself, hopping from one foot to the other in excitement.
“What is coming Daemon?” Lekaeros demanded, his temper rising. It was not just annoyance at the Daemon Herald's chittering and all. This had him nervous. 'If it is not a Daemon, what is the thing making ripples through the warp that I sense?'
Something hit his helmet from above, the pitter-patter of a droplet. He furrowed his brow in confusion, as more began to fall, Lekaeros holding out his hand, as a black drop splattered against his armored palm. He blinked in confusion, the drop thick and almost gooey, a semi-solid. He looked to the other Sorcerers, one of them looking to the Daemon, then Lekaeros in confusion.
“Black Rain?” He asked.
Across the city, as Imperial Guard troops and tanks began to storm it, and Chaos forces began to prepare for the battle to come, black rain fell across the city, drenching the city in thick, grimy liquid. The other guardsmen looked in confusion, as the Kriegsmen of the Army froze in place, their gas masks slowly looking upwards, as their Commissars contacted the other troops.
“Secure masks and breathers, now!” Was one variation on the orders running through the Imperial Army.
Tallarn and Finreht soldiers looked at each other confused, quickly following the order, while the Mordians quietly did so, keeping their confusion inwards. All of them, traitor or not, could feel it. Something deep and ancient approaching. It was hard to put to words. The feeling of burning wrath came off in waves from the north, washing over them. The Sanctioned Psykers attached to the regiments all froze, their gaunt, quivering faces turning towards the seas, Commissars looking to them in a mix of weariness and confusion.
“Something is coming. We have to leave.” One of the Wyrdvane Psykers blurted, gripping his power staff in both gloved hands, shaking in utter terror.
The Tallarn Commissar with him approached, narrowing his eyes as he tightened the grip on his pistol. “What do you sense?”
His eyes remained locked on the seas, shaking horribly from fright. “Something.....”
The black rain grew heavier. The sunlight was blocked out, a darkness, almost like night, hanging over the entire city. Nureddin ran his sword through another traitor, as they fell back, following after Sarthul and Telion, he and his brothers standing stiff and ready. Something, something deep in their souls was warning them that they needed to get out of here, to evacuate and get to safety. They all buried the feeling, ignoring it as best they could. They were trained, indoctrinated, to ignore the feelings of terror, dread and fear that would make other men break.
Still, there was something about this black, sludge-like rain that unnerved him. The way it appeared, after everything Inquisitor Serizawa had warned them about, Nureddin had a feeling whatever this Inquisitor and his Ordo were searching for, was about to reveal itself. He brought a finger up to his earpiece again, contacting central command.
“Inquisitor, Generals, are you all seeing this?” Nureddin asked, unsteadily, as he kept a close on the rapidly retreating forms of the Chaos Marines.
“The Black Rain, yes Captain, we're all seeing it,” Anton remarked, on edge and just as weary as he was. “All of our psykers are acting up. Clamming up for something big coming.”
“This might very well be it, gentlemen,” Inquisitor Serizawa's voice spoke next, determined, and, to Nureddin and General Von Rauch's slight discomfort, excitement. “Prepare your forces. We are about to see something that only the Emperor and his oldest Custodes lived to lay eyes upon.”
“Wonderful.” Von Rauch remarked in annoyance, Serizawa not picking up on his distaste. He was too wrapped up in the excitement of finally finding the proof of what he sought, the very foundations of his Ordo, to care what the Captain and Colonels thought.
'Those arrogant Malleus, Xenos and Hereticus bastards will finally eat their words.' He thought, grinning to himself from within Von Rauch's command post.
He just needed it to appear. Once he saw it, once he confirmed it was there physically, he would make contact. Everything would be in order, the High Lords themselves would have to acknowledge the existence of such things, and his Ordo would be elevated to a status beyond an ancillary Order made to support the others. Serizawa passed slightly, his excitement too much to contain, staring out the opening of the bunker towards the cold, distant seas, pounded by the black rain, before his thoughts and energy were interrupted by Al-Hashimi's voice speaking, cutting through his mind like a blade through flesh. He turned, startled for a moment, as the Space Marine spoke.
“Inquisitor, I know little of what you are dappling in, truth be told, I partially don't want to know,” The man said with his graveled, harsh tone. “But I did serve in Death Watch, and I have worked with many Inquisitors during my time at the Long Vigil, and many destroyed themselves in their quest to understand more then they should.”
The Inquisitor looked at the Librarian, or Fakir as his Chapter called him, uncertain for a moment, as he continued. “As said, I know little of your target or goals, but if what you seek is for the good of the Imperium and our God-Emperor, approach this situation with caution and care.”
Serizawa said nothing, looking at the Marine with some surprise, before his gaze turned slightly downwards. The Astartes turned and went for another corner of the Command Post, Serizawa mulling over his words. The man was right. He was so focused on his ambitions for the Ordo, he was forgetting that he was sent here by the Lord Inquisitors of the Order for a specific reason. The creature, if the stories and legends were correct, would be able to quite easily destroy every single Marine, Imperial and Chaos force on this planet and continue without issue.
'I don't think a dozen Warlord Titans could face this thing.' He thought, before shaking his head. 'No, it might be strong, but its an animal. I will simply approach it the same as an animal handler would a herd of Grox or a Pride of Carnodons.'
A tank squadron of Leman Russ and Rogal Dorn Tanks, as the water began to recede away, pulling back further. One of the tank commanders looked out from the port of the tank he was in, putting a hand over his hat, eyes looking out over the seas, the water and ground around them still being hit with the black rain from earlier. Then, once the the water reached its apex, he spotted something in the distance.
“Is that rocks or somethin'?” One of the Tallarn Tank crewmen remarked.
The Commander pulled at his head wraps slightly, before bringing the Magnoculars to his eyes. His brow furrowed, blinking a few times, as if there was something wrong, or he was hallucinating. Several large, triangular rocks jutted from the waters, and were rapidly approaching. As the strange object drew closer and closer, the Commander noticed the water was coming back, in an oncoming rush. He lowered the Mags, before turning on the Vox network.
“Everyone, get away from the shore!” He yelled, gesturing to the pilot, as they put the Leman Russ on and drove forward.
Buildings were smashed through and ruins crushed under their treads, as the water surged forward, waves crashing into the coastline of the city, sweeping aside their docks, buildings and machinery. The typhoon smashed through everything, crashing through any vehicles and structures, walls smashed aside, the tanks stopping and staying rooted to the ground as the storm seemed to wash away anything else. Any soldiers on foot that were not quick enough to run, joined the buildings and structures in being swept away. Screams and yells of terror were silence in the bubbling, rushing water, and heavy downpour. The water kept sweeping through, flooding deeper and deeper into the city. In the entire history of the world, this city had never had tsunami or floodwaters like this. In the history of the world, Tharnis Primaris had always had calm weather and few time it ever flooded. The lights and power across the city cut off, darkening it further then the rainstorm of black rain had caused. By the time the waters had calmed, half the port city had been left underwater.
