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Planetfall: Alcmene - A Legio B&C story


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Golgotha isn't the only one back in town :P

 

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Rhadamanthys bounded across the shattered landscape, training his bolt pistol on shadows and possible ambush locations as he sprinted down Tranquility Way, moving quietly despite his speed and bulk. A few minutes hard running and he had caught up to the Legio Marines as they moved through the shadow creased rubble. Spying Croeseus at the rear of the formation Rhadamanthys changed the angle of his approach, circling around to the side of his Brothers and intercepting them at a crossroads without the Iron Hand seeing him.

 

Flagging down Castor he made his report, suppressing a grin as the Sergeant stared daggers at the Iron Hand for his failure to spot the returning Brazen Claw. Castor hissed as Rhadamanthys said Cain's name and muttered a curse in his native tongue. Still glaring at Croeseus he addressed his Marines,

 

'Cain is here Brothers, from Captain O

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Great work, SCC. :P

 

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The Order Encarmine officer had come from nowhere, screaming blasphemies and lies as he leapt at Guildenstern. Through the clearing smoke Golgotha saw the discharged missile launcher hurriedly raised to parry, but a double-heartsbeat later the traitor was already pulling the crackling blade from the cauterised hole in the Black Templar

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  • 1 month later...

Next bit, and thanks to my OL colleagues for feedback, and especially to Joker for letting me write from the POV of his characters, Noctus Cain and the Stygian Vampires for a change - I hope I did them justice. Don't forget that the italicised paragraph is a flashforward to 13 hours after the rest of the story... Oh, you will get it. ^_^

 

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Golgotha fixed his gaze on the leader of the traitors, the one who had murdered Brother Guildenstern, and advanced on him. The plan was working so far, as they had not shot him to death on the spot, and unsurprisingly, his speech had distracted the crowd of Order Encarmine traitors into focussing solely on him, leaving his squad forgotten for the moment.

 

Out of the corner of his eye he could just see the contrail of the missile. All this would be for nothing if the machine spirit in the device could not lock onto, and then destroy the source of the comms-interference. Just a little longer and his squad could signal the rest of the Legio

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  • 2 weeks later...

Time for some hand-to hand combat... Thanks to the OL and especially SCC for highlighting the obvious changes.

 

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There was a saying among the Order Encarmine about deferred gratification making the deed all the sweeter. Perhaps thirty years was not long enough of a wait, as what should have been ambrosia, the chance to put a Scion of Dorn to the sword, of enacting bloody revenge one of the Inquisitorial lapdogs in single combat, was leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

 

 

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Thanks for the shuffle Aurelius, now it makes sense :(

 

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...0:05, 0:04, 0:03, 0:02, 0:1, 0:00...

 

The counter hit zero as Rhadamanthys rose swiftly from the immaculate surrounds of the governor's garden, hurdling a carefully manicured hedge he marvelled that the minions of Chaos had let the garden-servitors survive, let alone allowed them to continue their jobs. He sprinted down a pebbled laneway between hedges, toggling his tac-map to show an overview of the situation, watching the small blue dots that represented his brothers fanning out, the reason the heretics had allowed the servitors to live became obvious to him. The hedge maze formed a series of vile runes, as the thought crystallised in his mind Rhadamanthys tried to tear his eyes from the icons that now seemed to scream at him from the tac-map. He stumbled, a lance of pain shooting through his head, staggering, he tried to retain his balance, failing, he skidded face first into the garden, eyes still locked on the tac-map, spraying pebbles and leaves in a hideous burst of noise.

 

On his hands and knees the young Marine's head whirled, images of death and destruction flashing before his mind's eye. Vainly he tried to tear his eyes from the tac-map, a prayer, stuttering and stumbling, fell from his lips to no avail and Rhadamanthys could feel the tears sliding down his face as he drowned in a sea of filth and madness. In the background he could hear the hiss of the jammed vox channel and the static took on a stacatto beat of it's own, it's pace matching the images flooding his thoughts, a furious tattoo as blood washed through the desert camps of his childhood, a sonorous thud as Brother Apothecary Linaeus declared his gene-seed impure and sentenced him to death as an abomination.

