Hey All,
New to DakkaDakka here. I had been working on a short story related to a campaign a friend and I are starting in
40K, and I decided I wanted to post it in a public place. I started working on this story months ago, and I just couldn't find the motivation to finish it. Finally I buckled down and knocked it out after a couple days of work. With that said, I imagine I've taken some liberties with typical Warhammer lore, squad design, equipment, etc. Please feel free to point out in egregious errors on my part and criticism is always welcome. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy The Aboleth of Planet Illixtus.
Newb Question: Is there a way to indent a line in a forum post? I used an extra space in place of an indentation, but I have to admit I don't like the look.
***********
It was as ordinary as any other cave Zakarus had ever seen. Undoubtedly dank, smelling of feces and ages old moss and mold. Dark, as dark as the dead of space. Yet it was ordinary from the outside, if not strangely located in the middle of a green meadow with what Zakarus would have called Octarii trees all about. Their roots, thick, overgrown and scaled, stretched out across the grass, over the lip of the tunnel, and dug deep into the soil. The Sergeant stood unmoving, staring, with his squad impatiently waiting behind him. One urged him onward, and he responded, “Just a moment, Brother.”
A shadow approached from behind Zakarus, and the telltale length of the force staff gave the Librarian away. “Have you ever seen a Lochxes, Baemel?” Zakarus asked. The head of the Librarian’s shadow turned to regard him, then returned back to the cave entrance.
“Of course not, bed-time stories for children.”
“I feel we are chasing the monster of a child’s bed-time story.”
“It’s not our place to question the Ordo Hereticus.”
The sergeant turned to regard the Inquisitor, and Zakarus could hardly imagine a man more out of his element. “Just what do you expect we will find in there, Librarian?” Zakarus asked with a touch of annoyance.
“Well, that would depend on whose opinion you follow,” started Baemel as he stepped beside the Sergeant. “The Inquisition tells us we will likely find a cult, they worship a false God, or some such thing, that threatens the very foundation of the empire," he said this last bit with a look to the heavens and a sarcastic hand shaking palm out. "And, if the savages are anything but unreliable, we will find a God, this aboleth.” He paused, sighing and wiping sweat from his brow. “Myself? I think we are more likely to find a rodent infestation than anything in this world.”
“We’ll be the finest pest control in the galaxy,” Zakarus said, favoring the Librarian with a smile. “Let’s move out!”
**************
They walked for hours without incident. The cave was just as Zakarus suspected; dank, smelly, humid, coated in cobwebs and moss and any manner of a thousand unknown substances. They heard the scurrying of small rodents, and bats dangled overhead. Zakarus couldn’t help but be reminded of his comment about the Lochxes, those bat-like creatures with razor sharp teeth and talons flying in swarms great enough to overcome an Astartes squad.
It was narrow in places such that they had to move in two columns. Brother Yarid Kaws always up front with his flamer, and Rhine
Ke’An next to him. At last the squad came to a large rounded room with three tunnels breaking off in different directions. Stalactites poked through a ceiling writhing with roosting bats.
Zakarus shined a light into each tunnel. He glanced at Baemel, and then Inquisitor Temple. "Any ideas?" When there came no reply, he turned to the squad, "Robera, anything from the other squads?"
"The auspex has been . . . strange."
"Strange. How so?"
"Some of the squads are disappearing and reappearing. The caverns must be interfering with the signal. Best I can tell, we're waiting for 1st and 3rd to get into position."
"Yarid, Ronaud, Robera, with me. The rest, two to a tunnel. One hundred meters in, and back."
**************
Zakarus watched the display of the auspex from over Robera’s shoulder while attempting to establish a vox signal with the rest of the Twilight Wardens. It occurred to him that the Inquisitor had been closely inspecting one of the cavern walls for quite some time.
“Try the vox on occasion,” he said to his battle brother, “and let me know if you get anything reliable on that thing.” Inquisitor Temple was a drab and frail looking specimen at best. His robes were tattered and unwashed, a by-product of working in such a desolate planet, or perhaps characteristic of personal neglect. He had a hand propped against the cavern wall, and he was leaning forward for a closer look when Zakarus stopped behind him. The Inquisitor glanced back, and then returned his attention to the wall.
“What interests you, Inquisitor?” For a moment, Zakarus thought he wasn’t going to respond, but Temple spoke up as the Space Marine turned away.