Whatever had approached the city, rose from the waters, rising higher and higher, the creature standing as the water cascaded off its frame. The ocean waters were up to its thighs now, and shook itself off, casting off any remaining water. Its body was covered in blocky, almost stone-like skin, thick and muscled mass over its body. Scars crossed its frame, old and healed by now, but bearing a dark gray color in contrast to the blackened skin of the rest of its body, including a large one across its chest, deep and wide, with a slight red glow coming from it. The creature's face was a reptilian snout, the top of its head protected by a serious small scouts, while its eyes were a red-orange, shadows under them. Its arms were short and powerful, close to its frame, with four hand claws. A tail broke the water, long and ended in a rounded, club-like end. Its back was dominated by massive fins, the thing the Tank Commanders thought were rocks, crystalline and silver, gleamed and shined even in the stormy wind.
The creature trudged forward, the ground shaking and rumbling with every footfall. Many of the tanks turned their turrets about, facing the gigantic creature and priming their battle cannons for the order to attack. It moved, slow and purposeful. It felt like hours, the time crawling by. The creature finally came ashore, buildings shaking as its four-toed foot claws fell to the ground, the beast taking a deep breath in through its nose, then out, a throaty growl echoing from its throat, its lips briefly curling back to show twin rows of sharp, blade-like teeth.
Von Rauch and the others were speechless. Even Al-Hashimi, and, across the city, Nureddin and the other Hound Keepers were completely taken aback by the sight of the creature. They had seen nearly everything in their battles across the galaxy. Many of them had centuries of battle against the enemies of Mankind, within, throughout and beyond. They had seen nothing like this. Nureddin was almost frozen completely in shock. The city here was not a hive city, the buildings, those not destroyed by artillery and the tsunami this creature had caused all on its own, could not obscure the beast standing completely over everything.
Nureddin finally shook off his shock at the thing, before bringing his finger up to his ear piece. “Inquisitor, is this the proof you were looking for?”
“The Tech-Priest in my entourage, Kaalor, is currently running scans and sending out devices across the city. I will have recordings of the creature for the Ordo,” Serizawa remarked. “Then I make psychic contact. I want to see if its as intelligent as the archives say.”
Al-Hashimi shook his head slightly, sighing wearily, as the Inquisitor had his way out of the bunker. One of the Space Marine Razorbacks had been prepared specifically to carry them to the target, and prepared to bring them to the creature. As they stepped out, three of the Sanctioned Psykers attached to the Combined Imperial Army joined them, the gaunt, weary, white-robbed figures looking to the Inquisitor with empty and forlorn expressions. The Space Marine Librarian spoke again, putting a hand on the Inquisitor's armored shoulder.
“Remember what I told you, Inquisitor Serizawa, those that reach too far can meet a grizzly end.” He warned quietly, as the ramp to the Razorback opened before them.
He nodded to the Astartes Psyker. “Like any animal, we'll approach with care, so as not to rouse its anger.”
Al-Hashimi did not loo happy over that, but merely nodded, and accepted the course the Inquisitor wanted. He wanted to make contact, even when everything else would be better with just using the Servo-Skulls and probes to take pic-captures and recordings of the beast to be sent back to the Inquisition, High Lords of Terra, and whatever other organizations would need to see it.
'The Collegia Titanica would certainly like to be aware of such a creature,' Al-Hashimi thought to himself, stroking his chin as he sat in the Razorback. 'I would like to see the full size of that beast. It might be a match for an Imperator-class.'
The group of Psykers rode off, the pilot bringing them as close as he could to the beast, as it continued to trudge through the city, the entire city shaking like an earthquake with every footfall. Its red-orange, burning eyes were scanning the city, looking for something. None could really say what it was searching for, if it was hunting for food, or a resting place, or something else. Every so often, it rumbled and growled to itself, echoing through the now quiet and desolate city.
While Serizawa was extolling the driver to get as close as possible, Lakaeros and his fellow Sorcerers were immediately amazed at the creature, the lead Sorcerer looking to the Daemon Herald.
“What is that thing?”
Vffarith'fyrm giggled slightly, its face bending into a twisted and malefic grin. “That has many names, but the Herald of the Black Rains is known as Godzilla to the ancient humans before your Dark Age of Technology.”
“Before? The Corpse-Emperor never spoke of such a creature to the Old Legions or Primarchs!” Lakaeros snarled, turning to the Daemon as his temper flared. “This is a lie!”
“You think his carefully laid plans would allow for Godzilla and His ilk to reign on Earth?” The Herald of Tzeentch remarked, his grin remaining. “All the Titan Legions would be scrap against him. The Anathema personally removed him from play.”
“Where to exactly?” Lakaeros asked, furrowing his brow with interest now. If the False Emperor had chosen to remove this animal from earth, then it would be a valuable asset.
“Why give you the answer to everything? I've given the basics of this creature. The rest is for you to find out....or bargain for.” Vffarith'fyrm responded, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous light.
Lakaeros thought for a moment, tapping his fingers of his free hand on his chest armor, clicking the end of his staff on the ground, before looking up. “Which of the Dark Gods desire him most?”
Vffarith'fyrm laughed, almost howling with laughter, as he shook his body. “Ah, which doesn't? His strength and power intrigues Khorne. His radioactive body and cancerous emissions attracts Nurgle. His ability to mutate and evolve impresses Tzeentch.”
“Then I will give his soul to all of them to use,” Lakaeros remarked, more to himself then the Herald. “I will be the greatest Daemon Prince of the Four Pours since Be'lakor and the Primarch Lorgar. My loyalty will be rewarded greatly.”
The creature strode forward with, head still slowly turning this way and that, seemingly aware of something. It released a few short, dry growls, almost croaking each time, barring its teeth again in a snarl. It was so close now, Lakaeros could see the thin scars all across its body, and, what's more, detect the feint scent of the Warp on this creature. Along with it, his armor was warning him the area was saturated in radiation. He furrowed his brow behind his helmet, as he gestured for the other two Sorcerers to follow him. How could it be touched by the Warp, but not be a Daemon? Was it like the Khymerae the Drukhari used as attack hounds? A creature like the Enslaver Plague? And how was it so radioactive. An alien made sense, but nothing of Terra, from what scant books he could get, evolved to absorb or survive in Radioactive environments.
'The Warp? Is this thing something from the Immaterium? How have the Gods not claimed it?' He thought, before focusing on it. He would have only one chance at this. He turned to the other Sorcerers, and spoke. “Pool your power with mine. We will bend this creature's mind to our will. It will serve at our whims, and be gifted to the Dark Gods.”
“Can such a beast be tamed? I sense the Warp has touched it, yet cannot tell if it is truly blessed by the Gods.” One of the Sorcerers questioned.
