Assault on Calebra Hive

[Carrack]

1 i loved the bit about vinno staring down a bull and using his own horns to challenge it and scare it.

2 in Broken Trident its all in the same tense until the third last paragraph where it suddenly becomes 1st person with no explanation

3 as usual. Good work. Honestly I was kind of hoping for an Ahriman-esque 'just as planned' moment but it is also good to see why Carrack wants to take Calebra

Thanks EesiOh.

1. I had a similar incident happen once when I was looking after a neighbor's cattle while he was away for the weekend. He neglected to inform me about having a bull in his pasture. I didn't stare it down though, I ran like hell and jumped the fence :) Michael Jordan would have been proud of that jump.

 

2. You are absolutely correct, my tense is all over the place. I decided to stick with 1st person, I think it is the most fitting for an egotistical Chaos Lord. Thanks.

 

3. Rest assured I still have a few tricks in store for Calebra Hive.

[Carrack]

3.2 Raining Hell

 

The Ruby Mace drifted to the edge of her blockade zone in orbit over the world of Candlebright. Her master, the notorious pirate captain Zanazar was slowly bringing the Ruby Mace's port broadsides in line for an orbital bombardment. Zanazar was being extraordinarily careful with his flagship's maneuvers. The Ruby Mace was carrying an unstable payload.

 

The target of the Ruby Mace was not Calebra Hive, the main objective of the Black Maw's invasion, but one of the lesser satellite hives, Epsilon Hive, more commonly called Maize Hive. Maize Hive was small in comparison with Calebra Hive, 21 stories up and 10 or so stories down. At one time, Maize Hive was the center of cultivation for a high yield, gene enhanced, waxy cereal grain. As overpopulating and unchecked pollution made the surrounding lands unable to yield a crop, Calebra Hive turned almost completely to off world sources for food. Maize Hive tried to adjust from agriculture to manufacturing, yet the hive never truly recovered. Maize hive became destitute and notoriously crime ridden. But the hive would serve Lord Carrack's purposes.

 

One by one, the Ruby Mace's port macro cannons were unloaded of their high explosive warheads. As each gun was unloaded, a new shell was wheeled in from the ship's most secure magazine. These were no ordinary shells. Their wooden packing cases were filled with pure salt and the exterior of each warhead was inscribed with pentagramic wards inlayed with silver. The normal gun crews stood aside as hulking mutant servitors loaded the warheads into the breaches of the guns. The mutant servitor teams only loaded three guns each, before new teams loaded the next three. The fate of the teams was apparent with the bloodstained dispatcher-spike that protruding from one of the overseer's mechandrils. The overseer wore the black robes of an adept of the True Mechanicum, but they barely concealed all of the techno-arcane augmentation that the adept had been enhanced with. The overseer said nothing, either to his servitors or to the Ruby Mace's gun crews.

 

When all of the port guns were loaded with the special shells, the overseer connected with the master fire controls of the port broadsides. He began intoning a complicated series of commands using a bastardized Techna-Lingua interspaced with phrases of a harsher, darker, more malevolent language. The officers stationed at the controls quickly abandoned their post at the sound of the adepts intoned commands. The Adept was indifferent to their abrupt departure.

 

The bridge officers stood by, uneasy at what was occurring on the port gun deck. Their unease went far beyond the lack of profit in the coming bombardment. They knew their captain had to obey Lord Carrack's commands in times of war or they would not be allowed to call port in any of his holdings. Thus far, they had been happy with the arrangement, they had free markets to trade their stolen goods, as well as port facilities to repair and refit their pirate fleet, and in the past, all they had to do in return was pay tribute, and support Lord Carrack in fleet engagements. This was different. This was genocide. This was unleashing hell on the souls of those below. Even these ruthless pirates held some misgivings, but they weren't foolish enough to defy their captain, and he wasn't foolish enough to defy Lord Carrack. Captain Zanazar gave the order to fire. Hell rained down on Maize Hive.

 

Each of the shells contained an unstable warp conduit. A warhead designed to briefly rip open the veil between reality and beyond. Each of the warheads were powered by a barely contained daemon forced into a power matrix, and contained by the warded shell. As the shells struck the hive, the wards were shattered, and they unleashed the energy of the bound daemon. In some instances, the daemon itself was released. Maize Hive's void shields and armored shell were no match for the daemonic power exploding into the hive. Walls melted, floors collapsed, and power grids overloaded as fountains sprayed blood, pink fires burnt metal and stone alike, and the stench of a three day old battlefield filled the air. The few remaining survivors who were not hunted down by the unbound daemons, mutated beyond any resemblance of their former humanity. Maize Hive was no longer a hive, and it's remains were no longer part of reality. Vid capture of the Ruby Mace's targeting arrays recorded the entire atrocity, and were broadcast to every level of Calebra Hive.

[Carrack]

I have one more story done that just needs to be looked over with a fresh set of eyes, than I am going to try to take a brief hiatus and get some work done on my Call of Chaos vow. It's been two weeks, and I have not even got my models organized for a before picture. ;(

[Carrack]

7.2 Agenda

 

I keep this record not for personal gain, but because it is my holy duty, tasked to me by Inquisitor Gorvanof. Should judgment be required upon the Lord of the Undying Light, Governor Valencia-Calebra, these notes may very well prove his guilt.

 

The Agenda of the Lord Governor

 

1. Maize Hive. We all have seen what has happened to the Maizers, there should be no need to go into common knowledge details.

-Admiral Edgar Valencia (Acting Commander of PDF Orbital Defences); our sensor arrays detected that prior to the destruction of Maize Hive, a tender disembarked from the Arch-Enemy's flagship, Bitter Revenge, and docked with the bulk hanger of The Ruby Mace that is believed to be closest to the port magazine of the attacking vessel. This may indicate that such weapons that were used on Maize Hive may be carried aboard the Grand Cruiser Bitter Revenge, instead of the cruiser Ruby Mace, and hopefully, that they may be of limited supply. In the event that heretics repeat the attack, the other Satellite Hives have similar levels of protection, yet Calebra Hive still has enough active defenses to prevent enemy warships from getting close enough to shell our hive.

-Chief Arbiter Gertrude Hannabar; The broadcasting of this attack has had mixed results on internal security. Fear has caused collaboration with the enemy to reach unprecedented levels. Furthermore, where as before we dealt with saboteurs, spies, and the occasional newly formed cults, now the collaborators are actively taken up arms against the loyal subjects, and by extension, Him on Terra. The positive affect of the tragedy, is that it has also galvanized resistance against the invaders. Fewer exemptions for the militia are being claimed, along with spontaneous groups of subjects working to fortify their homes and levels are springing up like never before, as Lord Marshall Hector Valencia can attest. Likewise Mass attendance is at an all time high as the Cardinal Del Sol can verify. The higher up the hive, the more faithful the subjects, is the general trend.

 

2. Relief. As some of you have undoubtedly found out, I have invoked our ancestral rights of protection with the Emperor's Finest of the Raven Guard. In truth, I begged on hands and knees for the Angels of Death to honor our long dormant accord. They quickly responded and were able slip a force into the mid hive undetected. As grateful as we are for their assistance, they are not forthcoming with their plans or even their troop strength. My intelligence reports that they have had a serious impact upon the Arch-Enemy in the mid-hive. As for Sub-Sector and Sector Command, they are marshaling regiments of the Emperor's Hammer and a holy fleet of his warships to crush this Black Legion Warband, but are not willing to predict a date of arrival as of yet. I hear repeated calls from our higher command for us to hold the line.

-Grand Adept Astropathica Waylan Loughen (Chief Astropath); My choir has heard calls for aid coming from Inquisitor Gorvanof's personal astropathic sanctum. These calls were answered, yet both outgoing and incoming messages were indecipherably encrypted. The Inquisition, as usual, maintains its autonomy and will not coordinate with our Lord of Undying Light's council.

-Lord Governor's response; In the midst of our crisis, we must also be watchful of the Inquisition's judgments. We must redouble our efforts to keep our hive in the Light of the Emperor, or no matter the outcome of the invasion, we could still face the wrath of the unchecked power of the Ordos. I will be contacting the Administratum, the Ministorum, and the Mechanicus, both to plead again for aid, and to promise additional tithes of thanksgiving, should the Emperor see us through these dark times. Should any of these institutions prove receptive, I will also ask them to intercede on our behalf with the Inquisition, to the extent that they are willing.

 

We must now adjourn to the chambers of the War Council. Other points of my agenda will be relayed by my staff. The Emperor Shines His Light to Banish the Shadows.

 

7.3 The Order of Light

The old man set his pen down on the parchment and looked over at his brother's son, his apprentice, his order's legacy. He looked away, dismayed and apprehensive. The old man, Roberro, or more formerly in the ancient titles of the secret society, the Elder Lightkeeper, was to blame for the order's current predicament. He could have carefully selected an apprentice with the skills to carry out the order's duties in a time of crisis, but instead, he chose his nephew as a favor to his elder brother. Roberro's order hadn't faced true adversity in 32 generations, it seemed like a harmless act of generosity to a relative. But now, with the Arch-Enemy at hand, the fate of the hive, the fate of the order, and the fate of the Candle of Light, the relic his order was sworn to protect, was in jeopardy.

 

Roberro the Elder Lightkeeper was the master of the Order of Light. His task was simple, protect the artifact known as the Candle of Light, until a hero ordained by the will of the Emperor, arose and had the strength to wield it against His enemies. For thousands of years, the Order of Light had honored their sacred duty. They had protected their charge from thieves, witches, hivequakes, floods, fires, and even the Inquisition, but after hundreds of uneventful years, the order had grown lax. Currently there were only three members of the Inner Light, members privy to the order's secrets. There was Savant, Jamess, a living encyclopedia of all the legends, myths, and stories of the Candle of Light, Roberro the Elder Lightkeeper, and his nephew Juano the Younger Lightkeeper. There also were two members of the Outer Light, the less informed servants of the order, Percival, the shopkeeper for the antique clock shop that served as a front for the order, and Vardun, the supposed laborer of Percival, but in truth, underhive ex-ganger muscle.

 

The Candle of Light had to be moved. Roberro knew the moment the invasion started, what the Black Maw was after. As the war for Calebra Hive started to spell defeat for the Imperials, Roberro decided that it would be best if they moved the artifact in case the enemy somehow knew its whereabouts. But moving the Candle of Light meant trusting it to his nephew. Jamess was a brilliant savant, but was so unworldly, he had trouble shopping for groceries, the two Outer Light members didn't understand the true importance of the order's task, and their trustworthiness had not been established to the standards of the Inner Light. Roberro himself was no longer physically capable of travel. His mind was sharp as a razor, yet his knees could not withstand more than a few steps, and even that caused tremendous pain. The task of moving the artifact fell on Juano's slim shoulders. But Juano was to immature to handle such an undertaking. Juano had always been lax in his studies and indifferent to the importance of the order's mission. Roberro even suspected that his young nephew had betrayed some of the Order of Light's secrets, merely to impress a pretty girl. He was not fit for the task, but Juano was their only hope.

 

Juano pulled on the black robes of a mortuary priest. They cut of a fine cloth, elaborately embroidered, obviously of worth to anyone who bothered to inspect them. Few would, the affairs of the mortuary priests were respectfully ignored by the subjects of Calebra Hive. Most people would turn their head as he passed by, hopefully not noticing how ill fitting the voluminous robes were on the slender young man. That was the plan anyway, that Juano would not draw attention, and that the black metal torch with inlayed golden circuit-runes and a luminescent red gem ensconced in the pitch well would remain hidden inside the over sized robes. The Candle of Light must not be discovered at all cost. Juano checked the safety on his auto pistol concealed in the sleeve of his disguise, and left the clock shop for the Great Stair.

[Carrack]

4.6 Gifts of the Gods

 

Cancon huddled in a trash filled alley, at war with himself. The eyes of the true gods were upon Cancon, and their generous gifts were overwhelming his essence, his personality, his soul. He could not give them back.

 

 

Nagashesha was his latests, and most potent gift. He was the snake that had protruded from his chest, sealing a gaping las wound, and contesting his mind for control of their bodies. The huge constrictor had color changing scales that expressed Nagashesha's mood when the snake felt like communicating. When the snake wanted control, it flooded Cancon's mind with images and voiced its thoughts directly into Cancon's mind. It was unsettling to say the least, to have his own internal dialogue intruded upon with the voice of another. But what was more unsettling than having company in his head, even more unsettling than having a great serpent coming out of his chest, was that he didn't know what it wanted. As if sensing Cancon's discomfort, Nagashesha flooded his mind with images of a black metal torch with golden circuit-runes running up the shaft and connecting with a glowing red gem set on the base of the pitch well at the top of the torch. Accompanying this vision was a vague sense of direction, north and up.

 

Cancon knew that Nagashesha wanted to immediately begin searching for this torch, yet the streets were crowded with teaming masses all stirred up about some recent news. Cancon knew he couldn't take to the streets with mutated form, but Nagashesha was becoming increasingly more insistent. But he knew instinctively that if there was a true battle of wills between him and the daemonic serpent, the serpent would win. He wasn't sure his soul would survive such a battle. The choice was simple, venture into the streets, and be lynched by the crowds, or lose his soul in a battle of wills with Nagashesha and then venture out into the streets to be lynched. He chose to keep his soul. He stepped out into the crowded street.

 

The mobs turned and stared. Nagashesha was dancing, swaying back and forth melodically. His scales were blinking from one color to the next, covering the whole spectrum of visible light, then repeating. It felt like an hour had past, but Cancon knew it had only been moments, when more than two dozen of the witnesses, with vacant eyes, formed up in a circle around Cancon. Cancon's mutations could not be seen from outside his bubble of newly mesmerized followers. They started walking north.

Edited October 9, 2015 by Carrack

[Carrack]

4.7 Strong House

Garaduk watched in disgusted fascination as one of his Plague Marines slowly detached the seals of his helmet. The Plague Marine lifted his helm, to the horror of Garaduk and his remaining forces. The face of the Plague Marine was that of a bloated corpse left to rot in a fetid swamp. Black crooked teeth protruded from equally black receding gums. The grey flesh of the face had bloated until the nose and cheeks were unrecognizable. The smell could gag a carrion bird flying overhead. The Plague Marine, Garaduk had not learned their individual names, pulled the empty magazine out of the well of his bolter and looked down into the open end. With a disgusting wretch, the Plague Marine vomited into the magazine. He then slapped the magazine into the bolter and racked the slide. To Garaduk's veteran ear, it sounded identical to a bolt being chambered. The Plague Marine resealed his helmet. At least one of Garaduk's Legionnaires wouldn't be short on ammo.

 

Garaduk gestured forward with his lightning claw and his strike force moved out. His two remaining Vulture Raptor guard stayed close to their charge. On his left flank strode the Helbrute Vingal, his chest armor creaking from damage caused by a well thrown krak grenade. Behind the Helbrute was his smaller Plague Marine squad, down to five rotting marines. His right flank was held by his full seven man Plague Marine squad, and his rear was guarded by his thinbloods, renegades who had recently taken the black and newly made Astartes. Garaduk had consolidated the surviving thinbloods into two squads of five, all were out of bolt rounds, but they had their knives, and the two plasma guns still had power cells. Garaduk's two surviving specialists took a protected position in the center of the formation. Garaduk doubted the specialist could keep pace for another hour before exhaustion overtook them. He would leave them where they fell, they weren't his brothers.

 

They marched out into the street, causing the crowds to panic and run in all directions. They didn't bother gunning the civilians down, they were too short on ammunition. They did lash out with blades and skull-cracking fists when some of the more foolish, or slow civilians allowed themselves to get to close to the legionnaires of the Black Maw Warband. While short on ammunition, they had limitless hatred for the slaves of the Emperor.