“This cavern has been blooded. Here, here, and here,” he said, indicating large swooping patterns with his free hand. “It’s nearly impossible to see, but this wall is coated in dry blood. And look at this,” he pulled away from the cavern, and gestured. Zakarus stared at the Inquisitor for a moment before leaning forward. Nestled deep into the wall were two grooves running parallel for at least a foot in length. The rock appeared to have been stripped to its core, white with fragments of crystalline growth and veins of small gems.
“I’m certain I am missing something of deep tactical importance.”
The Inquisitor’s face appeared to harden into a scowl for a moment, and then it passed. “Whatever could have done this, it would tear into your power armour with ease. More importantly, what sort of violence happened down here, and why did the tribespeople not tell us of it?”
“We are Astartes, Inquisitor Temple. Whatever . . . dangers . . . you think we might face down here, the Twilight Wardens will be prepared.”
“Then I suggest we move forward with our mission.”
Zakarus started to reply when Ady Gillu and Eudaum Firdicci emerged from the left-most path with nothing to report but a dead end. Shortly after, Me’Kai Lelsine and Jami Skrajny arrived from the center path with little to say except the route appeared to continue far beyond a hundred meters. Finally, Rhine
Ke’an came alone from the last tunnel.
“Rhine, where is Brother Gauche?”
“Up ahead, Sergeant. Waiting. There is something you must see.”
“Zakarus, a moment?”
The Sergeant turned to Librarian Baemel. “Move out, I’ll follow up the rear.” There was a brief moment of vox static, but Zakarus could make nothing of the broadcast. He reined up beside the Librarian. “I thought you might already know what we are going to find in there.”
“Death, my friend. We will find death, but I know not whose or what from.”
Zakarus stopped. “What troubles you, Baemel?”
“When we arrived on Illixtus, I felt uneasy. I couldn’t quite tell why I felt that way, and I thought perhaps because we’ve been off the field for too long. And then we met the tribespeople, and when their chieftain came out, I could feel the pounding of my hearts, my fingers were tingling . . .”
“You should have told me this immediately . . .” started Zakarus, but the Librarian cut him off.
“I knew he was lying right away, as I’m sure you did. And why wouldn’t he? Feeling as threatened as he should by our appearance and technology. Not to mention the Inquisitor’s heavy handed approach.” The Librarian started walking again, and Zakarus followed shortly behind him. “The feeling passed, but, now, I feel,” he stopped again, “something clawing and scratching at my mind. Like one of your lochxes trapped in a box too small for comfort.”
“We need to evac you to the Lightbringer, you need attention, Baemel.”
“No. We must finish our mission. But I dare not reach into the warp, my friend."
**************
They came upon Brother Gauche standing in the middle of a chamber not unlike the previous one. However, where the last chamber had been barren except for the markings on the wall found by Inquisitor Temple, this one was filled with the skeletal remains of dozens of bodies. They were the tribespeople, or some other folk of the planet Illixtus based on the size of their skeletons. Not that Illixtus could have seen any interplanetary visitors outside of the Imperium to begin with.
“What do we know, Graiden?” asked Zakarus, first to Brother Gauche, and then turning to Rhine
Ke’An. They glanced at each other as if deciding who would speak first.
“Not much Sarge,” said Brother Gauche. “There must be over a hundred corpses, and not a shred of flesh, blood, sinew, or any other bodily remains. No sign of struggle. I found torn bondage of various materials: rope, cloth, even some primitive metal cuffs.” Brother Gauche quieted and glanced at the Inquisitor. Temple, having turned his back and seemingly investigating the chamber’s nooks and crannies, had been noticeably disinterested in this revelation. Gauche started again with a finger pointed upward, “One last thing, Brother . . .”
It was unlike anything Zakarus had ever seen. On a hundred-hundred planets across dozens of star systems, nothing could have prepared the veteran marine for the scores of pods filling the ceiling space of the cavern. They were cells, prisons even, each filled with a human not unlike the tribespeople. Covered almost entirely in a mucous like membrane with nothing but their faces visible for what Zakarus could only assume would be to allow for breathing.
Zakarus had crossed the space between him and Temple just as the Inquisitor began to turn round. The marine’s gauntlet clasped Temple’s shirt, and Zakarus effortlessly lifted him off the ground and pressed him against the wall. The Inquisitor struggled and fought, but Zakarus gave him no heed, only continued to raise the man until his arm could go no higher.
“I know you know more than what you’ve allowed. Speak now, or your bones will splinter into every organ in your body.”
Inquisitor Temple found his breath and spoke, “Stand down Warden, you threaten a man of the Inquisition.”
Zakarus leaned in, “No one will ever know what happened down here.”
“Your . . . brothers will know.”