 

Rhadamanthys' arms gave way and he slumped to the ground, reeling at the almost physical assault on his mind, vaguely he tried to recall the techniques the Brazen Claws' Librarians had drilled into him to prevent daemonic possession or psychic attack. Was he supposed to empty his mind? Or fill it? He laughed as images continued to slide across his mind's eye, did it really matter which he was supposed to do? The crackling vox channels joined him in laughter, the cacophony echoing in the confines of his helmet, he laughed harder as he tasted his own tears, tears of blood and the noise in his helmet redoubled...

 

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++ Edit - Shuffled in after SCC's post for chronological consistency. ++

Thanks to Joker for the lend of his characters again - it is disturbing how much easier it is to write 'evil' than it is to write 'good'. :wub: Apologies to Terry Pratchett and Granny Weatherwax for borrowing the 'borrowing'. I know they are not the first to do this particular stunt but they are a big influence on my writing. ;)

 

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The summoner closed his eyes, and searched for the spiked, hot tears in reality that he had created. They were simple creatures, the Stygian Vampires, but while they had been little more than eddies in the warp, ripe to be devoured by larger entities, here they had form, and hunger, and malice. And most importantly the desire to please him, so as to cling onto this plane of existence for as long as possible.

 

Xamot Hell found the pack with his wych-sight, and eased into the

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Captain Lycurgus cursed as his bolts flew wide of their target, damning the infernal electronics that had taken the place of his real hand after Noctus Cain's vile blade had crippled him aboard the 17th Legion of Fear's command vessel.

 

'Apothecary Caple!'

 

The anger in Lycurgus' voice carried even through the curtain of static smothering the vox channels,

 

'Did you see that? I told you this damn thing was malfunctioning!'

 

Caple's conciliatory reply was buried in static and the sound of explosions as Librarian Kruitzfeld's Devastator squads finally opened fire. Lycurgus watched as the rooftop stubber emplacements were shattered by the volley of missiles. With them out of the way the only thing preventing a text-book assault was the vox interference, without comms he couldn't contact Castor or his men to co-ordinate the assault. He would have to rely on the Sergeant following the plan and not that flashy fool Golgotha.

 

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Brother Diffido slid across the slime-slicked gravel, his dive carrying him out of the enemy's sights, the sound of a volley of las-bolts futilely chasing his black armoured form drowning out the static in his vox-bead for a moment. Reaching the low garden wall he crouched behind hit, popping out occasionally to snap off a shot at any PDF trooper foolish enough to expose himself for more than a few seconds.

 

The hairs on the back of Diffido's neck prickled as he saw Brother Mirandis fall, clutching his head in his hands and blood running like tears from his eyes. The tattoos on his body, matching the intricate electrum runes in his armour, itched as he watched Brother Rhadmanthys stumble and fall, clutching his hands in his head, his treasured bolt pistol carelessly discarded. His eyes darted to the rooftop of the mansion, then the windows, searching for a sniper, seeing nothing he toggled his heads up display to the tac-map and suddenly the reason for the collapse of Mirandis and Rhadamanthys became clear...

 

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Jarrett counted along with the static as he systematically cut-down turncoat PDF troopers,

 

'Hiss, two, three, four, pop, two, three, crackle, pop, hiss, two, three, four...'

 

Looking around he could see his brethren's assault continuing, with his wounds Castor had placed him in a supporting role, detailing him to harass the troops in the house and keep their heads down. Jarret appreciated the Sergeant's concern but he'd rather have been in the thick of the fighting, the best balm for pain was always action. Returning his mind to the task at hand he continued shattering windows and PDF troopers alike with his bolts, all the while chanting along with the static,

 

'Pop, two, three, crackle, pop, hiss, two, three...what the feth?'

