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 King Pariah wrote:
Now I'm curious as to how the Iron Warriors are faring. I'm assuming they anticipated this hence why their fortress world is even more heavily fortified

You could guess.

lliu wrote:

 King Pariah wrote:
Now I'm curious as to how the Iron Warriors are faring. I'm assuming they anticipated this hence why their fortress world is even more heavily fortified

If you would like to see why, I assume you should check one of my earlier posts.

Dude, please refrain from spoilers, not everyone read the old thread

lliu wrote:

 King Pariah wrote:
Now I'm curious as to how the Iron Warriors are faring. I'm assuming they anticipated this hence why their fortress world is even more heavily fortified

If you would like to see why, I assume you should check one of my earlier posts.

Spoilers much? Shesh.

Its like yelling at the top of your lungs! SPOILERS jesus dies at the end of the bible! Spoilers! He resurrects himself!

Its rude for those who don't know.

No I am not equating 40k to the bible.... or am I?

I did read the old thread way back when and I recall

However, things seem to be taking a different course in our Dark Lord's current rendition of the End of Times when compared to the old thread, so I'm not inclined to believe that

 Dark Lord Seanron wrote:

lliu wrote:

 King Pariah wrote:
Now I'm curious as to how the Iron Warriors are faring. I'm assuming they anticipated this hence why their fortress world is even more heavily fortified

You could guess.

Dude, please refrain from spoilers, not everyone read the old thread

Changed. Sorry.

 King Pariah wrote:
I did read the old thread way back when and I recall

Spoiler:

that the Space Wolves lay siege on the Iron Warriors and successfully get Leman Russ back and Perturabo gets whisked away by apparently the Emperor himself

However, things seem to be taking a different course in our Dark Lord's current rendition of the End of Times when compared to the old thread, so I'm not inclined to believe that

Spoiler:

the Space Wolves will be pulling that stunt again

Thank you for taking the time to spoiler this.

With a shuddering gasp, Allisa Traynor awoke to a needle sharp pain in her head and bright light in her eyes. She coughed to clear phlegm and congestion from her throat, her insides sore from abuse that she could not recall but felt all too keenly. Her vision swam, kaleidoscopic shapes flitting across her eyes and blurring the edges of her peripheral vision lending the world a maddened watercolour glaze. Her lungs wouldn't respond as they should, and a coil of panic tightened within her, worsening her delirium and pain. She could make out voices, just at the edge of her hearing. They spoke urgently and calmly, although what they were saying she could not make out. She felt hands grip her wrists and shoulders firmly, although not unkindly, and held her down in her coughing fit. Her body tensed again as her diaphragm forced the oxygen from her body and then all was black once more.

Allisa's eyes opened once more, slower and with less pain than before. She could not tell how long since she blacked out, only that the pain had subsided into a low hum prowling at the edge of her awareness. Her vision was still blurred, and she tried to raise her hand to wipe her eyes, but it would not respond: something was holding her wrist, tight and authoritative. She craned her neck groggily, a headache ever at the border of her senses. Through the liquid fog blurring her vision she could see that she was lying down clothed in a plain white robe, similar to those worn in hospitals or medicae centres. Although she could not make out the details of the room around her, she could see that it was similarly plain in colour, with silvers and whites making up the majority of the background. Above her was some form of silver shape that shone a soft light down upon her. The room smelt of antiseptics and artificial sterility, and a gentle hum permeated the air giving the impression of machinery working nearby. Allisa could just make out the form of cream bindings around her wrists bound to the rim of where she was lying, limiting her movement. Lying back down, exhaustion took her again, and once again the world went black.

When she next awoke, it was to the sound of a female voice singing gently. Soft and not at all unpleasant, the voice sang a well-known hymn: “The Emperor, He is my Chariot”. It was a lilting, light refrain and although Allisa was still unaware of where she was or how she had gotten there, the hymnal quietened the thrumming in her head. Allisa raised her head slowly, and this time her eyes swam into focus.

She was in a white sterile room, the walls tiled with green and cream squares. Along the walls were stacked shelves busy with medical paraphernalia and monitoring equipment, all neatly ordered and well maintained. The ceiling was similarly coloured, with pale white lumen strips built into shallow recesses, lending the room a sterile manufactured quality. At the centre of the ceiling and directly above Allisa was a silver domed aperture that radiated soft golden light and was responsible for the gentle hum that permeated the air. Several wires snaked and wound their way like ivy from the walls up into the device and although it gave no outward sign of danger or aggression, Allisa couldn’t help but pull away from it. She diverted her attention away from the dome and focused on the figure standing to the left of the room.

Dressed in a simple cream robe, the figure had her back to Allisa and was busying herself with a chart tacked to the wall of the room. She was humming quietly to herself whilst marking points on the chart and comparing them to a small data slate in her right hand. A white habit adorned the top of her head, and from the bottom edges of it could be seen red, thick curly hair. The woman in white was short, gentle and slim, and obviously very feminine. Allisa tried to speak to gain the woman’s attention but all that elicited from her dry throat was a cracked cough. The woman span on the spot in shock, dropping her data slate and throwing her hand to her chest in fright. She evidently had not expected Allisa to be awake let alone try and speak.

The woman’s face was round and lightly freckled, and her eyes were a warm green, like foliage in summer. Around her neck lay a silver chain that ended in a small medallion: a vertical rod wrapped in laurel wreathes and entwined in the facsimile of a snake. Allisa breathed in some relief, the woman was a Sister Hospilatier, which meant Allisa was in a hospital. There must have been an accident, that’s why she was in pain. She strained to speak again, but her throat failed her and she coughed hard. The Sister found herself again and moved quickly to Allisa’s side.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Her voice was soft and reassuring, maternal in its kindness. She reached for a glass of water just outside Allisa’s immediate vision. Placing a hand gently under Allisa’s head, she helped her drink down the cool water. It was biting and refreshing, and her body greeted it like a desert wanderer at an oasis. The sister continued, “you’re not actually meant to be awake, so I hope you forgive me for being a little shocked.”

Allisa gave one last cough, and finally found her voice, “Where am I? What happened?” Her voice was like dried parchment, and her throat felt like it had not been used in years. She imagined sand rising in her breath as if from some ancient tomb. The gentle face above her winced slightly as the sister responded.

"You’re in Gallileo City Medicae Chapel…there was an accident you see. You were brought here immediately after.”

Allisa could not remember any accident, and when she tried to sift through her recent memories her headache worsened. She screwed her eyes shut and let out a breath of frustration.

“Was I hurt? I can’t move my arms or legs…”

The sister looked uncomfortable, and she allowed Allisa another sip of cool water. Although her voice was still kind and seemingly helpful, she was clearly unwilling to divulge further.

“I’m not really supposed to be speaking to you…under the circumstances. You should really be asleep. You weren’t meant to wake up until they got here”

A twinge of panic ran through Allisa, and a tremor entered her voice.

“Who are they? What’s going on? Answer me!!”

The sister looked to the door, then back at Allisa, her look of soft concern never leaving her face. She bit her lip lightly before speaking again, clearly keen to end the exchange.

“I’ve said too much. You should really be asleep, you need your strength for when they come. I’m really very sorry. Just try to relax. With all the confusion happening, you’re a bit on edge. I’ll help you relax”

Allisa felt the sister’s hand fumble with something behind her head, and before she could raise another objection there was a bright intense pain in the back of her skull. All went white as her brain fought against consciousness, before slipping back into the reassuring blackness of coma.


