Furious Raptor
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IN THE GRIM DARKNESS OF THE FAR FUTURE THERE IS ONLY WAR
"It is the 41st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor of Mankind has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the vast Imperium of Man for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day so that he may never truly die. Yet even in his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the Warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. Vast armies give battle in His name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever-vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat to humanity from aliens, heretics, mutants -- and far, far worse. To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be relearned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods."
As the Immaterium opened itself up from within, the void space above the imperial jungle world of Ensiari began to rumble and crackle with warp storms. The void became a screaming circle of dark hues shrieking with raw power and warp current. Unrelenting at first the warp tunnel finally let go of the ancient craft within. Tearing out of the warp the Oberon class battleship known as ‘Fist of Heaven’ peeled into real space and finished its voyage like prey crawling out of its killer’s maw. It was a rare ship in the imperium; an Oberon class meant it needed no cruisers or frigates, no extra fire power; it was made up of ancient and forgotten technologies from the harbours of the forgeworld mars 6000 years ago in millennia 35 000, it was the backbone to the Stone Custodians, a long forgotten chapter of the adeptus astartes. They were created in the 13th founding. Like its wielders the ship had its own battle scars, burns and craters scared the prow, massive plates had been refitted along the port and starboard sides where boarding actions had occurred and deep channels of lances arced on its belly where swift xenos craft had thought the vessel vulnerable like the bellies of the massive Firepaw a large carnivore on Torque the chapters home world. Previous chapter masters had said the ship wasn’t flown it was wielded! Even though the ship was slightly outdated by some technology of the newer chapters Battle barges being commonly used throughout the imperium, in single combat an Oberon would tear the rival ships apart with ease. It was a self sufficient ship just as the chapter it belonged to wanted. It didn’t excel at any one particular combat role but filled them all. It was able to put out even amounts of ordinance, lance fire and weapons batteries. It had worked its way through warp travel from the planet Dannador which was the second closest planet to the Stone Wardens chapters’ home world of Torque located in the Segmentum Obscuris, sub-sector Charvek. Fist of Heaven often traveled a circuit around the sector like an imperial guardian. As the warp drives began to let out there final discharge of excess power internal drives and massive engines hissed and chugged as it began to anchor itself in the high orbit of Ensiari.
The Stone Custodians were unmentioned in the daily commerce of the lords of terra, among the other astartes created in M35 they had been forgotten, like thousands of their brothers they had been abandon such was the mystery of the ‘Dark founding.’ No record of creation, no glory to be recorded in the halls of Terra, no famous paintings or scripture to record of deeds served to protect the northern Segmentum. It did not matter to the Custodians the end justified the means; only in death did you truly serve the emperor of mankind. Even if scribes and lords did not see the duty being carried out, the chapter new in their dual hearts the emperor was watching, and only he could truly judge their actions. They were occasionally rewarded by the mechanicum of Mars; it seems they weren’t forgotten by the forgeworld, with armour and ammunitions; the last recorded visit was the 37th millennia. The chapter had also found several space hulks in the central area of their sub sector; they had collected vast amounts of battle plate, vehicles and weaponry.
The chapter had never known their father, their Primarch; there was always an emptiness the Custodians felt within. Perhaps this was why their skin was always cold as stone. If such knowledge had been known it was forgotten, or worse kept secret. They shared traits with their space marine brethren but they were still different. Thus over the millennia they had come to believe they were the emperors own. The emperor was like them; a silent giant sitting vigilant in his golden throne, a Custodian of the galaxy, his wrath met if provoked, such was the way of the chapter.
From high orbit looking out of the main view ports from the bridge Ensiari was beautiful. The world was covered by a canopy of monstrous greenery and thick tall trees that dangled long vines which were hundreds of meters long. Large tear drop fruits grew and hung on the vines; only to fall when reaching perfect age feeding and nourishing the planet’s surface. The planet’s surface was covered with colourful plant life, and a matted jungle floor of mosses and roots. The only life was a variety of insectoid which hunted its vast floor searching for delicious fruits that might fall from the tall canopies. Hidden by the world’s untouched surface there were ancient temples of thick dark green slabs of rock which had been cut with skilful precision. They had been dated back before the great crusade and were possibly created by xenos, but none could be certain. In the chapter’s discovery of sub-sector Charvek Ensiari was one of the last planets to be discovered and explored, it had immediately been listed as a ‘Pleasure world’. Within the sector there were three planets all similar in design, Nayoloir, which was identical to Ensiari and Ryisador. Nayoloir was the closest planet to the sun bellow Torque, and Ryisador was central though it was similar, it was mostly vast ocean with sporadic islands. All three of these planets would be used for terra nobility, retired commanders, cardinals and companies of imperial regiment off duty. Famous scribes and painters for art and music, to inspire the imperium’s civilians in a grim galaxy. Since it was a pleasure world it would remain untouched and unscathed by the touch of man-kinds vast and consuming forges and complexes. It was the farthest eastern planet in the sub-sector, under protection by the Stone Custodians. The only clue it was an imperial world was a communications array, and an imperial shrine of the emperor. Each were built at two different locations amongst or within the old green rocked temples which helped their construction blend in and not spoil the breath taking view. Only the emperors’ presence could make Ensiari truly beautiful. Within the sector there were three imperial shrines, one located at each of the Pleasure worlds.