 

Jarret's rhythm was interrupted as the static suddenly ceased, only to be replaced with a chilling sound that was half laugh, half cry. Jarrett knew the voice, distorted with pain and fear though it was,

 

'Rhad? Rhad is that you?'

 

Jarret concentrated for a moment, a mind impulse switching his heads up display to the short range tac-map, searching for the Brazen Claw's ident-beacon. The Grief Bringer's search was interrupted by the sudden chatter of comms as the Legio Marines acted to take advantage of the clear comms channels.

 

'Sergeant Castor, this is Captain Lycurgus. Report!'

 

Jarret listened as the Sergeant started to deliver his report to the newly arrived captain, breathing a sigh of relief that reinforcements had arrived. Turning back to the tac map Jarrett toggled the zoom out function, determined to find his friend's ident-beacon only to be distracted by an actinic flash of light to his left...

 

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Diffido stared at his tac-map, the sigils formed by the garden-servitor's warped programming seething and snapping at his mind, with a grunt of effort he tried to tear his eyes away from the awful vision. His tattoos started to itch fiercely and he could feel the heat generated by the activation of his electrum armour runes, he felt the coolness of the Emperor's blessing run through him as his armour's wards struggled against the psychic taint trying to enter his mind. He felt the sudden surge of the electrum circuits as his armour's machine spirit activated the correct sequence of runes to counter the chaos spell. The wards on his armour blazed with the spirit of the Emperor as they neutralised the psychic assault, he felt the backwash of the psychic shielding burn his skin, adding another pattern to the tattoos covering his body.

 

Gasping, in relief and in pain, he voxed Castor, interrupting the Sergeant's report to Captain Lycurgus to report his encounter with the chaos sigils on the tac-map. Both of the Legio officers turned on the Exorcist in disbelief, wondering where he had come by such expertise on the arcane tricks of the Arch-Enemy. Diffido was oath-bound not to reveal his Chapter's secrets and knew convincing the two Marines was going to be difficult, he launched into an explanation, only for the harsh croak of Brother Librarian Kruitzfeld's voice to cut through the argument.

 

'The Exorcist is right Captain, the gardens are tainted, order the men to turn off their tac-maps, now!'

 

The Librarian's command was punctuated by the roar of a missile launch in the background as his Devastator squads continued to demolish the PDF defences. Diffido breathed a sigh of relief and turned his attention back to his fallen Brothers, dashing from cover to cover he reached Mirandis, the Storm Caller Marine lay still, his black armoured form covered in a patina of frost. Reaching for the life-signs panel on Mirandis' forearm Diffido saw tell-tale red lights across the entire panel. Dead.

 

Lasbolts hissed and skipped off the gravel as Diffido headed across the compound to the slumped form of Brother Rhadamanthys...

 

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  • 2 months later...

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Diffido reached the twitching form of Rhadamanthys in a spray of gravel, his slide coming to a halt next to the fallen Marine. A quick burst of bolts sprayed at the mansion quietened the most enthusiastic lasgun wielders and allowed Diffido to drag Rhadamanthys to the scant cover of a carefully trimmed hedge. Reaching down, the Exorcist undid the mag-locks on Rhadamanthys' helmet, the seal broke with a hiss and Diffido could see the Brazen Claw's mind was still trapped by the power of the Chaos runes, his eyes stared sightlessly and tears of blood slowly trickled down his face.

 

Diffido surveyed the life signs panel on Rhadamanthys' forearm and saw a series of red and amber runes witha single green light burning fiercely in the centre of the panel. The youngster was alive, but not for much longer unless something snapped him out of the sorcerous trance that even now shook his body. Diffido's fingers flickered across the panel, ordering the armour's machine spirit to inject stimulants into the Brazen Claw's blood stream, the Exorcist waited as the drugs did their work, lights going from red to amber and amber to green but still Rhadamanthys' eyes stared into middle distance.