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When next Allisa awoke, she was somewhere else entirely. She was no longer lying down but sat in a cold steel chair before a similarly cold table. It was pristine and reflective, and only a small black microphone sphere sat at the centre of it. She could see and feel clearly now that she was restrained at the wrists by thick cream straps, the kind usually associated with infirmity of the mind. They did not cause her pain, but they did not allow movement either. This room was also pale, this time tiled in blue and white and one wall was dominated by a reflective pale mirror giving the illusion that room was far larger than it realistically was.

Her reflection made her gasp: where Allisa’s long, brown hair should have been now was a shorn scalp, shocking in its baldness - she looked like a convict or a victim of radiation sickness and the sight sickened her. Tears welled up in Allisa’s eyes as she craned her neck to take in the full horror of her reflection. A glint of metal made her freeze, and she realised something was attached to the back of her head, some spindled insect device that she could not fully see. The vision of it gave it weight and her neck ached under this foreign strain. What had they done to her? What was happening? She choked on a sob, about to call out for someone, anyone to help her when an automated door opened on the wall behind her. A pair of booted feet tread across the tiled floor to stand at the table in front of her, and she quailed at her visitors.

Arbites Officers, a pair of fully armoured and viscously armed Arbites stood in front of her impassively. Beetle-black and heavenly laden, violence radiated from them like Suns. One wore a riot helmet, a grim skull-like façade covering the face and leaving only their eyes visible, burning with a look of intense disgust at the manacled victim before them. The second went without helm, and with his straight noble features and slick blonde hair would have been considered handsome if not for the look of intense cruelty on his face. The helmeted officer waived his hand over the table tripping an invisible beam held there, and a pair of chairs similar to the one Allisa was bound to rose from the floor behind them. Seating themselves before her with an abrasive squeak of metal on ceramic, the helmeted officer sat with a callous slouch, eyes burning into her and forcing her to blush whilst the other smoothed his uniform and placed his hands on the table. Only then did Alissa notice the weighty documents held in the second Arbites’ hand. They sat in painful silence for many minutes before the bare-headed man spoke.

“Suspect is one Allisa Anne Traynor, Age twenty seven Terran standard. Preliminary interrogation to be held by myself, Arbite Investigator First Class Joshua Dougan and Arbite Enforcer third Class Amanda Riker.”

His voice was deep and liquid, like water flowing through a cavern deep below ground. His eyes were a cruel pale blue and they never left Allisa, even as he opened the files before him and spread them on the table. There were several grainy black and white photos amid the files, and he gestured to them as he spoke again.

“Ms Traynor, you stand accused of an act of terrorism and witchcraft on this the Emperor’s day of Spinreal 15th. You knowingly entered the centre of Gallileo City, seventh precinct and caused bodily and fatal harm to thirty eight of the Emperor’s subjects…”

Allisa felt a sudden sickness at the pit of her stomach. There must have been some kind of mistake. Her eyes scrolled the images laid below her and she gagged: bodies lay all around in the photos, many of them torn open and maimed in a most brutal fashion. A crater lay at the centre of many of the images, vehicles tossed aside and glass covering everything, with smoke bellowing from its sunken structure. It was as if a bomb had been set off at the heart of the pictures. He continued speaking, running down a list of fantastical acts that He accused Allisa of enacting: use of warpcraft, slaying of innocents through biomancy, consorting with powers most ruinous. Allisa held back a cry and pleaded with the officer’s before her.

“I don’t know what you mean…I’d never hurt anyone. Ever! Please, if you can just tell me what’s going on then…”

The first officer, the one with the grim helmet, slammed their hand hard on the table causing Allisa to flinch at the sudden violence. Whereas Allisa had assumed the figure to be a man, a female voice heavy with spite crackled from the voice box of the black armoured head.

“We have the proof right here Traynor, so don’t try and worm your way out of this. Your guilt has already been decided, we are here to ascertain whether you had any accomplices in your crime witch!”

The word witch hit Allisa like a mailed fist. It wasn’t just a derogatory insult thrown at her by the Arbites, the way she had said was loaded with meaning and literal spite. They believed fully that she was a witch.

“What…what do you mean witch? I am no witch”

The male officer leaned forward, his voice still like liquid gold.

“You are a piece of psyker filth, and these images attest to that” he gestured once more to the photos “You are guilty, that much is clear. You will be treated as such. However the severity of that treatment could be lightened based on your cooperation with our questions.”

Allisa lowered her eyes, tears forming on her lashes. She looked at the photos again, and this time at the centre of the crater she made out the hazy image of a person lying there, wrapped up in pain in a foetal position. She recognised this person, the long hair, and the tasteful clothes. The person in the photos was her. Why couldn’t she remember? What had happened? The investigator saw the recognition in her eyes and continued, this time gentler than before.

“I understand things may seem a bit hazy right now. For the continued safety of ourselves and every other human being in the city we have had to muzzle you” He gestured to the back of her head with his eyes “the process can have an effect with the formation of short term memories. You understand naturally. We simply want to know who your co-conspirators are and when they are going to strike again. Your fate will be merciful if you cooperate”

A bitter sob wracked Allisa at the accuisation, and a desperate panic gripped her voice as pleas of her innocence tumbled from her.

“There are no co-conspirators! I don’t know what you mean. I am no witch! Please, you have to understand, I have no part of plot! You need to believe me!”

The female Arbite rose suddenly and with a fast and brutal motion slapped Allisa hard across her face. She felt a tooth crack and blood leapt from her mouth to splatter across the tiled floor. Her vision rocked and a pain like fire wracked her face and neck. She could feel liquid run down her face and throat, and her tears turned from sorrow to genuine terror. The distorted voice of the female Arbite resounded again.

“Enough of your whimpering, Heathen! Tell us what we need to know or by the Emperor I will beat you black and blue right here! Understand!?”

The investigator placed his hand calmly on his colleagues shoulder, and she sat down grudgingly once more. Allisa’s breath came in short bloody gasps, fear overriding all other concerns. She ran her tongue across her teeth, trying to clear away the gore that matted there. The male sat forward again, twining his hands together and in a voice calmer than the situation dictated nodded solemnly.

“Let’s begin then”


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


This process continued for what seemed like hours. The male officer would ask questions, many of them simply reworded or deconstructed versions of ones he had asked previously. Sometimes he would ask questions in no way related to the interrogation, then quickly follow with another in the hope of tripping Allisa up. Allisa answered as best she could, however she could genuinely find no reason or memory that suggested she was part of these crimes.

Whenever she uttered an indication of her innocence, the female Arbite would answer with no words but violence. She had slapped Allisa several times, punched her twice in the stomach, cracked the back of her neck with her fist and at one point had broken Allisa’s wedding finger on her right hand. The digit sat awkwardly and blackened, and her whole hand burned from the mistreatment. She no longer cried at the abuse, her eyes were dry and empty of tears. The questions and pain continued for hours and hours, and Allisa felt that she would die before the end.


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Investigator Dougan sat back in his chair, frustration etched in his usually calm demeanour. The broken and beaten woman before him had given them nothing except pitiful excuses and tears, and his throat was raw from the constant questioning. She sat now with her head hung low, a strangled gasp escaping her bruised and broken body, blood dripping in a staccato rhythm from her lips. He felt no pity for the witch, but several times he had to call Riker off. She was a mad dog with a spiteful temper, and a dead witch would be even less use to them than a quiet one. He focussed on the broken woman before him and breathed a long exasperated sigh:

“Very well Ms Traynor…your unwillingness to comply with our wishes is noted. This interview is over. We’ll let the Ordos handle you now”

He nodded to Riker who paced behind the prisoner. She reached roughly for the muzzle at the back of Traynor’s head, gripping the apparatus firmly and aggressively. With a slight adjustment and a whine of mechanical workings, the muzzle robbed the prisoner of consciousness once more. He breathed deeply and stretched as he rose from the small metal chair he had occupied since the beginning of the interrogation. Riker noted the time in small note book in her thigh pocket and gestured to cameras hidden in the walls to her colleagues outside to open the doors.

