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*This is the first in a series of stories (written by me) of the Midnight Host.*

_______________________________________________Book One:
_______________________________________________ Damniato Memoriae


_________________________________________________Chapter One



“Brother Demosthenes. How’s it looking on your side?”
“Like a conglomeration of ships. What else?” answered Demosthenes. The great steel mass of the Retoris Rex hung in space before him, a huge conglomeration of hundreds of starships.

Space Hulks were rare finds. When some of the uncounted trillions of derelicts drifting in the void collided with another they created a gravetic pull. Other ships, asteroids, rocks, dust particles and the like were pulled in and created a huge, ugly mass. In the 41st millennium, starships were not the slight things of prehistoric science fiction, but huge behemoths the size of cities. Many warships were fully capable of singlehandedly destroying a planet. This hulk, designated Retoris Rex by the Administratium, had been spat out of the warp only a few months ago and the third company of the Iron Snakes Space Marines chapter was the first to heed the call.

The strike cruiser Black Serpent waited, a tiny speck compared to the Rex. The Snakes were taking along several local tech-priests, who they had been tasked with guarding for their foray into the space hulk’s bowls. Squads Alpha, Beta, Sigma and Omega were going onto the hulk, forty astartes. Along with the Tactical Squads were going two Veteran Squads, Hierophant and Gladius. Alpha, Beta, Omega and Sigma squads were the stock standard Tactical Squads, each one comprised of eight of the superhuman Adeptus Astartes, armed with Bolters –huge and blocky rectangular weapons that held a magazine of thirty hand-grenade sized explosive Bolts. The eight tactical marines were accompanied by Devastators, a pair of battle-brothers wielding the holiest of heavy weapons: Flamers, plasma cannons, heavy bolters, meltaguns and the like. Gladius squad was comprised of another ten marines –Assault Marines- who wielded chainswords and bolt pistols. Hierophant consisted of five Terminators-veteran brothers who were equipped with Storm bolters and Tactical Dreadnought armor, placing them at almost triple a man’s height.

Demosthenes kept a grip on his Bolter as the thunderhawk entered the primitive atmosphere of the hulk and settled down in the hanger of some long-derelict ship. Markings identified it as imperial.
The assault gunship touched down, alighting on the deck. Sergeant Gaius spoke up.
“Ramps down. Sigma squad, spread out.”

The boarding ramp hit the steel floor of the hulk and ten ten-foot tall astartes strode out, their steel-colored ceramite armor and blue snakes on white fields adorning their pauldrons marking them as Iron Snakes. The two human-sized tech-priests that rolled, scuttled, or walked down the ramp after them were almost childlike in comparison. Magos Hyze, the engineseer in charge of this mission, sedately strode down the ramp, mechadendrites waving in excitement.

“Well done, astartes,” he intoned, his voice as flat as the space marine’s –though theirs were distorted by the voxcasters in their snarling helmets. The magos had a vox-grill welded to his throat and dozens of mechanical limbs –mechadendrites- attached to his spinal cord. A long tube ran from his nose beneath bionic eyes and several intravenous tubes dripped oil into his system. By his inhuman appearance, Hyze was high in the machine-cult of the Omnissah, the machine god, whose followers believed that ‘The Flesh is Weak.’
Sergeant Gaius seemed to pay Hyze no mind, instead ordering brother Fernix to scan the area with his auspex.
“Nothing sir, though tremors indicate life signs further up –maybe a few hundred yalms.”
Gaiuys nodded. “Brother Demosthenes, you have point.”