The imperial shrines were beacons of hope to all in the sub-sector; it helped the emperor’s angels of death fight with increased vigor, and gave the imperial common folk instilled faith. It was a very important chapter artefact and strategic asset. The communications array helped relay messages to and from ships and other worlds; chapter initiates who had not earned their battle brother status within the chapter often maintained vigilance over Ensiari and manned the array. The chapter had never put all of their trust in machines it didn’t sit right with their guts. Occasionally the scouts would pilot a land speeder or perhaps a bike squadron to ensure the planets beauty wasn’t at risk from filthy Orks, or worse a Tyranid infestation which started with lurking predators known as lictors, or the infamous sneaky Ork ‘kommandos.’ There had been stories and whispers that it was possible the warp god of pleasure could consume entire planets the imperial lords had deemed as ‘pleasure worlds’ enveloping the planet in deformed astartes and daemonettes, but surely they were rumors.
No crew-men at the sensorium or engineers and navigation helms had to turn to know that brother Corthog had entered the bridge he was one of the largest in the chapter and the heaviest especially when he was in battle plate. He always managed to tremor the nearest monitor as he entered. Fully armoured in his red and black battle plate he strode forwards purposefully to the centre of the large command throne to stand beside head chaplain Aithulien and chief librarian Thellion. The Techmarine’s allegiance to the mechanicum of Mars and his chapter was shown on his chest; a large cog wheel split in half the other side the chapter symbol.
As Corthog stood before his brothers he instantly noticed the librarian starring at him, his face was dark and hidden but Corthog could detect subtle emotions even the slightest gesture went unnoticed by his augmented body. The humanity in the techmarine almost shivered under the psyker’s gaze.
From behind Corthog a small figure was revealed to the bridge serfs and the astartes present on the bridge. Dwarfed in size by the astartes was Luna, a young girl with long and curly blonde hair, she wore a light blue robe like the rest of the serfs and menials that served the chapter. She was the Fist of Heavens lead Astropath; it was Astropaths that the imperium counted on for sending and receiving messages through the warp to planets and ships. Luna was a well liked and a well spoken member of the chapter. She usually spent most of her time in her chambers the fact that she mustered the courage to stand on the bridge impressed all present, but also worried a few.
‘My lords and officers I wanted to personally inform you that our ships choir has been unable to make contact with the astropaths on Ensiari, we had sent a message to the choir when we departed from Torque, and again when we left orbit of Dannador.’ Luna immediately felt the presence of Thellion’s cerulean blue eyes flare at her, as if searching her thoughts prying into her mind. Astropaths were powerful psykers themselves sending messages thousands of light years across the galaxy but compared to a chief librarian they’re mastery was child’s play. The librarian strode towards the psyker and placed his gauntlet on her small shoulder, to Luna’s surprise he was very gentle.
‘Luna please rest, your exerting yourself just being here, thank you for your efforts please have the other astropaths care for you, I will have an medicae escort take you back to your chambers.’ Finishing Thellion glanced briefly at Worjakx and Aithulien, it was clear Thellion was troubled.
‘It is unusual for Captain Aezullion not to make communications immediately, spoke company champion Thane of the honour guard; walking into the bridge eager to be at his master’s side. ‘Normally the master of recruits would be more eager to embrace his brothers after such a long period abandon on the world training the 10th.’ ‘The honour guard is clad in bolter and blade my lord’, finished Thane was pressing his hands to his chest, making the sign of the Aquila.
Chaplain Aithulien made the sign of the Aquila for all too see, and Chapter master Worjakx nodded to no one particular.
‘Thane just the one I was looking for, spoke Thellion jesting with one hand, please escort Luna to her chambers and see to it a medicae team sees to her.’ Thane was about to protest the librarian when his eyes flared blue, a sign that he would not be argued, before Thane left the bridge he bowed to his lords and gently lead Luna out of the bridge.
‘His zeal and duty does not go unnoticed!’ Thellion said jokingly breaking out in a savage harsh laugh to Aithulien and Worjakx; it was a well deserved jest that broke the tension around the dias. Even Corthog bore a wide smile, which was unusual for the techmarine.
Techmarine Corthog taped his armoured fingers on the data slates that were mag-locked to his armour. He soon began to project large images on the hololithic star map in the centre of the bridge. First the image showed the Segmentum, then the sub-sector, and then zooming in Ensiari, data began to stream all over the holo-lith. It became clear the augers from the ship detected nothing abnormal in the void, just empty space as it should be, the planetary probes had similar results, no life signs. The planet looked like a desolate world, just as it had always been, just as they had always left it.
‘I cannot hail our scouts at the communications array via vox-casters, Corthog spoke not even looking up from the view screens, his voice gave away his astonishment and acceptance that something machine had utterly failed so completely. ‘It would appear we are alone, and the void is empty,’ Corthog finished, turning to face his battle brothers. He finally revealed his augmented features one of his eyes was still shrouded in a red cloak that draped his tall and bulky frame; the other was a host of three red lights. Randomly clicking and floating behind the techmarine was a servo skull wires hung from its bottom and wires weaved in and out of the skull like giant moon worms. ‘I would personally like to take my adepts to the surface and inspect the array, we should depart immediately the array was created thousands of millennia ago, if damaged beyond repair it would be a mighty blow to our chapter, and the imperium as a strategic outpost.’
Sitting quietly like a massive golem chapter master Worjakx ‘ stone hide’ rose from his command throne; slabs of stone from Torque at the back to the bridge. He stood, his natural stone coloured eyes starred into the void. With one hand on its handle Worjakx began to swivel his two handed battle axe in circles, he had done this since his inception of chapter master and the bridge crew had always known not to interrupt him whilst the axe blades spun. Over the years the ships floor had given away and the tip of the axe had worn in several deep grooves.
As the lord starred at Ensiari he could not help feel like his world was disturbed, something out of place. It did not bother him that the array might be damaged, what Luna had spoken truly concerned the veteran. Machines were prone to flaws and breakage eventually, and even though astropaths warp messages were not always reliable Luna was. As he thought about it more he began to think about his chapter and its own defects as it aged. He pictured Havloq ‘hammer hand’ the captain of 1st nearly 500 years old his skin had marbled like stone with natural currents and swirls of light greys and blues, the retinas in his eyes completely grey, whether from gene-seed defects or a tired body it was anyone’s guess.