Walking side by side, the officers left the interrogation cell out into the wider corridors of Gallileo City Hospital. They walked silently for a few paces before Riker gave voice to her concerns.

“So, we found nothing from that witch except lies and frustration. Makes me sick to my back teeth.” She tightened her knuckles beneath her matt black armoured gloves “what are we going to do now?”

Dougan straightened as he walked, and smoothed the front of his uniform out of habit. He turned to face his colleague head on. He had never been comfortable with Riker’s habit of wearing her helm indoors, it was deeply unnerving which probably suited the Enforcer just fine.

“Everywhere was chaos that day, so we know for a fact that it was a coordinated effort to usurp Imperial law. She is the one psyker out of five dozen suspects we detained. I know she’s either the ring leader or very close to the top of whatever is happening here. I hate to say it, but it looks like we’ll need to bring the Ordos in on this. Let them shake down the Witch and her cronies”

Riker nodded solemnly. The Ordos of the Holy Inquisition had authority and jurisdiction across all of the Imperium, but no Arbite from the highest Judge to the lowest boot stomper on the streets like to release control to them. Riker reached for the communicator at her waist and nodded to her superior.

“I’ll make the call”


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Agony greeted Traynor as she awoke once more, and she sucked in air hard and fast as her body adjusted to wakefulness. Everywhere ached, her skin was alight with pain and her bones ground against one another with relentless friction. She was back in the hospital bed, but the room was dark now: the lumen strips lowered to give the illusion of night. She had not been cleaned since the interrogation, and blood matted on her skin and between her teeth, and her wrists were still strained under the restraints of leather bindings. She wanted to cry but found she had run out of tears long ago. She felt violated and abused and at that moment she could have wished for death. Judging by the throbbing ache of her bruised muscles it must have been many hours since the interrogation, but as to how long had passed she had could not guess.

Arching her neck gingerly, she saw she was once again alone. The door was closed and a faint light shone through its outline. A shadowed silhouette lay beyond it, a guard posted to ensure she remained where she was no doubt. Allisa pushed herself up by her elbows so she was partway sitting, needle-like stabs coating her spine and lower back. She was tempted to call out, to demand the guard come in and answer her questions but her throat was still raw from the questioning. No means of escape presented themselves, and Allisa swore quietly to herself. Maybe she could rock the bed to the side and get to the floor? Maybe she could slip her hands through her bindings, pain be damned!

Before she could enact any kind of scheme, there was a sudden commotion outside the door. Confused shadows bustled in the light, and a heavy thump banged against the door as a tremendous weight slammed into it before being lowered gently to the floor. The doorknob turned furtively and opened softly, eliciting no sound as it swung open, bathing the room in the gentle corridor light. A crumpled guard lay on the floor, his neck bent at an angle that no one could survive. The look on the dead man's face suggested that he neither expected or reacted to the blow that killed him. Allisa would have cried out but her breath was stolen by the guard’s assailant.

He was perhaps the tallest and broadest person Allisa had ever seen, and under a close fit bodyglove of deepest grey she could see the his overly muscular and grotesquely heightened physique. At his waist he wore a black belt, part metal and part fabric, hung with equipment pouches and holsters, the largest of which was empty. In his right hand he wielded a heavy, matte-black pistol of frightening weight and size, a bloated cylindrical attachment adorning its barrel. In the left, the giant carried a blackened blade, easily the length of Allisa’s arm. It dripped fresh blood on the floor, its violent purpose evidently having been fulfilled this night.

He approached her with a speed and silence surprising for his massive size, and pausing at the side of the bed he towered above Allisa like a goliath of pale marble. She shrank into the bed, terror gripping her afresh. Before she could whimper a plea for mercy his blade flashed twice rapidly and the restraints at her wrists and ankles were cut. Fear gave way to surprise as the giant looked quickly to the door. Footsteps were approaching, and his momentary pause gave Allisa a chance to see the intruder fully.

His thick jaw was lightly stubbled with black growth, and his head was shorn clean much like Allisa’s. She thought he could be thought of as darkly appealing, but his face possessed a peculiar gigantism that couldn’t be ignored. His eyes were a piercing sapphire and drank in the room in quick, sharp glances. Everything about him spoke of martial power from his stance to his grim face and eagle-quick gaze. When he spoke suddenly, it was in a baritone whisper that seemed drenched up from his core in deeply accented High Gothic which took Allisa aback. Sliding the pistol into its holster, He gestured with his large hand toward her, open palmed and inviting whilst his attention was fully on the door.

“Ms Traynor, come with me. Now!”

She shrank from the hand, appealing though the thought of potential escape was. Despite the horrors that had been inflicted on her by the Arbites, this giant, this weapon wrought in flesh was all the more terrifying still. She cleared her throat and whispered in as authoritative a voice as she could muster.

“Who…who are you?”

Before he could respond a shadow fell across the open door. Another guard, garbed in full Arbites riot armour entered the room to see where his colleague had gone. He paused at the door, taking in the sight before him: Allisa rising from the bed, her restraints cut, the dark giant standing protectively above her, and the broken corpse of his colleague at his feet. He was momentarily thrown by the scene, pausing for just a moment before reaching for his sidearm.

A moment was all the giant needed.

Allisa had never seen another creature move so fast and with such brutal intent, it was almost dizzying in its absurdity. The giant covered the short distance between himself and the guard faster than Allisa could blink, and in one fluid monstrous motion gripped the Arbite by the face with one of his oversized paws and with the knife stabbed with ruthless efficiency up through the mans throat into his brain. He held the full weight of the interloper in one muscled arm as it spasmed dumbly into death, the knife holding the head still as the body died. Only when the body had ceased moving did the giant lower it gently to the floor, pulling the knife slowly and grimly from the killing wound. The encounter had lasted no more than a few seconds, and Allisa blinked quickly as her brain tried to comprehend what she had just seen.

He turned to her once more, his face falling into shadow except his dagger-like sapphire eyes. There was almost something reptilian about his stare, a cold cunning that spoke both of patience and animalistic violence. He leant closer to her face and she could smell oils and unguents upon his skin. She realised that if he was going to hurt her then there was nothing she could do to stop him. She also realised that if he was indeed going to inflict pain upon her, he would have done it before now. Neither of these thoughts gave her comfort. She met his eyes completely, and in his low, rumbling whisper he said but one thing:

“I am Alpharius”

It is about time!

Excellent stuff, as always!

Ooooh! Plot twist! This wasn't in the old thread!

 Dark Lord Seanron wrote:
“I am Alpharius”

Probably any old Alpha legionnaire then. Unless that's the real Alpharius (how can we be sure?) you've just used a played out meme. *Looks down at signature* Oh well.

 CREEEEEEEEED wrote:

 Dark Lord Seanron wrote:
“I am Alpharius”

Probably any old Alpha legionnaire then. Unless that's the real Alpharius (how can we be sure?) you've just used a played out meme. *Looks down at signature* Oh well.

I'm sorry, what?

It's not a meme, it's a well-known Alpha Legion trait to identify as Alpharius to those not within the Legion. It's like their whole deal, one body many heads...

I know right?