 

Cursing, Diffido realised it would take more than simple stimms to shake his squadmate free from the influences of this spell. The renewed hiss of lasbolts reminded him that there was still a battle to be won and the Exorcist instinctively let rip with a volley of shots at the trooper who had dared to fire on him, hurling the traitor backwards into the darkened building with a hideous scream. The scream was iterrupted by the voice of Captain Lycurgus, finally able to co-ordinate the assault now the vox interference was gone.

 

'All units, prepare to assault. Squad Kruitzfeld, I want one last volley from you before the assault, keep their heads down whilst we go in.'

 

Diffido replaced Rhadamanthys' helmet, no sense in the Brazen Claw dying when his armour could well save him, then readied himself for assault, if it went well he would bring Librarian Kruitzfeld back to the comatose Marine to see if he could break the spell. There was a roar as the Librarian focussed his squad's heavy weapons on the mansion once again, the explosions battered the defenders and the battle-cries of the Legio Marines rang through the suddenly still air as they began their assault.

 

Sprinting towards the house, Diffido's bolter coughed shells at traitors while all around him black clad Marines burst from cover to assault the mansion. Captain Lycurgus was first into the shattered, darkened building, litanies of hatred rolling from his lips as he led his warriors into the mansion, bolters roaring and chainswords whirring. The shaken, shocked PDF troopers were hopelessly outclassed in the close confines of the mansion, Diffido advanced through rooms already crowded with dead and wounded traitors, his bolter adding more to the long list of enemy dead as his Brothers cleared the rooms on either side of him.

 

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The nightmare flickered. For a moment the images of death and destruction, each accompanied by a wave of pain that wracked his mind, disappeared, replaced by a cool glow. The glow dimmed and then was engulfed by the horror once more...

 

Jarrett watched as sweat poured down the Librarian's face and a stream of wet, bubbling sounds issued from the Brazen Claw's slack mouth. The sounds of battle slowly drifted away as the Legio Marines cleaned out the last of the enemy resistance. In the distance Jarrett could hear Captain Lycurgus cursing, Cain was nowhere to be found and no one had heard from Squad Golgotha since Castor had ordered them to flank the enemy before the assault.

 

'Keep still!'

 

Apothecary Caple's voice was gruff as he probed Jarrett's wounds. Jarrett held himself as still as he could while the narthecium catalogued and treated his wounds. Needles stabbed him, blood and chemicals were transfused and survey probes took samples while Caple grunted occasionally as he adjusted one of the many dials and levers with a muttered prayer. Numbers and letters flashed across the narthecium's diagnostic screen faster than he could follow, but he was confident Caple knew what he was doing, after all, he'd been healing Legio Marines for more than two centuries since he was recruited from the Red Wolves.

 

The screams abated, the sobbing of pained souls subsided and a blessed silence descended momentarily. The silence throbbed in his mind, a dry, hollow sound. With a clap like thunder the wails began again and as they began to hammer his mind once more he was sure he heard words in Imperial Gothic...

 

The wall crumbled as Diffido powered through it, his auto senses pierced the gloom and drifting rockcrete dusk and with an almost mechanical efficiency he gunned down the handful of traitors in the room, almost enjoying the dismay and shock on their faces.

 

'Clear'

 

The call went out over the vox-waves, signalling the final room in the mansion was clear. Diffido reloaded, placing his second last clip firmly in place. He listened as Castor rapped out orders then moved through the rubble to take his place in the defense perimeter wondering how Kruitzfeld was doing in reviving the young Brazen Claw.

 

Silence reigned and the depraved images faded and became pallid, almost opaque, before fading further, this time to nothingness. The void was almost as unbearable as the screams and blood to his over-stimulated mind...

 

Sergeant Castor stood over the kneeling Marine, watching in superstitious awe as a nimbus of blue light crackled silently around the Librarian's psychic hood. The corded muscle on the psyker's neck stood out and sweat sheened his snarling face. Kruitzfeld's eyes blazed with white light and his clenched teeth reflected the light, seeming to take on a glow of their own as his bare hand quivered fractionally above Rhadmamthys' forehead.