Standing beside Corthog was two of his most trusted and battletested brothers in the chapter, chaplain Aithulien, and chief librarian Thellion ‘storm gaze’, he would often turn to them for council in troubled times.
Chaplain Aithulien stood out from all others, he wore a traditional bone white skull helmet always watching and gazing for the heretic, the mutant, and the xenos. With his bone visage he was sinister and foreboding to his allies and enemies alike. Clad in his black mark VII battle plate, ancient scrolls were chained to his plate pauldrens bearing battle liturgies. Purity seals hung from every corner of his clad depicting past battles and acts of insane heroism, his rosarius took the form of a golden iron halo reaching over his skull helm. Mag- locked to his side were his weapons of death, his crozius arcanum and bolt pistol. Aithulien was a whirlwind of black death in the heat of battle always reciting extracts from the chapter's creed and liturgies inspiring and infecting his battle brothers with a zealous fever and passion for the emperor of mankind. Recently the chaplain had been unusually quiet; this was due to him taking on a new initiate, Ziathus who once commanded 7th company, until the Ork Waaagh had destroyed it on the planet Sernitiion a desert feral world west to Ryisador. Ziathus was half dead when the 6th and 8th reserve companies had arrived to aid the brother captain who had all but survived by sheer will power and faith in the emperor. Ziathus was never the same after Sernitiion with 7th destroyed he walked a new path. Aithulien had immediately taken him under his wing and became his mentor. It was also the master of sanctity who made it rule that all chapter battle brothers have their entire right arm and pauldren coloured gold to show their unyielding loyalty to the emperor of mankind.
Thellion ‘storm gaze’ wore the colours of the Lexicanum, clad in blue battle plate carved with runes and imbedded with rare stones from the chapter home world his armour was a master piece. He proudly bore the chapter badge on his left shoulder plate, while on his right he honoured the open book of the Librarium. His long grey matted hair draped his chest plate like cob webs of the large arachnoids from their home world. Thellion possessed many ancient and potent icons symbolising the power and knowledge that the librarian accumulated and wielded on his plate. Thellion remained the only librarian of the chapter thus he was often referred to as the Chief Librarian. His presence and insight was always a welcome wherever he went. He wore a massive Firepaw pelt which he had carefully skinned himself. It draped over his psychic hood, which hid his face, the psychic hood amplified his arcane abilities and protected his mind from the warp and foe alike. Only his cerulean blue eyes were visible giving him the nickname ‘storm gaze’.
Thellion stepped towards the main viewport on the bridge as he strode his pelt dragged along the ground, and his wooden stave pounded on the floor, psychic ripples jumped statically from his stave as it thumped on the ground. ‘What bothers your mind Thellion, what do you see that we cannot?’ spoke Worjakx, Suddenly the open book of the librarium which was chained to the right shoulder of Thellion began to turn pages static arced between the passing pages as the librarian felt a stone embedded on his battle plate with his gauntlet. Aithulien stepped forwards placing a hand on the book, ‘Thellion face us, what is bothering you brother, illuminate us?’ It was as much a demand as a softly spoken request. As the librarian turned to face his battle brothers his eyes burned brightly, ‘witchery is at play here, Captain Aezullion is in perils.’
Ensiari’s sky split as a white scar tore down into the jungle depths; the thundering boom shook the planet’s surface like a war cry from Kaela Mensha Khain himself. The calling had come; it was time to take back what was theirs! No more sulking in the shadows, no more whispers in the dark, it was time to strike! Ensiari was their world not the ‘monkei’s’. It had been laid out for them perfectly by their forefathers after the fall over ten millennia ago, not for the imperiums greed lapdogs. As another quaking strike hit the ground it lit the xenos figure in a flash of dark hues, outlining its smooth armour plates and sparkling on its spirit stones. The being stood perched upon a ruined temple, one if it’s armoured grieves rested on top of a dying Stone Custodian like a predator proudly savouring the bounty. A heavy rain ensued drenching the exarch and its war host hiding in the jungle behind him. The precious life blood of the warden washed down the temple blocks and ran along its ancient Eldar markings hidden by rare mosses and fungi. Amongst the slick temple ruins several other dead gene-bred lay scattered and dismembered the sawing and rending xenos breed had slaughtered them all effortlessly. Starring into the sky the xenos scorpion lifted a clawed hand and encircled the planets moon as he pretended to crush it with its gauntlet.
‘We shall take back what was ours once more, we will rebuild our empire in the stars, we bring only death, and leave only carrion, spoke the aspect warrior, meeting the half dead space marines gaze, ‘It is a message even a human can understand.’
Scout sergeant Tamurok coughed up blood splattering it over his face, as the rain panged off his ceramite armour and spat in his eye he knew what must be done to warn the chapter. He had reached the communications array but all in the chamber were slaughtered by some type of claw and blade. The jungle stalkers had ambushed them all, including himself, something his master would have scolded him for, if however he managed to survive. He could at least warn his brother captain if he could just reach is bolt pistol on the ruin grounds. He suddenly jerked under the xenos grieves and rolled down the side of the temple he spun on his heel sloppily landing on the ground as his boots nearly slipped in the blood soaked mud he jumped arm reached out grasping his bolt pistol he turned back and began to squeeze the trigger when before his eyes the scorpion like xenos warrior was mid air head level to him, in one swift movement the xenos chopped his hand of at the wrist with its claw, as he landed gracefully he jolted up ramming his own version of a chainsword threw Tamaracks gorget.