Plus, it is a fairly amusing complaint given the user name of the poster!

Dark Lord Seanron wrote:

 CREEEEEEEEED wrote:

 Dark Lord Seanron wrote:
“I am Alpharius”

Probably any old Alpha legionnaire then. Unless that's the real Alpharius (how can we be sure?) you've just used a played out meme. *Looks down at signature* Oh well.

I'm sorry, what?

It's not a meme, it's a well-known Alpha Legion trait to identify as Alpharius to those not within the Legion. It's like their whole deal, one body many heads...

Well, it's become meme-like in its overusage by fans in general. "A bit like just as planned" anyway, here's a link to a thread on that discussion, if you're interested. http://www.dakkadakka.com/dakkaforum/posts/list/0/637139.page

Alpharius wrote:I know right?

Plus, it is a fairly amusing complaint given the user name of the poster!

What did you think I meant when I said, *Looks down at signature*

Things are getting interesting.
:-)

Most excellent

Their flight from the hospital passed in a blur of muted greys and paranoid pauses, and as they exited into the cold air and driving rain Allisa Traynor sagged in exhaustion. Along with the giant Alpharius, she had ghosted through the corridors of the hospital, which was clothed in the blues and blacks of twilight, ever aware of the eyes that could potentially be watching her. Several times her rescuer had gestured for a halt with his oversized hands, waiting for some unseen enemy to move on whilst they waited in shadow. In those moments Allisa held her breath, afraid that even that small amount of sound would alert the whole Imperium to their presence. Only once did Alpharius leave her side, gesturing for her to crouch low at a turn into one of the buildings main concourses. He slunk forward as a panther stalks its prey and vanished into the deep shadows of the building. Several quiet minutes passed, and just as Allisa started to fear she had been abandoned Alpharius returned. He was cleaning something off his blackened dagger, Allisa suspected blood, as he took his place alongside her again. From there to the exit of the building was without event, but full of hellish tension.

The rain outside was like a current of power to Allisa, hitting her skin and refreshing her. She had not eaten or drunk since her abuse at the hands of the Arbites and the presence of so much water caused her stomach to moan loudly. She gripped her stomach in embarrassment, however Alpharius seemed not to notice. His eyes were fixed on the sprawling alleys and streets beyond, drinking in the view with his hawk-like gaze. The rainfall glistened on his head and skin, and clung greedily to his body glove but he was no more troubled by it than a mountain is to snow. He turned slightly to Allisa, and in his baritone whisper explained their advance.

“We’re out Ms Traynor but we are still not safe. Our first priority is to get you fit for our journey. I have stored supplies down this alley, stick close to me and stay quiet”

Allisa nodded her understanding and followed close behind Alpharius as he picked his way through the driving rain. The alley was grim and filthy, with blackened water streaming down the grey walls, dozens of dilapidated wires and cables rocking lazily in the breeze hung above them like the nest of some enormous arachnid. The ground was uneven and broken, cracks and potholes giving Allisa trouble as she advanced. Alpharius stepped perfectly in his feline prowl, never once losing his footing in the dreary, water-soaked place. Piles of refuse and rubbish crowded the alley, boxes weakened by hours of dirty rainfall lying upon black, shiny sacks that buzzed with insect activity. Allisa was thankful for the rain, as no doubt this place reeked of mould and old corruption.

Onward into the urban sprawl they stalked, light from windows & portholes high above reflecting and twisting in the driving water. They saw no others as they progressed, although Allisa had the distinct feeling that this was her rescuers doing. More than once she saw what appeared to be a slumped body piled into the rubbish around them, and she again shuddered at the horrific power her giant companion possessed. He eventually stopped his steady advance at metal grating built into the wall of an adjacent building, and with seemingly little effort on his part pulled the heavy mesh from its fixings and climbed into the new opening. Allisa clambered up into the space awkwardly, nearly falling as she entered the small dark space. Alpharius held his arm out to steady her descent, and she felt his muscular form through his bodyglove: tough, sinewed and heavy, like rocks bound together with tightened rope. She was grateful for the assistance, but could not keep the fear she held for him from her eyes. Ignoring her discomfort, Alpharius turned into the small alcove they found themselves in and gestured to a deep-green ceramite case pressed into the corner. It was void of decoration, save a small stylised ‘A’ wrapped in chains. Alpharius spoke again as he approached the box:

“We set this cache here for when we secured you. There are supplies enough to ensure your survival till we reach our destination”

Allisa moved slowly toward him as he opened the box and began methodically lifting equipment from the case. He raised a small medical pack from the depths, and turned to address her wounds. She sat stiffly on a mound of discarded clothing next to the box and allowed him to look over her. Opening the pack, Alpharius took bandages, anti-inflammatory cream and anti-viral wash and tended to the cuts on her head and lips. He did this in the silence of concentration.

“Are you a medic?” Allisa asked, more so to ward off the tension of the quiet room than out of genuine inquiry. The giant shook his head as he applied a thin strip of synth skin to her forehead.

“No. We are all trained in basic human biology and medical care. I am no apothecary.”

“By we you mean the Astartes don’t you?” Allisa asked, wincing as the ant-viral agents were applied to her lip. “You’re on of the Emperor’s Angels aren’t you?”

Alpharius’ eyes locked with her for a second, before he turned his attention to her ravaged hand. He cleaned blood from her knuckles and palm, and sprayed her hand with a cooling mist that numbed her pain. When he spoke again, there was the slightest hint of sadness in his words.

“There are no angels in the world Ms. Traynor” he whispered as he examined her skewed finger. “And no Emperor either”

The words struck her as very odd. From what Allisa knew of the Astartes, which was admittedly very little, she had always been given the impression that they were a proud and luminous lot, like young gods wrought from the skies themselves. This giant before her was clothed in shadows and sadness, not like the heroic figures the old holo-logs had portrayed the Emperor’s space marines as. She chose not to press the issue, not liking the uncertainty in her rescuers eyes. She briskly changed the subject, trying to sound light and grateful.

“So where are we going? I assume you’ve rescued me for some reason beyond my charming company?”

Alpharius did not answer, instead producing a small, thin rod made of leather. He brought it to her face and nodded toward her mouth.

“I am going to reset your finger. It is going to be painful. You should bite down on this”

Allisa placed the rod between her teeth, recoiling slightly at the artificial taste of it. Alpharius took her hand in his, her hands laughably small in his meaty paw and gripped her bent finger in his other hand. He nodded to her, his eyes fixed on hers and she nodded back. With a swift crack downward, he realigned her finger with the rest of her hand and the pain was sharp and relentless. She moaned in agony into the rod, breathing sharply at the sudden motion. They sat like that for several minutes while Allisa regained her breath, and the pain faded to a dull throb. Alpharius applied more of the medical spray, and bound her finger to a straight wooden torque with a thin roll of bandage. She let the rod fall from her mouth and sucked in the cold air. Alpharius turned from his ministrations back to the box and produced a foil-wrap block no larger than a small notebook. He handed this to her, and turning his attention back to the contents of the box spoke again.

“That’s a synthetic single-cell glucose compound designed to return energy to the body. I suggest you eat it all to recover your strength. You’ll need it”

At the mention of eating, Allisa’s hunger returned tenfold. Peeling the wrapper from the bar, she crammed it into her eager mouth quickly. It tasted massively sweet, like the old sugar bars she used to eat as a child. It was a heavenly taste to her hungry stomach, and she wolfed it down greedily. Alpharius passed her a small silver water bottle and this too she consumed with gusto. Full and hydrated, with her wounds tended, Allisa felt better than she had since this whole debacle had begun. Her rescuer turned to her once more, a small bodyglove in dark grey in his hands along with a gossamer cloak of pale reflective panels. He held them out to her and nodded.