“Brother Gauche,” said Zakarus, turning his head, “Did you see an Inquisitor Temple on this mission?”
“No, Sarge.”
Zakarus turned back to the Inquisitor. “How ‘bout you Brother Skrajny?”
“No, Sarge. Can’t say that I heard that name at all,” said Skrajny.
“Your call, Inquisitor Temple,” said Zakarus, and slowly he began applying pressure with the palm of his hand to the Inquisitor’s chest. The man began wheezing and coughing, his lungs failing under the weight of the Marine’s gauntlet. Finally he threw his hands up, palms out, and Zakarus let him drop to the floor. He stayed on his hands and knees for a moment, retching saliva and coughing, until he regained the ability to speak. He didn’t bother standing for a moment.
“The Inquisition has been monitoring Illixtus for decades. Watching it’s population, it’s culture, it’s growth. We’ve known that Illixtus has committed atrocities, that it is far outside the realm of enlightenment. But no Inquisitor has been convincing enough to make cause for a landing. Until now.” Finally Inquisitor Temple stood and looked up into Zakarus’s face. “You must see, Warden: Illixtus is just one of thousands of planets in the path when Jormungandr went down.”
Blood swelled into Zakarus’s face; his squad suddenly switched their focus to the Inquisitor. “You aren’t Ordo Hereticus . . . not truly,” whispered Zakarus.
“No, I knew Illixtus was a threat, but the Inquisition would never move on the minute possibility that this planet was a xenos threat. So I switched orders . . .”
“You convinced the Inquisition of this God. This Aboleth. And now you have marched my squad into a Xenos threat!” Zakarus’s rage surged, and he slammed the Inquisitor into the wall once again.
It was Baemel that held him at bay, whispering the word “quiet” in a rush, over and over, as the faint clicking and clacking of something unseen came from one tunnel, then another. Yarid Kaws drew his flamer and signaled that he had unidentified movement. The clicking stopped, and then started once again from several meters away. The Wardens spread out, drawing their weapons.
The tendrils that shot from the darkness pierced Robera’s power armour with ease, shooting out the back of his suit at the right shoulder and lower left waist. He groaned in agony, and then the stimulant injectors kicked in. Robera tore his combat blade from its sheath and severed the tendrils in one slash. He collapsed to the floor as Brother Kaws unleashed his flamer at the creature, and, for a split second, the light from the flames lit the cavern enough for Zakarus to glimpse countless xenos all round.
“Wardens! To me! Nothing breaks through! For the Twilight, and the Ever-Dark!” yelled Zakarus as he directed his troops into defensive positions. Even Temple had drawn his blade and pistol, and he was dumping potshots into the darkness. A volley of bolter rounds thundered into the corridor, and the hissing and squealing of a handful of xenos rang out in return. “Brother Kaws! Keep the right flank at bay!”
Once again the flamer lit up the darkness. Dozens, perhaps a hundred tyranids from the direction they had come, and just as many from an alternate direction. The lictor that had pounced on Robera lay on the ground bleeding but squirming with the single-minded murderous intent of any other tyranid creature. Then, from the corner of his eye, Zakarus spotted an identical creature perched on a rock jutting from the cavern wall. He moved to intercept it, but the lictor leaped with ungodly speed. Ronaud had enough time to turn and see his attacker’s scythed arms rising up, and then his head was flying through the air. His body continued its step forward before crashing into the ground. Zakarus roared and absorbed a blow from the lictor with his right arm; with his left he planted the barrel of his plasma pistol into the creature’s belly and stole the life from the lictor with one shot.
So far Brother Kaws had succeeded at holding their flank, and Brothers Skrajny and Firdicci were carving the xenos to pieces with their unparalleled blade work. But then from beneath their feet came a tremendous rumbling, and the ground began to tremble. Suddenly Inquisitor Temple was thrown from his feet as the floor ruptured outward sending him sprawling to the ground. The mawloc shrieked with the voice of a thousand banshees and slashed out at the Inquisitor with one of its talons. It caught Temple at the shoulder and effortlessly cleaved clear to his waist. The Inquisitor didn’t make the slightest noise. His body separated into two with his entrails spilling out onto the floor. Say one thing about Inquisitor Temple, say he died quietly.