 

As word spread of their advance, the streets of Level 87, The Base, began to clear. The Base was a name for the level that had many meanings. It was called The Base, because it was the highest full size level, the true upper levels were all smaller, contained within a grand spire that reached up into the thinning atmosphere, Level 87 was The Base of the spire. Over 2,500 years ago, Calebra Hive had been wracked by a civil war with recidivists. When Sub-Sector Command stepped in and sent several regiments of the Imperial Guard to purge the recidivism from Calebra Hive, they landed on Level 87 and fought their way down the hive, but left their main base on the level. The remains of the guard base was now a mostly forgotten memorial, the rest of the base being claimed for hab blocks and commerce halls. But for Garaduk, the important meaning was that Level 87 was the base of the Great Stair, a winding staircase that wrapped around the spire and climbed almost to the top of the hive. Garaduk was determined to make use of the Great Stair on his climb to the upper levels.

 

They passed through the quiet streets, passing abandoned checkpoints, and passing by hab blocks filled with huddled families praying to the Emperor that they would keep passing by. Then, as Garaduk expected, the diluted sons of the XIX legion made their appearance. But this was no hit and run attack, no sniper pock shots and a fade away. The Raven Guard were trying for a decisive engagement. They were trying to kill Garaduk and his men.

 

They were on a two lane street, lined on either side by two and three story shops and offices. At the far end of the street Garaduk could see a rhino in Raven Guard livery flanked by a pair of land speeders. Jump pack equipped assault squads were making their way towards the strike force by jumping from rooftop to rooftop, one on either side of the street, the left side squad was led by a Raven Guard wearing the armor of a captain and wielding dual lightning claws. Garaduk was sure their scouts were concealed in the buildings and rooftops. Garaduk didn't have the range, or the ammo to get in a firefight up the street, and needed a way to neutralize the mobility of the loyalist assault squads. He pointed to a door of an antique clock shop, and yelled for the helbrute to breach it. The Helbrute made a short run at the door with his power claw spinning, and bounced off the frame. The building wasn't made of the plaster and brick it appeared to be. High grade steel rods reinforced a much sturdier stone wall lined with the brick and plaster. This building was a strong house, perhaps a black market enterprise. Vingal opened fire on the door with his multimelta and slagged the door and surrounding frame. A short burst of autogun fire came from the room and was quickly silenced by the sound of a helbrut's power claw pulping a man into mush. Garaduk and his men rushed into the clock shop to find two other men raising autoguns and a third raising his hands. The gun toting men didn't have a chance to fire before plague knives cut their lives short.

 

Garaduk quickly ordered his defense of the strong house. Vingal would remain by the breached door, along with the two squads of thinbloods to guard the ground floor. His 5 man Plague Marine squad would take the second floor, and be ready to respond to either the ground floor or the top floor. Garaduk, his remaining retinue, and the full squad of Plague Marines took the top floor, where he expected the main push from the assault marines to come from. Almost as an afterthought, Garaduk ordered his exhausted specialist to interrogate the man who had surrendered. Before the attack began, the specialist called out that the man was Savant Jamess of the Order of Light.

[Carrack]

Dramatist Personae

 

I probably should have done this towards the beginning of the story rather than in the final act, but better late than never. I've decided to do a dramatist personae of some of the characters that have appeared at Callebra Hive. However, I am only going to use material I have already written before, either in Inspirational Fridays challenges, or little bits of background I have come up while painting my army. So Warning! There is no new material here and I am not moving the story at all with this post. Also, this will be a long post, so I will indicate which characters have longer back stories before their spoiler box.

 

Lord Carrack (long post)

 

 

Revelations to Jodi 1-3

 

1. Upon the Promontory Rock

 

A thunderous wave crashed off the promontory rock, sending salty spray 20 meters into the air, and sea foam rushing over the legs of both myself and the subject of my interview, Lord Carrack, Slayer of Multitudes. The giant Chaos Lord was unmoved and unperturbed by the raw power of the sea and continued staring out into the grey horizon with his helm clutched in the crook of his left arm. His axe haft rested on his other shoulder held by the grip with his right gauntlet, at rest, yet not stowed. The natural violence of the sea did not, however, leave me unmoved. The rushing surf swept my boots off the algae slick rock with the incoming rush. The armor weave in my leggings was reinforced with a synthetic padding in the knee, likely the only thing keeping my knee from shattering. Worse yet, as the wave rescinded it threatened to take me with it back to sea to undoubtably be crashed on the rocks with the following waves. Still, I was able to scramble to my feet and sprint to the shelter of a jutting protrusion near my lord before the next wave tried its best to kill me and destroy this rock that had the audacity to interrupt the shoreline and reach into the sea. I crouched near the mighty Lord Carrack clutching the protrusion with both hands, drenched to the bone, salt water and wind messing my hair and composure alike. I fear I resembled a wet rat, more than a Disciple of Lavam.

 

After a long pause, I am sure orchestrated to demonstrate the gross inequality between he and I, the Doom of Kasr Woolten, Lord Carrack, spoke to me in a voice that was not shouting, but easily carried over the violent sea, "Who are you and why do you trouble me while I reflect on our latest victory? I knew he already knew the answers to his questions, but was allowing me permission to start speaking with a more easy response than some of the questions he knew I would ask, in order for me to regain some of my dignity. I took a deep breath and answered,"I am Jodi, Disciple of your Dark Apostle Lavam. I have been sent here to ask of you questions that our Discipleship can pen into tracks and hymns that will be used to enforce your will on this new land and lay the foundations that will both ensure the loyalty of your newly conquered slaves and separate them from the false devotions of the cursed Imperial creed."

 

For the first time in my twenty three years of life Lord Carrack, a demigod of war, a leader of a Black Legion Warband, my ultimate Liege Lord, looked me in the eye. It was not a pleasant experience. The power of the sea was a pale reflection of the power in his eyes. The bleak gray endless horizon was a shadow of the bleak grayness in his eyes. He said to me, "Lavam occasionally does gestures like this interview in order to prove his loyalty to me and to tell me he has no designs on instigating a revolt on my authority. I think this gesture is genuine, for the moment, and will proceed. If my instincts tell me otherwise, I will send him a message with your skull,". He said this without any malice, or threatening tone, merely a statement of fact. "Very well, you may proceed."

 

I began with a carefully rehearsed preamble telling him I, of such insignificance was apprehensive about asking questions of such an imposing Lord, when he immediately cut me off, "I know you are fearful, I hear your heart beating at a rate consistent with a fleeing guardsmen. You are shivering more than what the cold water would cause. Your pupils have expanded similar to a prey animal about to take flight. All of this in spite of the sedative smoke that lingers ever so slightly in your wet cloak and hair. Skip the pleasantries and ask your questions."

 

Lord Carrack acknowledging my fears only seemed to amplify them, but I pressed on, "Of which legion of old or mighty chapter did you bear the colors in battle and what was your calling in those ancient days?" He stared at me for another moment raising my anxiety further and said, "Originally I was a Legionnaire in the Luna Wolves, you most likely have not heard of them, but that was the original name of the XVI Legion at the early and middle stages of the Great Crusade. I started out as a regular Legionnaire, but was quickly field promoted to squad Sergeant following the loss of our Sergeant to a green skin's claw."

 

2. Under the Gloom Tree

 

 

With the first and easiest question answered, the dreaded Lord Carrack spun on his heel and walked back to the beach, sweeping me under his great red cloak trimmed with the pelt of a Greater White Bear. I was thankful to be escorted off the treacherous promontory rock, but wary of being in such close proximity to a warrior in grand terminator plate festooned, as it was, with barbed hooks and cruel spikes. I should not have worried, Lord Carrack wore his spiked, bulky terminator plate with as much ease as I would wear a night shift. He walked me up the beach to a makeshift command post underneath a massive tree with gnarled roots extending dozens of meters. A map table sat before an Astartes size campaign chair. To the left an orbit capable vox unit had been erected with its antenna lashed to the side of the tree trunk with vines. Attached to the vox was what could only have been an encryption module. To the right was a runic circle three meters in diameter carved into the stump of a larger tree the circle was bisected with the Eye of Horus painted in blood in the eastern half, and the remains of a bloody, burnt offering in the left. PDF officers decorated the trees, some hanging from their necks, but most dangling from brass hooks or even their own entrails. A scattering of thralls, hunched, malformed, and hideous attended the machines as they were ignored by my lord. A squad of Black Legion Astartes loitered around the command post, weapons ready and casually monitoring both the vox and the circle. As we entered the command post Lord Carrack continued, "I fought for millennium as the champion of my squad. As I did I constantly forged bonds of honor and blood with my peers and others whom could be important to my goals. When my predecessor, Prince Huma, ascended to his current status amongst the Lords of Daemons, he bequeathed the Black Maw to, as he stated, "the strongest". I was among the contenders, and because of my careful politicking, only had to duel one other contender to gain my command of the Black Maw."

 

I have always been convinced of my own intellectual superiority. I studied the teachings of Lavam harder and longer than the other Disciples. I always won debates with the other Disciples of Lavam. This feeling of superiority came to an abrupt end, when I posited a question to Lord Carrack. I had the audacity to ask, "The illustrious Lavam teaches that all of the Great Four are equal and like the four points of the compass. He teaches that the path to enlightenment may go through a single god like a path may go east or west, or that enlightenment may be reached by going inward and balancing the Great Four as you might balance a compass. It is well known that you, great lord, follow the path of Khorne. How then do you lead a band of warriors who are often traveling a different path than yourself?" He donned his great spiked helm and rebuked me, "Lavam may be your teacher, but he is my servant, do not quote the words of the servant to the master as if the words were wisdom, for the master is greater than the servant." I felt shame at being rebuked, but awe at hearing Lord Carrack speak in the rhythms of the warrior lodges that my teacher spoke of so much.

 

Lord Carrack leaned over the map table and I could only guess that he was sending and receiving vox messages to his forces through the in built systems in his helm. He did this for several minutes, occasionally glancing at the runic circle as if expecting some response from it. Since I was not expressly dismissed, I decided to continue, "Which is your greatest deed to date? He responded without hesitation, "The conquest of your home world, Hell Holdfast and the founding of Howler's Charn. I certainly have won harder fought personal battles, and won greater victories fighting in the Eye, but Hell Holdfast is a world that is securely in my control in real space. It allows me to strike out at the False Imperium of Man without having to fall back to the warp for succor or supply. The longer I control Hell Holdfast the more it destabilizes the Imperial Sector. Howler's Charn shines like a decadent beacon to the pirates, rebels, and bandits that prey upon the Imperium, and I gain complete fealty, service or substantial tribute from all who make port there."

 

The stirrings of patriotism strung in my heart at hearing of my Lord's value of the world I called home. I continued, "Wha..What is the vision you have for our warband, where it will lead us?" The next moments were hectic as a lighter burned its way through the atmosphere and came screeching into a low hover by the command post. With unparalleled precision, the squad of Astartes and the grizzly thralls loaded up the command post, map table, campaign chair, vox unit, and even the stump with the runic circle onto the lighter. As almost an afterthought the squad champion, Vinno, I believe, grabbed me roughly by the arm and hauled me into the lighter's bay as well. As he did so he harshly whispered, "We will go to Terra." Lord Carrack witnessing the exchange, nodded approvingly and added, "Soon, but not today."

 

3. At the Fall of Cantu

 

I took stock of my new surroundings. I was in a cargo hold with a squad of thousands year-old demigods, Their lord, called Slayer of Multitudes, and a handful of hideous mutant thralls. On the far side of the hold were two iron cages warded with brass symbols and spiteful little bound daemons chained to the corners that would occasionally gleefully lick flames into the cages to the sounds of screams from the occupants. Screams of rage, not pain. Heavy black incense smoke obscured whatever was kept in those cages, for which I was thankful for. I was suddenly aware of how unthreatening I was. I was trapped with killers, mutants, and beasts, with only the blessings of Lavam for protection, that and a sacrificial dagger for what that was worth. I felt like a hen caught in a wolves den. Like a seal pup abandoned on the ice before the Greater White Bear. In spite of my trepidation, I inched closer to the most fearsome being in the hold as he readied his weapons with a level of care for every detail that was subtly amazing, considering the amount of times he must have performed the same ritual. I asked, "Which are your favorite weapons and armor? I understand that our warband is rich in relics and plunder, so which artifacts of old are your favorite my lord?" His reply was a shrug of the great pauldrons of his terminator plate and a blindingly quick flourish of the cruel battle axe he held in his right hand. Before I could ask another question a klaxon sounded it's blaring warning and the lighter descended.

 

As soon as the loading ramp opened the squad of Black Legionaries deployed in a defensive arc, finding ample cover in the frost covered rocky terrain. The horrid mutant thralls set to work dragging the stump with the runic circle to the ground below and Lord Carrack calmly took up a position in the center of the hasty defenses. I rushed to his side and humbly knelt in the shadow of his cloak. The lighter remained in a low hover behind us. Off in the distance, facing my lord was a walled town built into the side of a volcanic mountain. Smoke stacks from refineries protruded above the walls. After a short while an Astartes in black armor adorned with skulls, scrolls, and talismans was allowed passage through the lines. He strode to a place a few paces before my lord and dipped both a knee and a force staff in salute. He gestured to the town behind him and said, "Welcome to Cantu my lord." My lord acknowledged the salute and said, "Ghannor, appraise me of the situation." Ghannor complied, "My lord, the defenders of this world, Sanctus Piety, have ascertained your strategy. All of their power plants, save Cantu, have fallen to your assaults, and soon their orbital defenses will be dry of power and bereft of shielding. Cantu, however will keep them supplied for a month or two, a long shot, but perhaps enough time for a rapid relief of their world. In their dire straights, they have reinforced Cantu with all of the air mobile infantry they have left. I believe a company of storm troopers have bolstered Cantu's defenses." Lord Carrack replied, "Very well, spear point attack pattern 8 at my signal, ready your men." Ghannor turned about and trotted off to a rocky point just out of range of the town's defenders to join another squad of Black Legionaries. The squad defending my lord opened up a wide lane and the mutant thralls shuffled back to the lighter and opened up the cages.

 

The Fall of Cantu took less than an hour. It was enough bloodshed and carnage to fill a warrior's lifetime. I confess that I was overcome with awe from the onset, when the first cage opened up and five masses of mutated flesh, tentacles, and mouths scrambled out and rushed the town. The spawn withstood withering fire as they tore open the gates and charged into the town. This allowed my lord, Ghannor, and the two squads of Black Legionaries to advance into the city as the defenders blasted away at the spawn of chaos. What ultimately sealed the fate of Cantu was the opening of the second cage. Out of the lighter strode a vile amalgam of flesh and machine towering twice as tall as a mighty Astartes. The Helbrute charged into the city firing its multimelta and crushing troopers in its claw screaming +I AM KHARFUS+ the town fell to the onslaught of Astartes, chaos spawn and, helbrute.

 

As the din of battle died down, Lord Carrack came stalking out of the flames of the dying town dragging some hapless defender by the hair and with the sorcerer Ghannor in his wake. I could hear the sorcerer muttering the phrases of a spell that was making my head swim with fever. My lord flung his captive across the rune carved stump and motioned for me to come closer. As I did he explained, "The spell my sorcerer casts will channel the bloodshed of this towns destruction into this sacrifices heart. With it we will bring forth Daemon Letters of Blood from the warp. They will survive and multiply on the slaughter of this world until either they are defeated, or they exhaust their ties to reality with the deaths of the last of this worlds sentient lives. We will amplify this sacrifice with orbital fire, now free to reign down on this world unimpeded by any defense. Then when we return to this world at the end of our raiding circuit, we will conquer it with ease." The Slayer of Multitudes then grabbed the sacrificial blade from my hip and pressed it into my hand. He told me, "Such a powerful spell of course will be perilous to the caster's soul, this is why I have endured your presence Jodi, now strike the captives heart and slay this world my subject, or I will replace her with you and have another strike your heart." I hesitated. Fortunately he did not notice my faltering for what it was and went on to boast, "This is the nature of the Black Maw's ties to the Daemon. They use us to bring them forth into reality, and we use them as slave soldiers to do our bidding." I did as I was told and struck the captive's heart.