“Change into these. We’ll be able to proceed with less attention.”

Allisa took the clothes from Alpharius, and before she could request he avert his eyes he rose and made his way to the grated entranced once more. He stood there, his eyes fixed on the driving rain, his hands hovering close to his weapons. He stood guard as she changed, never once glancing at her naked body. Allisa felt foolish, realising that this giant had higher concerns that a changing woman. The body glove fit snuggly and the cloak wrapped around her shoulders lightly, bending the dark and light around her in a near-optical illusion. She marvelled at its ingenuity as Alpharius approached once more.

“It’s called a Falsehood. It works by agitating the optic nerve of the viewer, forcing their eyes to take in the visual information around you but not on you”

Allisa compared the inner and outer fabrics with great curiosity, “so you’re saying I’m invisible?” she flourished the cloak like a bull fighter. Alpharius shook his shaven head.

“No, but others will not notice you if they are not looking for you”

Allisa was still eminently impressed, so much so that the danger of her predicament was momentarily forgotten. Alpharius turned back to the grating and gestured for her to follow. Pulling the hood of the cloak over her head, she queried Alpharius one last time.

“So where are you taking me? Why did you rescue me?”

Alpharius paused, his eyes narrowing, considering what to tell his mortal companion. He turned lightly, fixing Allisa with those Sapphire eyes and in a deep, steady whisper said:

“You are very important, Allisa Traynor, more important than you know. I am taking you to see my commander, he has need of you. We have need of you. There are things in motion that I cannot explain now, but know that all will become clear in time”

Allisa nodded and followed Alpharius into the torrent outside. The box and supplies burst into flame at an unseen command from the Astartes, rendering down into a blackened ash soon after. The way ahead was grey and covered, much like the future that Allisa Traynor found herself drawn to.

Great stuff, you once again deliver amazing work.

 Dark Lord Seanron wrote:
I am taking you to see my commander, he has need of you.

So was it just any old Alpha legionnaire, 'cause Alpharius is his own primarch, last I recalled, so he would be commander of the Legion in its current state.

I was looking though this and saw the dates and thought:

"Man, Dakka's clock is broken. Oh wait..."

Glad you're back, DLS. I loved the first round and will get back to enjoying this one.

ZF-

Wow! I really love this! Much better than dot - jots.

This is insanely epic

The rain-choked streets of Gallileo City were thronged with crowds of people, wildly diverse in appearance, busying themselves with the act of living in a grim, uncaring universe. Bartermen implored the shuffling masses to show interest in their wares, the thrust and counterthrust of mercantile wordplay buzzing above their heads like gunfire on a field of battle. Regal noblemen and women strutted haughtily through the crowd, retinues of retainers and bodyguards elbowing aside the common masses who dared hold their regal betters back from their destination. Garishly dressed servants held billowing umbrellas and parasols of wild and varied designs over their masters, knowing that allow their charges to be sullied by the worlds greasy, filth-strained rain would spell death or dismemberment. Grey-faced administrators and workers shuffled along oblivious to their surroundings, either heading to the painful drudgery of their workplace or the blissful oblivion of their beds. Messenger birds and servo-skulls hovered and soared overhead, lending their binaric cackles and squeals to the chaotic hub-bub of the crowds below. Red-robed machine adepts stalked along on copper-tinged spider limbs, priests in white and gold reclined in suspensor-laden palanquins, doom-maddened flagellants screamed and beat themselves bloody in the ignorant mass as the broad tapestry of modern man went about his own business.

Through this crowd a peculiar pair stalked: the taller of the two was a giant to all around him, making even the hardiest and muscular guard seem as but a mewling child. He strode with purpose through the crowd, relying more on the sheer threat of his presence to part the faceless masses than his actual strength. Not that his strength would not have proven sufficient: the black and grey bodyglove the giant had wrapped himself in seemed to barely contain his heightened musculature. With roving eyes of the coldest sapphire, he cut his way through the throng like a ship through calm waters. Behind him came his companion, and anyone looking upon them would be forgiven for not noticing her. She followed close behind her giant companion, her form seeming to shimmer and bleed into her surroundings. Sometimes a mournful looking worker’s path would converge with hers, and they would stare momentarily shocked at the invasion of their personal space, only for the moment to immediately leave their memory and their life to continue of the path of drudgery that had been laid before them. She prowled through the crowd like a whiff of smoke, easily unnoticed and immediately forgettable.

The pair made their way steadily through the crowds as the rain thundered overhead, their ultimate destination being the cyclopean structure that dominated the end of the miles long concourse. Metallic and broad, with a main entrance that could swallow hundreds of men and women and still be hungry for more, the Gallileo City Space Elevator was the cities primary link to the atmospheric and orbital platforms above. From its squatting, iron form spring a series of scaffolds and cables, dizzying in their immensity that climbed straight up into the cities blackened skies, disappearing into the soot-ridden clouds above. Red running lights flashed sequentially up and down the length of the elevator, giving the machine a hellish lunatic glow as it ferried supplies and manpower between the ravenous city and the bloated shipyards above. Dwarfing the buildings and starscrapers around it, the Space Elevator was a maddened marvel of engineering brilliance. The giant and his partner picked their way through the human droves, their goal tantalisingly near. They need only make it to the atmospheric docks above without attracting the greater attention of the city, the city which blessedly seemed indifferent to their cause or presence.
But there were others in this city who watched the pair with a keen and sharp interest.

High above the roving populace below, perched on the slanted roof a water-clogged domicile The Watcher considered the pair below through the sterile green lenses of his weapon. Clothed in armour blacker than night and a heavy cloak of hydrophobic cloth, the helmeted head of the shadowy figure tracked the giant below with unerring accuracy. In his mailed fists he held a boxy firearm, grotesque in its proportions and mien, its barrel lengthened to give it superior range and its sights replaced with a gently-humming high powered scope. The gaping maw of the weapons barrel trailed the path of the companions below, never leaving them, never twitching in the blackened rain. The guns bearer was just as brutal as the weapon he wielded, taller than the giant below and considerably broader in his heavy-set, beetle armour. No insignia marked him, barring a device on his right shoulder which was hidden beneath his heavy cloak. His helm was worked into a smooth point, lending him an almost raptor-like aspect and a pair of emerald lenses shone in the dark, drinking in the scene below. He stood solid in the pouring rain, his poise and stance speaking of great power held in check until the right moment. In the distance he could hear the tell-tale sounds of lamenting sirens and tracked wheels grinding on tarmac.

The Watcher did not have much time.

Wow!

Pushing through the crowds Alyssa tried to remain close to the hulking form of her rescuer, however the sheer number of people threatened to separate her from him. He stood several feet taller than the people around them meaning he was always in sight, however the relentless drudgery of those around them continued to widen the gap between them. She wanted to call out, to shout for him to pause and allow her to catch up but she feared that giving his name voice would bring ruin upon them. Every person that milled past her be they egoless worker, homeless wretch or gaudily-dressed noble were no longer those that shared her home world, they were now potential enemies guised in the forms of her people. The suffocating panic that had greeted her when she first awoke quickly began to reassert its hold over her, and she had to physically stop to grip her chest. She couldn’t go back: she wouldn’t go back. She’d rather die than have her accusers torcher her once more for acts she could not lay claim to. Tears leapt to her eyes as panic exerted its will upon her.