“We will receive our answers when it kills the Loyalist scum, and is given to the Four Gods to use as they use Abbadon, us and Bela'kor.” Lakaeros stated firmly, pointing with his staff to the beast. “It is only an animal. Do not falter.”
The three approached, glaring up at the creature wearily. The other two knew this was a dangerous game Lakaeros played, but didn't wish to push the matter. It was beyond their station to question the oldest and most powerful Sorcerer in the service of the Gods. If he ordered them to assist him in his experiments and sorcery, they would assist. If he showed weakness, of course they could move up, but otherwise, Lakaeros had the favor of Lord Zaaras and the Dark Gods. His word was essentially law.
Lakaeros stepped forward, holding up his left hand, energy building it. He concentrated, eyes narrowed as he gathered more and more power within himself, calling deep into the Warp for more psychic strength and power to bind the beast to his will. He gave a prayer to the Dark Gods, begging their fickle tempers to come together to grant him the power to subjugate this beast and bring it to their service. The energy pulsed outwards, disappearing a few inches from his hand, as the other two Sorcerers joined their power to his, pooling their own psychic might from the warp into him as he reached out to the creature, reaching further and further into its mind to try and find something to get purchase upon.
The creature looked around, blinking hard in confusion, craning his neck back and forth, as if trying to find what was trying to worm its way into his brain. The creature turned its burning eyes onto Lakaeros and his fellow Sorcerers, its lip curling slightly in anger, teeth bared as it took a single stomp towards them. Lakaeros remained focused, until finally, its mind opened to him. Memories flooded through him, battles between gigantic beasts, wings and claws, cities leveled in their battles. A human woman of some kind, leaving Lakaeros more confused then anything, and finally, an encounter with a man in large golden armor, adorned with eagles and jewels. He knew exactly what that was.
But now he could feel his way through the creature's mind. It was almost overwhelming. He wished had brought a few slave-psykers and other Cult Witches with him to do this, a few disposable minds to strengthen his power in the warp. Still he hung on, focused and intent. However strong this creature was, he was animal. Lakaeros was a Sorcerer, gifted with power by the Gods of the Warp. He would bend any animal to his will, no matter how large it was. He could feel its rage and desire for violence, boiling with anger at the humans around him. Whatever had happened with the God-Emperor, it was filled with an unspeakable anger towards humans.
“Hear me creature, listen, I am Lakaeros, Master of the Warp, Sorcerer of the Chaos Space Marine Warband of the Brotherhood of Damnation. I am an enemy of the being who faced you, that False Emperor in gold that banished you,” Lakaeros declared, speaking through the warp and into the creature, his voice echoing in every language thanks to the power of the Warp. “I offer you the chance to earn the freedom to do as you wish. Give yourself to Chaos. Khorne's bloodlust, Slaanesh's perfection, Tzeentch's mutation, Nurgle's decay, all of them will reward you for every human you slay today in their name!”
The creature looked confused for a moment, as if trying to parse out what he meant, before the answer came in the form of psychic backlash, the creature striking out through their minds. Lakaeros shook violently as sparks of red and green flew off his body, before he went flying back several yards, smashing through a number of buildings, before coming to a stop. The other two Sorcerers staggered back in shock, holding their heads in pain. They turned to the creature again, too stunned and rattled to move, as they noticed a glow at the end of its tale.
A bright, azure glow, staring at the tip of its tail, and traveling up, going up and up, its fins now fully colored, as the blue glow spread across its eyes, the creature opening its mouth, breathing in hard, as blue fires built up in the back of its throat, while the scar on its chest changed from red to the same blye glow as its spines. The two Sorcerers' eyes widened in horror, turning and running as fast as they could, one trying to create an incantation to tear open a hole in reality and teleport through the Warp, before the blast shot out, a straight beam of blazing blue, the center of it white, as it struck where the two were standing at, and instantly vaporized them. In a split second, the worst burning of any kind washed over them, then, after that split second, they were nothing but radioactive dust in the wind.
Lakaeros' eyes widened in horror, as he stood up, feet kicking up water as he did. Steam from the water and black ash were all that was left of the other two, their souls sent screaming into the Warp, and the embrace of the Chaos Gods.
“How?” He quietly crocked, his voice going dry, as he felt terror ripple through his body. He looked to his free hand, eyes widening. He was shaking. 'Fear?! I, a Chaos Space Marine, am feeling fear?! No! This isn't possible!'
How could this thing make him feel fear? He had been, since he was taken as a Slave by the Brotherhood, been thoroughly trained and had the fear whipped out of him. His rite of passage had been to crush his mother's skull in his grip and prove his place among them. He and his kind may not have had the disciple of the Loyalist lap dogs, but a mere lizard shouldn't make them break. He activated his Vox channel, connecting to Zaaras.
“Zaaras, bring every machine or Daemon Engine you have to bear and strike down the beast!” He snarled.
“Did it burn a favorite scroll of yours, Sorcerer?” Zaaras remarked, barely holding back a chuckle.
“It cannot be broken! Even with Gortarian and Cybras with me, it would not bend!” He shouted into the vox, as he made his way into the building, running as quickly as he could to get away from the creature. “It killed them with that laser or heat ray it fired from its maw.”
“It was quite the light show, but what was it? Plasma? Or something else?” Zaaras wondered aloud, sounding less angered and more curious, like the great beast was an oddity at a Zoo, not something that could destroy cities.
“Only the hungering swarm can naturally produce plasma from the body.” Lakaeros remarked, grinding his teeth as he came to a door and blasted it with an intense ball of Warp Fire. “And that thing is no Tyranid.”
“We had better not let it fall to them, that thing is ugly enough without Tyranid adaptations.” Telion remarked through the vox channels.
“Typical from the hedonist, worried of beauty!” Sarthul remarked in mocking laughter.
Lakaeros growled as he shouted into the Vox channel. “Do not interrupt your Lord in conversation!”
Telion and Sarthul fell silent, as Zaaras continued. “So it did not bend to even three Sorcerers, Lakaeros?”
“No. It is a monster, but its mind is...intelligent. It can think.” Lakaeros remarked as he moved through the darkened corners of the city. “I would recommend destroying it, my lord.”
“The loyalists' guns have fallen silent. If it will not bend, send its soul to the Gods, and let us see which can bend it to their will.” Zaaras said with a dark chuckle. “All batteries, all tanks, everything else, bring down the beast.”
Lakaeros smashed through another wall, marching through the water-logged streets again, before turning to the creature. It had turned towards the Chaos held-fortress and their armies, as if anticipating the coming barrage. Its fins flashed repeatedly, eyes still glowing, releasing a series of growls and low barks, as if trying to scare off the incoming attack. This should kill it. The Brotherhood of Damnation had faced Tyranids, slain Bio-Titans. A large animal was simply a large target. The Bio-Titans littered throughout their conquered worlds was testament to that.
