Rampaging Chaos Russ Driver
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Kamen the Malificant, Dark Apostle of the Word Bearers, knelt atop the hill overlooking the battlefield before him. Dusk had just set in, one hundred of his brethren stood behind him waiting. A whole Battalion of Imperial Guardsmen was in the valley below, not but a hundred yards away. Kamen’s men could almost smell the sweat from the defenders of the False Emperor. Reinforcing the pathetic men were scattered units of the Crimson Fists chapter. Kamen knew this needed no worry, by morning all of the defenders of this patch of ground would lie dead. His brothers would bask in triumph.
As Kamen looked upon the enemy, he noticed that many were still setting up barricades, and placing heavy weapon mounts to prepare for the attack. The fools weren't even ready. This was the time to strike.
Kamen rose, revealing his form to all. Standing a head or two above his men, Kamen’s powerful physique was evident even under his power armor. His armor was adorned with the mark of Chaos, which extended from above his heart, stretching over his entire body save his helmet. Dark energies poured forth from the mark of chaos’ center, dancing across Kamen’s body. This warp energy protected him, allowing him to shrug off even the most powerful weaponry as if it were nothing. The mark had been gifted by the gods and bound him to their service; this was the pact Kamen struck so that he may rise to the rank of Apostle. He wore the mark proudly, and praised the gods for grating him their favor. However after millennia of battle, his martial prowess was such that he almost didn’t need the help of the gods to remain unharmed. Kamen fancied himself immortal. Kamen’s helmet consisted of a large skull taken from some long fallen enemy, barely able to be recognized as that of a man. Its warped image shifts and bends, striking fear in all who see it, friend and foe alike. In his right hand he held a weapon that looked more like a hollow sphere of barbed wire, rather than a once cherished artifact of the Imperium blessed by the emperor himself. It crackled with dark energy, the same that protected Kamen, rippling across his body. This energy emanated from his Crozious, or rather the daemon bound to it. These were Kamen’s status symbol, reminding his followers that he holds power in this warband.
Kamen removed his scrying bones from a satchel that hung around his hip. He then drew a chaos glyph into the soft dirt and cast the bones atop it. Like a bolt of lightning a sudden flash illuminated Kamens eyes as it had many times before. The gods were giving him the battle plan that he was to carry out. He saw the field of battle, the majority of is men assaulting up the right most side of the enemy lines to break through a weak point. Then he saw himself and 20 other men charging up the middle. The enemy had withdrawn men from that position to counteract the massive charge to the right. His mind filled with images of him and his men in glory atop a field of enemy bodies.
When the plan was fully received Kamen delivered his sermon to his men. But gave no battle orders, for they somehow understood what must be done, as if the battle plan was somewhere hidden deep within Kamen’s words. Once done orating, Kamen climbed to the hillcrest and bellowed a mighty roar. A moment later the hundred men to his back joined in, sending chills through the enemy below.
Within a minute eighty of Kamen’s men barreled down the right side of the hill. They were only seconds from the enemy lines, giving the guardsmen little time to react. A mere handful of the defenders got some rounds off before the forces of chaos were set upon them. Fighting in the trenches, Kamen’s men were a whirling storm of blades. Kamen could barely pick out his fist among champions, Samael, who looked like nothing more than a flurry of steel. In each hand Samael held a long chain with razor hooks along its length. His chains lashed across the battlefield like a frenzied artist's paintbrush, coating the landscape with wide swaths of crimson from an apparently limitless palette of guardsmen. Kamen was proud that he had trained such a skilled warrior.
The entire right side of the enemy line was consumed in a melee, as the gods had predicted. Kamen gripped his Crozious tightly readying for the ensuing battle, reminding the Daemon inside that he was in charge. He and his men made their move and charged headlong at the mid section of the enemy defenses. The defenders here were not as unawares of his plans however, and none of the men from this location had moved to reinforce the right flank. Maybe the gods had been wrong! The thought soon passed as the guardsmen, and Crimson Fists, opened fire. Under a hail of Bolter and lasgun fire numbers of Kamen's men fell. They now were only in the teens. Kamen however came out with only light wounds and scratches covering his armor, where shots had hit but bounced off. A direct lascannon shot had hit him, but the dark energy protecting his body shrugged it off as if it were nothing. Kamen quickly thanked the gods for protecting him. Moments later he and what was left of his assault made it to the enemy trenches.
The first of them leapt into the trench with no problem and began cutting scores of enemies down. One Crimson Fist readied his bolter to fire at Kamen, but with lightning quick reflexes he lashed out with his Croziuos and caught the marine in the faceplate, tearing it and the face behind it to shreds. The force of the impact sent the marine flying.