A gentle hand touched her shoulder, and when she opened her eyes there was Alpharius once more. He towered above her, no longer in threat but in genuine concern. His large, scarred hand held her shoulder as if to reassure a child awoken from a nightmare and when he spoke in his deep, granite baritone his tone was noticeably softer.

“Ms Traynor, please keep up” he spoke quickly but without anger, his sapphire eyes fixed with concern. “There will be time to rest later. We must move before your pursuers find us, we must-”

His words were suddenly drowned out by the harsh scream of sirens and a blinding light that cast everything around them into parched monochrome. The people around them screamed and ran in all directions. Alpharius’ attention snapped behind her, and he raised his great arm to shield his eyes from the glare. Alyssa turned slowly, squinting into the glaring assault of white, her vision filled with bright light and indistinct shapes. Panic gave way to depthless fear as her eyes adjusted to the glare and a familiar, amplified voice called out from its source.

“Halt in the name of the Emperor, Witch!”

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The Watcher traced his scope back to the source of the blinding light and indiscriminate disorder and felt a twinge of annoyance at what he saw. The roving crowds had parted in terror before two squatting armoured vehicles painted a deep blue and striking yellow that rumbled forward on heavy wheels and half-tracks. Flashing white and red lights adorned the twin Taurox carriers and the Imperial Aquila emblazoned their armoured flanks in bold white stencils, their purpose and intent utterly clear: Arbites Armoured Carriers, coming in pursuit of their quarry.

Massive, high powered spotlights welded to their hulls pinned their pray in place, like the knife edged vision of a predator. The Watcher raised his gauntlet and clicked a small switch on the neck of his armour, opening a static-laden channel to his comrades elsewhere.

“Silence compromised. Force is authorised. Illuminate them"

He silenced the channel with another press, and rested his rifle back into his shoulder. The world was green and sterile through his scope, and its internal cogitator drew sharp lines and tolerances around each figure it hovered over. He brought the sights back over the giant below and its companion and held his breath in preparation for the shot to come.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A harsh female voice called out from the vehicles as they came to a heavy stop metres away from the duo caught in the stark spotlights.

“Surrender yourselves scum, drop your weapons and lie on the ground!”

Alpharius pulled Alyssa close to him, imposing his bulk between her and the armoured carriers, and his hands slid to the hilt of his weapons as the sides of the vehicles opened like mechanical beetle wings unfolding. Two teams of Arbites, resplendent in black glossy armour and armed with stocky pump-action riot guns marched in quickstep from the guts of their vehicles, forming twin curved lines before their prey. Ten blackened barrels aimed at the pair, fixing them in place like the eyes of hungry revenants, and as one the gathered enforcers racked their weapons and prepared to fire. A final figure swung from the open bay of the first Taurox, and marched confidently in the drizzle to stand in front of their men. Alyssa felt her stomach tighten as she recognised the figure immediately, the confident swagger, the tall broad lethality of a trained killer and the maddened spite in its eyes: Enforcer Riker, come to reclaim her prize. The leader of the Arbites raised her hand to her gorget, activating the loud-hailer built into her skull helm.

“Traynor! Whilst I would infinitely prefer to let my men fill your filthy hides with lead, I strongly advise you and your accomplice to lay down your arms.”

Alyssa quailed and gripped Alpharius’ arm till her knuckles appeared white. As strong and unearthly as he was, even she could see that he could not challenge eleven fully armed Arbites in open conflict. Alpharius stood completely motionless, his right hand on the hilt of his sheathed blade and his left keeping Alyssa from the aim of their foes. His eyes darted to and fro, taking in the situation and coming to the grim conclusion that even he could not fight them all and win, especially with the life of Alyssa in peril also. The rain hammered overhead, the sky mourning at the standoff, the water rattling a staccato dance off the hulls of the Arbites vehicles and their armour. Alpharius gritted his teeth as his grip tightened on his blade. He would need to run, he would need to grab Alyssa and hope that his body could take the punishment. He felt his small companion’s nails dig into his arm.

He would need to be quick.

The Watcher focused his attention through the scope, his armoured finger ghosting the secondary trigger built into the weapon. His target filled his vision, its bulky form dominating the viewfinder, maddened scrolls of targeting information snowing across the lens. He exhaled slowly as his finger depressed the trigger, and his weapon coughed silently as a single round rocketed toward his target.

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Riker smiled wickedly behind the grill of her mask, and revelled in the cruelty she wielded as naturally as breathing. The fugitive and her accomplice were not going to surrender that much was clear, and she was glad of it: As soon as they made their move, her squad would gun them down without remorse or compromise. Her superiors had called for the capture of Traynor, but Riker didn’t care. A lot could happen on duty, and if she and her men were forced to defend themselves from the filthy heathen then so be it. She would serve the Imperium by adding another dead witch to the lists of the dead. She raised her armoured hand in the air and called out one final time.

“This is your final warning. Surrender or be destroyed!”

Alpharius tensed, his eyes alive with animal grace and turned fluidly, grabbing Alyssa by the waist and powered away from the surrounding Arbites.

Riker bellowed for her men to fire as she sliced the air with her arm.

The Arbites opened fire, their pump-action guns vomiting shrapnel and spiked pellets in a shower of sparks and burning pain. Most rode over the crouching giant slapping into parked vehicles and unfortunate innocents, but several scraped the back of the Astartes leaving deep, bloody gouges in his hide.

From above, a single solitary shell smacked into the lead Taurox, small automated claws activating in its flanks and burying themselves into the carrier’s armoured flank. Tiny fusion cells within whirred and chirped as they activated, forcing their contents into electronic overload. With a hiss and whine the shell exploded, tearing the front from the armoured vehicle and bathing the Arbites in flame and shrapnel. Several perished immediately, their backs raw and burned, cut to ribbons by flying metal. Others were saved by their body armour, and shifted painfully back to their feet as steam and smoke billowed from their slain transports. Alpharius turned painfully as he realised they had survived, and his eyes snapped upward at a new sound over the driving rain and licking flames.

With a shriek like a wounded hawk, a small black craft screeched through the air from the upper limits of the Space Elevator like an arrow from heaven. It furiously cut through the rain with a boom of displaced air, its nose pointed low toward the burning remains of the Taurox, its every angle and facet girded for war in the air. A pair of heavy rotary cannons slid from a hidden port within its beak and wound up with a scream of tortured metal. Golden tracers exploded from the cannons into the Arbites and the burning wreckage behind them, cutting the survivors to ribbons as the ship rocketed overhead, the deafening sound of shells through flesh and iron forcing Alyssa to cover her ears. As it passed, missile pods built into its flanks ejected small cluster bombs detonating on top of the Arbites position, furthering mauling the Enforcers. Several bystanders ran screaming from the scene, the crowds flowing in panic away from the combat. The craft banked sharply between the high rises around it and turned for another pass.

Alpharius rose shakily into a crouch above Alyssa, his back alight with burning needles: His physiology was built to withstand such injuries, but the pain was excruciating. Alyssa looked up at him, her eyes rimmed with frightened tears and her hands shaking from the fury of the assault. He placed his hands on her shoulders, and through the pain attempted to reassure her.

“Get up Ms Traynor, you’re not injured. We need to leave now-“

Alpharius’ head snapped to the side as shrapnel imbedded itself into the side of his head and neck. His body flew sideways away from its protective crouch over Alyssa and came to rest on the sodden concrete, blood flowing from an angry wound in his skull. Alyssa screamed after him, her first thought to ensure his safety when her attention was pulled back by the sound of booted feet scraping on the wet ground.