‘Death before dishonour,’ spat Tamurok as he stepped defiantly forwards dropping to one knee then falling head first into a pool of his own blood and viscera.
The aspect warrior wrenched his chain sabre from the neck joint of the monkei, as he headed back he starred at his assembled war host, ‘The tempest of blades has returned.’ A third lightening strike beamed down uncovering his warrior breeds glowing eyes in the black veil revealing their green armour and chainsabres. The sloppy gene-bred humans would be crossing their path soon. Xiagahn, exarch, leader of the striking scorpions of the planet Ensiari could barely keep his excitement at bay; he almost twitched at the thought of releasing his mandiblasters into the flesh of the monkei. This was his revenge, no more crawling into the planets depths every time he spotted a speeder or scouting craft like some arachnid sulking into a barrow from a larger predator. He was the prime, Xiagahn was the alpha scorpion, and this scorpion was ready to strike!
Master of recruits Aezullion slowly lifted his scope, peering through its magnification he spotted large two footed war walkers outfitted with a variety of weapons, he cringed slightly; he was left on the planet to train the 10th company, what was meant as experience and training had turned into a matter of life and death a game of snakes and ladders. This was the first formation of Eldar scouting armour he had come across. Once Aezullion was past the xenos craft he could try his best at relaying a distress signal to chapter master using the communications array in the temple.
He had already been to the imperial shrine, the damn xenos had destroyed its holiness in front of his eyes, and it had taken 5 initiates to hold him back as well as sergeant Tamurok. Orange and yellow armoured Eldar melted it before him with flame and melta weaponry. He wanted to leave the cover and security of the jungle in that moment, betray all of his life’s training so that he could bellow and roar and cut down the Eldar like the ancient barbarian’s of Terra, but to do so would be to doom the entire 10th company. Without the 10th there could be no more Stone Custodians to recruit into the other battle clans. There could be no more gene-seed, the future of the chapter was in his hands, and this was the only factor holding Aezullion from drawing his dual Brimstone combat blades and eviscerating the xenos. He had watched furiously as the astropathic choir screamed as they melted and burned from within the grounds mixing in with rubble from the emperor’s shrine. They had destroyed the monument thinking it a mighty blow but they were only provoking the lion.
Aezullion had demanded vox silence for the past eight months as they hunted and stalked the Eldar best they could not getting caught themselves. Scout sergeant Tamurok had broken off formation two hours ago scouting ahead of the pack to the array, it disturbed the master of recruits that Tamurok had not come back, or worse the eerie silence of Ensiari after the vicious lightning strikes and thunder. He started getting a horrid gut feeling when the heavy rainfall started.
The captain and his band of initiates had prowled as close as they could to the war walkers; it was time to take them down as quietly and quickly as possible. As he scanned the craft with his scope he noticed a very distinct flaw in the design of the large walkers, the captain was nearly dumb founded that the Eldar race so advanced was their technology; then why were the walker’s cockpit and pilot completely open, only a forwards commanding screen covered the pilot inside. The flanks were wide open to arms fire or other means of attack. Scanning the war walker more he took in as much information as he could. ‘Know thy enemy’ he spoke softly, he knew they would move awkwardly and take longer to create attack patterns and firing solutions to face a fast or agile predator. The captain and his squads were situated amongst low jungle floor, while the walkers were in an open area, behind them a massive cliff side followed by a large open valley.
The strategium deck of Fist of Heaven was a large rectangular room with vast pillars running down its length. On each pillar there were large pyres crackling with hot embers, above the fires were Battle Company banners hanging down depicting courageous acts of valour and past victories. Each banner was slightly different depicting different captains or clansmen. At the end of the hall there was a stone sculpture of the chapter insignia on a massive flat surfaced boulder from Torque. The chapter symbol was a space marine storm shield, in the centre there was an engraved head of a large flying beast that was once the dominate species in the Torque mountain tops thousands of millennia ago named by the feral humans as Wyvern. A large painting was positioned above the carving, it was the fortress monastery built in among the ragged peaks and mountaintops of Torque. In the centre of the strategium there was a large circular stone table in which a larger sized star map; bigger than the one on the bridge resided.
Before the war council began each member included in the council placed an item on the table this represented their desire to be heard and noted. Such was it in the days of old, when Torque had been settled by the imperium. When the barbaric clans met together to wage war on the Thorontaur they would sit around a large stone table with a fire burning tall in the centre. They would place armour, rings, amulets, trinkets, and weapons on the table these traditions were kept in the chapter.
Chapter master Worjakx entered the strategium clad in his beautifully crafted terminator plate as he stepped its brilliant silver coating sparkled catching the pyres flame. A large Firepaw pelt slung over his shoulders and draped his back as he strode his long threaded beard and hair swayed. One of his gauntlets was replaced by a ‘Fire fist’, a powerfist with a built in combi-flamer designed by techmarine Corthog. Poking through his pelt the handle of his battle axe could be seen.
Worjakx wore the most sought after relic in the chapter around the front of his gorget; The ‘Ironjaw’. The relic was crafted and forged from the upper jaw of the largest Firepaw to ever shake the tundra’s and mountain tops of Torque. Ancient tales say the beast fought and ate Wyvern; he was nick named Ironjaw. The mighty beasts had thick black hides, razor sharp claws and bones nearly indestructible. Their bellies were scaled and they even had large spines running down there back. The average one stood as tall and bulky as a rhino, but Ironjaw was the easily the size of a landraider he was the alpha, such the chapter relic displayed the power that Worjakx commanded.
