Xenohunter Acolyte with Alacrity
England
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Author's Notes
Playing Retribution as the Blood Ravens, i was dissatisfied when Eliphas was killed off in the first mission.
Don't get me wrong, i'm a massive Blood Ravens fan, but Eliphas made me shiver in a way no other Chaos Lord did. He was cunning, calculating, cruel and what terrified me the most was the fact that he offered his enemies the chance to join him, where most Chaos Lords would simply slaughter their way through and ensure no allies or slaves to bolster their forces.
For my new series, focussing on an Inquisitor character i've been working for some time on, i wanted to include something people would be familiar with.
I saw this as a chance to create a little bit more of a background for Eliphas, to establish in (fanfic) concrete that this was a man who would not die...easily.
Seraphos was a real piece of work, i wanted to create someone who was on an intellectual par with Eliphas, who knew him well enough to predict his tendencies and prepare for them.
So, this is the first of a four-part series, i'll be posting the second part, which introduces my main character, later today, and the other two in the following days.
The first installment introduces Seraphos the Bloody, a Chaos Lord who was one of Eliphas' Aspiring Champions on Kronus, who (for currently unknown reasons) has been keeping tabs on his old master.
Hope you guys enjoy this, please feel free to comment...
“We raised him in glorious fire,” The uneven voice cackled, the occupants of the dimly-lit steel chamber shuddered.
“On the ninth day, we called to him, and he answered,”
They were Imperial citizens, one and all, and they had all been stupid enough to stay behind.
“On Kronus first, and then on Aurelia, again and again, he rises, the immortal lord of the dark,”
The voice was ethereal, unreal; it clawed at the insides of their minds, tearing their sanity asunder with visions of the infinite powers of chaos.
“On Typhon, he tore the Venerable asunder, and now, we lay your souls upon the bare steel, opened to the infinite sky of the Warp to make him flesh once more.”
Some of the captives screamed, clawing at their eyes, jamming their fingers into their ears so deep that blood trickled from their lobes. Some had taken to ferociously attacking each other to make the voice stop, but to no avail.
A tear opened in the very fabric of reality, the voice giggled in a fit of insanity, and several captives collapsed as their blood spiralled up and into the insane, swirling sea of demonic faces and ethereal lights.
A black shape formed against the insanity-inducing lights, gaining mass and shape until it resembled a man, the pearly white eyes glowing against the figure’s silhouette, rendered black against the swirling contours of the rip in reality.
The figure clenched its fists, a low purr of a laugh ripping out of its throat, and suddenly the captives exploded in a tide of blood, immediately sucked up into the mass of the figure.
There was a burst of light, and the Warp gate collapsed in on itself as Eliphas the Inheritor dropped to the steel floor of the chamber, his pale skin laced with scars and war wounds, his pale eyes looking upon the surviving offerings with loathing, both for them and himself.
He was naked from the waist up, clad only in tattered rags that might once have been guard kit standard issue leggings.
He let out a low growl in his purring, icy voice.
The survivors of the ordeal, the sanest of the sacrifices, were huddled together at the far end of the chamber.
Two men in tattered Guard kit, a sister of the Ecclesiarchy, perhaps a healer, a man in the torn, bloody remains of a Commissar’s uniform, a feeble Greyskin Tau, immune to the voice that plagued the others, but still terrified by the ordeal that befell the others, and lastly, an Eldar witch, most likely a Farseer, the only one not cowering in fear.
She seemed to be shielding the others, who were cowering like children, mentally broken, her arms laced around the Guardsmen protectively whilst they wept.
“How…disgusting,” Eliphas sneered, “That you would protect these feeble creatures, when the allure of Chaos offers so much more.”
He closed his eyes, feeling the putrid sweetness of the Warp pour into him; he channelled the power, throwing the Eldar witch aside with a flick of his wrist.
The beautiful creature slammed into the far wall and fell to her knees, her dark red hair falling over her face.
Pathetically, one of the Guardsmen stood, and Eliphas saw, through the grime and blood that covered his face, that the man was none other than the former General of the Guard forces in Sub-Sector Aurelia.
“Castor,” he chuckled darkly, “Do you still preach your pathetic Imperial creed? Do you still believe yourself above mortal men?”
Eliphas reached out, watching Castor squirm as he grasped the man by his throat and lifted him clean off the ground.
Castor gagged, scrabbling at Eliphas’ tightening hand.
The newly fleshed Inheritor heard a roar of fury off to his right, as the other guardsman rushed him with a feral glint in his eye.
Eliphas swung Castor round like a blunt weapon, slamming the other guardsman away across the decking.
Dropping Castor, Eliphas strode over to his attacker, revelling in the feeling of being clad in flesh once more.