 

 

 

Captain Garaduk One Eye (long)

 

Alone Garaduk entered the so-called "Garden". His voyage to this festering swamp, the epitome of festering swamps, was a costly and long one. Lord Carrack would never have sanctioned such a quest, so Garaduk was forced to contract one of the many renegade pirate captains that had attached themselves to the Black Maw Warband with all of the loyalty of thieving mercenaries. Few had the courage to embark on such a journey into the heart of the Eye, and most who would agree to such a passage, would see him make a much shorter journey out an airlock as soon as the passage price changed hands. But Garaduk had not survived Millenia of war, intrigue, and betrayal to fall prey to some mortal pirate. His price would only be paid upon his return to Howler's Charn, and was enticing enough to lure one pirate, Captain Beshar, into excepting the use of a company's worth of Black Legionaries to raid a rich, but secluded mining world in Imperial space following his personal quest.

 

The flies were thick, black, bloated,

and hairy, they clouded Garaduk's power armor sensors, and clogged the intakes of his jump pack and atmospheric filters. He was running on internal atmosphere anyway, else he would have already contracted dozens of diseases in spite of the filters efficiency. If Garaduk examined the secret recesses of his mind, the memories he had so carefully hidden from himself behind adamantine walls of denial, he would not have bothered with the precautions. He was dying anyway. In spite of his super-human Astartes physiology, irregardless of the limited immortality that came from living in the warp, the years had finally caught up to Garaduk. His body was breaking down, his organs were slowly loosing their enhanced efficiency, his wounds were taking longer and longer to heal, he woke with soreness, and rested in excruciating pain. Embarrassingly, even his Demi-God's physique was giving way to a paunchy gut. When he had finally allowed himself to be examined by one of his thralls who was trained as a chirurgeon, he was told he had contracted a deadly disease that was attacking his body on a genetic level, a mere mortal would have withered away within hours, but he had a few months to find a cure. There was no known cure in the Black Maw's Apothecarium, and likely, none in all of realspace. The thrall-wizards did not have the skill to purge the disease, and the Black Maw Sorcerers could not be trusted with such a weakness from a captain in the Warband. But no matter how hard he hid this difficult truth from himself, deep down he knew he had to take whatever measures he could to find a cure, and he had to do so quickly.

 

Garaduk had heard the legends. He had heard of the Garden of Eddeon, la Fuente de la Juventud, and the Swamps of Immortality. He also had heard of the truth behind these myths, that truth was the Garden of Nurgle, and if he made pilgrimage there, he could find succor from the disease at the cost of binding himself to the Grandfather. Or he would be slain by disease, and his soul bound to Nurgle anyway. Garaduk hoped he had enough to offer the Dark God to still serve as an Astartes.

 

As he made his way through the swamp, a thick overhead branch finally rotted away from its trunk and fell with a splash at Garaduk's feet. Three little spiteful neverborn, with bloated bellies, and gangly limbs, clawed out of the maggot infested bark, laughing as if they had just been told the funniest joke. One hopped up onto a decomposing corpse of who knew what, and with hands on its hips said, "Garaduk, nice of you to join the party." Then fell backwards into the mire laughing. The second Nurgling, squatted down and quickly defecated into its hand and flung the foul missile at the third Nurgling, striking it in the back of its head. Then, stuck out the same soiled hand to Garaduk as if he expected to shake hands in greeting. The third Nurgling dove into the murky water and surfaced behind the captain, and went to bite the less armored section behind his knee with its filthy needlepoint teeth. Vaguely amused by the jovial, yet disgusting little buggers, Garaduk mule kicked back and sent the third Nurgling flying into a bramble, while using the forward lunge of his upper body to mince the feces flinger with his lightning claw. He quickly recovered to a crouching stance with his ensorcelled flamer pointed directly at the first Nurgling as it rose from the muck. "Take me to the manse of your master." Garaduk commanded with a weary voice. The Nurgling, never taking its eyes off of the nozzle of the deadly weapon, chuckled, "Your not dressed appropriately for a party at my Grandfather's house, Garaduk." The second time the daemon had used his name did not go unnoticed by the Legionnaire, but he was not going to show concern to this minor daemon. Garaduk was certain that his exploits within the Eye of Terror and without had elicited some degree of attention from the neverborn, and knew that they tried every trick they could to seem more powerful than they were. In response, Garaduk flicked the pilot light of the hell-forged flamer to spout a green flame before the nozzle. In a whining voice, the Nurgling responded, "Wether you roast me or not, you still can not enter the manse without bearing His Mark. Follow me and I will show you were you are to receive yours Garaduk."

 

Garaduk lost all track of time following the little wretch. His internal clock, honed to perfection from countless precision combat operations, along with his power armor's chrometer were unreliable in this hellish swamp. His pace count, a measure of the distance he had travelled, normally was as reliable as any laser or orbital measuring system, also failed him as his guide led him in a twisting route through thickets, bogs, and stagnant pools. At times he could hear monotonous chanting or the gurgling, coughing laughter of lungs wracked with consumption, but he never saw their source. However, he had the persistent feeling that he was weakening with every step, his armored boots dragged in the muck, and his weapons grew heavier with each step. Finally he reached a clearing of relatively dry land with a tree in the center. The tree was a thing out of the nightmares of a lunatic. The branches were rotting bones that swayed without wind. The roots were barbed with horns and teeth, and seemed to rip into the soft ground unnaturally, as if they were intending to not only take in the soil's nutrients and moisture, but to inflict pain while doing so. Faces contorted with agony, slowly emerged out of the parasite infested bark, only to submerge back into the core of a tree the way a drowning victim, exhausted from keeping his head out of water, finally relents to his fate and sinks into the sea. Even in this warp damned garden, the aura of the tree was heavy with despair.

 

In spite of Garaduk's primal instincts screaming at him to distance himself from this tree, or at least burn it to the ground, Garaduk was overcome with weariness, and he stumbled forward to slump down against the tree and rest. It wasn't just the weariness, Garaduk recognized that something powerful was controlling his body like a puppet, he was just to tired to fight it. Was it a moment, an hour, a day that he sat there against the tree in the Garden of Nurgle? Garaduk would never know, but as time passed, his weariness was replaced with an unholy vitality. The disease that was killing him did not leave his body, but through the connection with the tree, warped from a weakness to a strength, he conquered it and used its suffering as a reminder of his fight for survival. His pain remained, but instead of antagonizing him, it soothed him, and reminded him that he was alive! His pauldron, and he was certain the flesh underneath warped to show the Mark of Nurgle, the brand of allegiance to the Lord of Decay.

 

The Nurgling guide, with a voice now tinged with awe and reverence, said, "You are now ready to go to our Grandfather's manse and meet with our master." Garaduk stood up and stepped away from the tree contemplating the Nurgling's statement. He then keyed the vox code to Captain Beshar as he answered, "I have what I came here for, someday I am sure I will end up in that manse, but not today." He squeezed the trigger on the ensorcelled flamer and burnt the Nurgling to ash as a growing pair of lights descended from orbit. The vox flicked an acknowledgment of Garaduk's pyrotechnic marking of his pick up location, and Garaduk soon escaped the Garden of Nurgle.

 

Master of Chains / AKA Chain Maker (long)

 

Hephaestus shuffled on to Assault Deck 4 under the burden of a heavy black tome and antiquated auto-quill. But then, Hephaestus shuffled everywhere, burden or not, due to one leg having one two many joints, and the other, shorter leg, having but one. Most scribes would dread the assignment given Hephaestus, but in spite of his near eidetic memory and keen intellect, Hephaestus's mind did not comprehend emotions like dread or fear. He should have, for he was to interview The Chain Maker, Warpsmith of the Black Maw Warband, and few tasks were as dangerous for a scribe.

 

Assault Bay 4 was abuzz with a cacophony of noises, tracks being reset on tanks, engines roaring in test runs, hisses of hydronic lifts, curses of techno-thralls, and a plethora of other noises, mostly the mundane sounds of armored vehicles being maintained, but not all the sounds were mundane in origin. There were screams from beyond that would curdle milk and fracture sanity, if there was any to be found. The subject of his interview was standing at a data lectern upon a raised dais overlooking the assault bay. The Chain Maker was at the apex of the activity in the bay, which was fitting, for he was the apex predator of this peculiar environment. The Chain Maker had a slightly larger frame than the Astartes of the Black Maw, which meant he towered over the stunted Hephaestus. He was armored in black with bronze trim, the colors of the warband, but his armor was unique, in fact it wasn't truly armor at all, for most of the flesh of the warpsmith had been replaced by armored augmetics of his own design. The most striking feature of the Chain Maker was the snake nest of mechandrils writhing from his back and shoulders, each ending in a claw, tool, or weapon. The techno-thralls in the bay were careful to avoid the reach of these mechanical tentacles, probably for good reason. Hephaestus shuffled up to the dais and pressed his lopsided head to the deck in an obsequious gesture. The Chain Maker's voice, accompanied by a beeps and static, blurted a command to proceed with the interview.

 

Hephaestus painfully rose from the grated deck and asked, "What is a warpsmith my lord?" The Chain Maker responded, "I am the master of the Three Forms. Where the apothecary knows the flesh, the tech marine knows the machine, and the sorcerer knows the daemon, I know them all. I blend the Three, I build the Three, and I bind the Three. Alone, each Form has its weaknesses, the flesh can die, the machine can break, the daemon banished, but together the Three are stronger than the sum of of their essences."

 

The auto-quill scribbled the answer into the black book, bound in human skin and embossed in bronze. Hephaestus continued, "How did you become the Chain Master?" The subject spoke, but this time there was a faint echo accompanying the words emanating from his vox grill. But the echo was not from anything The Chain Master said, it was of a completely different conversation in an alien tongue, just barely perceptible to the scribe. The Chain Master answered, "I was once a tech marine, trained on pre-schism Mars. I mastered every weapon and engine of war in our arsenal, but it was not enough. I learned of the running of this ship by communing with its spirit for months on end. Yet I thirsted for more knowledge. When we sought refuge in the Eye, I studied the effects it had on our ship and arsenal. Some of these effects were beneficial, yet some were hinderances. I was determined to find ways to manipulate the changes to our benefit, to my benefit. I observed how the warp twisted our Forms, and sought to harness the changes it wrought. I learned of the daemon, and how they could be bound to our will. I experimented on our thralls. Some I even expanded their memories at the cost of crippling their bodies. Such primitive measures as I delved into the mysteries of the warp." The bottom dropped out of Hephaestus's stomach as he heard the last revelation, and his mind made connections to personal questions thousands of years old.

 

Hephaestus was brought back to the present as a loud clang announced a rhino slipping from its docking clamps to crash into the deck after a short drop. The rhino was the honored Carratuge L'ull, known among the thralls as "The Beast". Both arms of the pit boss was crushed beneath the left track, he was in too much shock to scream, he merely asked his crew if it was bad. Without looking up from his data-lectern, one of the Chain Maker's mechandrils whipped out like a striking serpent and a round object launched from its mouth via pneumatic pressure. The assault bay echoed with the explosion of the grenade as fragments scythed through the remaining pit crew. Moments later a door opened and a new crew quickly began repairing the rhino, ignoring the carnage at the docking clamps. In fact the only things to take notice of the casual slaughter was the scribe, and the mustelid scavengers that lived beneath the grating, which were calling their pack mates with eerie cackles that sounded disturbingly like laughter.

 

Hephaestus continued with his task at hand, "What are your most prized creations, my lord?" The Chain Maker answered, "The Helbrute Kharfus has stood the test of time through battles innumerable. I must also confess that I take personal satisfaction from his suffering. He was an insufferable dice cheat, but he won't be rolling bones ever again." More beeps and static punctuated his answer, Hephaestus assumed it was what passed for laughter from the monstrosity. The warpsmith went on, "More recently I infected three Astartes with a strain of the Obliterator Virus, the strain had sat idle for to long in the Eye, and had mutated into a disease marked by Nurgle, but I am still pleased with the results, as is Lord Carrack. The Astartes infected were once my brothers, scribe. But health records indicated that they were the most suitable subjects." The Chain Maker's statement, that he knew was being recorded for posterity, was made matter-of-fact, without even the hint of contrition.

 

One final question, before I must begin transcribing your logs, Hephaestus began, "What are your personal goals, where do you see your future in the Black Maw?" For the first time in the interview, The Chain Maker paused and visibly contemplated his response before saying, "I was unaware that my logs were to be opened, much lest copied. This must be Carrack's purpose for this interview. Must he continually test my loyalty? Very well, my goal is, and always has been, to search out knowledge, no matter how dark the knowledge is. I will, as I always have, use this knowledge to amplify the power of the Black Maw. As long as Lord Carrack continues to indulge my quest for knowledge, I will provide its fruits to his Warband. By gaining power for myself, I gain power for the Black Maw. I have no desire to wrest command from Lord Carrack, as the leadership of the Warband will undoubtedly interfere with my calling. I have no other goals than that, save the one goal shared by all in the Warband, and the Black Legion at large, and that is to see Terra burn and throw the Corpse-God from his throne. I WILL walk on the birthplace of humanity and shout, We are Returned!"

 

Lythane the Black (long-medium)

 

Lythane the Black Equerry to Lord Carrack, Slayer of Multitudes.

 

Lythane crouched down as low as his ancient Terminator Plate allowed and sketched a rough plan of attack into the dust with the butt of his force staff. The gathered squad of Astartes looked on with feigned disinterest, taking their cues from their Champion, Vinno. The plan was simple, a repeat of the last assaults, move in to a tenement under cover of darkness, establish a perimeter with half the squad, then Lythane, Vinno and and the rest would go door to door, killing everyone, floor by floor until they found the woman. After repeating his instructions, Lythane asked, "Any questions?"

 

Vinno simply asked, "Why me?" Lythane recognized the loaded question. He knew the Aspiring Champion despised him. He was resented for being an outsider thrust into the Black Maw command structure by the Warmaster, to ensure loyalty to the legion. He knew Vinno felt personally slighted by his appointment as Equerry, a position Vinno no doubt desired himself. He also knew that the Champion had lost himself along Khorne's Eightfold Path and had little use for sorcerers.

 

There were two answers to Vinno's question. The first answer Lythane kept to himself. Lythane was the "Keeper of the Liber Apocal", a grimoire so tainted that it could only be physically touched by a wretched little daemon that Lythane had bound to his will. In consulting this cursed text, Lythane had deciphered a prophecy that was now coming to fulfillment. The prophecy predicted that a woman from the Red Hive of Siliquastrum would bear stigmata in the form of a tattoo calligraphing the 616th tome in the dreaded Book of Lorgar across her entire body. Lythane knew that Vinno and his squad had no use for Word Bearers and would not be able to read Colchin. What Lythane did tell Vinno was, "Why you? Because we are in the very heart of the sub-sector capital, and Lord Carrack wanted a massacre."

 

 

Champion of the Chosen Vinno

 

-Aspiring Champion Vinno - During the Siege of Terra 10,000 years ago, Vinno was stationed aboard the Battle Barge Vengeful Spirit. His squad was held in reserve till a certain objective was secured and then sent to earth via drop pod. Unfortunately a grazing shot from an AA battery sent his pod wildly off course and caused a crash landing in the numerological data sinks of Western Anatolia. Vinno, the pod’s only survivor, enraged by his misfortune slaughtered as many numerologists as he could. Such was the atrocity that to this day the workers of these data sinks are forbidden from counting, recording, or otherwise using Vinno’s designated squad number which was painted across his chest plate and pauldron. This taboo has, over the millennia, has lead to more deaths than Vinno’s initial mass killing. If Vinno was to find out about this he would at first be pleased, but then would be enraged at the reminder of his misfortune.

 

Chosen Copil

_-CSM Copil - Copil is the youngest member of Squad Vinno. He was a clone grown initiate produced by the infamous Fabious Bile. As the youngest member of the squad he is given the most menial tasks and frequently made the butt of cruel practical jokes. He is just shy of 8,000 years old sidereal.

 

Chosen Casper

_CSM Casper- Casper is a connoisseur of fine dining. In his case he prefers engaging his omophagea to sample the genetic experiences of the flesh he eats. He is no primitive, barbaric, cannibal. No, he indulges in his cuisine by candlelight and soft music at a finely set table. He prefers the flesh of poets, scholars, and artists. In that order. Accordingly, his thralls and serfs all pretend to be simpletons and slobs.

