The Crimson Musings - Ashenwyte's WiP Log

[BadgersinHills]

"God-Emperor..."

 

Astrus A'Tisor had strode a thousand worlds clad in imperishable faith and trusty carapace in the name of the Emperor and faced a hundred-thousand foes, each in their savagery and ferociousness enough to shatter any normal Imperial citizen in an instant.

 

Not Astrus, no. Not a Stormtrooper of the Holiest Inquisition, not a man who had purged innumerable heretics and xenos at the side of the Inquisitor Khamuras IV, noblest stalwart of the Ordo Xenos.

 

A thousand worlds, Astrus had strode, and yet he never had cause to invoke the Emperor to protect him. Not against the Khainite Witch-Cults of El-Sabotar X, not against the vile Orks of Ishar Prime, and not even against the unending Necron legions had he called upon the Emperor on Terra to protect him. 

 

Now, but now, he did.

 

It was sickening, a sight that would haunt his dreams for years to come. A sight that chilled his blood and sent tremors through his veins, a sight so shocking he was no more a Stormtrooper but a scared child afraid of the dark.

 

It was the Inquisitor, and in his blood was written next to him words that Astrus would never forget, not once.

 

"We have come for you." 

 

 

Edited April 29, 2018 by Ashenwyte

[Pearson73]

Most chilling, looking forward to what's next.

[Warsmith Onyx]

Ave Dominus Nox brother, I'm eager to see more!

[outlanders_luke]

Awesome!

Looking forward to reading and seeing more

[BadgersinHills]

"Do not forget Thramas!"

 

Chapter Master Adriel El'Msileh was dying on an apothecary's table , his ancient armour shattered by a thousand weapons and his flesh ravaged by a hundred poisons, and yet his voice held hatred that seemed like the hatred of a zealot to his heir Brother-Captain Athron.

 

"One-hundred of the finest warriors in the Dark Angels, it was. A brotherhood forged in mankind's greatest hour, a brotherhood unbreakable by all in this bastard galaxy. We slew xeno and traitor innumerable and brought the Emperor's light to a hundred thousand worlds, and when word came of Thramas we laughed at the thought of slaying Curze's sons."

 

Apothecary-Primus Aldric cast the dying man a worried look as he monitored the readings on the life support machine that allowed the Chapter Master to live yet, and the reason for his worry was clear. Adriel's organs were fast failing, and it was only his inhuman willpower that kept him alive in this state.

 

"One-hundred marched against the night's dancers, and of those one-hundred but one survived. Of one-hundred angels armoured in black and crimson and armed with the greatest weapons in the galaxy, only one survived! They picked us off as we were bogged down in the corpses of those who had come before us and slaughtered us as we attempted to raise our arms. I was saved by fate as I faced a champion of those foul beasts.."

 

All were silent as the Chapter Master raged fruitlessly at the memories of the death of a golden age, the death of a brotherhood that had survived all that the galaxy had thrown at them before. He was frothing now, the poisons were overcoming his fortitude fast. Athron wanted to look away, look away from the pathetic echo of a man his wise mentor and friend had become, but he could not. As he stared on in horrible fascination, the Chapter Master continued to roar.

 

"As my brother-knights fell around me I duelled a champion of these bastards, a warrior who seemed to toy with me as I heard the tortured screams of my brothers. I was the only one left standing and he seemed to tire of his game he played, and with a slash seemingly effortless he cleft my arm in two. I fell, but as I stood to rise he kicked me back down and laughed, and left me to lie with the corpses of the fallen."

 

He was dying, and dying fast. Flecks of spittle flew as he spoke, proud warrior no more but an old man ranting and raving at the horrors of the past.

 

"He crouched low as I lay mute with horror on that charnel ground and told me never to forget him and his name. Damn him! Damn him, and damn all of those midnight dogs!"

 

The light from his eyes was fading fast, and he seemed to regain his composure and made an attempt to wipe the spittle from his mouth. He looked at Athron with bloodshot eyes and said.

"Never forget this name I speak to you, Athron. Remember it as you purge those who oppose the Emperor, and may it's mention fill you with hatred and contempt."

 

The Chapter Master took a deep breath, and coughed. Flecks of blood coated his armour, and as he spoke for the last time it was not the noble warrior or pathetic old man who spoke, but vengeance itself.

 

"His name, his name was Vidrak Tor."

 

 

 

[BadgersinHills]

 

This pict-capture depicts a heretic astartes believed to be of the VII Legion, commonly known as the Night Lords, at the Siege of Halrus-Prime.

 

His identity is unknown, though his facial structure closely resembles that of Orius Maggar of the 91st Company.

 

++CLEARANCE LEVEL: ALPHA IS REQUIRED TO PROCEED++

 

++INPUT: INQUISITOR ASTRUS A'TISOR++

 

++PROCESSING++

 

++PROCESSING++
 

++CLEARANCE GRANTED ++

 

Greetings, fellow Inquisitor. 

 

These are my summarised writings of the assault on the Halrus V system, a bloody attack by the Night Lords that claimed many lives and weakened Imperial presence in the sub-sector considerably. It has taken me 200 years of interrogation and deceit to collect these, so in the Emperor's name we may know who we fight against.

 

Proceed with caution.