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'We have come to destroy you!'

Wednesday, December 14, 2016

Come the Apocalypse - Faustian Schism



The black ship slid silently through the void. All lights dulled and all systems in low power. Stealth was of utmost concern. This area was crawling with enemy filth. The scout mission was tedious affair but vital. Captain Gall had very clear orders from Azeron. 'Monitor, listen, report'. Gall's thoughts were interrupted by an orderly carrying a data slate. 'Sir! We have something' Gall plugged the data slate into his captain's chair and brought up in the information. The signal was bad and fading.
'Run it!' shouted Gall. Hulking black armoured marines, the bridge guard, stood silent like statues behind him until the information flashed across the screen.

One immediately leapt forward and began analysing the signal 'Captain! It's Brother Cyrus' ID code! Open communications to Azeron immediately! We must make landfall on that location.’

Augers had revealed no immediate threat, so drop pods had been deemed wasteful by the techpriest. Twin Thunderhawks slid through the atmosphere like arrows cast into the morning mist. Black bodkins against miserable skies.

The first Thunderhawk, simply adorned and lacking the plethora of gilding and oaths of moment many other Astartes chapters preferred landed on the blasted rock. The planet segment, as it was best described lacked a true ecosystem, its atmosphere was little more than the movement of moisture. Thunder rumbled in the distance as the ramp slammed down casting dark dust into the air. The lack of heavier gravity made the motes of grey powder float, only to be disrupted by Gall walking through.

A Marine with an Auspex pointed the way, over a serrated crest of rocks. The second Thunderhawk roared overhead, remaining on station and circling the area for threats.

As Gall blazed over the hill, he brought up his pistol. Ahead, in the centre of what seemed to be a crater the size of a loading bay, stood a tall figure beside a crouching one.

Lamp packs engaged illuminating the shadows. The crouching figure was large enough to be an Astartes, though it’s armour was blackened, still showing the signs of mk7 pattern and a briefest flash of a red scorpion on the pauldron. The Marine was a Black Scorpion, Brother Cyrus if his beacon was to be believed. He was last seen entering the Necrontyr Duat, denying the enemy great gains and sacrificing himself to an unknown fate. Brother Cyrus, did not move. Though vapors from his vox grill showed life.

The taller figure standing by Cryus spoke:“Pax, Brothers.” the figure said, the words harsh sounding and strange coming from such a demonic figure. “I am Chapter Master Sevastus Kranon, of the former Crimson Sabres.” Red armoured and gilded with dirty metals, the horns and baleful helm lens’ had Gall’s team aiming at his head in seconds. A Traitor Marine!

“AUSPEX?” Gall barked.

“He is alone, my Lord.” Came the reply.

A dozen laser dot’s decorated the Chaos Lord’s helms as the entire squad held aim. Kranon had not been encountered in the Chapters history, yet his reputation was well known.

“Wait!” Shouted the Auspex bearer. “Augers detect several detonators in the area. Radiation too.”

“Twelve Deliverance pattern torpedos. I had them fired into the planetoid. Remote detonation.” Kranon said, shrugging. “One cannot be too careful.”

Commander Gall growled.

“Explain to me why I shouldn’t sacrifice all here to be sure of your death.” Gall asked. His anger at the trap was bordering on rage. His gauntleted fingers itched to fire.

Kranon was silent for a second. “The Codex Astartes? Axiom 12, regarding the sacrifice of troops: Weigh heavily on the value of the deaths of thy own forces when their deaths are required to accomplish the mission. Regard not just their singular worth bu-”

“-But also what they may yet accomplish if not sacrificed there and then. I know the line well, Traitor.” Gall interrupted.

Kranon cocked his head to one side. “Guilliman was untouchable a tactician, but questionable as an author.”

Gall’s fist clenched around his bolt pistols grip so hard he could feel the soft recoil-reduction skin peeling away. “Are you only here to insult primarchs?”

“No, indeed not.” Kranon said. He motioned to the crouching Brother Cyrus. “Firstly, I come offering a gift. Yours I believe? We found him, believe it or not, on the other end of the galaxy. I figured he might come in handy, but to see your heraldry. Well, it almost makes me want to believe in the benevolence of gods again.” He chuckled bitterly.

The commander breathed out slowly. “A trick. As everything you offer or say will be, Traitor.”