 

Chosen Obbo

Obbo is the squads designated meltagunner. Always has been, always will be. Over the course of the Long War he has reduced some impressive targets to molten slag, including a land raider, and several Leman Russ MBT. Not to mention predators and vindicators from the other legions, and more than a few Xenos vehicles. However, his preferred target is much less armored than any of these vehicles. Obbo just loves shooting land speeders. He takes every opportunity he can get to blast at one. He even once cooked a land speeder parked in a captured motor pool. On principal. His personal goal in life is to cause the loyalist to discontinue their use of land speeders. Lately he has been trying to foster cults of saboteurs to raid forge worlds where they are manufactured, but hasn't had much success. Yet.

Chosen "Saint" Tiam

In the early 37th millienium, on the most holy shrine world of Ophelia VII, a Ministorim movement took hold with the aim to canonize all individuals known to have performed a personal service to the Emperor prior to his ascension to the Golden Throne. This movement was called the "Famulanati", and was responsible for canonizing several hundred saints. However, the few remaining records they used were ancient, inconsistent, incomplete, and in at least one instant, flat out wrong.

 

During the Great Crusade, at a planet now called Maroon, Luna Wolves and Blood Angels quickly brought the world into compliance, while being lead personally by the Emperor, a rare, but not unheard of occurrence at that stage of the Great Crusade. Following the victory, the fleet command voxed down to relay a message to the Emperor. Tiam took that message and delivered it personally to the Emperor. The careless remembrancer who record the incident incorrectly recorded Tiam as a Blood Angel, and thus Tiam, an Icon Bearer of the the Black Legion was made an Imperial Saint.

Chosen Avarg

When the Sons of Horus Legionnaires sought refuge in the Eye of Terror, they began to become physically distinguished from their loyalist cousins. One common way this manifested was with horns. Exposure to the warp wrought changes in the helmets of some. A few were gifted with horns growing straight from their skulls. Yet others mounted the horns of ferocious beast as trophies. Yet still others had no horns of all. Avarg sees hunting beast as beneath his dignity as an Astartes but still wanted an intimidating set of horns. So one night on sentry duty, he carved a set out of a grox's pelvic bone and mounted it to his helm. No one is the wiser.

 

Chosen Paimun

- ​Paimun is secretly an agent of the God Emperor of Mankind. He has been tasked with covertly infiltrating the Black Legion and rising up its ranks until he can wrest control of the legion and lead it back to the light of righteousness and purity. Paimun knows he is a secret agent of the God Emperor because the free willed intelligent cyst mutating on his spleen told him so.

 

Chosen Harold

- ​Part augmetic, part mutation, the third eye in Harold’s forehead is linked to custom build optics individually installed into the rounds of his auto cannon. This warp spawned technology allows Harold to see from the perspective of his rounds. He is unable to affect the trajectory in any way and gains no tactical advantage from this feature. He does however, find it immensely enjoyable.

Chosen Marbas

During Abbadon’s 2nd Black Crusade, Marbas found himself engaged with Eldar from Craftworld Ulthwé. The victorious Eldar completed banishment upon the dying Marbas and sent his soul to the warp. A century later a Black Legion sorcerer discovered a way to reverse the banishment for a short time and bring back Marbas from the warp in order to bolster the ranks for key battles. A few months later the sorcerer worked out a way to permanently bring Marbas back from the warp but his squad members murdered the sorcerer and destroyed this knowledge so they don’t have to spend any more time with Marbas then they have to.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Helbrut Kharfus (long)

Helbrute Kharfus

 

Kharfus roared, "Death to the False Emperor!" As his squad reached the Wolves on the hilltop. His battle cry punctuated by the frag grenades lobbed there by every third member of his squad moments before. There were only five of them, their wild hair and unkept beards showing more gray and silver than the younger Wolves whose charge initiated the ambush. But these five gray beards had done significant damage to the Black Legion convoy with krak missile fire from an elevated position taking out the tracks of the lead and trail Black Legion tanks, effectively fixing the entire convoy in place in the narrow valley. The steep icy slopes and overhanging rocks on the approach made for a difficult climb, but also offered some cover for Kharfus's squad to rush the Wolves. A difficult climb for a mortal for sure, but not so daunting to veteran Astartes whom charged up the snowy hill and reached the summit barley winded.

 

Outnumbering the Wolves two to one, and with the benefit of surprise, the fight started out as Kharfus expected. He quickly singled out the Long Fang leader and hacked through his chainsword and into his bare skull with the blue tinged power sword in his left hand. His men were double teaming the Long Fangs as they drew their blades and bolt pistols. One Legionnaire would tie up a Wolf with simple hammering blows that the Wolf would be forced to parry while the other Legionnaire would strike the bare head or lightly armored creases at the armpit or groin from the Wolf's rear. In less then a minute the Wolves were down and all of Kharfus's men were standing, save a bleeding Legionnaire Mazda, sitting down clutching a vox grill shattered by a bolt pistol round fired point blank.

 

Before Kharfus could even claim a trophy from the dead Sons of Russ at his feet, a whooshing sound of a high powered energy weapon followed by the clap of rapidly displaced air shattered his moment of triumph. In the time it took for his two hearts to beat, three of Kharfus's squad were dead and entombed in irregularly shaped blocks of blue ice. To his shame, Karfus lost a moment, and any semblance of initiative he had remaining as he stared in shock at the effects of the hellfrost weapon. +DIE HERETICS+ came the booming voice of his assailant as a Space Wolf Dreadnought crested the hilltop from the other side of a spur that had concealed it from the Kharfus as he and his squad rushed the hilltop. The dreadnought was a massive machine with legs like tree trunks and a body like a small tank. It was encrusted with gold and silver runes and festooned with pelts, bones and trinkets. One arm ended in the cannon that had frozen a third of his squad with a blast of absolute zero energy. The other arm sported a claw, cracking with electricity, that could easily snatch up a warrior wearing terminator plate. Under slung beneath this claw was a heavy flamer, which sprayed Kharfus and two other Black Legionnaires. Roasting Axim in his armor. Axim came from Unther Hive on Cthonia, same as Kharfus and his loss was a dagger in Kharfus's corrupted soul. Burning promethium had seared through the joint in Kharfus's sword arm gauntlet and blistered his skin from knuckle to elbow before his armor's coolant lines could extinguished the flame.

 

Kharfus quickly took stock of the situation. Four dead, Mazda out of action, an icy hilltop with steep slopes down into an ongoing battlefield and equally steep slopes going down into the likely route the Wolves came from. Then there was the charging Space Wolf Dreadnought screaming death threats. The situation was bleak to say the least.

 

Kharfus and the remainder of his squad fanned out and primed krak grenades as Karfus scanned his tactical display and voxed the only squad in any kind of position to lend support. Unfortunately that squad was Squad Carrack, whose arrogant champion considered himself a rival with Kharfus. Kharfus's mind quickly catalogued the most recent slights he had done to the conceited champion; he had killed one of his slaves-not important, claimed credit for Carrack's tank kill on Roe- that one was answered in kind, and cheated him at dice following the capture of Toledo Hive. That one was bad, Carrack had lost all of his spoils of war from the throws of a telekinetically receptive die. There would be no reinforcements.

 

Kharfus threw his krak grenade into the mass of cables connecting the hellfrost cannon to the dreadnought's power plant and silently beseeched the gods for luck. Before the explosive detonated, the dreadnought was upon him, smashing down with its brutal claw cleaving Kharfus's power sword in two before carving through his helmet and the left side of his skull. The claw continued its downward path of carnage, separating his left shoulder from his body and filleting the meat from the bone on his left calf. Adding both insult and injury, the point of Kharfus's blade came spinning downward into his right foot and severed all five of his toes. This was the end of Kharfus.

 

Kharfus knew he was dying. His Astartes physiology could tolerate extremes, but could not cope with the massive blood loss and pressure building in his damaged skull. He understood this on a logical level, but emotionally he would not accept it. He was Kharfus! He had fought beside the Warmaster! He had been through the breach of the Imperial Palace! He had fought the Long War for a thousand years!

 

He had pledged his soul to the Ruinous Powers.

 

He had betrayed his oaths.

 

He had killed his brothers.

 

He was Kharfus.

 

If he was dying why wouldn't the pain stop? Why was he smelling ultrasonic cleaning solutions? Why was he hearing the buzz of surgical saws? Why was he being immersed in liquid? Oh gods! The cold. Someone will pay for this. I will have revenge! I am Kharfus!

 

...

 

"Bail out! Bail out! It's coming to finish us off!" Shouted Tank Commander Byron Cologne as he crawled out the hatch and leaped into the mossy ground cover, his Leman Russ Battle Tank smoking from the melta shot through the engine. His gunner was surely cooked but his driver, Edvards, either heard his commands, or had enough sense to pop his own hatch and swing to the ground in front of the tank. The cause of their demise lumbered up the lane towards the rear of the smoking tank on mechanical legs thick as tree trunks. Mechanical and something else, it looked like muscle fibers. The torso and arms too, were a combination of machine and beast, or daemon. Painted black. One arm ended in a double barreled gun distorted by a heat shimmer. The other held a wicked four pronged claw with a large under slung nozzle. The nozzle spouted burning promeatheon that scorched the side of the tank that Edvards had crawled to with a blazing roar. Byron stared in shock at the wreckage of his tank and crew a moment before the claw grabbed him by the waist and hoisted him into the air before the hell spawned machine's face. As the claw squeezed together crushing the life and body of Tank Commander Byron Cologne, a booming voice blared out of the speaker grill + I AM KHARFUS +

 

 

 

Edited October 24, 2015 by Carrack

[EesiOh]

AAHAHHAHAHA casper, Ahahaha. Casper... My friend i am begging you, Weave some Silence of the Lambs play on words into a story relating to him, Please. It would be, Perfection itself 

[Carrack]

Liver and fava beans is on the menu. With a nice chianti. :)

[Carrack]

6.5 Shield Breakers

 

 

Vinno, the Champion of Lord Carrack's Chosen, was taking stock of his squad. He was checking ammo and grenade counts, equipment malfunctions, armor integrity, the status of the squad that had been elevated with him when he was chosen by Lord Carrack. All of his checks were routine, his men were all veterans of countless campaigns, and any discrepancies that they could not address themselves were voiced to the squad immediately. Vinno checked anyway. It was a psychological game he played on his men, a subtle message with the routine checks that told his squad that he was in charge, he was the one checking them, not the other way around, and that he also was assuming responsibility for them as well. Vinno attributed the fewer challenges to his leadership to these checks. He was also driving home the importance of the mission to his men with the thoroughness of the checks.

 

The mission was indeed important, it had been relayed to Vinno by Lord Carrack personally. Lord Carrack had informed Vinno that their time table for accomplishing their goals in Calebra Hive would likely be dramatically reduced. One of these goals, that had been kept secret up until now, had been the recovery of an artifact known as the Candle of Light. Finding one item the size of the artifact within the enormous hive was like finding a specific grain of sand in a vast desert. Lord Carrack had intended to devote his entire Warband to finding the artifact after conquering the hive, but that might not happen now, with indications that a relief fleet was in route. Fortunately, the Candle of Light was on the move, and even more fortunately had left the protection of the thickly armored exterior walls of the hive. This fortunate event had allowed Lord Carrack's diviners to sense the general location of the artifact. The Candle of Light had left the exterior of the Hive around Level 86, 87, or 88. Level 86 had hangers, but no aircraft could have left the hive without being shot down by the circumvallation defenses set in place by Lythane the Black. It had to be level 87 or 88, which meant the Great Stair.

 

However, the mission was not merely as simple as retrieving some babble. The nature of the warband complicated things. The Black Maw was not a structured and well ordered army with a clear chain of command, it was a Chaos Warband. It was most certainly led by Lord Carrack, that was without question, but beyond that were various officers who held positions of power because they held the favor of Lord Carrack, they had great personal power, they charismatically held the loyalties of significant factions within the Black Maw, or any number of reasons. Lord Carrack did not completely trust anyone, particularly his officers. Vinno had been informed that Captain Garaduk, now called Garaduk One Eye, was hot on the trail of the Candle of Light. Vinno was told he must retrieve the artifact before Garaduk One Eye did, or their might be a fracturing of the Black Maw. Furthermore, Lord Carrack did not wish for the Master of Chains to discover the artifact either. Even though he held no personal grudges against Garaduk One Eye or the Master of Chains, Vinno had tied his own fortunes to that of Lord Carrack, so he knew he must deliver the artifact himself. Not just to prevent internal strife within the warband, but also because Lord Carrack, called Slayer of Multitudes, was not known for his forgiving nature.

 

Vinno and his squad, checks completed, entered the service lift on level 113 and started down to level 88, Shield Down, as the locals called it. Shield Down had earned its name by being home to the Lord Governor's P&C brigade. The Peace and Commerce brigade was the paramilitary organization that stepped in with steel toed boots whenever the peace of a level was endangered, or when riots, gang violence, and other crimes threatened to disrupt commerce in Calebra Hive. Their enforcement tactics relied heavily on the use of riot shields and shock mauls, shotguns, heavy bolters, and flamers. They were not particularly concerned with justice or collateral damage, as long as peace and commerce resumed after their peacekeeping and commercial restoration purges were conducted.

Their emblem was a shield, and it was referred to as down, because in addition to their other duties, they controlled who could enter the higher levels of the hive.

 

The door to the lift opened up to a narrow lane flanked by hab blocks. The hab blocks used to be home to the many servants who worked the upper levels of the hive, yet did not warrant rooms in their masters' estates. There were few lights on in either block, the press gangs of the militia had worked over this level quite thoroughly. The end of the lane was blocked by a makeshift barricade of refuse bins, but it was unmanned and two of the bins had been shoved apart wide enough for a man to squeeze past. Vinno and his squad took a step onto the barricade's parapet of smaller, water filled refuse cans and leapt the bins in a single bound. As a small group of enforcers standing outside a guard shack smoking lho sticks turned to see what the commotion was, Obbo slagged a green power grid maintenance access box with a close range meltagun shot, and the block went dark. The Chosen ran west, skirting the outer perimeter towards the entrance to the Great Stair. It took the enforcers a few minutes, but eventually alarm klaxons blared across Shield Down.

 

 

Added Obbo to Dramatist Personae

[Carrack]

7.4 A Mother's Love

 

Once again I feel that Calebra Hive has become to bright and cheerful. This is the grim dark future right? I mean, we got people barbecuing steaks and taking smoke breaks, what is this hive coming to? I hope this story resets the tone. :)

 

The Bottoms. That's what they called -66 Level. It wasn't the true bottom of Calebra Hive, that wasn't really known anymore, but it was the highest level not completely flooded out with sewage and waste water. In the social strata of Calebra Hive, The Bottoms was as low as you could go. Brains had made The Bottoms his home since that fateful night his father had wrenched him from his mother's breast and carried him down here. As cruel as his father had been, he didn't have the heart to outright kill him. Instead he placed him on a relatively dry mound of cardboard and left. Even though Brains was naught but a few weeks old, he still remembered seeing his father turn once with tearful eyes and then disappear back up the ladder. Brains remembered everything. He had been fully conscious when he was still in his mother's womb. Something was wrong with his monstrously oversized head. He could even plumb the depths of his genetic code and draw fragments of memories from ancestors 16 generations removed. Brains knew it had broken his mother's and father's hearts to abandon their miracle baby, their baby that had been born to a supposedly barren womb. He didn't blame them, he knew they couldn't raise a freak like him in the mid-hive. They couldn't raise a mutant.

 

Brains's first years were the hardest. In spite of his powerful mind, he lacked the strength and coordination to care for himself. The denizens of The Bottoms were not known for their compassion, or their parental instincts. But Brains had been about as lucky as a mutie could get, perhaps it wasn't luck, maybe it was an early manifestation of powers that would develop as he grew of age. He had been "adopted" by Spider. Spider was a nice enough fellow, once you got past the horrifying face similar to his namesake, but Spider needed to feed on blood. So he cared for Brains, not in an unkind manner either, but once every several days, there would be, the biting. It was painful at first, but Spider's saliva acted as an anesthetic, and the pain would fade. The ensuing sickness was mostly gone in time for the next biting.