“Yes sir,” responded Demosthenes, gripping his blocky bolter.
First contact was sooner than he expected. No sooner had he stepped more than a half-hundred yards down the hall he heard a screech. Swinging his bolter to an alcove to his right, he fired into the darkness at a shape. The blast from the weapon deafened whatever it was, and the hand-sized bullet –or ‘bolt’-- impacted against flesh. The flash illuminated the alien. Genestealer, a huge, pale, hairless, chitin-covered, wiry, six-limbed beast that was known for killing the largest of orks in a single swipe. Demosthenes watched as the explosive bullet burst within the thing’s ribcage. dotting his armor in acidic blood and sending it down to the hallway’s floor with a splat. He fired another pair of shots into it just to be sure, painting xeno insides all over the floor.
“Demosthenes! Report!” Gaius demanded, pounding over.

“Genestealers, brother-sergeant. Tyranids.”

Gaius prodded the corpse with the toe of his ceramite boot. “Careful.”

“yes, sir.”

Several hours later, Demosthenes was walking alongside Brother Fernix.
“What do these engineseers want with this hulk anyways? They seemed even more obsessed than usual about it,” asked Demosthenes. Fernix grunted.

“Probably a lost design of some sort, remember on Alimar?”

Demosthenes nodded. “Ripped a whole planet apart for their STC. What was it they wanted anyhow? I seem to recall entire hives of imperial citizens having to be evacuated before they came.”

“A lost Standard Template Construct…some sort of apparatus for watering plants.”

Demnosthenes nodded. Standard-Template-Constructs were blueprints that allowed anyone to create what they showed. They were simple and incredibly hard to find and as innovation was blasphemy against the wisdom of the ancients and anyone who tried creating new devices was usually sentenced to death by the inquisition, most newly-rediscovered STCs were found by the Adeptus Mechanicus-Adepts of the machine-god--and thus the Cult Mechanicus held a virtual monopoly on technology.

Another voice broke through their conversation. “We’re here.” It was Hyze. They had reached some sort of massive room blockaded with huge ceramite doors. Fernix whistled. “Looks like that door could hold out against a titan’s main gun.”


*More has been written if people want to read the rest. Should I post the rest of the story?*

I like it, we seldom see space hulk action.

Its pretty good more please

‘Master, we’re coming out of Warp.’ Reported Ulysses to the huge figure on the dais of the bridge.
“Acceptable.” It spoke in a deep, cold voice that heralded doom.
The ship, the banshee’s wail tore out of the abomination-infested realm of Warp Space, it’s Gellar fields down. The Imperium needed the Geller Field as a psychic mask over their ship, a projection that drove away the aberrations of the Warp that mankind called ‘Daemons’ this ship’s geller fields had been last activated some ten thousand years ago. They drifted though the Warp ‘the Empyriean’ giving Daemons free reign over their vessel, The frozen surface of the ship glittered in the light of the closing wound in realty, upon further inspection, the hull was carved in the likeness of inconceivable horrors.
Ulysses tapped the glowing runes on the control panel in front of him, each one surrounded by a ring of teeth that weakly tried to chew his fingers when he hit the runes. The Wail halted its forward motion, it’s thrusters arresting the inertia.
From atop the dais, the huge figure moved, standing up. A massive being, fifteen feet tall at the least, clad in ten-thousand-year-old armor and midnight blue. Lightning played across the armor.
“Stall the ship here, Ulysses, and have the Dread Claws ready.” It said, and turned, stomping down the main hall without another word.
The figure reached the assault pods with the rest of the Talons dedicated to this raid. They had been ransacking Space Hulks for almost a thousand years now, and were sure they had finally found the correct one.
They were traitors, shunned by the Imperium, Their legion, the Night lords, had betrayed the Imperium during the Horus Heresy ten thousand years ago. They embraced the sanity-eating realm of chaos, a lawless faction. They were the Archenemy.
The great figure’s name was Demogorgon, and he was feared across millions of imperial worlds, the Retoris Rex contained what he was looking for, he was sure of it.
The traitors boarded the Dread Claws that would bring them aboard the hulk.
___________________________________________________________