Following by his lord’s side was Thane, the champion of the Wyvern. Strapped by thick leather was a storm shield on his back, a snarling face of a flying beast carved into its center. Mag locked to his thigh a one handed mace. In another chapter they would be the equivalent of honour guard. The Stone Custodians followed the codex astartes laid out by primarch Roboute Guilliman of the 13th legion, the Ultramarines. Each battle company was around one hundred astartes strong. The 1st battle clan was lead by the ancient and mighty Master of the watch: Havloq ‘Hammer hand’. He lead 100 ‘Golems’ the wardens version of terminators, they were veterans of the chapter; the equivalent of the Salamanders ‘Fire drakes’ or the Iron Hands ‘Morlock’s’. One could even surpass the rank of Golem achieving even more glory and honour. To do so was to become the revered Wyvern the elite of the veterans. They were the chapters fastest; strongest and most talented fighters thus were the lord of their home world’s personal company. Each astartes in the battle company of thirty strong had artificer armour an extremely rare and impressive by design it rivaled the abilities of tactical dreadnought armour. Each piece was maintained with vigilance and the utmost respect by the serf’s and techmarine’s that maintained the chapter relics. Walking behind Thane was the Wyverns standard barrier Aithelwulf, who carried the standard with glorious pride. At his waist his boltgun was mag locked with his gladius.
At last all astartes were present around at the strategium deck; one by one they placed an item on the table. Lord Worjakx placed ‘Ironjaw’, champion Thane his hammer, chapter bearer Aithelwulf his gladius, librarian Thellion ‘ storm gaze’ placed is wooden war staff, chaplain Aithulien his crozius arcanum, techmarine Corthog’s servo skull floated cautiously in the place on the table. As the items rested in place they all placed their gauntleted hands on their chest and made the sign of the Aquila. Aithulien picked up his crozius arcanum and hefted it into the air, ‘EMPEROR, IMPERIUM, CHAPTER! They spoke in unison. Only now could the war council commence.
‘Now tell me what fait has befallen our 10th company and the master of recruit’s brother librarian.’ Spoke Worjakx. ‘Tell me I did not send our chapters future into the jaws of a Firepaw.’
‘I have dug deep into my divination powers... the last time I saw captain Aezullion it was in the depths of the librarium before he had left our home world. We had read the Emperor's Tarot; there was a sudden flare in Thellions eyes that quickly flashed brightly in the dark corners of the strategium. My brothers the warp is a dangerous thing and seldom gives straight answers. As I remained in physical contact I asked the question, what will be the fate of 10th company… the bulky form of Thellion seemed to sag at the shoulders as he looked at the council, the Tarot read ‘blood.’
‘And you hid this from me? Psyker!? Replied Worjakx in a commanding tone.
‘We are shaped by fate just as we shape it.’ This is what the veteran captain had told me after I said he and his company will end in bloodshed. I warned him as he left, when I thought he was gone I hadn’t even noticed the candles burn out I heard his voice from behind me, “Death comes in shadows one strike is all I need.”
‘Aezullion always loved theatrics.’ replied Aithulien.
‘The warp is always changing, ripe with lies and riddles; I will not fill your minds with the possibilities of our future. I have a stone from each of you embedded in my armour, spoke Thellion gesturing to the different coloured geodes decorating his clad. ‘When using my psychometry upon Aezullion’s clan stone I am able to see impressions of his current status as well as all of the captains. Brothers it saddens me that all I can sense is pain, loss, and bloodshed…’
‘WE MARCH TO WAR BROTHERS!’ Roared Worjakx, ‘I have heard enough, our brother captain will not be alone in this fight, let us rake the claw!
‘Faith is the blade of war, spoke Aithulien darkly, and our blades are sharp, praise the emperor and strike down his foes.’
As one body, the Stone Custodians adorned their weapons and prepared for war.
Brother Amack’s heavy bolter chugged out heavy rounds into the eldar position with the rest of the rear guard firing there bolters with precise bursts, Aezullion burst from the cover of darkness with his squad his stalker bolter barking orange flares spraying from the muzzle viciously dashing behind boulders and jungle terrain, dipping over and under the barbed roots of the worlds canopy. If his plan worked beside him the flanking team would attack and assist the captain while the other used the distraction to set up a sniping position to take out the xenos pilots. As he ran head long into the war walkers suddenly rotating on their axis to face the attackers the master of recruits was firing controlled bursts aiming for what might be weak joints in the legs of the xenos armour; only then did Aezullion realize the folly of his attack plan. Before his very eyes the terrain around the walkers began to ripple as he began to process what was happening the firestorm ensued from the Eldar’s superior weaponry; instantly two initiates were shredded and torn apart by a hail of discs fired rapidly from a shuriken canon the Eldar’s most favored weapon. The scout armour all initiates wore gave them little protection from the advanced weaponry. Quickly signaling for vox communications as he ran weaving toward the walkers with the rest of the initiates he yelled into the vox as the other walker unleashed its own devastating payload. A long barrelled weapon shot a searing lance that bore a hole clean threw one of the rear guards killing him instantly; the other shot and began to open up a small portal to the dimension of the warp instantly sucking in two initiates and tearing apart another one as it closed.
+ On my smoke! Adoorin break cover with your team prime melta and krak grenades +
+Brother Amack switch to hell fire rounds+
+Moroak support fire now! +
Aezullion quickly grabbed two smoke grenades from his belt and threw them into the walker’s position directly ahead of him.