After being silent for so long, explosions tore through, Chaos Basilisks and Defilers firing their long range guns at the beast, shells exploding in the air around him, at his feet and upon the creature. Chaos Predator Tanks rolled into position, cannons blaring and lascannons shrieking as they fired, their accuracy more pinpoint, more damaging. Every shot landed, every hit struck against the creature. Hunter-Killer missiles from further into the city roared through the air like howling daemons, striking against the creature's face, chest and everywhere.
Across the city, Nureddin's eyes widened at the sight of battle, the creature roaring in rage and pain. He was silent for a moment, before Sergeant Hafiz commented over the Vox Channel. “I cannot believe the Heretics would try and kill such a beast.”
“Chaos heretics are always foolish,” Nureddin commented, shaking his head, as he signaled for the rest of his troops to move out. “They probably think they can curry favor with their Pagan gods.”
He turned to the other troops, speaking loudly. “Hound Keepers, Sipahis, return to starting position gamma, and await the Inquisitor's orders.”
“You are retreating, brother?” Al-Hashimi commented, surprised at the Captain's usual over-eager attitude turning to a more placid personality.
“A tactical withdrawal, Fakir. I do not want to be near that thing when the Chaos forces provoke it,” Nureddin replied with some annoyance in his tone. “That beam of plasma was radioactive. I don't want to know what kind of thing can make that, and what it could do if provoked further.”
“Only an idiot stays on a battlefield, unprepared, with an unknown factor in play,” Yakub grumbled into the Vox channel. “Captain Nureddin is correct to take a more defensive position with that Canavar is out and about.”
“The Ancient is quite correct. Even what my Ordo knows about this monster, Godzilla, is fragmentary,” Serizawa interjected quietly. “As stated, it predates even the Dark Age of Technology. We will approach this...carefully.”
“My Lords, Inquisitor, I don't mean to interrupt, but that thing is now leveling most of the city,” Anton commented awkwardly. “It'll be very hard to explain this to Segmentum Command.”
“The Pic Captures and recordings will calm them down, General, you just keep your troops back and let the creature do its work.” Serizawa replied.
“With respect, I don't think an animal could survive...” He began, as the smoke around Godzilla cleared.
Several parts of its chest and stomach were burnt from laser fire and artillery strikes, but rapidly healing. Its left eye had been speared through and disintegrated by a Lascannon shot, only to rapidly regrow within the socket, blood drying and the eye filling up the empty hole now. It stood for a moment, fins flashing rapidly, before they took on a single, monochrome glow, and the beam erupted from its mouth. The beam sheared through most of the city, thing it touched exploding in a ball of fire. Everywhere artillery and tank fire came from, Godzilla swiped his beam through the parts of the city, leaving fireballs of destruction, rising and blooming over the hab blocks, much of the city going up on nuclear fire.
Within 10 minutes, most of the tanks and artillery of the Chaos Followers was left in flaming ruins, that is, what wasn't disintegrated. Ash and soot flew through the air, plumes of smoke and pillars of fire raging now across most of the city. The Chaos forces that remained, all frozen in terror by the creature's attack, how it had shrugged off everything and destroyed every tank and vehicle it could, leaving nothing for the Chaos Warriors to even scavenge or recoup from.
Every Chaos Marine, Loyalist, Guardsmen and Cultist all watched the creature in slack-jawed silence, whatever few wounds they had inflicted completely healed within a couple seconds. The creature stood among the flames and ruins, drawing in a breath, before roaring to the skies, a loud, inhuman screech that dug into every human's ears, sending a feeling of terror and panic through the ranks of the humans that heard it. A primal feeling that words could not quite describe. It was as if all the hellish suffering that could be inflicted on mankind had been compressed into an unfeeling, booming shriek.
Zaaras stood within his palace, blinking several times in disbelief, as if his eyes were playing tricks on him. His gather Magus and Champions said nothing for a moment, too fearful to dare speak to the man. Finally, Amelia took a cautious step forward, clearing her throat. “Lord Zaaras?”
He turned to her, gripping his Maul tightly, eyes flaring, Amelia never stepping back from the towering giant of death. Zaaras took a deep breath, and finally spoke. “Gather the forces, we are leaving his world.”
“But sir...” She was about to protest, not wanting to abandon the world she had known her whole life, what her forefathers had worked to conquer and the corrupt governor's rulership, before giving a tired sigh and nodding. “Yes lord, we will begin our evacuations.”
“We would need a troop of Chaos Titans to hunt that beast, Titans we do not have at hand,” He growled, stepping past, Amelia carefully stepping away from the Maul. “We will need to gather slaves to give to some Dark Mechanicus tinkerers, and then...”
He began to mumble his plans to himself, as Cultist and Marine alike hurried off to carry out his plans. His eyes remained locked on the creature, as it roared to the skies, as if daring even the Chaos Gods themselves to challenge him, to throw whatever they had to try and destroy him. It filled him with rage, to see such a creature unbowed by his attacks. To force him to scuttle back with his tail tucked between his legs, it insulted him to the greatest degree possible. Zaaras had been leading Chaos forces since 313.M33, when the original members of his warriors swore themselves to the Chaos Gods. He had been a simple Aspiring Champion then, but in the time between then and now, he had earned his titles well. It left his heart boiling with Khorne's rage there was something he could not hunt.
“Lakaeros,” He growled into the Vox Channel. “What is that creature.”
“Vffarith'fyrm called it a 'Godzilla'.” The Sorcerer commented. “I am entering the fortress now, my lord.”
“We are leaving.” Zaaras said simply, grinding his teeth together.
“Gladly.” Lakaeros remarked quietly, as the channel went dead.
As Zaaras lumbered through the ad-hoc base, the smell of sweet honey and burning brimstone met his nose, Zaaras grimacing at the strange scent, before turning to see Vffarith'Fyrm appear before him. His lip curled in disgust at the sight of the Daemon Herald, wanting to mash its body in and send its pieces to Nurgle to spite the little beast, but decided against it. Better to not risk the wrath of Tzeentch and end up a Spawn, or worse.
“You knew of Godzilla, why not tell us how to beat it?” Zaaras barked at the herald.
The Daemon wagged a finger in one of his hands at him. “Temper, temper, little Chaos Lord. I told Lakaeros Godzilla's history and power. You foolishly decided to hunt something you didn't know the power of.”
“If I had its weakness...” Zaaras snarled in response, barring his teeth like an attack hound warning off an intruder.
Vffarith'Fyrm laughed loudly, an abrasive, horrific cackle that felt like knives jammed into Zaaras' ears. He grimaced at the Herald, as it could barely get a word through its guffaws. “You think it has weakness? Oh you poor, poor little mortal! You'd need the Gods themselves, or the weapon that broken little doctor man in 1954 took with him, to kill that thing. It's why the Chaos Gods wanted it corrupted, not killed.”
Zaaras' eyes turned to steel, drawing his Maul up across his shoulders. “Once I have the firepower, you'll see this beast die.”
The Daemon co*cked another grin at him. “We'll love to see you try.”