“Ady, I need a P.O.E.* on that worm!” yelled Zakarus, breaking into a sprint at the monstrous creature. It twisted its body and clipped Brother Firdicci, sending him flying across the room. Zakarus roared. His senses honed, and he became aware that another brother had just fallen. The mawloc turned, coiled upon itself and extended to it’s full height with its uppermost talons stretching back to make a scissoring blow. Zakarus had hit full stride, his power fist crackled and sparked with its mysterious power, the smell of burnt ozone filled the air, and there was no stopping. He drew his pistol and fired two shots from the hip, BOOM, BOOM, and the mawloc recoiled as a shot of plasma struck each of it’s top talons. Then came a brief second where all the cool air in the area seemed to be swallowed up, and Ady Gillu's lascannon beam blazed over Zakarus’s shoulder. The mawloc’s chest carapace turned bright red and began crumbling into ash.
Zakarus’s feet left the ground just as the lascannon struck the mawloc. He soared upward with all the considerable weight of his body and its armor, his torso twisted, and the power fist cocked back ready to surge. Zakarus slammed into the mawloc, the blow landed with a thunderclap as the power fist exploded outward creating a cavity in the monster’s armorless chest. Together, tyranid and astartes crashed to the floor. The Marine squatted and wrenched his fist from the beast, avulsing its entire ribcage in a shower of gore.
While the battle raged on around him, a familiar feeling swept over the Sergeant that any astartes who had just killed a major tyranid target would feel. A man who walks down a secluded path in a dark forest or an unlit street of a dangerous city might know a similar feeling. The ears seem to raise upward, the hairs on the neck lift, and the strangest thoughts might enter one’s mind. Did I check both directions before crossing this street, or am I about to be struck by an unseen vehicle? Is there something following me in those bushes just off this trail? Such is the feeling one experiences when a mawloc has been slain in a small skirmish for the eyes, ears, and very minds of the tyranids are said to be one, and, when their attention shifts unto an individual, their collective focus lands on that target with all the subtlety of a charging haruspex. All the heads of the hormagaunts seemed to cock towards Zakarus at that moment, and this allowed the Twilight Wardens to render some easy kills. But the tide had shifted, and the hive knew its primary target.
A thunderous roar came from a tunnel followed by the rhythmic beating of an enormous creature’s charge. “Form up on the Sergeant!” shouted Ady Gillu, and the squad re-organized. Their ground had been reduced along with their casualties, and they were slowly backing into the lone unexplored tunnel that led, presumably, deeper into the hive. Another roar from the tunnel, this one much closer, and the Warden’s loosed their firepower into the oncoming creature.
Suddenly a horde of hormagaunts flung through the air in all directions as a carnifex indiscriminately broke through their lines. Brother Skrajny rolled to his side, slashing at the carnifex’s legs with his chainsword, but the blade glanced off the beast’s thick armor plating. A bolt round took off one of its scything talons, and the creature didn’t slow its pace. It crashed into Me’Kai, not bothering to slow its charge by swiping a blade at the astartes, and sent him sliding across the floor. Zakurus planted his feet to receive the charge. The carnifex thrust its remaining upper talon at the Sergeant, and it shot straight through his shoulder picking him off the ground as if he weighed nothing. Zakarus felt the carnifex’s charge stop as he slammed into the cavern wall and all the air exploded from his lungs. Another scything talon had entered his hip, and Zakarus reached down with his power fist, gripping the talon to prevent it from slicing upward into his vitals.
Just then Zakarus saw a flash of brilliant light, and he had just enough time to shout, “Baemel, No!” But the Librarian had already delved into the warp. His staff flared, and Baemel whirled it above his head in a blurring cyclone, his hands turning one over the other. A blue light and white mist swirled together into a furious vortex until finally the head of the staff swept in an arc that ended at the carnifex’s ribs. All the sound in the cavern became inaudible as the light of the force weapon jumped from the staff into the tyranid. It filled the creature’s body like electricity for a split second, and then it was gone. The carnifex’s life extinguished in the blink of an eye, its body went limp and slumped to the ground.
Zakarus crashed to the floor, and the carnifex talon in his thigh did not make this a pleasant experience. He yanked the blade from his leg with a grunt, clambered to his feet, and wrapped his arm around the librarian.
A great rupture of flame swept across the room, and Zakarus looked to see Yarid Kaws building a wall of fire against the tyranid horde. Robera waved for Zakarus to follow him, and the Sergeant dragged the Librarian to the remaining Twilight Wardens. Yarid, Robera, Edaum, Ady, and the rookie, Me’Kai, who probably wouldn’t survive to see a second mission. They formed a half-circle around Zakarus and Baemel and, slowly, they began to withdraw into the lone unexplored tunnel in this room of death.