Alyssa turned to the smoke and fire, and from it came the grim image of Enforcer Riker limping steadily toward her. Her right leg was a mangled mess of blood and bone, and her entire right arm was severed at the elbow. Her armour was dented and torn, and blood dribbled from her wounds leaving a crimson trail from the ruined corpses of her vehicles. A smoking riot-gun was in her remaining hand, and its tip dragged on the ground as she relentlessly pulled herself forward on unsteady feet. Her helmet had been thrown off in the confusion, and her face was a scarred pit of gore and sinew, her blonde hair matted with blood and rain and her mouth dribbling viscera. By all accounts she should have been dead, however hate is a powerful reason to live and it radiated from her as she came forward. Her eyes burned with fury as she approached, and in a rattling choke she hissed at Alyssa.

“Witch…witch…WITCH!”

The heavy gun rose to point at Alyssa’s head as the wounded Enforcer came to an unsteady pause before her. It hung before Alyssa, like an abyss into the depths of hell, every torment and terror catalysed into a single length of cold metal. She closed her eyes in finality, and prayed to the Emperor as the moment froze in time. This was it, this is how she would die.

Riker gritted her broken and shattered teeth into a malformed imitation of a smile and in a liquid gurgle said “and thus is the fate of all enemies of the Emperor”

A gunshot rang out, and Riker’s bloody visage vanished in a cloud of atomised blood and bone. Lowering his rifle, the Watcher nodded softly, “Amen”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The craft returned to bank over the scene of carnage below, its engines adjusting to allow it to hover by the low roof of the adjacent building, a cloaked and armoured shadow leaping smoothly from it to the waiting belly of the ship. The engines then went from a throaty screech to a deep rumble as it descended toward the prone form of the giant and his companion. Turning in mid-air to present its rear hatch to the pair below, the ship idled inches from the ground, rain water and rubbish blowing in a circular orbit around the heavy ship. Its hull was a deep green/blue with silver and white trimmings and upon its flank was a stylised ‘A’ wrapped in pale chains and multi-headed serpents, and its weapons pods and guns dripped thick rain onto the concrete below.

Alyssa hovered over the prone form of Alpharius, covering his girth from the hovering ship. She peered through the rain and backdraft into the reddened guts of the ship and saw the hulking form of another Astartes leave the craft and marched through the tumult towards them. He was even broader than Alpharius, his bulk exaggerated further by his black, shell-like armour. His eyes were green gems in the dark, and his every move was that of a warrior god made manifest. His cloak billowed around him in the wind, and Allyssa noticed a silver, three headed serpent on his shoulder, a hydra of Old Earth. He towered above Alyssa and her fallen comrade, and in a voice deeper than the core of her world spoke in a machine rasp.

“Ms Traynor, you are safe now. Please come with me”

She rose shakily to her feet as the armoured giant knelt softly and hoisted his fallen brother onto his shoulder. Alpharius muttered painfully at the sudden movement, and his rescuer whispered something to his comrade just beyond Alyssa’s hearing. She followed close behind him into the gaping hold of the ship, and almost fell as the doors whirred shut and the vessel immediately banked into the air. She leant against the metallic wall and allowed her body to slide to the floor.

The armoured giant placed Alpharius onto a stretcher riveted to the wall of the ship, and opened a nearby panel filled with medical supplies. He knelt beside his comrade and began to tend to the vicious wound in his head. Alyssa was amazed at how similarly the two moved, and was intimately reminded of when Alpharius had tended to her own wounds. She sat on the cold iron floor across from them, and in an exhausted whisper that barely rose above the roar of the craft spoke to her second rescuer:

“Will…will he be alright?”

The armoured giant finished his ministrations silently, before rising to his feet and straightening fully. His armoured whined quietly as he raised his arms to his head and disengaged his helmet with a hiss of pressurised air. Placing his helm within the crook of his arm, he turned to consider Alyssa bear-headed. She was first of all taken by how similar he looked to Alpharius, the same pronounced facial features, the thickening of the brow and nose. Although where Alpharius was rugged and unshaven, this one was smooth and unadorned, his skin almost perfect in its paleness. A single tattoo ran underneath his eye, a stylised serpent in white and silver, and his eyes were a warm copper compared to Alpharius’ icy glare. She blushed under his scrutiny, his physicality shaming her into glancing away. When he spoke his voice was equally as deep as his brothers, although was possessed of a smoother more liquid quality.

“He shall live” he said, his eyes never leaving her, “it was unfortunate that he was injured at all, but he has lived through worse.”

Alyssa sighed in relief, and for the first time in what felt like days her body relaxed. Her head fell back gently against the vibrating hull and sleep threatened to overtake her. Through the fog of unconsciousness, she saw the giant place a cloak over her as she drifted off. She mumbled to him, who are you? - Not wanting to sleep before she knew his name. She did not know whether it was the urge to sleep or the exhaustion of her mind but his answer startled her before blackness took her. With a smile that boasted no malice or hidden motive, he spoke but one phrase:

“I am Alpharius”

And then Alyssa slept.

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Fire and smoke billowed relentlessly into the sky, and the combination of multiple light sources and the driving rain gave the scene a psychotic random light. Investigator Dougan sucked the cold air between his teeth in exasperation, pulling his heavy storm coat around his body to keep out the driving torrent from above. His forces had arrived shortly after whatever violence had happened here, and teams of Arbites and PDF troopers scoured the wreckage for evidence. The bodies of Riker and her subordinates were lined up on the side of the road, wrapped in yellow body bags marked with Arbites tags and medical information. The fool, Dougan thought contemptuously, always needed to be first into the breach didn’t you?

He moved toward his personal command vehicle, a rhino carrier converted for Arbites use, and the line of bound individuals before it. Arbites enforcers were questioning the miserable wretches, shining torchlights into their eyes and sparing the rod to none. His lieutenant, a stocky, grim faced individual by the name of Bolton, saluted as Dougan approached, his lips pursing as they always did when he was the bearer of bad news. Dougan waved away the formalities and nodded to the lines of witnesses “so lieutenant, what’s the word? These sods any use?”
Bolton straightened his moustache with the palm of his hand, and responded in a clipped, professional snarl.

“Nearly none Commander. Several say witchcraft, others say Daemons from Hell itself. One even suggested that he willed this event into being, we’re taking him for screening shortly”

Dougan sighed and ran his hand through his wet hair, straightening in the rain. These past weeks had been utter chaos, and all the trash and detritus of the human race seemed to crawl from their gutters to make his life more difficult. What had triggered the relentless lunacy he could not say, but he was certain that Alyssa Traynor was somehow at the heart of it. He reached for his coat pocket and removed a small metal tin, from which he took a pain pill and slid it under his tongue. The rain always gave him a headache, and the massacre before him had worsened it. Seeing his commander’s obvious discomfort, Bolton coughed and continued.

“There is one promising route of enquiry sir. Several of the witnesses state the involvement of Astartes. Space Marines. Usually we would give no time to such claims, but the devastation here and the corroboration of the witnesses provides a compelling summation of our suspect’s whereabouts”

Dougan was about to reply when the temperature became cold, very, very cold. Pale steam and dry ice smoke began to seep across the ground behind him and Dougan swallowed painfully at the approach. The pain pills fell from his hand involuntarily, scattering across the rain-sodden ground below. Bolton stared past his commander in terror, and his trousers darkened visibly as his bladder emptied in fear. The sound of heavy metallic footfalls crunched behind Dougan, and the sound of swaying chains and rustling robes formed pictures in his mind of skinless ghouls and undead horrors clawing from the ground beneath to claim him. The slow, steady pulse of mechanised breathing apparatus hissed behind him and a voice like a dry, winter wind rose from above him.