 

As a few years passed and Brains's vocal cords and pallet developed to the point where he could be understood, the true nature of his gifts became apparent to his foster father. In typical Bottom dweller fashion, Spider put Brains to work counting cards at games of chance. Brains was clever though, he never let on what he was doing, and the other muties of The Bottom eventually figured Spider was cheating. When they came for their revenge, Brains was ignored as an innocent child. But Brains had been careful to stash their winnings in various hiding spots. He inherited a small fortune from his adoptive father.

 

Brains had plans all along on what would come after life with Spider. He used his fortune to procure a child sized environmental suit capable of withstanding the pressure of the depths of the under-hive. With memories plumbed from his great-great-great grandfather, who had worked as a janitor for the Adeptus Mechanicus forge-post much deeper than -66, he began salvaging recyclables, and other valuables that his ancestor had seen on his submarine commutes. Before long, Brains no longer made dives himself, he had others working on commission. By the time of his 13th birthday, Brains ruled a small kingdom of muties in The Bottom. That is when his other gifts started to noticeably manifest.

 

In the same manor that he fished memories from his genetic code, Brains started to be able to remember things he and his ancestors had never experienced. At first it was vague impressions of areas and people that he had neither visited nor met, but soon he learned to focus on these impressions and catch glimpses of the place or person. By the time he was 25, he was able to direct these glimpses to check on rivals, underlings, and possible salvage sites. His kingdom grew and prospered. But his dreams were haunted.

 

What haunted Brains's dreams was love. Love was rare in The Bottom to begin with, but for a powerful king, near impossible to find. Certainly many sought his affections, but all who did were after his wealth, his prestige, his security in a hostile world. The only true love that Brains had ever known, was that during the few weeks he had spent in his mother's arms. Brains longed to return to his mother, and even wished to thank his father for sparing his life, and to forgive him for abandoning him in The Bottom. But Brains could not leave his kingdom of sewage, for he would surely be burnt as a mutant by the rabid zealots of the Imperium. He had to stay where the Imperium did not reach, and hide like all the others when the Mechanicus made their infrequent trips to that deep forge-post.

 

However, war had come to Calebra Hive, like it did to every world sooner or later. Armies of mutants not much different than those of The Bottom were conquering their way down and up from The Ground, and their human allies seemed to tolerate their presence, unlike the humans of the hive. Brains new that now was his chance to climb up the hive and finally be able to once again bask in his mother's love. He assembled his kingdom's army, and started the climb.

Edited October 20, 2015 by Carrack

[Carrack]

4.8 Trust

 

Warning: this is longer than normal.

 

 

Plasma fire erupted out of the first and second floors into the Raven Guard rhino, destroying one track and damaging the frontal armor beyond any hope of repair. The squad the rhino carried spilled out the back hatch, putting the smoking wreckage between themselves and the incoming fire.

 

As the rhino burnt, it's flanking land speeders moved out, the left speeder dipped low and right before jumping up to a rooftop across the street and down from the strong house, spinning in a tight turn to bring its heavy bolter to bear, the well trained Astartes driver keeping out of range from the enemy plasma guns, but within range of its own heavy bolter. The gunner opened fire on the second story windows of the strong house, but the reinforced wall and narrow windows prevented its first volley from striking the rotting plague marines inside. The second land speeder blasted its thrusters to race past the strong house. As it passed it traded fire with the first story defenders, the pilot's multimelta errantly fizzing between the helbrut guarding the breached front door's legs and turning a stretch of the stone floor to molten lava. The gunner played his heavy flamer across the front of the building, burning the head and shoulder of the plasma gunner to charred embers. Another thinblood quickly scooped up the fallen weapon. The helbrut Vingal returned fire at the fast moving speeder, his own multimelta also missing to strike the brick facade of a ration resupply point. The tiny pockets of air in the bricks, superheated with the melta blast, blowing the facade apart as they rapidly expanded, raining bricks over the land speeder and its crew. The Raven Guard ignored the skull crushing fragments, secure in their power armor, but Vingal's other weapon, a heavy flamer of his own, gushed out into the path of the speeder. The speeder tried to swerve out of its reach, but only succeeded in exposing its engine to the burning promethium. The engines fused and the speeder hit the ground, rolling several times before coming to rest upside down further down the street.

 

Garaduk One Eye, he hated his new moniker, but knew it would stick, reached up with his lightning claw and ripped open a hole in the roof of the strong house. His two surviving Vulture Raptors widened the hole considerably with their chainswords. He wanted the incoming assault squad to enter the strong house in a predictable place. Just as he completed ripping out a section of the ceiling, one of his specialist came bounding up the stares, too excited to bow or salute. The specialist said through his corroded mask, "The prisoner we are interrogating knows where an item called the Candle of Light is. He says it is the reason we invaded this hive in the first place." Garaduk contemplated this information, certainly some relic would explain Lord Carrack's interest in conquering this hive, but there were plenty of other reasons to do so as well, and Garaduk's experiences in the Long War had shown him how some of the deluded fools of the Imperium would fight to the death to save some trinket of a so-called saint. He told the specialist to continue the interrogations, and push the old prisoner as best they could, they did not have time to be gentle. Garaduk could hear the whooshes of jump packs making short controlled burns as the Raven Guard assault squads advanced along the rooftops of the street.

 

The second story plague marine squad peppered the area around the rhino wreckage with bolts, the only viable targets at the moment, and received another burst of heavy bolter fire from the land speeder. The walls of the strong house started to show wear after the second burst, they wouldn't hold indefinitely. Part of the Raven Guard squad from the rhino was falling back to a faded statue with a large plinth, hauling a lascannon with them, one of them fell to a mass reactive bolt catching him in the back of his waist as he leaned forward.

 

As the sounds of the advancing assault marines drew nearer, two of the plague marines with Garaduk ripped shrunken heads off of their belts and tossed them through the hole in the ceiling. The shrunken heads contained a small explosive charge that detonated with soft pops and released a nauseous miasma of virulent diseases, the infamous plague grenades of Nurgle. The Raven Guard assault squad, with their captain in the lead jumped the last gap before the strong house, with the captain and two assault marines leaping directly into the whole in the ceiling. They were met with a barrage of bolts, plasma, and a blast from Garaduk's ensorcelled flamer. The two assault marines were burnt to crisps as the hellish fire roasted them inside their armor, but their captain landed in the middle of the room. He had been knocked back by bolt rounds far enough to where his men took the brunt of the green flames. As the plague marines and raptors rushed the captain with poisoned blades and chainswords, more assault marines dropped into the hole.

 

The other assault squad that was advancing towards the strong house from the opposite side of the street, made their jump to the rooftop across the street from the Black Maw. Two flamers blasted out gouts of flame, along with several bolt pistol shots into the second story. The flames and bolts blew one plague marine apart, and melted half the face and helmet off of another, but he didn't seemed bothered in the least and switched hands on his plasma gun to return fire, sighting down his barrel with his remaining eye. The return fire was more telling, the half faced plasma gunner dropped two assault marines, while the full faced plasma gunner dropped one before his temperamental weapon catastrophically overheated, burning away the right half of his body, arm, and leg.

 

The Black Legionnaires on the ground floor had a bad angle on the assault squad positioned on the rooftop across the street, so their plasma gunners checked their fire. The helbrut Vingal, known as the Engine of Frustration was not about checking fire. He rushed into the street, out from the overhang and fired his multimelta and flamer up into the assault squad, cooking another pair of Raven Guard, only to be shot by the lascannon in the left leg. The leg was torn apart by the heat and force of the blast, and Vingal crashed to the street on his hull.

 

The assault squad jumped from the roof over the downed helbrut, and charged through the open door. They didn't have the numbers, but had momentum, and as they engaged the thinbloods on the ground floor, the half squad rushed up the street from the smoking rhino.

 

As the melee swarmed around the third floor, not unlike a feeding frenzy of the black sharks Garaduk had seen on Katan II, an explosion rocked the building. The strong house had been built to withstand the heaviest of small arms, but krak warheads were another matter. A missile struck the third floor wall facing the street and rent a large gap in the wall, knocking some to the floor with bits of rebar and stone. As loyalist and traitors alike took a collective pause, sniper fire ripped into the Black Maw, killing a plague marine and a Vulture. As the combatants regained their footing a path had appeared between the two opposing captains. The Raven Guard challenged the one-eyed Black Legion captain with a flourish of his lightning claws. Garaduk responded with a salute of his single claw, then treacherously squeezed down on his flamers trigger bathing half the room in green hellfire. He killed one more Raven Guard, along with his last remaining Vulture bodyguard, and caught the loyalist captain on fire. In spite of the green flames burning the captain alive, he charged Garaduk, determined to not die alone. Garaduk tried to parry, but the Raven claws passed his guard twice before he could riposte. One slash of the claws ripped open the chest armor of the One-eyed captain and slashed through his ribs, exposing a lung, the second slash ripped armor and muscle from his right arm to gouge the bone beneath. Garaduk's return strike however, was fatal to the wounded hero, punching through the armpit of the loyalist with crackling energy blades piercing both hearts of the Raven Guard captain.

 

As Garaduk and the surviving plague marines finished off the remaining assault marines on the third floor, the heavy bolter poured fire through the missile hole in the wall. The land speeder's burst was joined by another krak warhead rocketing into the room, as well as more sniper fire. Garaduk hit the deck, out of view from the street, but now lone plague marine stood standing, aiming his bolter out the breach. The retina burning beam of a lascannon vaporized the plague marine from the waste up.

 

The fight below Garaduk One-Eye was not going well either. His thinbloods had fallen back up the stairs to the consolidate with the plague marines there. They were being pressed all the way up the stairs by the Raven Guard assault sergeant's power sword. To make matters worse, Garaduk could hear the sounds of multiple tracked vehicles moving towards the strong house above the revving of chainswords and reports of bolt pistols. To further confound matters for the ancient warrior, in spite of his bleak situation, he could feel the attentions of his putrid patron upon him. He was loosing the battle but his god was pleased with him. The flayed flesh and armor from his right arm was fusing into a disgusting tentacle. Stretching impossibly long given the material going into its creation. The thing was twice the length of his arm and ended with a barb of ceremite and bone. As he stared at the thing sprouting from just under his shoulder, neurons fired in the pain center of his brain, agonizing pain that rapidly faded with a slowly growing tactile control over the new appendage. A lot of good it would do him in the last few moments of his life he thought.

 

Just as Garaduk prepared himself for his last stand, one of his specialist came staggering up the stairs, one arm pulling himself up by the handrail, the other vainly attempting to hold in his entrails from spilling out of a nasty chainsword wound. The mutant couldn't quite make it to the top of the stairs before collapsing. The wretch wheezed out, "The Candle is on the Great Stair." Garaduk morbidly watched the creature die after delivering it's useless last words that it had exerted itself so hard to deliver, when he felt the sickening love of the Grandfather embrace him like never before. Fascinated, he watched the cloud of flies that had been his constant nuisance dart out the hole in the roof. Garaduk needed no further divine nudging, and from his prone position, sprang upwards towards the hole and engaged his jump pack. He ran off after the flies that he had tried so hard to rid himself of, pushing his jump pack to its limits. Amazingly he dodged most of the ensuing fire from the snipers and their missile launcher, but he saw the land speeder swing round to give chase. Perhaps trusting in his patron god would see him through, he certainly didn't have any other options.

 

 

Author's note

 

First off, sorry for the length of this post. I felt it was time for the Raven Guard and Garaduk One-Eye to finally get some closure :) , I mean do their best to annihilate one another. However, I'm not as confident in my writing of action as I am in other writing. I particularly didn't want to follow up A Mother's Love, what I feel is one of my stronger chapters in this story, with something weak.

 

I considered glossing over much of the detail of this battle, but felt that was a bit of a cop out. I hope this is enjoyable and that I didn't get too confusing trying to describe everything that happened in the battle.

[Carrack]

8.1 Lords

 

Lord Governor Valencia-Calebra wearily stood up from his grand hardwood desk. He nodded to his secretary as he shuffled out the door of his office towards his personal suite in the official palace. The very weight of his world was wearing heavy on his shoulders, it was obvious to everyone around him. He still had more work to do, but upon the very frank advice of his personal physician, he was going to try to get a few hours sleep. He doubted it would be a restful sleep. As he passed into his suite, and then into his bedchambers, he absently returned the crisp salutes of his guards. Once he got to his enormous canopied bed of down feathers, he allowed his chambermaid to quickly go through the elaborate process of removing the official robes of office. He then waved her away, something a younger Lord Governor never would have done. But that younger version of himself, physically only weeks younger, but in maturity and responsibility, decades younger, hadn't had the burden of ruling a world invaded by the ruinous powers.

 

The void shields protecting Calebra Hive from bombardment were a many layered, ever changing quilt of protective fields. They were designed to take the force of an orbital strike, and dissipate the destructive energy out to the edges of the patch that had been hit, and if need be, out to the surrounding patches and deeper into the layers. The rapidly changing pattern of patches of shields, insured that the freshest shields were closest to the enemy. But there were seams in the quilt, where the patches met, against a typical strike, even from the most advanced of guided munitions, these seams were too shifting, too unpredictable to be exploited. However, the enemy above Calebra Hive had the most atypical weapons in the galaxy, they had the barely harnessed power of the warp, and the attentions of insane geniuses had been studying the pattern of the quilt since their arrival.

 

Since the fleet of the Black Maw had set its blockade over the world of Candlebright, a new constellation had appeared in the night sky. This constellation was not comprised of distant stars, but comprised of the lights of warships. The brightest light in this new ominous constellation, that of the Black Maw flagship Bitter Revenge, momentarily went dark as all power from the ship was channeled into an ancient device. A delivery system for its most deadly weapon.

 

Lord Governor Valencia-Calebra's fretful sleep was disturbed by a nauseating sensation accompanied by a gusty draft. As he struggled to the side of the bed to wretch out his last meal, screams came from outside his door, but definitely from within his suite. The screams of dying men, the screams of his guards. Alarms sounded throughout the palace just as his heavily, yet discretely armored bedchamber door was ripped asunder by a gigantic axe. The Lord Governor wondered briefly what monster could possibly wield such a huge axe. To his misfortune, he soon found out. A monster from the dawn of the Imperium strode through the wreckage of his door. The beast stood with hunched shoulders well over two meters tall, clad in the heaviest of armor the Lord Governor had ever seen, terminator armor he believed it was called. But this was not the terminator armor of the space marines he had seen depicted in mosaic and stained glass, this armor was immensely cruel, like the monster that wore it. Black trimmed with brass, the armor was covered in spikes, skulls, and hooks, twin racks of spikes bearing skulls and helmets protruded from the top of the beast's shoulders. A great cape, dyed with blood and trimmed with the white fur of a massive bear hung from its back. The Eye of the Great Betrayer was centered on the nightmare's chest. The great axe was casually held in the left hand, and a double barreled gun in the right, underneath the axe wielding arm was a third, large simian arm that ended in a wicked claw. The monster strode to the Lord Governor's bed, and four more beasts, equally terrifying followed into the room. The monster boomed out of its spiked helmet, "I am Lord Carrack, and I have come for you." The claw arm grabbed the Lord Governor and pressed him to the Chaos Lord's chest. Barbed spikes and hooks cut into his flesh, but the Lord Governor was unable to even gasp in pain. He was too busy hyperventilating in fear.

 

The brightest light in the Black Maw constellation blinked out again, as its teleporter returned Lord Carrack, his retinue, and the ruler of the world below to the Bitter Revenge.

[Carrack]

Added the rest of the Chosen to dramatis Personae

[EesiOh]

well I can tell you one thing for sure, Valencia-Calebra is 100% pure undiluted RIP

[Carrack]

well I can tell you one thing for sure, Valencia-Calebra is 100% pure undiluted RIP

He only wishes

[Carrack]

8.2 Capitulation

 

Vid transcript of the Final Capitulation of Lord Governor Valencia-Calebra.