+My squad advance and converge on Brother Adoorin, bolters and blades! +
The vox was silent, he sparred a glance backwards he was the only one left in his squad. The rest had been sliced apart from the shuriken disks which shredded the jungle foliage like parchment. A space marines Larraman cell could clot open wounds but the wretched Eldar shuriken weaponry could inflict numerous wounds making the implant irrelevant. Aezullion like all Stone custodians buried their feelings beneath themselves, they were a cold breed but the master of recruits was different, he felt every blow. Aezullion kept his pace watching the weaponry of the xenos walkers spit death with glittering arcs, many disk’s panged off his battle plate a searing hot beam suddenly scorched his pauldren nearly taking him off his feet; the captain spun with the momentum and with a twist kept on running. As he approached the walkers he realized he’d lost his bolter in his manoeuvres reaching back with both hands he pulled two Brimstone gladius from behind his power pack, one had been a reward from his master, the other from his inception of Captain. Brimstone was a rare geode found in the heart of the mountains of Torque. It had the appearance of black glass, but every stroke, every swing, every impact made it denser and harder, eventually in battle Brimstone weapons would be searing hot and glowing orange. Only rank of Captain was awarded such weapons, forged into their choice of shape, size, and style.
Sharp bangs instantly barked into the fray as Moroak’s snipers began to lend their support, Adoorin suddenly burst from the cover with his squad, melta bomb primed in his hand the other a bolt pistol snapping off rounds violently. Aezullion spat on the ground as he closed in on the walkers. They awkwardly pivoted and moved backwards trying to find firing solutions through the heavy smoke.
‘Bring them down! Aezullion was losing his temper as the walkers glistening shields absorbed the barrage from the hellfire rounds and bursts of bolter fire, he was astonished they could withstand such a barrage. The hellfire rounds could bring down the mightiest of bio type foes he had thought they could melt or find a way into the weak spots and joints on the walkers. ‘Engage in melee combat! bolter and blade brothers!’ the master of recruits yelled into his vox.
+We withdraw from the shadows+ he heard Moroak say statically
+I always preferred to be up-close and personal to these basterds! + spat Amack
As Adoorin’s squad approached the Eldar war walker to his left, he banked right to keep the other occupied. The smoke was dissipating, Aezullion grinned as he thought of how overwhelmed his prey would feel as they saw a pack of predators surround them.
‘For the Emperor, for the imperium for the cha- no battle brothers heard the rest of Adoorin’s battle cry as a stream of arcing blue lightening jolted out from the base of the walkers clinging onto Adoorin’s chest the lightening sizzled his flesh and cooked his innards almost instantly the promising initiate crumpled to the ground. The rest of his squad soon vanished out of sight it seemed as if they were concealed by Eldar trickery.
+Seers! Seers! Bare your teeth! Harness your will! Fight with me brothers!+ Aezullion cried trying to rally his battle brothers together. Brother Amack’s squad bolted from the rear guard and doubled their efforts to join up with their captain suddenly taking cover, Squad Moroak was doing likewise.
Lothanwè regarded the dead smoking corpse before him, such savage tactics, and such primal movements, how did the monkei become a dominant force in the galaxy? It mattered not; as the seer stepped forwards he jolted his witchblade into the sizzling flesh and pulled the blade free hissing and smoking the gene-bred blood off. As the rest of the monkei’s closed the gap after watching their comrade get slain he nearly let a grin slip as he watched Cirth block and parry all of their strikes single handily. Dolias was maintaining her warding psychic powers of concealment clouding the minds of the monkei hiding herself and her two brethren within the war walker shields. Lothanwè regarded the bulkiest monkei running back into cover like a cowering whelp of the imperium. It satisfied him greatly knowing he was going to slay him in the name of Khaine. He must be the one that had escaped Xiagahn for months Lothanwè contemplated to himself.
As the half breed swung his primitive blade Cirth reached out smacking the blade from its grasp and kicked him in the chest sending him reeling backwards, another came from the rear hoping to catch him off guard, pitiful tactics Cirth thought to himself thrusting his swords backwards searing the monkei threw its chest. As the leftovers circled him he was amused, he would play with them at the least. As they pounced at once hoping to overwhelm Cirth the nimble Eldar witch quickly stabbed its blade into their fallen initiate’s body, it was too late for them all as a roiling blast of raw psychic power erupted engulfing the helpless monkei conflagrating their pathetic armour, and scorching their flesh.
Something suddenly flickered and then dissipated revealing three figures standing amongst the walkers. Aezullion quickly noticed the wraith bone armour and spirit stones, the glistening eyes and the infamous witchblades, swords writhing and twisting with living runes and destructive energy. Squad Adoorin lay scattered and smoking like charred pieces of meat. He had wished master librarian Thellion were here, Aezullion hated psykers and all the perils trying to face them. He wasn’t sure if any of the initiates of the 10th company had ever seen a psyker outside the chapter. Maybe the Ork ‘weirdboyz’ back on Sernitiion, but they were not as precise and as deadly as the Eldar. He wondered how the 6th and 8th reserve companies were handling the last stages of a long drawn out war on Sernitiion, he then thought of Captain Ziathus and the tragedy surrounding the devastated company. He had known the 7th captain was in good hands under Aithulien’s stern gaze and tight grip, but something had changed within Ziathus.
‘Brother Captain!’ shouted Moroak using another smoke grenade throwing it over the massive boulder they were using as cover. Aezullion snapped back to reality and took in the few survivors of his squad, he could hear the war walkers approaching from either side taking away their flanks and pinning them behind the rock. As Amack skidded into their position trying to dodge a fusillade of shuriken’s the last two of his squad took the razor sharp disks in the gorget and face eviscerating them beyond recognition. The last member of Moroak’s squad took a lance beam through the chest that had bored through the rock serving as cover as he slumped into the unforgiving land of Ensiari he tried to cover his wound with his hand looking up at his comrades he spoke shakily, ‘I can hear the holy orchestra of our fortress monastery, its… beautiful, as he spoke he coughed up blood, ‘Captain get to that damned array alright?’
Aezullion replied with a stern nod and then spoke ‘I obey without question.’ He let a smirk crease his battle torn features.