A second marine lunged at Kamen, chainsword drawn, but Kamen easily sidestepped, and grabbed the marine by the back of his collar and then thigh. He lifted the marine high over his head and broke the hapless Imperial's back, tossing the carcass aside. Kamen wanted more. His wish granted, more guardsmen appeared above the trench and fired on his warriors. Three of their number fell from the volley. Kamen vaulted at them. He caught one guardsman by the throat and cut three more down with one swing of his Crozious. He proceeded to rip the throat out of the guardsmen he caught. Still the Daemon in his weapon, as well as Kamen, thirsted for more blood.
Another squad of guardsmen came headlong down the trench, right at Kamen and his men. The sound of lasgun fire erupted all around them, followed by the sound of the pathetic shots bouncing off of the adamantium armored warriors. Many shots did reach their mark however and several of the corrupted brethren under Kamen’s command received grievous wounds. Still they fought on. Kamen, however was unhurt, the powers gifted to him by the chaos gods kept even the lightest of scratches from his ruinous armor. He was truly untouchable. Enraged by this feeble attempt of force, Kamen charged the guardsmen and hacked two in half with his massive Crozious. The rest of his squad quickly dispatched the remaining guardsmen in the same manner.
Everywhere he and his men went they cut the enemy down by the dozens. They eventually linked up with Samael and his squad. They proceeded to make their way further down the trench systems right side. There they encountered more Crimson Fists. The first rank began firing their bolters at Kamen and his men. With an evil grimace forming on Kamen’s helmet he threw his Crozious like a battle-axe at the nearest foe. Its head plunged through the loyalists mid section, and out the other side, the haft still visible through his breastplate. Kamen’s men charged into the enemy unit, and the sound of bone cracking rang through his ears. He gave a little smirk and strode to the marine who had his Crozious resting in his chest. Kamen slipped it out of the lifeless body with ease, and made his way to the nearest enemy. With both hands Kamen raised the demonically possessed weapon above his head, and brought it down on an foe who had fallen to the ground. The sheer strength of the blow drove the marine into the ground so that only an inch or two of his armor showed above the dirt.
Kamen looked up for another victim just in time to see a marine with a powersword lunging at him. Kamen had time enough to raise his arm to prevent the blow. The enemy’s powersword cut straight through his left arm, between the wrist and his elbow, and was burying itself deep into his shoulder. Kamen hadn’t remembered the last time he felt real pain. His protection field had faltered, but he’d suffered severe wounds before, and always recovered. This wound was not even that. His minions would simply craft him a new arm of steel rather than flesh. He relished the idea of fighting a worthy opponent, but was quickly disappointed. The marine practically gave up after Kamen removed his right leg with a backhand stroke of the Crozious. Disappointed he brought the Crozious down on the marine’s head. Would no servants of the false emperor prove him a challenge?
Kamen and his men continued the carnage of blood until the trench was piled knee deep with the dead. Suddenly the last of Kamen's squad exploded in a flurry of armor shards, and blood. Samael himself was torn to pieces under a hail of fire. Kamen turned to see the source of the fire and came face to face with a Crimson Fist Dreadnaught; the metal beast’s assault cannon still winding down. Kamen was unafraid for the gods still protected him with the energies that coruscated across his body. The Dreadnaughts assault cannon started winding up to fire. At that very moment the energies surrounding Kamen’s body dissipated. He was alone and defenseless. Kamen managed to spit a curse at the behemoth before it fired a salvo from its assault cannon.
Badly wounded, with gaping holes in his breastplate, Kamen fell to his knees and looked up defiantly at his assailant. The dreadnought readied itself above him to make the crushing blow with its massive gauntlet. He wondered what had gone wrong, he had followed the god’s plans perfectly, but was not victorious. "They must have forsaken me, I am not ready to go," he thought, "They have betrayed me!!"
Simultaneously in a hundred different tongues, a voice in the back of his mind said "WHAT ELSE CAN WE DO?" Kamen looked down at his Crozious, which no longer crackled with the energies of the warp, the daemon inside had gone. He stared at it for some time and noticed that instead of blood, black tar oozed forth from his wounds. The substance was pooling on the ground around him while ruinous shaped took form on its surface. He suddenly understood.
As life force left Kamens body he fell to the ground, the dreadnought still looming over him. The moment his body hit the pool of tar a monstrous creature erupted forth from its depths. The creature’s body rippled with the energies of the warp. Its head was a twisted combination of a bull and bear. Matted black fur covered the beasts back and taught muscle stretched across his body. Legs the size of large trees held the creature’s baroque physique. It stood a good ten feet above the arcane mechanized warrior, holding one of its four hands aloft, body as black a the tar from whence it came. Like a bolt of lightning its raised hand came crashing down, plowing straight through the dreadnought, which just stood dumbfounded. The creature let out a bellow that made the ground reverberate for several hundred yards.
Finally Altharus was born again, and the gods were pleased.
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