 

Transcript notes. This vid was broadcast on every screen throughout Calebra Hive, on all channels. Likewise, an audio version of the broadcast was played across all Vox channels, including some encrypted military channels used by the PDF and the Militia.

 

Context. 22 hours prior, Chief Arbiter Gertrude Hannabar announced to upper command and the gubernatorial advisors that Lord Governor Valencia-Calebra was missing, with evidence of foul play. As none of the Lord Governor's legitimate children were of age, save for those off world, she would be fulfilling her mandate and stepping in as acting Judge-Governor for the world of Candlebright. This was not received well by command or the advisors. When her Imperial Commander access codes were denied by all systems requiring the Lord Governor's, acting or not, signature, her mandate was unanimously rejected. A brief, but bloody spout of assassinations erupted between the noble houses who had illegitimate sons of the Lord Governor. Nine hours later the Lady Maraquin-Calebra stepped in as regent for her 12 year old son, heavily indebted to many of the noble houses. Word still hadn't reached beyond the elite of the hive.

 

Shortly after the regency was declared, various field commanders, from colonels down to even captains began receiving orders to redeploy their forces directly from Lord Governor Valencia-Calebra. None of these orders were tactically sound, but most were followed to the letter, it was unheard of for the Lord Governor to personally direct troops, but his idents matched, and the officers assumed it was part of a grander strategy that would become apparent soon enough.

 

Within two hours of her regency, the Lady Regent announced to the world her assumption of power and the disappearance of her husband. Command and control had begun to break down, as officers and men became distrustful of their upper command. Many of the noble houses, military units and merchant cartels fell into factionalism, with some supporting the regent, and others supporting a wide range of influential people who might have a tenuous claim on the governorship.

 

 

Further weakening the defenses of Callebra Hive, was the requisitioning of entire regiments of militia to defend the holdings of the noble houses that had supported Lady Regent Maraquin-Calebra. The arch-enemy exploited all of these weaknesses and has made significant gains during the last 11 hours.

 

Description. Lord Governor Valencia- Calebra appears seated at an ornate desk. He appears incredibly tired, with heavy bags under his eyes, and his movements and expressions are subdued and guarded. He is not in his official robes of state, but a simple suit.

 

Message. Brave defenders and loyal subjects of Calebra Hive, and the entire world of Candlebright. I have failed you. You deserve better rulership than I can give you. I have been informed that the relief force supposed to save us will not be prepared to come to our aid for an estimated 26 years. All other request for aid have been unanswered, save for that of our ancestral protectors, the Angels of Death from the Raven Guard Chapter, and even they came to our aid in hopes of retrieving a relic that has not been in Calebra Hive for more than 700 years. They are as unconcerned with our fate as the sector command relief force.

 

By now you may have heard of my disappearance, I was taking the only option available for our world. I went to parlay with the Black Maw leader, Lord Carrack. I pleaded with him to spare your lives, offering up my own life if it would appease him. In spite of everything I have heard and experienced, and no doubt what you have heard as well, Lord Carrack is an honorable man. He told me he was prepared to destroy the hive and all of us that live within, but would prefer to take our productive hive for himself.

 

Then, even though he is in a position where he could easily completely conquer our world, he offered us conditions. First and foremost, we must lay down our arms. We fought bravely, but we have no chance of victory on our own. When our warriors who fought so bravely, wisely surrender, Lord Carrack will see to their reintegration into our hive. As much as possible, he wants the hive to restart full scale production. So most of you will return to your old assignments, and there will be no change to your daily prewar routines. As for those whose work assignments are no longer available due to the horrific damage this war has done to our hive, they will be reassigned by the Black Maw. However, should hostilities persist, Lord Carrack will give no quarter.

 

These conditions are obviously less than idea, but they are our best chance for survival. So my last command, before I relinquish command of this world to Lord Carrack, I order each and everyone of you to lay down your weapons, knowing that you did your best for Calebra Hive, and for Calebra Hive you will guarantee the safety of its residents by making the difficult, yet ultimately the wisest decision for our hive and our world's continued survival. I am honored to have served as Lord Governor for subjects such as yourselves, both brave and wise.

[paulJam]

Things are looking grim for the people of Candlebright.
Grim dark even...

 

Are we likely to see a conclusion to this tale?

Not that i'm hoping there is an ending.

just working out whether i should be hyping myself up for a big finish or just chillax for the ride and expect "a rock fell everyone died" when you get sick of it :)

and yes, i'm precisely the kind of person who reads the last page so i know what's going to happen.

Edited October 28, 2015 by paulJam

[Carrack]

I have a climatic scene in mind for the finale. Maybe three posts from now. People will die, maybe from falling rocks even, most likely. There is still hope for a peace treaty and normalizing relations between the warband and the Imperium, I wouldn't bet on it though. :)

[Carrack]

4.9 Seek and Destroy

Scout Sergeant Aroke distributed new ammunition for his squad's snipers, and casually tossed a new pair of krak missiles to his anti-armor scout. A few years ago, when the scout had still been in training, he had jumped and got nervous the first time Aroke had tossed him a missile, not knowing it was inert until it was armed. Now the scout calmly caught both missiles as they bumped around atop the speeding rhino. They were headed for the Great Stair, and they weren't slowing for potholes or pedestrians.

 

The blue armored form of Librarian Cospry stood up out of the open hatch to brief the scouts, "After searching the remains of the strong house, I have discovered that it was the base of operations for a secret society charged with protecting the Candle of Light. The Candle was there recently, I can feel it. We must assume the one-eyed heretic has absconded with it." Sergeant Aroke smiled when he heard the one-eyed description, it was he who had shot out the right eye of the Chaos Marine commander. Librarian Cospry continued, "Our surviving speeder tailed the enemy to the entrance to the Great Stair. With the broadcast of the collaborating Lord Governor, we have to assume that he will be able to find access to an orbit capable launch in the hangers up-hive. We can not let the Candle of Light fall into the hands of the Black Legion." The Librarian paused for a moment and removed his helmet. His eyes, normally the intense black of a Raven Guard Marine who had harnessed powerful psychic energy, grew soft and sad. Aroke asked what was wrong. "He was a good captain, and a great man Aroke, I miss his decisiveness in times like these." With that, he replaced his helmet, his moment of grief and compassion was gone, but not before it touched Aroke and his scouts. In no uncertain tone, the Librarian spoke, "I still am unable to raise the Nevermore, I hope that it is merely hiding, and not in a position to transmit to us, but we must accept the fact that she may have been destroyed. Considering the current situation, we must change our objective of recovering the Candle of Light, to destroying it. We must deny its use by the arch-enemy, even if it costs us our lives doing so. Victorus Aut Mortis!"

 

Librarian Cospry then brought the scout sergeant down to the crew compartment of the rhino to show him the vehicle's tactical display. There was plenty of room in the rhino, with 4 seats not being filled by the Librarian and the remains of squad Veck. Cospry showed where squad Durank would be entering the Great Stair from level 89 and try to cutoff the heretic from their own pursuing force. He than ordered the surviving land speeder to attempt the Great Stair and to try to bring the heretic down with its heavy bolter. Sergeant Aroke knew the risk involved in attempting to navigate the Great Stair with a land speeder. The great stair was narrow in most places, just wide enough for two men to walk side by side, and was bordered by the sheer walls of the Spire on one side, and a long drop all the way to the steeply slanted roof of Level 87, and the distant ground beyond. If the land speeder took a turn to wide, or the pilot was the least bit distracted, the land speeder would fall to the ground, with no hope of arresting its descent with its thrusters. The risk Cospry was willing to take with their only vehicle mounting a heavy weapon, and only vehicle with good mobility in the urban environment of Calebra Hive, conveyed both the importance of their task, and the sacrifices the librarian was willing to make to complete the mission to destroy the Candle of Light.

[Carrack]

3.3. To Quench a Thirst

 

Commodore Mallori looked out over her bridge crew from the command throne she had become permanently socketed to. The throne was a bubbling tub of psyco-reactive gel, and physically very pleasant and soothing on whatever was left of her body. Xenotech, the only part of her that was visible to her crew was her flawlessly flesh-sculpted face. Most of her crew were quietly performing their duties, knowing not to distract the captain and her two focal officers of the moment. One of these key officers, Lieutenant First Class Irirangi was carefully monitoring an encrypted channel to the Black Maw flagship, Bitter Revenge, timely communication was key to Captain Mallori's squadron's success. The other key officer was Commander Tangaroa, the master of the auspex. He was diligently scanning the expected translation point, but keeping a wider scan running in case their intelligence was wrong. The crew of the Scalpella, and the other frigates in the commodore's squadron, had faith in the gods, but were less faithful in the accuracy of those whom divined the gods' will through the entrails of a sacrifice. The captain and her officers waited. After two and a half hours had passed, quiet, nonessential conversations started to be whispered on the bridge. This is the problem with picket duty, thought Captain Mallori, we start out alert and professional, but as time passes and nothing happens, the crew goes lax. I need their focus on the task at hand. She announced, "I pick the precise location given to us by Lord Carrack, I wager 100 silver dinars that the enemy's first ship will translate there. You may join my game by recording a position and committing 50 silvers to the pot, after all is said and done, the one who guessed closest wins." The crew waited, more attentively.

 

 

Reality was rent asunder at a point not far from that which was deciphered from the entrails of a sacrificed captive. A small consolation, but Captain Mallori won her bet. The ship translating was an Astartes Battle Barge, one of the most lethal warships to travel the stars. The steel grey battle barge was covered prow to stern in hexagramic wards etched into the armored hull and inlayed with gold and electrum. Appearing near simultaneously out of the swirling cloud of multi hued gasses spilling into reality, was a jet black cruiser, bearing the "I" icon of the inquisition upon her prow. Captain Mallori called out her warning to Lord Carrack's fleet and withdrew her squadron back into the asteroid belt at the edge of the Candlebright system. Before her transmission even reached the Bitter Revenge, three Mars class cruisers from Battlefleet Obscuras scattered into the void in the vague vicinity of the battle barge. An escort squadron of frigates and destroyers followed within the hour, losing one frigate as it translated into the void. Before it escaped the warp through the hole its drives had created, a tentacle covered with eyes wrapped around the kilometer long ship and yanked it back into the depths of the Sea of Souls. Whatever the tentacle belonged to, wasn't done playing with its food.

 

*******

 

Lord Carrack sat upon his command throne on the bridge of his grand cruiser, Bitter Revenge, and assessed the relief fleet that had come to the aid of the world below him. As he watched incoming data scroll across his view screen, updating with each new ship joining the imperial fleet, he idly played his gauntleted hand across the axe standing on its hilt at his feet. The axe thirsted for blood. He thirsted for blood. But Lord Carrack had maintained his command of the Black Maw Warband by knowing when to give in to his instincts, and when to deny them, according to the strategic situation. His fleet and the fleet of the Corpse God were evenly matched. What he lacked in capital ships and the disparity between flagships, he made up for in his array of pirate raiders and renegade escorts.

 

In spite of the apparent equality of the fleets, Lord Carrack, the Doom of Red Siliquastrum, held serious misgivings about engaging the slaves of the False Emperor. First, the battle barge, though not flying any banners or broadcasting an ident packet, was clearly a Grey Knight warship. Lord Carrack had learned through painful experiences, to respect the Grey Knights, even more so than other loyalist marines. Secondly, the primary weapon of a battle barge wasn't its bombardment cannon, it was its contingent of up to three hundred Astartes. Most of Lord Carrack's troops were deployed to Calebra Hive, boarding actions would be fatal if he did not bring up his army. Thirdly, to make the most of his advantages in range and speed, he would have to abandon his blockade formation, which would allow the Imperials to drop their troops to the surface. Last, but not the least of his concerns, was the reliability of his pirate allies. Pirates had not changed much in Lord Carrack's lifetime, a lifetime that extended back to the Great Crusade. Pirates battles other than mere commerce raiding, hit hard, but lacked the dedication and discipline to fight on if the battle wasn't going their way. Their true allegiance, despite solemn oaths, was to money. Lord Carrack had made most of them rich, and they all feared him, but he didn't know how many would stick around in a prolonged fleet action where he expected heavy losses.

 

After a mere moment of deliberation, Lord Carrack gave the order to begin extraction of the Master of Chains strike force in 48 hours. Current estimates had the Imperial Fleet closing on the fleet of the Black Maw in 62 hours. He also had Captain Garaduk contacted by the junior-most vox officer on the bridge, another slight to the follower of the Plague God. The captain, did not respond to the transmission, but Lord Carrack did not take the bait and follow up with another communication. Then there was Lythane the Black. Lord Carrack wanted to maroon Abaddon's spy on the world below, but there was no way the sorcerer would remain unaware of the other strike forces' extractions. Lythane had also been sending up heavy lifters crammed tight with slaves and what plunder could be had in the lower levels of the hive. Begrudgingly, he voxed the sorcerer.

 

Lord Carrack issued thee more commands before he left the bridge. The first order was to send out two stolen medium merchantmen which had been adapted to lay mines. One was to lay a minefield in the most likely route the lackeys of the dead emperor would navigate the asteroid belt. The other mine-layer fired her engines, to speed past the sun, and lay a minefield in the opposite side of the asteroid belt. His second order was to have a tender transport another load of daemonic shells to the Ruby Mace. His third, and final order, issued as he hefted his axe over his shoulder, and with a sweep of his great cloak left the bridge, was to prepare the teleporter. Lord Carrack would indulge his thirst with the blood of Calebra Hive.

[Carrack]

I am in the process of writing the final climatic battle. I may have to break that into a two part chapter, due to the action and all the moving pieces. Then there will be an epilogue to tie up loose ends, and that will be it for Calebra Hive. I have to say I've enjoyed writing it so far, it's been a great bit of escapism to wind down my evenings with, so I imagine another campaign will be following in the not so distant future, but a smaller campaign with less characters so it will be easier to develop them a little better.

 

If you don't mind, I'd like to know which chapters you liked best and which characters you liked best, if not, no worries. My favorites are the very first one, An Ear to the Door, and

4.2 Victorus Aut Mortis. My favorite characters were General Mann and Tasser the Hawk.

In the mean time I will repost my last two inspirational Friday entries here for a little extra grim dark goodness.

 

People (this story ideally should have taken place before the capitulation of Lord Governor Valencia-Calebra)

 

 

People

 

Pendejo made the long walk up the service stairs to his new assignment. Although experiencing a little trepidation about having to work at a different hive level, he was overall excited about his first day at his new job. He was thrilled to be getting a better assignment after his last one had ended so badly. His previous foreman had accused him of stealing lasrifle power packs from the production line, but what was he to do, he hadn't had light in his hab since the invasion of Calebra Hive, and with a little unsanctioned wiring, he could use the pack to charge his lamp. He wasn't some underhiver used to eating, washing, and dressing in the dark.

 

The new assignment came within days of loosing his last one. Pendejo had a brief scare with a recruitment drive, but once again his forged medical exemption kept him from being thrown into the meat grinder as an untrained, under equipped militiamen. This assignment was promising to be more fruitful than the last one too. He was picked for the ration paste manufactorum on level 54. He liked his light for sure, but he was tired of his stomach growling day and night, always hungry. There was a time when Pendejo would of turned his nose at ration paste, but after two weeks of eating every other day, he wasn't quite so picky. He was looking forward to slipping a few tubes of paste in his socks to take home. Maybe he would even arrange a "dinner date", there were plenty of women willing to trade their affections for a meal, as the famine of war wore down their morals.

 

Pendejo entered the manufactorum and passed the extensive security check point to get to his orientation training on the main floor. He was a little dismayed that the checkpoint had as much security inward as outward. He would have to be careful with his pilferage. As he entered the main floor, a long line had formed up before an office door, he could hear the sounds of the manufactorum from behind the office. Pendejo took his place in line and made small talk with the woman in front of him. She was from Level 53 too, but they had never met. She said she was also thankful for the job after being unassigned since the arch-enemy had invaded. He asked about the militia and she pointed to her cane. The rubber cap at the bottom of the cane was unmarred and still had its full tread. Pendejo didn't judge her though, everyone knew the militia was a death sentence.