Demosthenes idly tapped the handle of his boltgun, the mechanicum priests had been sawing through the doors for sixteen hours now and were about fifty feet in. according to them, the doors were only sixty feet thick. He wondered what was behind them.
“Sergeant, we’re picking up discharge fumes from space, Dread Claw Pattern assault Craft, suspect renegades.” A tech preist droned from his place at a monitoring board to Gaius.
“What? They’ve got to be here for what the mechanicum wants, triangulate their landing, Brother Octavius, set up a defense here, Brother Mourne, get some Melta weapons into that tunnel. Speed up the dig and defend it.”
One of the dozen tech-priests protested. ‘sergeant, you may cause irreparable damage to the doorframe if-“ He was interrupted by the booming voice of Gaius. “IT doesn’t matter, we need to get in, now!”
Mourne had already charged into the tunnel in the wall, meltagun heating up.
Demosthenes turned to the sergeant. “Is there anything you need me to do?”
“You have command here until you need to fall back, the heretics will be coming for whatever lost technology the mechanicus have unearthed here, I’ll take Halofernes and Siggitarius and set up an ambush for them ahead, this is the only corridor to these doors.”
Demosthenes nodded an affirmative, Gaius, Halofenres and Siggataurus were going to certain death, but death in the emperor’s service was never in vain.
He turned to the other marines. Six men under his new command. “Borias, set your heavy bolter up somewhere protected, Hypax, fetch Mourne and have him prep his meltagun, I want everyone combat-ready.”

The hulk shook with footsteps. five Chaos Terminators strode down it’s serpentine hallways, flanked by dozens of lesser Night lord chaos space marines.
“The throne slaves have beat us here.” Observed one, a brute named Yheenoghu, in his ceramite-encased gauntlets he bore a huge Thunder hammer, a solid block of steel the size of a packing crate fixed on a massive pole, the power field on the hammer crackled with ozone. Demogorgon returned the spoken thought over the vox-net. “yes, we’ve jammed their transmissions, with any luck, we’ll be in and out of here in moments,”
“And they’ll be dead?” Asked the other Terminator, hefting his power sword.
“Of course.”Answered Demogorgon.
The first ‘throne-slaves’ they encountered was a small squad of marines, only three men strong. They sprung out of alcoves and opened fire with boltguns, one, obviously a sergeant used a Bolt pistol and chainsword.
With a roar, Yheenoghu charged forward, his huge Thunder hammer catching the sergeant in the chest and sending him through a bulkhead wall. Angry shouts blared from his long, flat mask and he boomed out challenges and demands for the strongest warrior to come challenge him.
Demogorgon just walked through the firefight, not even bothering to lift his weapons, a double-barreled Storm Bolter with a spiked bayonet fixed on the lug and a huge spiked powerfist replete with a protruding chainsword blade that growled and spat as the teeth whirred.
Demogorgon strode onward, his marines accompanying him after they had finished conducting the butchery of the now-dead loyalists, many of them had hacked the enemy to pieces, affixing enemy heads to spikes and threading hands and fingers on necklaces. Demogorgon’s men, each former Astartes of the eighteenth legion, now traitors to the Imperium, followers of twisted gods cackled and whooped as they rushed down the halls, even their huge power armored frames dwarfed by demogorgon and his Terminators, clad in Tactical dreadnought Armor.
They turned a corner and arrived in an antechamber, huge doors were in place of a wall here, and far above the symbol of the Adeptus mechanicus Legio Titanicus adorned the doors. Almost as an afterthought, some thirty space marines were clustered around the door, accompanied by a half-dozen techpriests. Demogorgon’s eye was caught by a group of seven marines, who guarded the tunnel entrance. The entire group was made up of silver-cladIron Snakes.
The loyal astartes remained silent behind their makeshift defenses as the Night Lords spread out over the hall.
Demogorgon gave the order over the vox-bead to capture if they could. The night lords had trouble recruiting from allied traitor worlds, as other, more powerful warbands usually laid claim to them as tithe worlds.
After several moments of silence, Yheenoghu stepped foreward, raising his Thunder-Hammer. Demogorgon nodded, and his champion howled, charging at his loyal counterparts. The rest of the Night lords advanced as well, firing their bolters. A dozen warcries carried through the air, some heretic, some loyal.
“Blood for the Blood God!”
“Ave Imperiator!”
Demogorgon chopped, hacked, punched and shot his way through the gory melee, stopping only at the entrance to the tunnel. The seven marines guarding it were duly slaughtered, save one. The lone Iron Snake had gotten a power sword from somewhere, and his bolter was grasped in one hand. “Step aside, Throne-slave,” Hissed demogorgon. “and I’ll only torture you to death.”
“Go back to the warp, heretic.” Spat the marine.
“No, Throne Slave, now Step. Aside.”
“My name is Demosthenes of the Iron Snakes.” Replied the marine, remaining steadfast.