 

Now it was the turn of the blackness to fade, the darkness pierced by a silver light that grew brighter with each passing moment. His mind shuddered as he watched the sphere of light begin to morph, stretching to the sides and flowing down from the outstretched arms of light. It seemed there was something familiar about the shape, something that he should know...

 

Captain Lycurgus stalked through the mansion, clenching his real hand into a fist, kicking corpses out of his way as he listened to the reports of his squads. No sign of Cain, no sign of the Traitor Legions at all. Opening the command channel Lycurgus voxed his squad leaders, ordering them to gather their men and prepare to move on the secondary objective. If Cain wasn't in the mansion, then the Captain's worst fears were all but confirmed - Cain was holed up in the Arbites precinct, right where Lycurgus had predicted he would be before he was over ruled by Captain O'rch'dng.

 

The light grew more intense as it's shape became more defined, the arms slowly turned into triangles of light and the sphere at the centre of the apparition grew almost rectangular. His mind groped towards the symbol, still unable to recall it's name or purpose but knowing it meant salvation...

 

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Following on from SCC's great piece above (love the interspersed warp-fevered dreams that Rhadamanthys is experiencing. ;)) here is a bit more from Captain Lycurgus, formerly of the Celestial Lions, now commanding the Legio Bolter & Chainsword strike-force...

 

 

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There was a storm coming, or so his superiors told him. The Thirteenth Black Crusade was just the start.

 

The Tarot had revealed that Tomax Hell, Daemon-Prince of the Night Lords was gathering forces outside of the Eye of Terror, and that the Treacher Legions were flocking to his banner. Lycurcus

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  • 2 weeks later...
  • 2 weeks later...

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Six times the needle of the syringe slid into flesh.

 

Every time it happened, Golgotha felt himself die a little more.

 

They had warned him - threatened him! - of the effects of the Quintessence Daemonica, that even tiny amounts brought about uncontrollable, raging psychosis, but what they were administering could only be massive doses.

 

It was obvious what they intended to happen. Even as he saw the look of triumph flash across the face of the Captain as the reinforced door swung closed, he knew that they intended him to butcher the rest of his squad.

 

He had hoped that his carefully affected disregard for the fate of his squad might keep them safe, that they would be taken in by their own perception of the Scions as caring nothing for the marines of other Chapters.

 

It was not true, of course. He had served with these men for decades. It surprised him, but he realised that these were his Battle Brothers just as much as any Scion of Dorn.

 

The first effects of the Quintessence Daemonica became evident just as his restraints snapped open. Golgotha rolled out of the Apothecary chair and as he landed on the stone floor he saw his missing helmet, bolter and chainsword in a pile against the back wall.

 

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Sergeant Castor watched as the nimbus surrounding Librarian Kruitzfeld coruscated, spitting purple sparks erupting within the cool blue glow. Castor shuffled backwards, instinctively making the Aquila as the sparks clashed with the cool blue once more. Sweat was pouring down the psyker's face now and Castor could hear his teeth grinding, with an inarticulate cry of effort the Librarian's bare hand touched the prone Brazen Claw's forehead.

 

There was a percussive blast and Marines all around trained their weapons on the source of the noise as Castor was thrown to the ground by the psychic backwash of Kruitzfeld's mental exertions. The Librarian stood slowly, wisps of acrid smoke rising from his psychic hood, his eyes suddenly ringed by dark circles of fatigue, his voice was barely a croak when he found it.

 

'It is done.'

 

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The symbol flexed, shuddered and then steadied, it's glow turning to a soft silver.

 

Aquila.

 

The word echoed in his wounded mind, it's sound filling the emptiness, obliterating the cold silence.

 

Imperium.

 

A new word joined the first as the eagle-symbol grew, pushing back the darkness.

 

God-Emperor.