 

 

Pendejo's turn to enter the office finally came. He stepped inside to see four burly men by the entrance in plastic overalls stained with blood, no doubt from the marginal meats used in the paste. It was a common subject of speculation as to what was the source of the meat, there certainly wasn't many dogs roaming the streets anymore. A fifth skinny man, dressed in cleaner overalls, held a clipboard in one hand and told Pendejo to close the door behind him and present his papers. He did so, and as soon as the skinny man checked his name off the clipboard, a weighted sap struck him in the back of the head. He slumped to the floor, unconscious.

 

Pendejo regained his senses, to the sounds of machinery and the pressing of strong arms holding him down on a metal chute. These were minor facts that he took in as shock from pain slowed everything around him down till he felt as if time was passing at a snail's pace. The major fact that dominated his last moments, was that he learned what the source of the meat being used in ration paste was. He was being fed feet first into an industrial grinder. Ration paste is people.

 

The next story takes place well away from Calebra Hive, somewhere in Segmentum Obscuras.

 

The Black Book of Dark Apostle Lavam

For the eyes of Inquisitor Chella Bonatelo. All others, I implore you stop reading and destroy this synopsis, less your soul fall from the light of the Emperor forever and ever.

 

For three years now I have convalesced at the Sanitarium of Our Martyred Saint. The tender ministrations of the sisters hospitaller have restored a semblance of my former self. I only agreed to these measures knowing that one sister would be assigned to me day and night, armed with a bolt pistol and the knowledge to use it, should my fractured mind invite in the daemonic. It is reassuring. However, in spite of the chemical therapies, the cleansing of scourging, and the peace and calm of the sanitarium's gardens, the sisters feel that the only safe way to release me from madness is with a selective lobotomy to scrub the memories of the Libro Nero di Lavam from my mind. I eagerly await the procedure. Yet I must write you of my reading of the profane text, and my analysis of its contents before I lose the memories that haunt my waking hours as well as my dreams. If not, my suffering will have been in vain.

 

As I am sure you recall, an infiltration cell of Throne Agents, under the direction and sponsorship of you, Inquisitor Chella Bonatelo, had reached the Black Maw Warband's base at Howler's Charn on the former Imperial world of Frederic III, disguised as unscrupulous arms merchants. Their mission was a failure with the entire cell being killed or captured shortly after landing. Those captured were held prisoner in the Tower of the Voice, under the supervision of the Black Maw Dark

Apostle Lavam. Lavam took great delight in stripping the allegiances of the agents to the Golden Throne, using a combination of torture and subversive arguments. Before Agent Olover was broken, he managed to escape by making a key impression of the cell lock out of heated, malleable, soap, than somehow baking the key until it was hard enough to turn the lock. Before he exited the Tower of the Voice, he slipped into Lavam's office and stole a book that was opened on his desk. He than stowed away aboard a ship of the infamous Zanizar Network, and when the ship smuggled illicit goods to Jaxon's Fields, he escaped with the book. Due to the nature of the book, and my special education in the guarded reading of profane tomes such as this text, I was tasked with searching the text for information that may be of use to the Inquisition. Without further explanation, here are my findings.

 

Overview

The book is called the Libro Nero di Lavam. It is bound in black sharkskin, with a golden eye of the great betrayer the only exterior marking. A gene-lock was placed in a gold clasp that held the book shut, but this was overcome by one of Inquisitor Chella Bonatelo's specialist. The specialist informed me that a trio of Vaskan Censor Worms were held in stasis in the binding of the book, and that if the lock was not overcome with the greatest of care, the worms would have been revived and eaten the book in the blink of an eye.

 

The Libro Nero di Lavam is something of a personal memoir and a esoteric lab book. It is a journal which includes a collection of dark knowledge, either gathered or created by Lavam.

 

Section I. Illustrations

This section is devoted to blasphemous artwork. Most are sketches done by an experienced artist, however there are a few full color illustrations. The subject matter covers several known and a few unknown breeds of daemon, along with vivisected mutants, scenes of unholy rites, a page filled from bottom to top with skulls, what is believed to be a self-portrait, and the most vile of pornography. In a failed attempt to preserve my sanity, I did not spend much time on this section. I believe it may have served either as inspiration for the author, or possibly be an insidious trap, designed to corrupt those who opened the book by burning such foul imagery into the memory of the reader. What has been seen, can not be unseen, no matter how hard I try. Yet, ignoring the subject matter, the artwork is exquisite, worthy to hang on the wall of a Lord Governor's palace. That is if they weren't so blasphemous.

 

Section II. Journal.

In true chaotic fashion, the journal does not seem to follow any chronological order. Some entries are apparently memories of earlier events. Several entries are separated by blank pages. Others run from one entry into the next. Some entries contradict previous entries, or that of known information about the Black Maw and its parent legion. Another aspect of this section that confounded me, was that there were entries that described failures, personal and professional, which in my opinion, adds to the veracity of his journal, yet in other entries, he clearly lies, and for no obvious gain. I get the impression that this Lavam must lie so much, it has become a habit, he even lies to himself within his journal. In spite of the obvious heretical nature of Lavam, I find a twinge of admiration for the willpower of Lavam for being able to persevere in the face of so many trials.m he describes. Important intelligence gleaned from this section includes:

 

1. Lavam, Lord Carrack, and nearly all of the officers, as well as some of the rank and file, have origins dating back to the Great Crusade.

 

2. Lavam was the first to openly worship the Dread Four, and leads most of the warband's religious ceremonies.

 

3. Lavam has a key role in the indoctrination of newly corrupted or created Astartes.

 

4. Lavam has set up an academy in Howler's Charn, (and may have done so in other locations as well) to train cult magos and cult recruiters.

 

5. Lavam oversees the desecration of cathedrals to the Emperor, along with the conversion of conquered worlds to the heretical worship of the Dark Gods.

 

6. Lavam rarely ventures into combat anymore, but is quite formidable when he does.

 

7. Lavam is untrusting of Lord Carrack and the other officers of the Black Maw.

 

8. The corruption of Ganda, the Tyr system, and Bulltop II, were all the direct result of his nefarious activities. There are numerous others.

 

Section III Oratory and Apologetics

 

This section records some of his speeches and sermons that he felt were particularly effective or noteworthy. It also details intellectual arguments about the existence of the Dark Gods, and why someone should put their faith in them over that of the distant Golden Throne.

 

Judging by his speeches and sermons, all penned by his own hand, it must be awe inspiring to hear him speak. Not that I would ever countenance doing such a thing, just that his speeches and sermons, no doubt were successful in winning new converts, and strengthening the convictions of the Black Maw.

 

The Apologetics were the most seditious words in the Libro Nero di Lavam. I have to admit that the logic of Lavam's arguments was hard to refute. I must confess that in spite of my abundant faith in the Emperor of Mankind, I have never seen His miracles, yet the works of the dark gods are plentiful, and easily produced. Thus most of his arguments were not done with mere words, but with demonstrations of the power of the warp. And what wondrous demonstrations! The twisting and manipulation of flesh as if it was clay in the hands of a sculptor, the vitality to withstand the most extreme torments, the sights, the sounds, the sensations, the undiluted essence of rage, more powerful and stimulating than even the eversor cocktail! I must pause, the sisters are growing concerned with my demeanor.

 

Section IV. Rituals and Rites

 

This section begins with detailing the rites of worship common to the Black Maw Warband, such as pre and post battle sacrifices, ritual branding of slaves, and semi-regular rites. Some of these come from the Black Legion, while others are organic to this Warband. Lavam talks of this as an analogy of the relationship with the Warband to the Legion. They share some things in common, yet they still maintain a culture that is noticeably unique. Since the reign of Lord Carrack, all of the rituals involve blood, something that occasionally riles the "purist" principals of Lavam. Deeper into this section are rituals with more than just a symbolic meaning. Rituals to beseech the gods for favor, rituals to call forth the neverborn on the eve of battle, rituals that bind a willing fallen angel to one of the Four. Rituals that call forth possessing daemons into unconcerned hosts, rituals so foul, so damning, yet so beautiful to read about and envision. Rituals I have attempted in secret with the blood of rats found in my cell while my watcher's eyes glazed over with fatigue. I will have success before they rip the beauty and clarity of the true gods from my mind, even if I have to kill to get it. I will. I. The 16th Beast of the Final Days will snuff the light, from Candlebright. A new Prince will arise, to friend and foe's surprise. Yet the fabled Candle of Light, may well fade to darkness Black as night. The Maw of the Black Beast, will devour its bloody feast. The Raven Protectors and the Knights of Grey, will see the

 

Note. Dear Inquisitor Chella Bonotello,

We have completed your task of drawing out the information you requested from Adept Cassi. I know you requested my mission to turn over the information to one of your many flunkies, but being as these are the last words of a man under your employ, I send them to you, so there is no doubt of what you have done to this poor adept. No further information will be forthcoming from Cassi, as I have exorcized the malign influences in his head and heart with blessed mass reactive bolts from my own side arm.

 

"I do not need to know the ways of the heretic, I only need to know his location so that my mace may smite him." -St Juniper.

 

Sincerely Palatine Caroll

 

 

Reply. Dear Revered Palatine Carroll,

Even if Adept Cassi didn't know the danger involved to his soul when I assigned him the Libro Nero di Lavam, for which he assuredly did, I would still not have hesitated in assigning him the text, even knowing the toll it would take upon the brave adept. I probably will do something similar again, maybe even now as we correspond. So rest easy tonight, knowing that there are men and women like me and Cassi out there in the dark, doing what must be done for the sake of the Imperium.

[Carrack]

The Great Stair, Part 1

 

As Garaduk stepped through the charred wreckage of the checkpoint guarding the entrance to the Great Stair, he didn't even pause as the defenders were burnt alive with the green hellfire from his ensorcelled flamer. He was too busy lamenting the fact that the cloud of flies had returned to him, to continue to distract him as they buzzed by his audio pick up and flew across his optic display. He hit the stairs and started running up to catch this Juano that may or may not be carrying the Candle of Light, whatever that was. It may very well be Garaduk's only chance of turning his failed mission and destroyed strike force into a success. That is, if it really was what Lord Carrack was after. Each jolting step caused waves of agony to emanate from his exposed lung and cracked ribs. He couldn't risk a jump though, the Great Stair was protected by a sheaf of clean air held in place by some ancient containment field. A jump pack assisted leap would take him out of that sheaf, too be buffeted by the strong winds of this altitude, most likely he would then fall to his death, repeatedly bashed against the hive by the gale force winds. As he painfully climbed the stairs, something peculiar happened with the cloud of flies that the Grandfather had cursed him with. They flew to the wounds in his chest and arm, and began stitching them closed, some biting down on his exposed flesh to hold it in place, while others gave up their pseudo lives for thread that sewed the wounds shut. The flies, an extension of Garaduk's patron's will, knew how to preserve life almost as well as they knew how to end it, their healing went beyond stitching the wounds closed, it healed his wounds better than a surgeon's knife. It was painful, but Garaduk One-Eye had lived with worse before he had visited the Garden of Nurgle deep within the Eye of Terror. Just as his wounds were more or less healed, the barking of a heavy bolter sounded below him, along with the sounds of a skimming land speeder, followed by moans of pain that were way below the typical screaming pain of a heavy bolter wound or kill. Garaduk continued his climb, but directed his helmet's and his own superior senses behind and below him. He heard another volley of heavy bolts followed by whoosh of air as the sheaf of peaceful air had been penetrated. He no longer heard the engines of the speeder. Garaduk, now more recovered from his wounds than before, picked up his pace as he rounded a wide corner, with a landing twice as wide as the narrow stair. The last thing he detected before he rounded the bend, was a brief flash of the internal ident marker implanted beneath the skin of the cult magos who had assisted him in the early stages of the campaign. Magos Cancon, whom he had presumed lost on The Hospice. The magos who had the eyes of the gods upon him. Garaduk didn't wait up for his one time minion and took the stairs two or three at a time.

 

*****

 

Vinno and the rest of his Chosen of Lord Carrack walked out onto the Great Stair unchallenged, the icon carried by "Saint" Tiam leading the way. The Lord Governor's surrender had thrown the P&C Brigade into disarray. The P&C were widely, and correctly regarded as the Lord Governor's goons and muscle for the streets. Too many times had they caused trouble for the various noble families and merchant houses to the point that retribution seemed likely given the state of upheaval with the governorship, in spite of the more serious and immediate threat facing the Hive, they had deserted to a man, showing the true courage of bullies and thugs.

 

Lesser men may have balked at running full speed down a set of stairs bordered by such a perilous precipice, but Vinno and his squad of Chosen did so without pause, the danger of the drop off was insignificant compared to 10 Millenia of war and living within the Eye of Terror. They moved as one crouched low, weapons readied, but fast. A speed that was only made possible by the genetic engineering of an Astartes.

 

They rounded a corner that broadened into a wide landing and were met with a scattering of boltgun fire from extreme range originating from four of the five bundles of black cloth on the next landing down. Camouflaged Raven Guard. A few bolts struck home, but merely rocked their targets back, detonating outside their power armor. Vinno lowered his red glowing power sword and charged, passing his icon bearer, the "Saint" Tiam. His chosen followed suit, screams to the Blood God booming from their vox grills. The Black Legion veterans had a long way to go to close the distance enough for a charge, or to bring their short ranged meltaguns and flamer to bear. They made good distance, forgoing slowing down to get their own boltgun shots off, before the next volley of bolts detonated into the Chosen. This volley, at closer range, was lethal. Marbas was struck twice in almost the same spot on his breastplate, whatever ties that temporarily kept the warrior out of his own personal hell in the warp were severed, he disappeared screaming as red light illuminated out of his vacated armor. Paimun also took a shot into the flexible armor of his left ankle and spilt down the stairs catching himself from falling off the ledge with his chainsword, he was able to pull himself back to safety, yet his foot was shattered, and disconnected from his leg, he was out of the fight. None of the Chosen looked back at their fallen comrades, not for a second.

 

In spite of their losses, Vinno and his men continued down the stairs at full speed until they reached a point about half a pistol shot from the loyalists. Tiam and Vinno, in the lead crouched for a brief moment, the squad's icon sending spiderwebs of cracks in the ferrocrete stairs as it struck the ground, they loosed bolts into the Raven Guard position from their pistols. As their pistol shots struck, but failed to penetrate the Raven Guard armor, Obbo and Harold let loose over the front rank's heads with a melta blast and burst from Harold's flamer. The melta blast penetrated a Raven Guard's armor and transferred so much heat that it boiled him inside his power armor. The flamer caught three more of the loyalist, but only seriously injured one, as the sticky flames splashed up under his helmet to burn through the thinner neck armor and sear the Astartes's wind pipe shut. The Raven Guard returned fire with wild shots from boltguns, and the fifth Raven Guard, who hadn't fired yet, pulled a flamer of his own out from under the camouflage blanket and projected a gout of flame into the now charging chosen. Obbo took a splash of burning promethium up under his helmet same as the Raven Guard and fell to his seat, desperately clawing at his throat. The rest of the Chosen weathered the storm and leapt the last few stairs into the defending Raven Guard. The Raven Guard, no strangers to hand to hand fighting, and possessing the enhanced reflexes and strength of all space marines, were outclassed by the Chosen. Chainswords and bolt pistol fire did their bloody work, but

The true carnage came from Avarg's power axe, and especially from Vinno's ancient power sword. It was one sided butchery on the landing of the Great Stair. When the second half of the Raven Guard squad rounded the corner to aid their dying brothers, the butchery did not cease. The raw power of the Blood God pumped through the Chosen's veins. There have been cleaner feeding frenzies amongst schools of sharks than what happened on the landing. The only moment of semi-civility occurred when Vinno leveled his blade in challenge with the Raven Guard Sergeant, the Chosen backed away as they fought, creating a space for the two to duel. The Raven Guard came in with an odd angled uppercut swing of his chainsword screaming, "ForIstavaan!" Vinno back peddled out of reach of the unorthodox attack, but one he had faced a few times in his 10 Millenia of war, and thrusted low into the belly of the Seargeant. The wound was great, the wrenching twist was fatal, as the life drained from the loyalist's eyes, Vinno replied, "I wasn't at Istavaan personally, my company was closer to where we stand today. I would have reveled in butchering you sneaky bastards of a self absorbed, brooding, fool, if I was."

