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Wolves of Catachan


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  • 1 month later...
After a painful bout of Writer's Block, followed by computer problems, I can finally finish this chapter and begin work on the epilogue. Hope it's to the board members' liking.

The Marines and Skitarii prepared for what dangers they knew were aboard the Tizca. The Techpriests spared what flux they could, giving the boarding party a modicum of protection from barking toad venom. Halman requested logistics support from the Imperial Guard and Navy; even if the Magos' forgeship was emptied of her 10,000 crewmembers, one standard year was required to inspect the six-kilometer-long strike cruiser, at minimum.

 

With his battle-brothers' help, Bjorn repaired and painted his armor. Manfred seized this moment to voice the question was on everyone's minds.

 

"Brother Bjorn, what is your plan? What future awaits us?" Storm Rider, wearing his helmet-- ostensibly protecting his lungs, though the paint-borne toxins didn't affect a Space Marine's augmented organs-- asked in the Fenrisian tongue.

 

"We'll not waver from our ultimate goal: to rebuild our Chapter and redeem our lost brothers' honor-- letting their names will be spoken with the respect due a hero, not the dread a monster inspires." Firewalker wore a camo cloak with a raised collar, communicating through the vox bead implanted in his throat. With his helmet set aside for repairs, he relied on the cloak for a measure of privacy. "For now, we'll remain on Catachan, assisting the Mechanicus in cleansing this vessel. I'll bargain with the Magos to transport Brother Beowulf to Fenris--"

 

"What...?" Ice Wraith's protest was cut short when Bjorn's hands gripped his shoulders.

 

"You're a psyker. With training, you may become a Rune Priest, using your powers to serve our father and the Emperor. Without such guidance, you may become a witch-- or worse, a Chaos spawn, like..." Firewalker left the sentence unfinished; all remembered what the Thousand Sons sorcerers became. "Go. Allfather willing, we'll see you there, when we go and ask our father for permission to rebuild the Chapter."

 

"Is so ambitious a goal, achievable in these dark times?" Johann asked.

 

Bjorn's eyes burned with fierce determination. "The night is darkest before the dawn. We must dare to hope, to try, or the Thousand Sons defeat us before we exchange another blow-- I'll eat my gene-seed before I admit defeat to a sorcerous nithing."

 

"I'd rather make a Thousand Sons traitor eat his own gene-seed," Beowulf commented.

 

"Allfather willing, we'll make Magnus' sons do so." With that, Henrik filled the armory with laughter, the Marines sharing mirth both great and grim.

 

"Then let this be a second founding of the Second Founding." Bjorn lowered the airbrush, lifting the still intact Catachan wolf skull from a workbench. "I knew not why I saved this trophy from Firefly's wreckage; now I see it was a sign from the Allfather. As Catachan is now our home, let us be known as the Catachan Wolves Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes."

 

Henrik laid his hand upon Firewalker's, using a victory sign that Catachan scrumball players used when their team won; the other Marines' hands quickly joined Bjorn's.

 

"The Emperor's Peace to the Wolfbrothers. Death or glory to the Catachan Wolves!"

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so are you going to write a sequal?

Eventually, yes. Unfortunately, the irregular rate at which inspiration comes to me, may delay the sequel for quite some time. (I began writing this story in winter of 2009- 13 MONTHS for a story of this length- and in my opinion, it's still incomplete!)

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  • 2 weeks later...
5 Feb: A minor edit to confirm Beowulf received an augmetic hand.

Epilogue: Sunwolf

>

 

"Strike cruiser Thunderwolf, you are cleared for docking." The dockmaster paused before adding a heartfelt "Welcome home, brothers."

 

The Catachan Wolves' prize ship approached the Space Wolves' fortress-monastery. Scoured of the Thousand Sons insignia-- the obelisks removed, the pyramid gutted, and their archeotech bartered for the Techpriests' aid in refitting the ship-- the strike cruiser was renamed "Thunderwolf". A snarling wolf's head formed the command center; the teeth framed windows, from which Bjorn observed the world of his birth.

 

'Thank the Allfather.' The Catachan Wolves leader found no sign of Chaos-taint, as the ship approached Fenris. With the Thunderwolf secured, Bjorn and his battle-brothers debarked to meet the Space Wolves honor guard approaching the hatch. "Brother Beowulf!" The Rune Priest had a mechanical talon with the adamantine blades retracted, replacing the mutated limb. 'He won our father's trust,' Bjorn thought. A master-crafted weapon would never be given to one whose motives were suspect.

 

"Brother Firewalker." Ice Wraith and Bjorn locked hands and then pulled each other into a fraternal embrace. "At last, our Chapter stands as one."

 

"Soon we'll bring battle to the Thousand Sons, and avenge our lost brothers, as one."

 

"Greetings, Lord Bjorn." Firewalker saluted Bjorn the Fell-Handed, Wolf Guard-- elite bodyguard and chief lieutenant-- to Leman Russ himself. "May we speak with our father the Wolf King?"

 

The question brought unexpected grief to the eyes of the Fell-Handed. "If I could grant this, I would, but our father left us. The year after our Legion was divided, our father and his mightiest warriors departed for the Eye of Terror, seeking the Tree of Life, whose seeds could-- would heal the Emperor's wounds. Of his Wolf Guard, I alone remain-- I know not when he'll return."

 

The Catachan Wolves fell silence. The Fell-Handed knew their morale suffered a grievous blow-- the Marines thought their father judged them "unworthy," and abandoned them-- because he thought and felt the same, when the Primarch left.

 

"But he will return, to lead us in the final battle," Beowulf repeated what the Space Wolves Rune Priests foresaw.

 

Bjorn the Fell-Handed nodded. "Our brothers named me the Great Wolf, with the authority to act in our father's name. I will support your plans to rebuild your Chapter and redeem your lost brothers' honor."

 

Bjorn Firewalker put a fist over his human heart, the ceramite ringing as he swore, "Then I take the name 'Svartbjorn,'" Black Bear, "and not steal honors due the last of Russ' retinue."

 

The Fell-Handed smiled at the Catachan Wolves leader's determination. 'With such warriors, the Wolfbrothers' honor will yet be redeemed.' "Will your name change to reflect your new rank and responsibilities?"

 

Bjorn-turned-Svartbjorn nodded. "Yes, Lord Bjorn. I intend to adopt the name 'Fire Wolf,' and use it as my badge." In Fenrisian myths, the Fire Wolf's breath melted snow and ice, in advance of the planet's fiery seasons.

 

The Great Wolf's head shook. "No. When the High Lords ordered the Wolfbrothers Chapter dissolved, they dealt a blow to our honor-- and consequently, our morale-- against which we had no defense. If our brothers' gene-seed is suspect, how can ours be trusted? In your continuing mission to redeem the fallen Wolfbrothers' names, you bring hope to our hearts, and light to these dark times-- the Sunwolf shall be your badge."

 

Henrik Nightsbane smiled. "A new dawn for Russ' sons-- how appropriate."

 

Svartbjorn solemnly nodded. "Thank you for your confidence in us and our cause, Lord Bjorn-- I'll do as you ask."

 

"Indeed." The Fell-Handed turned to his retinue. "Three cheers to Svartbjorn Sunwolf and the Catachan Wolves!" With that, thunderous acclaim filled the airlock.

 

"To Lord Svartbjorn and the Catachan Wolves! Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!"

 

"And together, we'll bring justice and vengeance to the Thousand Sons nithings."

>

 

The end.

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