 

The third word rang in his mind, it's golden tones washing away the lingering pains and shattering the last vestiges of darkness.

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Castor scrambled to his feet as Rhadamanthys jerked upright, coughing like a man near-drowned, thick black bile spilling from the Legionnaire's lips as the fit shuddered to a halt. The young Marine steadied himself, breathing hard with the effort of sitting upright, still spitting bilious fluid as the Sergeant approached him cautiously, his hand on the holster of his bolt pistol, searching Rhadamanthys' eyes for any sign of corruption or possession. Kruitzfeld's firm grip lifted Castor's hand away from the pistol as he spoke.

 

'Do not worry Sergeant, his mind is free from taint.'

 

Scepticism flashed across Castor's face but he held his tongue, it was not a Marine's place to disagree with the brothers of the Librarium where the Warp was concerned.

 

'How do I know you speak truly Kruitzfeld?'

 

Captain Lycurgus clearly had no compunctions about questioning the veracity of a Brother-Librarian's statements, his words cut through the howling wind of Alcmene as he stalked forward, the Iron Hand Croeseus at his side. Kruitzfeld turned and eyes that had moments before shone power now shone with anger.

 

'Are you a psyker Captain? Has the Emperor touched you with the gift of second sight whilst I wasn't looking?'

 

The Librarian's tone was cold and he did not wait for Lycurgus' reply but rather turned to Rhadamanthys and spoke a few words to him in a low voice. The Brazen Claw nodded slowly, then looked around, a quizzical look on his face, his hands patting the ground around him, he grunted, his mind and mouth unable to form the words he was looking for as his left hand wrapped itself around the familiar shape of his Procyon pattern chainsword.

 

His right hand kept moving, he grunted again, louder. Castor stepped forward and Rhadamanthys grunted once more, the words still jumbled, but Castor knew what he was looking for. The Brazen Claw's jaws worked again and this time the words were clear.

 

'Pistol. Bolt pistol.'

 

Castor smiled as he guided the young Legionnaire's hand to his treasured Filienostos pattern bolt pistol. A grin lit up Rhadamanthys' face as he crossed his weapons reverently and began to recite the Libation of the Emperor. Castor's fears that the young Legionnaire had been tainted melted away as he heard the words, joining his voice to the Brazen Claws'

 

'The Emperor is our guiding Light, A beacon of hope for Humanity in a galaxy of Darkness.'

 

As the two Marines recited the canticle their Brothers joined in.

 

'As we serve Him, He is our greatest servant. As we pray to Him, His thoughts are only for us.'

 

Castor looked around the ruined square, listening as the Marine's voices drowned out the dismal howl of Alcmene's eternal winds.

 

'And in the dark when the shadows threaten, The Emperor is with us, In spirit and in fact.'

 

Castor felt pride glow in his heart as the Marines shouted their devotion to the skies, looking around the Sergeant felt that glow falter as he locked eyes with Croeseus, the Iron Hand silent amongst his brothers, a grimace on his face as he stared at Rhadamanthys.

 

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Rhadamanthys' head ached fiercely and the vile taste of Chaos was still raw on his tongue but Captain Lycurgus would brook no delays - the Legio was on the move once more. The black armoured Marines moved through the desolate cityscape, weapons at the ready, senses stretched for the slightest indication of ambush.

 

Rhadamanthys and the other injured Marines had been formed into an ad-hoc squad under the care of Apothecary Caple, Castor and his weakened squad formed the rearguard, Captain Lycurgus and his command squad formed the vanguard of the Legio advance. Rhadamanthys was uncomfortable in the ad-hoc squad, he was new to the Legio and only Brother Jarrett was known to him, the Grief Bringer seemed more sure of himself, exhanging quiet banter with a Star Dragon Marine in a battered suit of Maximus armour.