I didn’t come here to say hello, serpent,” Said Demogorgon, powering up his chainfist. “I came here for the titans.”
Demosthenes roared, and swung his power sword, Demogorgon stepped back, the scene that played out was likely absurd, a single marine combating a power-armored giant among giants. Demogorgon slashed Demosthenes with his chainfist, opening a great rent in his armor, the loyalist in turn hacked at the heretic’s arm. Capitalizing on his small victory, Demogorgon barreled forward, smashing the marine against the wall. Demosthenes struggled feebly in his iron girp as he was shoved roughly against the bulkhead and demogorgon’s Storm bolter jammed him in the gut. The serrated bayonet sliding though power armor and mangling Demosthenes’s midsection.
“Had you stepped aside, I would only have killed you, you have brought a far worse fate upon yourself.”
Demosthenes gasped out “The emperor protects.” as he fell limp. The terminator grunted and withdrew the bayonet form his enemy’s guts, letting him fall to the ground. He motioned to one of his Night lords, an apothecary, his white armor had long been carved over and he was now using his tools to open up the fallen, loyal and heretic alike and retrieve their gene-seed, -the organ that was used to create space marines, harvested from the dead. The apothecary looked up from his grisly work, striding over to his master. ‘My lord, do you require healing?’ asked the medic.
‘Negative, this one’s alive, stabilize him and any living ones and put them abpared the Wail.” Said Demogorgon, gesturing at the fallen Demosthenes.
“By will, we live, my lord.”
Demogorgon grunted and started down the tunnel the mechanicus lackeys had carved in the wall, he was in no mood for sycophantic grovelings right now.
Stepping into the chamber beyond, he took in the sight before him, ignoring the dead mechanics adepts and his night lords scavenging the remains like carrion birds. A Titan. An armored god of war stood in the chamber, it stood so tall that it’s top would have dwarfed the mightiest sky-scrapers of ancient terra. Probably a full mile tall. It’s left arm was a huge six-barreled cannon with firing tubes the size of tramway tunnels and it’s left was a giant saw blade that could easily have covered a city block.
The sheer nature of the Titan impressed Demogorgan, a man who respected only strength and possession and the core of cruelty that made up the tatters of his tarnished and blasted soul. A man who had been damned by trillions as one of the worst horrors to crawl from the Eye of Terror, and a monster to his men. This titan , in its millennia-old circuitry contained the secrets of its great legion, hidden on a world that Demogorgon knew nothing about.
Yet.
It’s machine-brain contained a map to its brothers, an entire legion of Titans -God-machines that would turn the balance of any war, and more importantly, draw untold thousands to his bloody banner.
He felt Yheenoguhu approach and regard the titan with interest. “With a single titan alone, your horde will swell.” He said, stating the obvious, as was his dogma. “With a legion we could annihilate entire subsectors. Today was a fine victory, my lord.”
Demogorgon smiled, a thin, cruel smile. “Victory? Victory signifies an ending. This is only the beginning. There is no peace amongst the stars. Only an eternity of carnage and slaughter. And the laughter of thirsting gods.”
-Fin.