 

******

 

Lord Carrack and his retinue materialized in front of a small bastion on the upper hive level of 126. Behind him was the Master of Chains flanked by two rhinos of chaos marines, the Helbrute Kharfus, and a pair of festering, rotting, putrid obliterators. Without even acknowledging his men's greetings he swung his axe downward in the signal to fire. The obliterators, with wet sounds, morphed lascannons out of their mutant arms and blew apart the gate to the bastion. The rhinos launched twin volleys of havoc munitions with precision onto the battlements, clearing the PDF defenders off of their firing line. As one the force moved in. The two mounted squads disgorging their lethal cargo right into the gate, each squad cutting left and right to move along the perimeter, slaying defenders and distracting the PDF inside the inner keep from what was about to hit them. +I AM KHARFUS+ boomed out of the loudspeaker of the Helbrut as he ducked through the gate and fired his multi-melta into the steel doors of the keep. As the doors melted, he followed up with a jet of flame form his other arm, roasting the grenadier squad that was waiting behind the doors. Kharfus entered the high sealing foyer and shot both weapons down the hall, turning back a second squad of grenadiers that were rushing to secure the breach down the long central hall, while announcing his name yet again. A third squad, inspired to courage by a bolt pistol toting commissar, tried a similar rush, hoping to bring Kharfus down with krak grenades, but had similar results.

 

Lord Carrack entered the keep with his retinue and the Master of Chains. They marched inevitably down the blackened hall to the central room in the keep, butchering another squad that bravely charged the ancient monsters in terminator plate. When they got to the door, the Master of Chains snaked out a mechandril ending in a melta cutter and breached the heavy door. Inside was an enginseer and a team of servitors, desperately trying to destroy the machinery and cogitators in the room. Lord Carrack charged. A charge from an unarmed lord in terminator plate was the equivalent of being hit by a speeding train, but Lord Carrack had an axe that had been thirsting blood for weeks. He gave in to the thirst and the axe chopped down the enginseer and his servitors before any could so much as raise a weapon.

 

With the defenders of the bastion dead or dying, The Master of Chains attached a mechandril ending in a data tap to the central cogitator and started a three minute count down, every 10 numbers or so the Warpsmith's voice changed to that of a different man, or worse. At one minute, Lord Carrack called his forces back to the launch point of their attack. When the Master of Chains finished his countdown, he said, "I have the complete pattern and the access codes. I will continue the sabotage of the enginseer and make a communication to his superiors that he was successful in destroying the void shield before we arrived, I will use the enginseer' own voice and ident with the transmission." Lord Carrack replied, "Very well, see to the extraction of your strike force, I will return to the Bitter Revenge now." With that Lord Carrack and his retinue disappeared with a rush of air and a flash of many colors.

 

Two more posts to go and the Assault of Calebra Hive will be complete. Will the Imperial relief arrive in time? Who will come away with the Candle of Light? What will become of the world of Candlebright? Will all sides agree to a peace treaty and celebrate the signing with festive dancing and a nice amasac aged in a hardwood cask for seven years? ( it's the aging process that really brings out the flavors) Place your bets, but beware, the peace treaty is probably a long shot. :)

[Carrack]

The Great Stair, Part 2

 

this one may be a little long

 

Juano struggled to catch his breath as he climbed the stairs. His original plan of quietly moving under the notice of any onlookers had fell apart. He had given in to a mad rush up the Great Stair. He could feel pursuers behind him, closing. The air of the Great Stair muffled sounds, and Juano could not see or hear any pursuers, but nevertheless, Juano's heart was racing beyond that of the exertion of the climb. The hairs on his arms and back of his neck were standing up, and his eyes were wide in fear, mortal terror to be more precise, even if he knew not the cause.

 

*****

Garaduk could see a landing up and ahead of him on the Great Stair with his remaining eye. It was the entrance to level 87 and it would most likely be guarded. He did not want to have to pause his ascent to deal with an inconsequential checkpoint, because his one time cultist leader was trailing him. At times, the strange acoustics of the atmosphere containment field carried the low chanting of many voices. Cancon was not alone. Garaduk had survived the Long War by knowing the ways of the gods, and he knew that Cancon was one of their pawns. Odds were it was not his own patron, and even if it was, that was no guarantee that they would be allies. Garaduk launched out a stream of hellfire, arcing it high to rain down on the landing, and sprinted up the stairs. When he got to the landing, and it's closed portcullis, the effects of his flamer became apparent. The green supernatural flames had burnt a half dozen PDF rifleman to the ground. The rest of their squad was pounding at the iron gate, yelling for it to be lifted. Garaduk ran by the burning squad until he came abreast of a pillbox just on the other side of the gate. A wash of regular red and yellow flames, and a close range 3 second burst from a heavy bolter struck him from the side. Neither the flames or the fat bolts penetrated the one-eyed Legionnaire's armor, but the force of the bolts sent him reeling out over the edge of the landing. Garaduk would have fallen, but his new tentacle stretched out and plunged its barb into the head of the heavy bolter's assistant gunner. His helmet clanged into the firing slit, but was too large to pass through, and arrested Garaduk's fall. After safely righting himself, Garaduk yanked the barb out of the trooper's skull and blasted his own flamer into the firing slit of the pillbox. The flames filled up the small pillbox and the men died as their promethium cans exploded and their belts of bolts cooked off in the heat. Garaduk ducked the flat plane of fire and fragments that shot out of the firing slit.

 

Garaduk ran on, but his brief pause at the landing had allowed Cancon to gain on him. He glanced back and saw a mob of hivers carying pipes, box cutters, and other makeshift weapons along with militia pistols surrounding the location indicated on his display of Cancon. He caught a glimpse of his magos standing 2 feet taller than his follower, Cancon had grown. He was sure that the mob was not moving of their own volition, their jerky movements and lack of the normal head movement of someone taking in their surroundings meant that they were being controlled by some external force. Garaduk tossed a blight grenade back down to the landing, hoping it would slow them enough for the PDF to recover from his own attack and strike his pursuers. As he continued his rush up the Great Stair, he heard the footsteps of a mortal man ahead of him running up the stair just around the next bend.

 

*****

The new constellation of Black Maw warships above Candlebright was shifting. An ill omen indeed. The cargo ships with holds already full of plunder and slaves were leaving, their lights fading out of existence. The brightest light in the constellation, that of the Bitter Revenge had recently blinked twice, again. Yet the most malign of portents to be read from the new constellation, was the carefully, slow moving light of the Ruby Mace. The last time it had slowly shifted was right before Maize Hive had been destroyed and damned. This time it was creeping over Calebra Hive. A single shell from one of its broadside macro cannons burned its way through the thin and polluted atmosphere to strike and be absorbed by the void shields of Calebra Hive. Some of the watchers of the constellation breathed sighs of relief, their shields could save them from such attacks. Other watchers trembled in trepidation, wondering if it was a ranging shot for a prolonged bombardment. Some fools felt confident that their shields would hold in spite of a prolonged bombardment. All the watchers were wrong, they should have spent their last moments more wisely.

 

The single shot was a ranging shot of a sort. It was a shell launched merely to get an exact time of flight for the shell to leave the barrel of the cannon and strike the first layer of the void shield, information needed for what followed. What followed was a precision attack that would forever change the world of Candlebright. A volley of daemonic shells, similar to the ones used on Maize Hive was launched from the Ruby Mace's port gun decks. Two minutes and 17.28 seconds later the void shield projector on Level 126 was shut down by the access codes and authority of its commanding enginseer. Stolen codes, and forged authority. Several shields in the multi-layered, randomly shifting quilt of protection fizzled out. Four minutes and 47.09 seconds later and a hole appeared above Calebra Hive made from the unpowered shields. The precise time the volley of daemonic shells struck. The barrage of barely contained daemons struck the top of Calebra Hive and released its warp energy. From the pinnacle of the Spire, down all the way to Level 104 was utterly destroyed. Hive quakes rocked their way all the way down to the Bottoms and below. Millions died in the barrage, billions died in the quakes.

 

*****

 

Vinno and the Chosen paused their descent and slammed spiked shoulders, elbows, and gauntlets into the wall of the hive. They had to brace themselves for the hell that would be raining down upon them in moments, having been forewarned by their lord of the impending doom, and what a hell it was. There polarized lenses had to rapidly adjust to maximum protection as the top of the hive lit up like a torch. A torch that could be seen easily from space. A rain of burning fragments rained down from the hive. Some of the fragments were as big as a land raider. One had a bloodletter daemom riding the chunk of ferrocrete to the ground. Vinno's nose and eyes bled from the intense psychic phenomena occurring above him, something he hadn't experienced since he left the Eye of Terror. He could hear the screams of souls shouting out above the rumble of the decapitated hive.

 

The damage and daemonic display was not just something limited to the distant crown of Calebra Hive. A large hunk of steal and ferrocrete was falling down towards his squad's heads, burning with lavender flames. Vinno and Avarg ripped themselves from the wall and dove down the steps, the others ran upwards. The burning projectile struck mostly in between the fleeing squad, but managed to crush Avarg into paste and rip a huge gap in the stairs. Vinno looked across the insurmountable gap the rest of his squad for a moment, then with no words needing said, the champion and his squad went their separate ways. If the gods smiled on their fortunes of war, perhaps they would be reunited, in the meantime, Vinno had to carry out his mission. Shortly after he started back down the stairs, the containment field collapsed exposing the stair to the toxic atmosphere and buffeting Vinno with strong winds. He had to slow his pace considerably to keep his footing.

 

*****

 

Garaduk almost died yet again in Calebra Hive. He had sheltered himself as best he could, halfway under a recessed lamp alcove and weathered the tremors and raining fragments. But then, just as he picked himself up from a pile of dust and pebbles, the air sheaf collapsed and he was blown off the stair. At this altitude, Garaduk wasn't sure if his jump pack would work in the thin air, but what did he have to lose? He fired the pack on full thrusters, and the intakes sucked in the cloud of dust. His pack stuttered for a moment, then engaged and launched him hard into the wall of the hive a few feet above the stair. The pain of bouncing his head with the barely healed orbital bone damage from his partial blinding was intense. But not intense enough to stop him from laughing with the joy of one who had just cheated death.

 

The one-eyed captain recovered and started to climb. He was going more slowly now, using his tentacle to secure his purchase on the dangerous stairs. He heard the all too familiar sounds of bolter fire from down the Great Stair. He continued climbing, knowing that Cancon was being engaged, but not by who. The battle cry of the Raven Guard announced who was fighting his one time minion. Garaduk had no doubt how that battle would play out, and pick up his pace as much as he dared. He knew he was no match for the remaining Raven Guard that had destroyed his strike force.

 

As he carefully rounded the bend, Garaduk One-Eye came across a young man huddled in voluminous black robes gasping for air. "Juano, I presume?" Boomed out of his vox grill. The young man rolled over to stare at the Black Legioniare looming above him. The front of his robes darkened with moisture as his shaking hand dropped a compact auto pistol. There was something bulging under the robes on the outside of his thigh, hopefully dry thought Garaduk. The young man gasped, "You are a chaos marine, I've read about you." Then was wracked by a coughing fit. Garaduk had been called many things by his enemies in the Long War, betrayer, traitor, heretic, but had never been called a chaos marine. He knew it was an accurate, if simplistic epitaph, but it galled him that chaos came before marine. Even though he bore the mark of the Grandfather, he still thought of himself as a marine first, than chaos. He snapped himself out of his philosophical musings and slashed the boys leg off with his lightning claw. Then, mag locking his flamer to the side of his pack, he scooped up what Juano was concealing. It was a torch, made of black metal and encrusted with circuit-runes. It's head held a large red glowing gem in the well that would hold the burning pitch if it was an ordinary torch. It clearly wasn't. Not knowing why, he pressed one of the runes, and an adamantine needle shot through his gauntlet to pierce his thumb.

 

Just as he pondered the meaning of his action, he looked up to see a fellow officer of the Black Maw making his way carefully down the stairs towards him. It was Vinno, Champion of the Chosen, Lord's Carrack's personal errand boy. Vinno had his power sword out and bolt pistol unholstered. Garaduk called out, "What are you doing here, Vinno?" Vinno pointed with his sword at the torch, and replied, "Lord Carrack sent me to retrieve that." Garaduk paused weighing his options, he was fairly certain he could handle the champion in a duel, if it came to that, he was unsure if Vinno had an accurate view of the likely outcome of such a duel, with the champion being so firmly under the sway of Khorne, he might over estimate his own swordsmanship. The real question would be if he could get away with killing Vinno. There were no witnesses, but Lord Carrack had ways of finding the truth, and had obviously known the location of the Candle of Light. He casually flexed his claw and started to reply when he noticed a sudden absence of the sounds of battle from down the stair, and the roar of jet engines from above.

 

Garaduk pivoted in his spot to look behind him with his remaining eye and was surprised. It wasn't the Raven Guard coming up the stair, and it wasn't Cancon and his mind-controlled entourage. What was down the stair was four Grey Knights in battle scarred terminator plate, carrying a collection of force blades and wrist mounted storm bolters. They were marching methodically up the Great Stair, secure from the dangerous winds in their heavy armor. Garaduk had time to notice the absence of the squads sergeant just before they opened fire.

 

Garaduk quickly started accumulating wounds as the volume of fire from the Grey Knight Terminators chewed through his armor. A shot to his hip, one in his claw hand and several minor wounds told him he had to do something if he wanted to survive. He had no where to run, and even if Vinno backed his charge, they didn't stand a chance against the daemon hunters. He was about to make the leap of faith off the stair when the roar of engines he had heard screamed down to him as a Black Maw thunderhawk dropped to a hover beside Vinno and him. It's cannons were blasting away at the terminators and the stairs beneath their feet. The side door opened to a filled crew compartment with barely enough room for the two of them. The two officers looked at each other with glares that promised a revisit to their previous brink of a duel and leapt for the thunderhawk.

 

In midair, the fangs of a great black serpent struck from below, grasping the Candle of Light from Garaduk's hand. Garaduk looked down as the artifact was pulled away from below to see the rotting daemonic face of what used to be Cancon. Smiling. Cancon, if that name held any meaning anymore, had grown to nearly twice the size of an Astartes, and mutated horribly. Scaly wings had sprouted from his broad back, and a huge snake protruded from his belly. The daemon bore the rotting touch of Garaduk's patron, the daemon-Cancon was a pawn of Nurgle.

 

As the snake's fangs brought the Candle of Light to the hand of Cancon, the red glowing gem darkened to a pitch black. A black so dark that it enveloped the head of the torch in a ball so opaque it was solid. What was once meant, at least in appearance, to bear light, now brought only darkness, what was once a tool for the righteous, was now a weapon for the wicked. The Candle of Light in the hands of the Daemon, had become the Black Mace. As the daemon smiled and laughed with its victory, a sharp pain lanced through the pinprick in Garaduk's thumb, just as he landed in the thunderhawk with Vinno. The pain was echoed throughout the daemon's form. Garaduk instinctively knew that whatever the artifact had did to him with the pinprick, had somehow bonded him with it as its rightful owner, and somehow as such, he could control whoever, or whatever was holding it. He smiled down at the hovering, agonized, daemon, and commanded, "Return to the Bitter Revenge, and await my instructions." Garaduk's swarm of flies multiplied and stung him mercilessly. His patron was not pleased. The thunderhawk rocketed up to the atmosphere, speeding to its landing bay aboard Lord Carrack's flagship.

 

Note

An epilogue will follow in the near future to tie up some loose ends, but otherwise this concludes the Assault of Calebra Hive. There was even death by falling rocks :) chaos falling rocks. If you guessed the right outcome, consult your friendly bookie to collect your winnings, sorry if you guessed there would be a peace treaty, I warned you it was a long shot.

Edited November 11, 2015 by Carrack

[paulJam]

why bother carving a fake gun when you can carve a usable key. brilliant!

 

nice one mate. good ending 

or is it ?! [music: dun dun darrr]