He kneeled on the man’s chest, his sheer, Warp-fuelled bulk cracking the man’s ribs.
Extending both hands, Eliphas slapped the man several times in the face.
“You do not disturb the predator when the prey is in his maw.”
Eliphas placed a hand either side of the guardsman’s face, and with a deft flick, snapped the man’s neck.
Castor was on his feet now, taking a boxer’s stance. The General had little chance against the corrupt Astartes warlord, but Eliphas enjoyed crushing his enemies slowly.
The Ecclesiarchy sister was up now, also taking a fighting stance, as was the Commissar. The Tau filth was curled up and sobbing, and the Eldar witch was clutching at a broken rib.
Eliphas rose to his feet, deliberately slow.
“The Inheritance is nigh, friends, come take me.”
The Commissar was the first, he leapt with an adrenaline-fuelled roar, and Eliphas caught him by the foot, swinging him to smash into the Ecclesiarchy sister who had tried to tackle him from the side.
Both went flying, as Eliphas ducked a sweeping kick from Castor and lashed out with his palm flat, striking the General in the knee and laughing as he heard the sharp crack of bone splintering.
Castor crashed to the floor on his back as Eliphas rose and smashed his foot into the General’s left arm, watching it bend at an inhuman angle as bone; sinew and muscle were pulped out of shape.
Castor let out a scream.
Eliphas heard a swish behind him, and turned in time to catch the charging Commissar.
He grasped the rage-maddened Commissar around the waist and disposed of him with a shoulder toss.
The Ecclesiarchy sister leapt and lashed out at him with a punch towards his chest.
Eliphas caught her fist and twisted her forearm as he sidestepped her.
She screamed and thrashed as Eliphas drove her to the floor.
Placing a foot carefully on her head, he braced, and then pulped the structure of her skull, prompting another roar of rage from the Commissar as he lashed at Eliphas from behind.
Eliphas channelled the pure energies of the warp, directing his hand at the commissar, whose head exploded in a fountain of blood.
Eliphas knelt beside the whimpering Castor, wrenching the man up by his hair.
“This is the fate that awaits your Imperium, Castor; thank me for sparing you from what comes after.”
Castor spat blood at Eliphas, before the Chaos Lord filled himself with pure warp energy, and tore Castor’s head and spine from his body.
Striding over to the feeble Tau, Eliphas prepared to soak himself in Xenos blood.
“So fragile, your kind, I could pulverise your empire between my finger and my thumb.”
The Tau, a female, by the shape of her body, lashed out with a sharp kick of her hoofed foot that sent Eliphas stumbling back.
“FILTH!” he roared, grabbing the Tau female savagely by the neck and slamming her repeatedly into the wall, paying no attention to the Farseer behind him.
***
A bright blast of light radiated out through the small clear window set into the chamber’s door.
On the opposite side to the blast, the Chaos Lord, Seraphos the Bloody stood with his arms folded over his ceramite-plated chest.
Seraphos was a Dark Apostle, a preacher of the divine powers of Chaos undivided.
His armour was a faded, rust-covered red, rimmed with silver, his face would have been handsome, were it not for the pale skin, the steel studs replacing his teeth, and the amber, cat-like eyes. A crop of blood-red hair topped his head, obscuring one eye from view.
He cradled his horned helmet in the crook of one arm, and a serrated axe was belted at his waist.
He basked in the cold glow of the warplight.
Nearby, Eravas, his lieutenant, stood with his hands folded behind his back.
“You say the Inheritor is more psychically apt than the Farseer?” Seraphos murmured in a wolf-like growl.
“He ought to be,” Eravas replied, his power armour clinking as he shifted his feet, “The warp energy he absorbed ought to be sufficient enough to manifest him as he was at the height of Aurelia.”
Seraphos nodded quietly, his upper lip twitching as it always did whenever he discussed someone he disliked.
Just now, he’d mentioned two.
The cold, icy light of the warpfire dissipated, and a second later, the door clinked mechanically on rusted gears as it slid into the wall.
Eliphas the Inheritor, in all his scar-laced majesty, stepped through the doorway, holding a limp female figure in each hand.
One was a beautiful Eldar female, a Farseer they’d acquired in the wake of the Tyrannid invasion of Aurelia, before Eliphas had even set foot in the system.
The Word Bearers had been stealthy; this one was worth something to them.
The other was a Tau female, a disgusting thing that Seraphos had brought from a slaver for a discount price.
“Eliphas,” Seraphos uttered in a mock tone of welcome, “So glad you answered our summons.”
“Seraphos,” Eliphas returned, not bothering to disguise his anger, “You didn’t die on Kronus, then.”