Where the Gods taunting him, trying to egg him on to fight harder? It didn't matter much. He was gonna kill that creature. No matter how many slaves he had to barter to the Dark Mechanicus, how much toil and effort it would take, he would bend that savage monster to his will, or offer up its malignant soul to the Dark Gods.
Zaaras' Damnation Brotherhood withdrawing into the warp and fleeing should've been cause for celebration for the assorted Guardsmen and Hound Keepers. A force of traitors put to rout with very limited causalities in comparison. But, the greatest threat remained, Godzilla. And none of them knew if they could defeat it. This was supposed to be a simple campaign in the system, driving away a Chaos Warband and reclaiming the world. They had seen what this creature had endured, and no one, not Battle-Brother, Guardsmen, Commissar or Colonel felt they had the weaponry or ordinance to drive the creature away, or even hurt it.
The beast stood among the flaming ruins of the city, silent for a moment, almost serene. It was surreal in a way, how it had gone from destroying an entire Chaos Space Marine warband, to now at peace moments later. But Al-Hashimi, Serizawa and any other psykers could feel the creature's boiling anger and rage. Whatever had happened to it, this creature was not letting go of the anger raging within its very soul.
'Whatever happened, that monster is not forgiving us.' Serizawa thought for a moment, blinking a few times, as the Razorback came to a stop
The Space Marine driver turned to Inquisitor and the other Psykers. “Honored Fakir Al-Hashimi, Inquisitor Serizawa, we have arrived.”
Serizawa stood up, gesturing for the others to follow. “Let us begin.”
The group marched outside, trudging through the water, the Wyrdvane following the two, looking around frightfully, gripping their staffs tightly and leaning hard into them. The black rain drenched their flak robes and the armor of the two leading them, Al-Hashimi narrowing his eyes wearily. Even as the battle occurred, the rain had never let up. The smell almost made Serizawa want to wretch. It was stronger now that he was nearer to the beast. He couldn't put to words what it smelled like, but it wasn't anything good.
He stepped towards the creature, drawing upon the power of the warp to prepare himself. He was not certain this would work. It had been his personal ambition to make psychic contact with this creature once it finally appeared, and here, at the end of the 41st millennium, he had gotten his chance. But what it was fully capable of was left ambiguous.
'I wish our records told us more of what this creature could do.' He thought, rubbing his neck nervously. 'But, I can be the first to contact this creature. In doing so, I'll give my Order a massive step forward.'
He turned to the Sanctioned Psykers he had essentially shanghaied into following him, all of them nervous and outright terrified of what was to occur. He wondered if they knew, deep down, that he was only using them to pool together power to enact this. What little could be read painted Godzilla as a very resistant and foul-tempered creature, in both mind and body. Having a Space Marine Librarian was there as an insurance policy. After all, no one here, not even a trained Inquisitor, had the pure psychic strength and power of a Librarian. The centuries of experience and training would certainly be an asset.
He stepped into the wide, flooded streets now, starring up in amazement at the creature. It had turned, slowly, from the destruction it had caused. Its feet crushed the ground beneath, the earth shaking with every thunderous step it took. It craned its head along the city, looking for any other attacks, before focusing on the great Imperial force gathered outside the city. He narrowed his eyes, claws flexing, as his nostrils flared, sniffing the air, before turning downwards towards the assembled Psykers. Godzilla's eyes turned to a weary glare as it sighted them, preparing himself for another barrage into his mind by these creatures. His fins flashed multiple times, a hum going through the air as it took a step forward, growling at the humans.
The Inquisitor held up his hand, blue energy sparking and pulsing off his hand, the other Psykers directing their staffs and hands towards him, their power melding with his own, as Serizawa's eyes glowed brightly, and he focused through grinted teeth. He felt his mind's powers brush up against Godzilla's for a moment, before being rebuffed. Serizawa shook his head, before redoubling his efforts, feeling the tendrils of his mental energies burrow wherever he could, Godzilla's mental energies struggling to hold him back, the creature growling and roaring in rage. Al-Hashimi stayed the course, focusing his power into Serizawa's own, but was worried of the creature. It was agitated, and had been attacked before. This felt like a dangerous game the Inquisitor was playing.
It seemed Serizawa, had, however briefly, made contact for a moment, before speaking through his mind. “Wait, I only wish to make contact, not control!”
He struggled to stay on his feet, the Inquisitor staggering for a moment, as the creature stopped, straightening slightly, blinking a few times. The humming flash of its fins had slowed down, from every few seconds, to a slower, more rhythmic pace. It seemed to relax however, no longer outright enraged, but at least guarded and prepared for whatever the Inquisitor next.
Serizawa concentrated again, bringing himself into the creature's mind. The memories, feelings, everything within the monster. He was shocked, falling to one knee in stunned silence. Everything this creature had held onto, the comradery and friendship of other monsters, the determination and will to live in battle against his enemies. And the love and happiness from a single human. Azusa Gojo. Something about that name seemed important to the creature, a distant memory, that he held closely to his heart, not letting Serizawa peer any closer.
Finally, a feeling of guarded calm came over him, emanating off the beast. It was clear the intent. The creature was giving him a chance to speak, and was going to decide if it would kill them all.
“I am Inquisitor Shigeru Serizawa, servant of the Imperium of Man and Inquisition of the Ordo Monstrum. I was sent only to study and observe you.” He explained through the warp and into the creature's mind. “Can you understand me?”
Godzilla stood for a moment, tilting his head slightly, before giving a single curt nod. He was shocked it could understand him, Serizawa wondering how intelligent this thing was. A few flashes of memories happened again, the image of a Chaos Sorcerer and a number of others with him that had tried to dominate and control Godzilla's mind, and been reduced to ash.
“You've been to the warp, what sent you there?” He asked.
Another image, of a man in gold, with long brown, flowing hair, tanned hair. He was covered in the icons of eagles, and a red jewel in the center of his chest, as well as a long red cape, lined with white fur at the top of the cape. A halo surrounded his face, one arm dominated by a large claw, and the other armored and holding a fiery red sword. Godzilla stood over him, roaring in defiance, before several more images followed, a great battle leveling the forest the two were in, leaving a burned wasteland, before the figure sent him away, tearing open a hole in reality, and casting the creature into the void. The Emperor looked grim-faced, part of his face burned and his armor damaged, but the creature's stomach had been torn open, parts of its flesh around the right side of its face, shoulders and chest scorched and smoking.
'It fought the Emperor? How could he have survived against His wrath?' Serizawa thought, blinking hard to himself. The Emperor had defeated the forces of Chaos and driven aliens away from the galaxy. The idea of this thing surviving a battle defied everything he knew.
The Kaiju stood for a moment, before snorting, and turning away from them, marching off towards the oceans. The Inquisitor watched in stunned silence, cutting off the powers of the Warp. The Psyker group didn't dare try and pursue the creature. Whatever it had wanted to share, had been shared, and there was no point in trying to push any further. It was best to just leave things be.