“Compelling is indeed the word, Enforcer Bolton. I can attest to their validity. This act merely confirms suspicions I have held prior to your commander’s request for aid”

Dougan turned slowly, already knowing who would be standing before him but fearing it nonetheless. He craned his neck upward at the tall, robed figure aboe him and tears rolled down his face in complete terror. He attempted to speak, but his teeth chattered in the artificial cold radiating from the massive figure and his lungs seized into stillness at the immense horror of the creature before him. His eyes wouldn’t shut although he willed it, and when the voice spoke again in its glacial, jarring stillness a slow trickle of blood ran from his right ear.

“The Enemy has shown his hand Commander. There are traitor-Astartes abroad on your world, maybe even the entire sector and they mean to unmake all we in the Emperor’s light have made.” The hooded head lowered itself to Dougan’s height, the full maddening glare of its face in front of his “I am calling upon you and your men, your entire world to aid me in running down this menace. This is a glorious endeavour and you should be honoured.”

Snot ran from Dougan’s nose as he openly wept like a child, his hands shaking beyond his control. The witnesses and Arbites behind him mewled and wept also, with Bolton openly vomiting on the rain slicked tarmac. He stared at the dark monster before him, at how the rain became snow and ice as it fell around him and at the monstrous will the thing exuded. He could only nod in complete agreement.

“Yes…yes Inquisitor…whatever you need…”

I've never heard of inquisitors or frankly anything in 40k having that effect. Did it come from anywhere or was that masterpiece completely original?

 CREEEEEEEEED wrote:
I've never heard of inquisitors or frankly anything in 40k having that effect. Did it come from anywhere or was that masterpiece completely original?

It would be an interesting interpretation of what kind of an effect a powerful pariah has on those in his immediate vicinity. If that is what he is.

Look at the text colour. That was no accident. I have a theory or two as to what it could be, but since I can't put a spoiler tag here on mobile I'll just watch with amusement

 Archmagos_Amadeus wrote:
Look at the text colour. That was no accident. I have a theory or two as to what it could be, but since I can't put a spoiler tag here on mobile I'll just watch with amusement

 King Pariah wrote:

 Archmagos_Amadeus wrote:
Look at the text colour. That was no accident. I have a theory or two as to what it could be, but since I can't put a spoiler tag here on mobile I'll just watch with amusement

Spoiler:

You're thinking Tzeentch, aren't you?

 Archmagos_Amadeus wrote:

 King Pariah wrote:

 Archmagos_Amadeus wrote:
Look at the text colour. That was no accident. I have a theory or two as to what it could be, but since I can't put a spoiler tag here on mobile I'll just watch with amusement

Spoiler:

You're thinking Tzeentch, aren't you?

Spoiler:

I'm thinking Cherubael. He played a major role in the last thread, and the clinking of chains plus the people's reaction SCREAMS Daemonhost. And possibly a Daemonhost taking an Inquisitor for a joyride

I like it

 CREEEEEEEEED wrote:
I've never heard of inquisitors or frankly anything in 40k having that effect. Did it come from anywhere or was that masterpiece completely original?

They're sick with fear.

Mars, the Red Planet.

Terra’s tortured sibling had always known despair. From its birth as a young fertile world to its eventual desolation at the hands of both physics and man, Mars has always been the bedfellow of strife. In the beginning it was a temperate paradise, when it and its sisters Venus and Terra were far closer together. Like a trio of blue sapphires, they sparkled in the primordial skies ready to birth and protect like on their glorious surfaces. Oceans clearer than glass and verdant green forests covered the red sands, and the skies spoke of peace and tranquillity in its easy existence. Ancient life gained a foothold on this Mother Mars, and soon simple organisms crawled from the oceans ready to take their first steps on the ladder of evolution. Had events been different, perhaps they would have become the dominant life forms in the Solar System, and avoided much of the torment and sorrow the galaxy at large now suffers. But it was not to be.

The cruelty of gravity and stellar radiation were to scour Mars of her beauty. The monstrous pull of both The Sun and her vengeful child Jupiter were to see the Red Planet pulled from its sisterly Orbit with the Earth and Venus and cast out into the stellar wilds. Her atmosphere was ravaged by Solar Winds, her face scarred and beaten by Radiation Storms and Firestorms. Whether out of jealousy or cosmic chance, the gravity fields of Jupiter and her offspring were to send millions upon millions of Asteroids into the path of the lonely planet. Far greater than any weapon mankind could devise, the hellish assault broke Mars in both body and soul. The forests burned, the oceans died and only red skies and bone deserts were left to mark the passing of her beauty.

But even in death, there is still the potential for rebirth. Creatures from the third planet found their way across the black void of space to bring life and light to Mars once more. Great machines gave birth to a second atmosphere, men and women raised families on the Red Sands and soon forests and air and life and laughter came to Mars once more. United with her sister Terra once more, an age of enlightenment and prosper settled on the once solitary world.

But soon, a cancer was to grow within her. Man is a superstitious and hateful creature, and soon his hate and low beliefs spilled onto the surface of both Mars and Terra. The newly founded Machine Cults of Mars birthed technological monsters in the image of their gods, and gave birth to an artificial intelligence as hateful and malicious as its parents. The Machines turned on their masters, and soon Mars was torn apart by atomic war. It boiled in the skies like a flaming coal, all life and progress of the red world scoured in the fires of industry and genocide.

The Machines were defeated, cast into a shadow they could never recover from alone. The survivors of Mars’ meagre population found their only solace in mysticism and dogma. The Machine Cults united out of necessity and formed the Mechanicum of Mars on the blasted sands of their home world. Decreeing that invention was the antithesis of all life, and only knowledge of the old ways would see them prosper again, this new Mechanicum would usher in millennia of black stagnation and holy war.

Then the Emperor came.

Golden of hue and mighty of aspect, the Emperor rode from his birth world and brought light and courage to the peoples of Mars once more. His glory forced the Mechanicum to bend the knee or be swept away in his jihad. The Lords of Mars supplicated and the Imperium of Man was born, the second stepping stone in its Empire secured. War would come again, at the hands of these same Martian Lords and the favoured son of the Emperor, but that is a tale for another time and another place and suffice to say that Mars stood on the brink once more, death at its door and its soul once again held to the uncaring winds of fate.

Now Mars is a bloated corpse barely worthy of the title of Throne of the Mechanicum. Her forges work ceaselessly, her population forced into an eternity of labour it cannot escape from. Her bones are old and sore, and her heart is full of misery and sorrow. The dark days of Old Night still linger in the machine shops and work rooms of the Red Planet, and the blood and sweat and bravery of billions is ground to powder under the unceasing yoke of the diseased Imperium of Man. Mars may yet have power, but for now she sleeps hoping for the day that death finally releases her.

She is not alone in this sorrow, for through her skies streaks a vessel carrying the catalyst of her future. In this small vessel, a young woman, a tech adept by the name Istavael travels to the Fornax Primus of Mars to bring grim tidings and mournful council to her lord the Fabricator General. Tears stain her face and sadness fills her heart. She has just recently lost a Father and a Master, and all she wishes for is the blackness to swallow her and end such misery. But she is unaware of the part she will play in Mars’ new future, or the cruel hand that destiny will play her. For we are all pawns to the uncaring whims of fate and physics and neither see any reason as to share their wants and thoughts with these so far beneath them.

But Istavael has a role to play, and whether in line with her own desires or not, the fate and face of Mars, and indeed the whole Imperium of Man, will change this day.