Kranon feigned offence “Can’t we just get along? Our paths are closer than you think after all, I would go so far as to say the only difference between thee and me is but one. Bad. Day.”
“SILENCE” Gall roared. “I know your history, traitor. The Crimson Sabres were once known for their fealty. But now, twisted, cursed and damned. All you think about is Slaugh-”

“Survival.” Kranon said, cutting him off. The word cutting through Gall’s hate with its sincerity. It sounded, despite the best efforts of the Chaos Lord’s helm, sad. “You don’t yet know what it is to fall. It is a quiet thing. Subtle and slow.”

Kranon turned to Brother Cyrus’ form. “He was found like this. In a Sus-an induced coma. You may find hexagrammic wards chiseled into his armour. This was a… courtesy. Our ship is known to corrupt.”

He gestured away from the scene. “Walk with me, commander, if you dare.”

Grunting, Gall followed the Chaos Lord. “Take him and begin examination.” He said to his men.

Pacing slowly across the dust, the two astartes, one fallen, one true, stomped tread marks into the ground as their cloaks flapped lazily in the low-g wind.

Suddenly Kranon stopped. “The 13th Crusade of Abaddon begins, within this very year. Abaddon seeks to end all things.” he said. “He has sent us to examine the goings on of the Emperors children. I know you are doing much the same but have better resources. I would have your findings. And in return, I will give you what I know of Abaddons intentions to your area of space.”

Gall almost laughed. “An interesting proposition, yet you betray and backstab even your new lords. What trust is left? You deserve nothing less than death a thousand times over. And why only our home? If it is a crusade you speak of, why not the plans against Terra?”

Kranon turned to face the loyalist. Archaic armour against Gall’s smooth. “Because like us, the Black Scorpions are survivors. We both know the Imperium is in its final days and when she turns on you, and she will, then you will be ready. Humanity before the Imperium, yes?. I know things my brother. I know of you and your chapter, I know of your sacrifice and honour...of glory untold… yet… the Imperium moves against you. Already now I can hear them grinding into action. What will you do when the hammer falls?’’ Kranon didn’t wait for an answer. “The Crimson Sabres once tried with all their might to be the best the Imperium had. For all our loyalty and our service we were spurned and when we needed help most, betrayed.”

His words bit deep into Gall’s soul. He could feel it. For all his failures Kranon spoke the truth. Gall knew well of the exemplary and fine work of the Crimson Sabres. Their tragedy was a tale of woe, a warning to all. A message that even the finest can fall. A message that there is no reward for the faithful, for the great brothers of the Astartes. Their purpose was once to die for the Emperor, now it was to die for the Imperium. ‘Only in death does duty end’ thought Gall. The Sabres embodied that motto fully, even in their now traitorous form. Part of him admired their stubbornness...

“Your words are meaningless traitor! You spat on all that we stand for: Our sacred oaths. You, are a coward for fleeing those oaths.” Gall said,  hand idly thumbing his power weapon. He forced those treacherous thoughts away and focused at the task at hand.

Kranon’s voice was a low grumble which rose to a frustrated growl. “I long for the day all your kind see your Imperium for what it truly is: An empty lighthouse. A soul furnace to vainly guide your ships in the encroaching night. The Imperium is a failing beast, dragging it’s back legs as it tries to fight on. I long for the day I see your face, screaming in horror at the truth of things. I can already see it. I can see your doubt… I can TASTE IT!”

Gall drew his sword in a blue sparking arc, ready to lunge. Kranon put his hand up, revealing the detonator and its dead man’s switch. ‘Careful now Captain… let us calm ourselves. We have vital information, you have vital information… let us make this simple exchange and we can save our war for another day’

A voice shouted into Kranon’s ear. “My Lord, long range augers detecting Xenos ships, Eldar pattern. Unmistakeable. They've detected us!” Kranon nodded, trying to control his breathing. He wasn’t hearing just one voice in his ear, but several now. Whispers of anguish and vengeance which would be soon a crescendo of malice driving him to unspeakable acts of mindless slaughter. He needed a fresh kill to regain his calm. The sweet souls of dying eldar would quench his thirst….for now’

He turned to Commander Gall, and noted his ship was most likely giving him similar information. The two figures immediately put distance between each other and backed away, weapons raised.

“Let us conclude this conversation another time, Commander.’ Kranon sneered. ‘The Eldar have come for us both! Let us see if your reputation is deserved!”

Gall turned swiftly and began barking orders. ‘This is Gall, Request immediate reinforcements on my position. Squads form up on the right flank, defence pattern Zulu-88. That Crimson traitor filth will be on us at the first opportunity! Dig in!'


 Metres away in the other direction, Kranon was already snapping out orders as well. “Bring up the Aegis, prepare for counter attack. The second we have the information we need, make corpses of those Scorpion meeklings. But first. The Eldar.”

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