“Let's return to Command, and prepare our next move.” The Inquisitor said quietly, brushing past them, not giving Al-Hashimi time to question him.
The Fakir would not be silent, however. “Inquisitor, I saw those creature's thoughts and memories as you did. How could that thing have survived a fight with the Emperor?”
He stopped on the side of the Razorback, turning back to the Marine, who had marched up to him without a sign of fear. “I do not know. The Emperor and Malcador himself formed our organization to keep track of certain creatures He had banished across the galaxy. I did not think any of them could fight him.”
“There's more then that thing?” Al-Hashimi questioned. “Just how powerful are these things, where are they now? If this is part of something bigger, how much is your Ordo hiding?”
“In all honesty Astartes, we have barely any knowledge. We may have been formed by the Emperor and the Sigillite, but the target of our mission has been lost for so long, we barely have the knowledge or resources to do our duty,” Serizawa explained carefully, mindful of the Marine's agitation. “It's actually fortuitous that the Monster King would reappear now. The High Lords should...”
“Fortuitous? Fortuitous, Inquisitor? That thing has the power to level at least an army, and survived a brawl with our Emperor, and there even be more out there, if your ramblings are correct,” Al-Hashimi stated bluntly, narrowing his weathered eyes in annoyance. “It clearly has no love for the Imperium, and given the countless Xenos Empires pushing at our borders, the Tyranids, Orks and various Aeldari Degenerates, and the Legions of Chaos pouring out of what was left of Cadia, this thing's existence is one more potential threat that I would struggle to call, 'fortuitous'.”
Serizawa nodded slightly, stroking his chin in thought. “Perhaps you are right. But the creature clearly saw Chaos as the larger threat, given he attacked them. Perhaps we can use that to our advantage, if the High Lords could see it that way.”
“Remember what I told you. Reaching too deeply will only destroy you and others,” Al-Hashimi replied brusquely, marching past him. “That thing fought Chaos only because the Heretic Sorcerer sought to control him. Is that any different from your goal?”
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
The forces of the Imperium had moved quickly to retake the city, mopping up whatever Chaos forces were left, a few mobs of Cultists and Traitor Militia, lead by the odd Aspiring Champion, easily striking them down. The creature had gone into the oceans, swimming further and further into the depths of the sea, before disappearing. Auspex arrays and other pieces of equipment couldn't detect the creature anymore, so the Imperium's fighting men and women just focused on reclaiming what was left of the city, and not letting their thoughts drift to whatever the Black Rain Beast was. It was better to just keep their minds on the mission.
Anton and his officers, colonels and Commissar advisors had gathered outside the command post, the sun of the world peaking out now, just over the overcast clouds. Captain Nureddin had returned to the Command staff of the Guard Army.
“We thank you Lord, from the bottom of our hearts,” Anton declared, beginning to get to one knee in a bow. “We wouldn't have been victorious without you.”
Nureddin held out a hand to stop him, shaking his head. “As I said, your troops have saved themselves. We only helped bring the victory quicker that was already set in stone.”
Von Rauch rose to his feet with a grunt, grateful he was allowed to stand again, before speaking. “Well, it is always a blessing for us regular soldiers to see His Angels of War do their work.”
Before he could respond, an alert reached both, of another Battle Barge entering the system. Von Rauch and Nureddin both looked confused and surprised, before the Imperial Admiral above them spoke into the Vox channel.
“The new ship is transmitting Imperial codes and signals...” Before she gasped in shock. “Emperor's Bones, its Custodes!”
“Custodes? The Emperor's Bostanji? What could be so important to call them here?” Nureddin wondered aloud, more to himself then the Guardsmen with him.
He stepped away from the group, head turned to the skies. He waited there for a few minutes, trying to see anything, before a gold and red object shot through the clouds and roared through the skies, cutting through the atmosphere with little difficulty, and approaching the landing zone the Guard had established within the city. The great gunship, gleaming like a holy icon through the skies. Nureddin watched it float through the air, circling the area, before landing.
Nureddin sheaved his blade, as the back of Orion Dropship opened, and three of the Custodes marched out, one holding a large golden shield, his partners, two Guardian spears. They were resplendent in their armor and weapons, so ornate and beautiful to look up, it was as if they were sculptures or works of art come to live, their golden armor and tools almost too perfect compared to the rest of the battlefield they found themselves in. A tactical squad of his brothers approached, holding their weapons in the neutral position, looking to Nureddin for orders.
He was almost too stunned by the appearance of these three, as they marched towards him. The other Hound Keepers formed up around Nureddin, as he stepped towards the three Custodes. The primary one spoke in a deep, raspy tone.
“Captain Nureddin Ozdemir, are these the Hound Keepers under your command?” The Custodes leader asked.
“Yes. I am he.” He answered with an assured nod.
“We have finally found a way to you. Your Chapter homeworld is difficult to reach thanks to the Great Rift. You must take us to your Chapter master.” He explained.
“What is the issue? Is there a standing accusation against us?” He asked nervously, hand drifting slightly to his power sword.
“No. We been given gifts from the Primarch Roboute Guiliman, reborn and victorious in his crusades,” The Custodes explained. “These 'gifts' are the power to further strengthen your Chapter and wage war on the enemies of the Imperium.”
“Strengthen?” Nureddin asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. “We have lost a few battle brothers, but we are still strong enough to wage war. Our 10 Ortas can still fight. What strengthening do we need?”
“This is for Chapter Master Murad to know. You must take us there.”
Nureddin was not too sure of that. He wondered if there was more to this then what the Custodes were saying. Why were they so secretive about this? At that moment, the Razorback had returned, distracting Nureddin for a moment, though the Custodes remained at attention and unmoving, hardly reacting to the new arrival. From the ramp, cam Inquisitor Serizawa, Al-Hashimi following with the other Psykers, the Custodes leader briefly turning to glance at the Inquisitor and Librarian, before turning his cold, unblinking gaze back on the Captain.
Both looked at the golden figures in shock, everything, from their white waist cloths, to the red on their shoulder armor, seemed to gleam.
“What brings the Emperor's personal guards to this rock?” Serizawa remarked quietly.
“Same as you, Inquisitor. The protection of the Imperium.” The Custodes replied sharply, before tilting his head. Even from a distance, he spotted the badge on the Inquisitor's armor, the same hour glass style marking. “I had thought your Ordo was gone.”
Serizawa gave a nervous grin. “No. In fact, we have evidence now for the existence of monsters.”
“I guess the Cryptids your order were chasing were real after all,” He muttered. “I guess the Emperor was right about your being needed sooner or later.”
Nureddin turned to the other two. “The Adeptus Custodes require we return to our homeworld of Edirne. They have business with Chapter-Master Murad himself.”
Al-Hashimi furrowed his brow in surprise, but said nothing. There was no point in doubting or questioning things. If the Bostanji of the Emperor left their sojourn in the palace, it had to be a matter of colossal importance, more then any Chapter had the right to question.