 

A hand signal from Lycurgus halted the column silently, waving the Marines into cover the Captain signalled for his squad leaders. Rhadamanthys strained his senses, staring into the darkness, toggling through the infra-red, ultra-violet and night-vision modes his helmet offered as he watched for any sign of enemy activity. He offered a prayer to his armour's Machine Spirit, asking it to scan a range of vox frequencies for any hint of enemy communications as he turned up the gain on his external pick-ups, listening for the slightest out of place sound. Another howling gust of wind rushed down Tranquility Way and the Brazen Claw winced as the amplified sound battered his already throbbing head.

 

Nothing.

 

Looking around he saw the angled snout of the Star Dragon's helmet silhouetted against a sudden flare of light, a moment later a heavy las blast burst through the ancient armour, the sound of shattering ceramite drowning out even the constant moan of wind. Bolter fire erupted all around the Legio Marines, joined by the meatier sounds of heavier weaponry and the high pitched whine of las-fire...

 

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  • 3 weeks later...
  • 1 month later...

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Leaving the rest of his squad to their fates, Brother Croeseus pulled himself up onto the roof. He was an Iron Hand, after all, unfettered by weaknesses of the flesh like attachments and friendship. All that mattered was the mission

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  • 7 months later...

It's back. Finally :D We know how it all ends, we just need to write it up now, so here's the first bit of the last bit if you know what I mean...

 

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Rhadamanthys levered himself up from the corner Jarrett had shepherded him to. He moved slowly, his body still aching, but his mind was clearer than at any time since the assault on the governor's residence and the Chaos mind-trap that had ensnared him.

 

Shivers shook him at just the thought of that experience. He gripped his bolt pistol tighter and murmured a prayer to the Emperor, the tremors stopped as he breathed the final words of thanks. Moving to the door he saw Legio Marines slowly moving through the ruined streets, beating back the ambush with cold efficiency. The sound of battle was changing, the coughing roar of bolters had diminished, becoming one sided. He toggled the company wide vox channel open.

 

'The Night Lords are withdrawing.'

 

A chorus of replies answered him, confirming his deduction. The ambush was broken now, Marines still fought cultists but without the support of the Night Lords they stood no chance against the black armoured Astartes. Rhadamanthys opened a vox channel to Jarrett.

 

'Brother Jarrett?'

 

Static hissed gently as he waited for a reply. Above the static he heard another sound, the crackling hiss of a jump pack, looking out the window he saw the gargoyle like form of a Night Lord Raptor flash past. His bolt pistol jerked as he snapped off a short burst. The Brazen Claw cursed his aching body as the shots went wide and the Raptor touched down on the roof of a building before launching himself on another jet powered leap.

 

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More icons lit up on Jarrett's faceplate, a small armour schematic flashed brightly, urgently. A small red helix blinked rapidly 3 times and faded to nothing more than an outline. Glancing down the Grief Bringer saw his armour's damaged plates had been torn open once more, the patched armour cratered unnoticed by the Raptor's fusillade as the Traitor retreated. Varicoloured fluids leaked from the hole, dull yellows, bilious greens and oily browns.

 

Blood red.

 

Jarrett's body shook gently as his armour's narthecium dispensed the last of its painkillers and coagulants into his body. Lifting his eyes from the ruin that was his torso the Legionnaire watched impassively, his mind and body both numbed from the drugs entering his system, as the Raptor leapt from building to building. From his vantage point he could see the flaring lights of other jump packs as the traitor's brethren fled down the boulevard.

 

With a shake of his head Jarret fought off the drug and injury induced fog in his mind. He looked at the flashing icons once more, grimaced, then headed down the stairs onto the streets, following the traitor's movements as quickly as his battered body and armour would allow. He opened a vox channel to Captain Lycurgus, informing him of the enemy's escape route. The Captain's response to Jarrett was vitriolic.

 

'Bones of St. Macharius! Get after them Legionnaire, don't just watch them!'

 

Jarrett gritted his teeth, biting back a sharp reply, he couldn't hold back the sarcasm that laced his voice though as he forced his shattered body into a shambling run.

 

"Yes sir, Captain sir!'

 

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