The initiate’s eyes slowly closed as he slipped away, the rain splashed upon his face and soon he would be but a corpse for the native insectoid to feast upon.
We will win this day or die trying we will never falter Thought Aezullion.
Aezullion would be sure to tell his chapter master that this planet was a death world if he made it out alive, he found little pleasure here.
‘I’m sorry we let you down captain, we failed the emperor, and we have failed Worjakx.’ Brother Amack bowed to one knee in front of his beloved master. Moroak quickly bowed to one knee as well.
‘No I am the one who is sorry, I led you here in hopes of victory, I led you all to your deaths, I fear sergeant Tamurok has fallen, and the communications array is still at least two hours from our position. Standing up like a true brother astartes Moroak and Amack stood in unison, ‘Let us be your way out captain, we can get you to cover, we can cover your retreat, you must warn the chapter!’
‘I would never leave a bro- ‘That’s an order captain spoke Moroak in a deep voice, he hefted two of his fallen comrades bolt pistols, and Amack was smiling as he hefted his heavy bolter in his hands. As Amack pulled back his belt feed engage, he looked at his brothers, ‘Life is the emperor’s currency spend it well.’
‘You all are my brothers know this, your sacrifice will be remembered in the halls of Torque for eternity, initiates will aspire to be as you, I will tell the tale of brothers Adoorin, Amack, Moroak and the 10th . Aezullion finished unhooking his two brimstone gladius, he handed them to the two of them.
‘Today you are captains, courage and honour brothers, die well!’
‘TO THE LAST MAN AND TO THE LAST ROUND! Amack yelled in approval
‘Now captain! Amack yelled out loud, swinging his heavy bolter around to face the approaching Eldar his heavy bolter began to chug away adding to the ambience of heavy rainfall and lightning strikes a quick footed Eldar warlock dashed in and out evading the rounds, Moroak twisted on his heel and charged like Worjakx himself like a gunslinger marked for death fearlessly he ran bolt pistols ringing into the night.
Aezullion ran with the devil on his heels, his heart’s were pounding loud, his breath was ragged he hadn’t realized how tired he had become, eight months of battle with sleepless nights tired even the most faithful thought Aezullion to himself. As he began to reach the edge of jungle foliage he heard a harsh scream, he dared a glance back to see the fate of his brothers. It pained him beyond belief to see, hear even sense the death of the 10th. They had come to them, found them, picked them from the worlds of Charvek, watched them grow, honed them into a faithful weapon of righteousness; and he had failed them. I have failed the emperor, I have failed the imperium, but I can still serve the chapter I just need to reach the communication arra- Aezullion thought to himself before he had even realized his body was immobile, he couldn’t feel his body, he couldn’t even move. As he was lifted into the air he mustered all of his strength to turn his neck, as he tried to resist the Eldar witchery his gaze fixated upon a Farseer a psyker master of the foul xenos.
‘Foul xenos witch! The captain spit in disgust. He struggled desperately trying to twist and turn resisting the psychic bonds.
The Farseer lifted into the air gracefully its one hand was gripping a large staff; its arms spread wide, an exquisite colour of witchery played around its body. Its detailed robe flapped in the storm.
‘Your path ends in bloodshed monkei.’ Spoke the Farseer, ‘I have seen your fate written upon the runes.’
Aezullion was bonded by the Farseer, he floated pathetically in the air unable to move, he soon noticed he was hovering over the battle field, he saw the bodies of Moroak and Amack. One of the war walkers was sparking with blue energy and smoking, he felt a great a pride swell in his chest and could not hold back his war cry to his glorious dead, ‘ FOR TERRAS GOLDEN THRONE! FOR THE IMPERIUM OF MAN! As he passed over them and came to the Cliffside his pride filled chest heaved, his lungs emptied, his face tightened as he starred into the eyes of a demi god. In the Jungle valley bellow the Cliffside Aezullion was a witness to the entire Eldar war host assembled before their master of destruction.
‘Behold the fiery destroyer of worlds’ the Farseer spoke passionately.
Ensiari shook with a deep and ancient ferocity that the sector of Charvek had not seen for thousands of millennia. The Eldar Avatar of the blood handed god roared; as he did molten iron boiled through his infernal core, this monstrous creature had arisen from within the planet itself ready to wreak fiery carnage on its enemies.
Suddenly Aezullion’s failures became real; he had ultimately failed. He thought back to his meeting with Thellion and the Tarrot.
‘I may have failed to destroy you witch but the emperors angels will destroy you and take back our world!’ Aezullion yelled to the Farseer.
‘No monkei, the only thing that awaits your chapter are tattered banners and bloody flags, witness the storm!’ Instantly Aezullion felt a peculiar feeling inside of him, his insides began to twist and split, he roared in agony as several celestial worms; like essences weaved in and out of his body, when Aezullion thought the pain wouldn’t get any worse his body exploded in a shower of guts and gore. Aezullion’s tabard slowly drifted in the stormy air descending to the ground covered in the captain’s blood and viscera.
‘An imperfection upon my people’s perfect world’, spoke Farseer Galiengar instantly consuming the cloth in an immolation of witch fire. Behind the Farseer his council resided silently behind him, Cirth, Lothanwè, and Dolias. ‘Xiagahn will not be pleased Gal’ spoke Lothanwè stepping forwards regarding the charred tabard. ‘The scorpion forgets his place he must be reminded that he walks amongst spiders, Banshees, Dragons, hawks and Reapers now a fragment of Khain himself.’ ‘Have the dragon bathe the monkei array in flame, we will prepare for the Custodians arrival,’ finished the Farseer twirling his staff around his wrist and clasping it to his robe. ‘Dolias have the spirit seers and there host converge on our position.’