In the seconds before he could answer, Al-Hashimi and Serizawa both turned, Force Staff and Power Sword drawn, pychic power gathering, as the Custodes reacted, turning in the direction of the the Psykers, and readying their Guardian spears and Ax for the foe. Nureddin turned as well, brandishing his Plasma Pistol, at the three figures approaching. The three were tall and humanoid, taller and lankier then a normal human.
The leader was dressed in orange robes, while the helmet and shoulder armor were a dull yellow. The bone-like armor over its chest and hands were white, while the cloak was black. The eyes on its pointed, angular helmet were green, as were the jewels on its shoulders, chest and hands. The two figures flanking him were also dressed in orange armor, their pointed crests and helmets were yellow in color, with a black rune carved into the center of the helmet.
“Eldar!” Nureddin barked in surprise, springing his Power Sword out in an instant.
“Hold, humans. I am Farseer Kolemai of Craftworld Leamhan. I beseech you for a moment of peace.” The leader of the three stated in a deep, resonate voice, holding his right hand up to them. It was quiet, but confident in his cadence.
The other two were tense and ready, as the Custodes leader returned his ax to a neutral position, his peers following example, as the Space Marines glanced at them in surprise.
“Custodes, what are you doing?” Nureddin muttered in annoyance, expecting the Emperor's bodyguards to be the most stalwart in killing such Xenos scum.
“Leamhan is central to the Emperor's plans. We may not strike it.” The Custodes leader state firmly. Serizawa looked to the Custodes with some surprise, his sword lowering slightly. It was as if he was remembering something important, but couldn't recall the exact details.
Kolemai nodded, bowing his head to them in gratitude, before slowly reaching into his robe, and producing a scroll. “I call upon the ancient Treaty of Haliin, signed by your Malcador the Sigillite, on behalf of your Emperor, with our Seer Council, to beseech your aid.”
Nureddin's brows furrowed, looking to the Inquisitor for confirmation if what this Alien was saying was true. The Emperor and his Grand Vizier making deals with the duplicitous Eldar was almost an insult to everything the Imperium stood for.
“Let me see this Treaty.” Serizawa said, wearily, looking the three Eldar over with some revulsion. The Farseer dutifully handed it over, holding out the scroll, and carefully stepping away from him.
He slowly unfurled it, and looked it over, running a finger over the surface of the scroll, the first part in High Gothic, before looking at the second paper behind it, written in the language of the Aeldari. He read over it, eyes widening as he did, not able to believe what was in writing here, with the Imperial Seal itself, and the signature of Malcador himself alongside it.
“The treaty is real. I thought it was all a Legend.” Serizawa muttered in amazement, blinking several times as he looked at the runes and seals of both this Leamhan and the Imperium, again and again.
“Legend?” Al-Hashimi sputtered, looking to the other Marines, whose weapons were still trained, even as they looked uncertain now. “You know of this?”
“A rumor, that the higher ups and Lord Inquisitors of my order kept an agreement with the Asuryani Aeldari of Craftworld Leamhan to protect something of great value.” Serizawa explained.
“Indeed. Even now, the Emperor still maintains the importance of Leamhan,” The Custodes leader declared, before turning to Kolemai, his voice dripping with venom. “You should feel so lucky. If he had the power, he would declare your entire species to be made extinct, and yet spare you.”
“Ah, yes, because the policy of blind xenophobia and extermination has served your dying Empire and Emperor so well,” Kolemai muttered, shaking his head in disgust. “Cease your boasting, Mon'keigh, things greater then both our kind are at work here.”
“Then explain your presence, creature.” Nureddin snarled. The mere implication the Emperor would compromise his vision for these foul things was already driving him to madness. The sooner they were rejected and sent away, the better.
“Godzilla isn't the only one to return. Our prophecies have detailed that the creature under our protection is at risk. We do not have the power to protect her alone,” Kolemai explained quickly. “However, if our warhost is joined by the soldiers of the Imperium of Man, we could route the forces of Chaos heading for us.”
“We already fought Chaos. You Xenos should consider yourselves lucky you were even allowed to approach us,” Nureddin remarked in disgust, sneering at the Farseer and his guards. “Like good Imperial soldiers would risk their lives for some foul aliens or their gigantic pet.”
“We need to go.” Serizawa declared, Nureddin and the others turning in shock.
“But our...”
“An Imperial garrison can be maintained, while the rest deploy to protect Leamhan,” The Custodes Shield-Captain stated, not giving Nureddin a chance to voice his anger, before raising his voice. “Mordian, prepare your regiment, you and the Astartes will be facing another Chaos invasion with these Aeldari.”
Von Rauch's mouth dropped slightly, blinking a few times, before straightening and folding his arms behind his back. “Ye...Yes lord!”
Nureddin took a deep breath, shaking his head, then groaning quietly to himself. This had to be some surreal nightmare. Alliances of convenience were acceptable. Sometimes it helped to have the duplicitous Eldar in one spot, where you could see them, and putting some of their powerful, if loathsome, technology to use would be a boon against Tyranid or Ork threats. But going to one of their Craftworlds was tantamount to suicide. They would be at their mercy.
Kolemai seemed to sense the Captain's distrust and resentment, speaking up. “We only seek the protection of a common goal, for both our kind and your Imperium. In the long term, it does us more harm to attempt deceit against you Mon'Keigh.”
“Give us the coordinates, Aeldari, and be gone at once.” The Custodes ordered, pointing away.
Kolemai bowed his head, speaking once more. “May Khaine bless us for war the battle to come. She Who Thirsts will come quick and come strongly to our warhosts.”
He waved his hand through the air, the three Aeldari vanishing from sight, fading away from sight, disappearing like a mirage that had never been there. Nureddin looked to the Inquisitor, who still seemed uncertain of himself, and the impassive, statue-like frame of the Custodes.
“I hope whatever creature they have stored in their foul home is worth it,” The Captain said in an icy tone, barely above a harsh whisper. “Because this fighting to protect aliens is the most disgusting perfidy against the Emperor.”
“Mind your bark, dog.” The Custodes Captain growled, his agitation and rage now growing more then he could control. “You call yourselves Hounds, so do what Hounds do, and obey your Emperor, your owner, and be silent.”
Nureddin glared at the Custodes, but did not dare say anything else. He had heard the stories, dating back to before the Horus Heresy, of them facing a hundred thousand Orks with only a few dozen of their own. And given their closeness to the Emperor, speaking out of turn could very well result in the Hound Keepers learning firsthand that wrathful prowess. He kept his face stoic, but Nureddin stepped back once.
“We'll leave for the alien world-ship, after we account for our dead,” Nureddin said coldly, never taking his cold gaze off the Custodes, who remained unimpressed. “After that, I never want to deal with this Inquisitor or the borderline heresies you engage in.”