“Not at all, Eliphas. In fact, Lorgar bade me take command of the forces you abandoned.”
Eliphas snarled, “Yet I see no Accursed Crozius, Seraphos, are you not one of Lorgar’s trusted?”
“I would have taken yours from your corpse, Eliphas, but the Loyalist Astartes had it burned.”
Seraphos couldn’t keep a tone of amusement from entering his voice.
“Davian Thule now lies dead.” Eliphas growled firmly, “And a good portion of his Blood Ravens with him.”
“But not all,” Seraphos reminded him, “It is a good job we got to you first, Lord Abaddon is reported to have been…quite upset.”
He expected Eliphas to flinch, but instead he seemed to grow more feral, the look in his eye suggested he wouldn’t think twice about strangling Seraphos, even without the aid of power armour.
“So,” Eliphas spat, “What miserable backside of a planet have you spawned me into?”
Seraphos grinned, exposing the iron-stud teeth.
“This is Maras, Eliphas, and we have a war to fight.”
Eliphas let out a cold, chilling laugh, handing the two limp females to Eravas.
“Secure these two,” Eliphas instructed, “These fleas will die slowly for inclining me to scratch.”
Seraphos noted a faint, hoof-like imprint on Eliphas’ bare, scar-covered chest, which seemed to match one of the Tau female’s hooves.
He grinned, taking satisfaction in the idea that Eliphas might one day be destroyed and humiliated by something half his size.
“I presume,” Eliphas began in an irritated growl, catching Seraphos’ grin, “That I will be fighting in power armour?”
“A courtesy, Eliphas,” Seraphos replied with an over-exaggerated bow, “The very armour you wore on Typhon, recovered from where you expired at the hands of the Astartes Captain.”
“Apollo Diomedes will get his comeuppance,” Eliphas muttured throatily, “If Thule hadn’t sent out a distress signal before I finished him…”
“Then you would not be here, which is unfortunate.” Seraphos finished for him, “Go, don your armour, this Bastion was once a Loyalist stronghold, pray it isn’t again.”
Eliphas looked set to rip someone’s head off, but he obeyed, leaving the room with a muttered curse.
Though Seraphos despised the man for his immortality, he could not deny Eliphas’ tactical supremacy. Eliphas’ demonic pacts meant that fate curled around the man like warpfire around a Daemon’s feet.
The eddies and currents of fate bent, allowing circumstance to bring Eliphas back, time and time again.
Seraphos had made careful preparations before summoning his ex-commander. Eliphas was treacherous, as was proven on Kronus, when he had abandoned Seraphos to die at Deimos, and again on Aurelia, when he had betrayed Araghast.
Seraphos knew Eliphas would attempt betrayal again. Like all things in Chaos, it was Eliphas’ nature to hold his own survival over those of his comrades and superiors.
“Ready the sacrificial pit,” he ordered Eravas, “When the time comes, we abandon this place, I won’t risk taking him with us.”
“So he is…a distraction?” Eravas asked.
Seraphos didn’t reply, his attention had been caught by the stirring of the Eldar witch.
“Eravas, what was the witch’s name again?”
“Idranel.” Eravas replied simply.
“Throw her in a cell with the greyskin, she can rot there until we need to use the pit.”
Eravas nodded, moving off and dragging the two females behind him.
Suddenly, Eliphas’ voice rang through Seraphos’ micro-bead.
“You neglected to mention the Loyalists at our door.”
“Consider it…a test, Eliphas,” Seraphos chuckled, “See if you still have the spark you had on Kronus.”
There was an earth-shaking rumble, and Seraphos heard yelling and screaming at the other end of the Vox link.
“They’ve breached the outer walls.” Eliphas stated icily.
“Then repel!” Seraphos barked, shutting off the link.
He couldn’t deal with the bastard Inheritor right now.
He strode down the corridor, ceramite clanking on metal with every step until he came to a bulk-door. The thing was designed to withstand all but the heaviest ordnance.
A high-calibre Las-Cannon wouldn’t breach it.
Keying in his passcode, Seraphos stepped through onto one of the Bastion Medrogus’ many battlements.
Basking in the red light of a battlefield dawn, Seraphos speculated once again on Kronus.
If Eliphas hadn’t left him to die, he would now hold that Crozius, and Eliphas’ warp-spawned immortality would never have come to pass.
The warp was like all things in chaos, it ultimately acted to its own ends; it would chew you up and spit you out. Seraphos took some small comfort in the idea that one day, when the warp was done with him; Eliphas would be a rotting carcass, and nothing more.
As he closed his eyes, and listened to the comforting thud of distant artillery, Seraphos offered a prayer to Chaos undivided that he would live to see that day.
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