The astartes had marched through the bowels of Heaven and were assembled and waiting to receive their oaths of moment at the launch bays, which were located at the bottom decks of the battleship. As chapter master Worjakx stood before the master of sanctity, and librarius, his beloved Wyverns stood row by row. He silently looked them all in the eyes one by one walking down the ranks of his brother astartes; clad in silver plate, highlighted delicately with white trim, and bone white tabards they were an inspiring and heavenly sight he felt a great pride swell in his chest, he was surrounded by his chapters finest. He stopped at last in the center of the loading bay every single space marine had his eyes locked on their lords. As one all thirty Wyvern drew their gladius, the scrapping of the energy blades on their scabbards made their lord smile. As one they held their swords, axes, and fists in the air with their golden right arms displaying their devotion for the emperor. Aithelwulf stepped forwards with Thane to stand beside Worjakx. Thane withdrew his hammer proudly feeling his grip tighten around the blunt instrument of death he began to grin; in unison with Thane; Aithelwulf pounded the shaft of the chapter standard on the ground and the banner uncoiled revealing the tapestry. Champion Thane hefted his storm shield in his other gauntlet and pounded his hammer upon it three times as he did every astartes present spoke the words; EMPEROR, IMPERIUM, CHAPTER! the Lord of Torque began to speak with a deep voice that echoed the embarkation deck.
They shall be my finest warriors,
These men who give of themselves to me,
Like clay I shall mould them, and in the furnace of war forge them,
They will be of iron will and steely muscle,
In great armour shall I clad them and with the mightiest guns will they be armed,
They will be untouched by plague or disease no sickness will blight them,
They will have tactics, strategies and machines so that no foe can beat them in battle,
They are my bulwark against the Terror,
They are the Defenders of Humanity,
They are my Space Marines ...And they shall know no fear!
Every battle brother roared together as they moved at once withdrawing their gladius and bowing to one knee, they placed their hands over their chest plate making the sign of the Aquila. Each made a prayer to the emperor fulfilling their oaths of moment. They were about to make for the launch bays when suddenly heavy foot falls began to shake the corridor that lead into the loading bay, there was a hiss of servo’s before the massive doors opened revealing the bulky form of a dreadnought lumbering into the chamber.
‘I serve eternally’ the metallic voice echoed the chamber.
The right arm of the dreadnought was clad in golden plates, its adamantium and ceramite hull silver; slung over its back a large pelt draped its exhaust shafts. Hanging at its waist a white tabard hung, tattered parchment freshly sealed wreathed from all over the revered plates. Cringing against one another the dreadnought flexed its ‘fire claw’ made entirely of brimstone. The muzzle of its assault cannon whirled into life as the old one tested his mechanics after being awoken by Corthog and his servitors.
‘I took it upon myself to awaken ‘him’, spoke Corthog stepping beside the ancient, ‘his memories are jogged. Corthog then taped the side of his helmet opening the company vox.
+He is not pleased+
‘Silence tinker, prepare my planet fall’ the dreadnought rasped not acknowledging the techmarine. Corthog suddenly bowed awkwardly and marched towards the drop pods sitting in their launch bays waiting to fall from high orbit and crash into the surface of Ensiari.
‘And what do you plan on doing once your down there ancient one?’ replied Worjakx.
‘Stretching my legs, do not forget your place little one!’ bellowed the towering form of the ancient striding to face the chapter master.
‘You speak to the Lord of Torque revered one’, interjected Thane.
‘You are amongst the elite veteran, the Wyvern!’ stated Aithelwulf sternly.
‘Steel yourself brother’, spoke Aithulien plainly.
‘Steel myself?’ howled the towering dreadnought turning to face the chaplain, ‘I am stone incarnate I do not need to steel thyself!’
‘I am the Emperor's will made manifest, and you will pay me heed!’ replied the chaplain leveling his crozius arcanum to the dreadnought. ‘You have humbled us all with your return ancient but we do not follow Chapter master Grimralahk, our new Alpha is Worjakx.’
‘This world bellow us is Ensiari, you know it well Grimralahk, this planet is being ravaged, it’s very ground is tainted with aliens, there soon could be nothing left, let them know mighty space marines will destroy them in this dark place in this dark hour we will stand against the enemies of the emperor and they will know that not even on this desecrated world we will never suffer the existence of the heretic the alien the mutant not now not ever, Aithulien spoke with the grit and purpose of something much more than a chaplain.
Worjakx stood face to face with the Chapter master of the Stone Custodians from year 38 millennia. ‘I lead the Stone Custodians to victory, or glorious martyrdom.’
‘Iron jaw…’ The dreadnought rasped looking at Worjakx, there was a long pause. Worjakx wondered if the revered one was recalling past battles or campaigns cycling through the thousands of years he had been in battle and then put into slumber, trying to put the pieces together.
‘I remember… everything.’
‘What answers do you seek?’ spoke Thellion gazing at the giant as he tried to perceive the old one.
‘I only seek retribution.’
‘My brother we are together again, may you lead us to victory once more’, replied Worjakx.
Grimralahk turned to regard Aithulien, ‘Your wise counsel belies your year’s chaplain, my faith is eternal, I am ready to serve again.’
‘For Terra’, the ancient and renewed dreadnought spoke with an aged voice, even the lowliest surf could sense the thousands of years of battle experience and loss hanging on every word he spoke.
‘After a thousand battles, one only see’s death… Let us hope it is with the emperor’s name upon our lips and his wrath upon our swords!’ Worjakx spoke to the Wyvern Company.
As Thellion walked onto the embarkation ramp of a Thunderbird Aezullion’s clan stone fell from his battle plate, as it fell in slow motion before the librarians eyes a chill ran up his back, it finally hit the ramp and split in half.
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"Only i can hear your prayers here my friend, and i'm afraid i will not answer them." 