The Custodes waved him off with an annoyed grunt, the Hound Keepers turning and speaking among themselves for the task ahead. He always hated dealing with Space Marines. A lot of bluster, pomp and ceremony, and they were only slightly above the Orks in terms of ability.
'All of them are so arrogant, when it was their childish, emotional attitudes that cut our father's vision of the future in twine.' The Custodes thought gruffly. 'If we weren't so difficult to create, the Emperor could've relied on us instead.'
He turned to his compatriots, nodding to them. “Tell the Primaris to be prepared for another battle. They'll have to wait to meet their Chapter.”
The two nodded, hurrying off to the gunship, as he turned to Serizawa, gesturing for him to come closer. The Inquisitor stepped past the Marines, tentative and slightly worried, looking up at the towering, golden figure before him.
“Do you think this is a trap?” The Custodes asked quietly. “We have heard nothing of the Being. Leamhan has not been involved in anything, and that includes the Ynnari Cultists from the other Aeldari.”
“I honestly don't know. If we haven't heard from Leamhan, then that either means the Xenos are good at covering their attacks and raids, or they have honored the treaty with the Imperium,” The Inquisitor admitted. “But Eldar are duplicitous, conniving beings at heart. I doubt they are being altruistic.”
“I don't need to tell an Inquisitor this, but make sure everyone is on guard.” The Custodes leader stated wearily. “We can never be too careful.”
Serizawa nodded. His mind was still locked on Godzilla. Finally seeing it, the full proof of what his Order had sought, and he had all the devices, Pic-captures and auspex scans, to show it. He almost wanted to salivate at what it would mean when he showed his superiors and the High Lords of Terra this, before chuckling quietly.
'Like those old windbags will do anything with my evidence.' He thought with a shake of his head.
He put his mind on preparing first and foremost. After all, what Leamhan had would just give his bosses more evidence to work with. Such knowledge would give the Lord-Regent something to use in the war against Chaos. His name would be central to the Imperium's survival, he was sure of it.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
The Chaos forces of the Brotherhood of Damnation and their followers and thralls. The Marines marched forward, as most of the Cultists and Traitor Militia from Tharnis Prime collapsed and began vomiting and screaming in pain. Zaaras looked at them, utterly befuddled, as Lakaeros turned to the Chaos Lord.
“We've lived in the warp for centuries. These whelps spent their whole lives on a planet in realspace,” The Sorcerer explained. “They aren't used to the rules of physics of the Warp.”
Zaaras nodded, before turning away. “I have to meet with the master.”
Lakaeros returned the nod, as the Chaos Lord marched through the ship. The slaves, Cultists and Marines within saluted him and gave him declarations of honor and loyalty, while the Chaos Marines greeted their peers who were returning. He ignored it all, heading for the personal quarters of the one he had chosen to follow.
Zaaras was not the true master of the Brotherhood of Damnation. A far more terrible, wholly unholy mind commanded the Chaos forces.
He finally reached the quarters, were two Chosen of Chaos stood guard, one with no helmet, and a similar white skull-like effigy painted across his face. The two looked at Zaaras coldly, the twin short power swords in their hands gripped tightly.
“Does the master expect you?” The one without a helmet asked, their bodies unnaturally still, not even seemingly breathing.
“Yes, I have something to report to him.” Zaaras replied.
“We shall...” The second Chosen began to say, before a voice called from within.
“Let him through.”
The two stiffened at his voice, before nodding and stepping aside, the black steel doors sliding open without a sound. Zaaras stepped through, the floor turning from the usual metal of the ship, to a strong, if old, wood, creaking and groaning under his great weight. Within was a seeming library of books, scrolls and other tomes, staked high around the entire room, at the head of the room, a great dais, an alter bearing 8 candles held in the skulls of long dead humans and aliens, while at the foot of this alter, sat another Chaos Lord at a large desk, his back to Zaaras, but dressed in the indomitable and mighty Terminator armor lesser Lords and Champions so coveted.
The other lord raised a finger up, a Power Claw formerly bronze, now its tip colored red. Zaaras patiently waited, setting his Maul against a nearby wall, and turning back to the 'master' in question. The slowly shut the great book before him, closing it with a thump that echoed through the whole library. The figure rose up, standing taller then the other Chaos Lord, looming over like a mighty, immovable mountain, small skulls dangling from the shoulder armor and waist, small knives and daggers hung from the waist armor as well. His shin armor was embossed into the shape of snarling daemonic faces. His face was darkened bronze, most of it dominated by the white face markings, except for the chunk of his right cheek, that looked as if an animal had chewed through it, the gums and teeth on that side was metallic.
His arms ended in massive power claws, the right arm bearing a large Stormbolter on the wrist.
“Yes Zaaras?” The being asked, his voice a deep rumble, almost shaking Zaaras where he stood. “What became of Tharnis? Why is it not in my empire? Why have your forces returned here with less strength and followed by weak cultists vomiting up their guts like a child with Nurgle's Rot?”
“The Imperial Guard Regiments and the loyalists of a Chapter fought us,” Zaaras began, feeling a tad nervous now, eyeing the stormbolter. “But...something else drove us from there.”
The Chaos Lord raised an eyebrow, looking more intrigued then angered. “Oh?”
Zaaras shifted slightly, certain now he was going to sound insane to his superior, but chose to speak on. “It was...a creature. Larger then any Titan I have ever seen. We have Auspex scans and pic-captures of the thing. It destroyed the Traitor Guard's basilisks, tanks, Manticores, and our own Predators.”
“Was it a Tyranid? An Ork thing? Something else?” His superior asked, tilting his head slightly.
“Something alright.” Zaaras commented, more to himself then the other Lord, before speaking up again. “We have recordings of it, Lakaeros tried to psychically dominate the thing.”
“Lakaeros is strong, but can be...arrogant, blind to his own pitfalls.” The other Lord remarked, nodding slightly to himself, his brow furrowed in thought, before narrowing his eyes. “You said bigger then a Titan? Have we not hunted creatures like the Tyranids?”
“The Hierophants and such can be injured, this thing was not.” Zaaras stated, before looking around nervously. “The Daemon Herald we summoned Vffrafith'fyrm, called it Godzilla, High Lord Teridax.”
Lord Teridax nodded. “We will call the Daemon back from the warp, and have any soldiers and Marines that saw it prepared to give statements and interrogations about it, in detail. Send your Auspex devices to the Warp-Smiths for further study.”
Zaaras nodded, turning to grab his Maul and leave, when Teridax spoke. “What has caused you such fear? Are you not a Chaos marine? How long has your Warband been part of my Brotherhood that you act like this?”
Zaaras looked over his shoulder, shaking his head slightly. “Look at the recordings, and you'll see why.”
Teridax looked surprised for a moment, before his curiosity was piqued. The Daemons of the Warp knew of this, and it had destroyed an entire segment of his Brotherhood force. He was almost ready to salivate at the idea of discovering more of this thing.