Yarid stayed furthest back, and Zakarus knew he meant to sacrifice himself if the tyranids happened to try to flood the tunnel. But the brother caught up to the rest of the squad, “They’ve stopped coming,” he announced. “They just . . . won’t come into this tunnel. Like an invisible line in the dirt kept them from advancing.”
The squad paused and took count of their remaining supplies and munitions. Baemel’s eyes were rolled up so only whites could be seen, and a small trickle of saliva ran from the corner of his mouth. Zakarus shook him, then slapped him lightly on the face, but the Librarian would not respond.
“On into the darkness then, may the Emperor show us the way,” said Zakarus. “We may not live to see the Maelstrom in ruin, but we will see this one job done. This hive will be purged, and the fires of our wrath will scorch the sky at every entrance into this den of xenos scum. And our brothers on the Lightbringer will bring the Emperor’s peace to all of Illixtus. Thus we will be avenged.”
“It has been an honor serving with you, Sergeant,” said Ady. “Allow me to carry the charge.”
“The honor has been mine, Brother, but I must be the one to see this done. If there is an escape route, then I am ordering you to lead the rest of the Wardens out. I am too wounded for a full retreat.”
To this Ady began to protest, but Zakarus cut him off with an upward palm. Then he rested it on his brother’s shoulder and patted him once with a heavy hand.
**************
As it turned out, the tyranids did in fact follow the Marines into this final tunnel, albeit at a safe distance and without hostility. Yarid Kaws watched with his flamer at the ready while backpedaling to keep up with the rest of the squad. Zakarus continued to hobble along with Baemel at his side. The Librarian seemed to regain some function, but he was hardly conscious.
They came at last to a large chamber with openings leading in a dozen different directions. As the Marines approached the room, the horde of tyranids on their tail slowed to a halt, and Zakarus knew they had finally been herded to their destination. An agitated pool of writhing, breathing, muck awaited in the center of the room. It was a digestion pool, and it was busy. Baemel’s eyes lolled in his head, and he muttered out. “It is here.”
Suddenly Baemel recovered his ability to stand, he disentangled Zakarus’s arm and began trudging deeper into the cavern.
“Ady,” started the Sergeant. “Pick an exit and go.”
“Zakarus . . . “
“Go! Brother Baemel is unwell,” then with his hand out to the rookie Me’Kai, “The charge.” Me’Kai, the lone marine of the squad who just advanced from the Scouts, whose hearts would soon be pierced by one particularly efficient lictor not twenty steps from retreat, handed over the detonation pack without a word.
“Zakarus . . . “
“Go, Ady! You must lead them! In case we fail here, you must take word to the Lightbringer.”
Those were the last words they spoke together as brothers of the Twilight Wardens. Ady waved a come here motion at the others and picked a random tunnel to make an escape.
Baemel had come to the foot of the digestion pool, and now he turned round with his arms held out at his sides, palms wide. Look and wonder at all this beauty. That was the gesture, but it was scum, filth, and muck, blasphemy and xeno garbage.
“Aren’t they just perfect, Brother?” asked the Librarian. Above his head the ceiling began to shudder and uncoil. “We thought we were the greatest the galaxy had to offer, but they are the superior race!”
“Step away from the pool, Baemel.” The Librarian’s heel had dipped into the digestion pool, and it began churning at a furious pace. The armor of Baemel’s boot melted into a sludge.
“Let’s join them, Brother. We will become greater than we could ever imagine.” Now the pool’s edge expanded to Baemel’s midfoot. A shadow passed across the room, and Zakarus looked up to see a creature descending from above like a spider on a line of web. At first it looked like a Trygon rolled into a ball, but as it lowered it unraveled. Feet protruded at some point, and then arms as well. The serpentine body ended in a tail and it had the limbs of a Hive Tyrant. Then the tendrils came, so long they almost appeared to stretch the entire length of the cavern. Six at first, and many more as the creature uncoiled itself. That was when Zakarus realized the creature was not hanging from the ceiling. It was levitating.
“Power, Brother, absolute power!” announced the Librarian as he turned round and looked up. With his back to Zakarus, his arms held out, he seemed a man at worship. Juxtaposed to the massive creature he was like a rodent. “Aboleth!” And with this final word, he burst into a thunderous echoing laugh. He took a step forward into the digestion pool, then another, and another, and another until he stood waist high in the bubbling slime. He laughed as he sank, even as the pool swallowed him up to his chin. The ooze poured into his mouth, his laughter turned to agony, and at last he was gone.
Zakarus drew his plasma pistol and began firing from the hip. The Aboleth did not so much as move an inch. The blasts merely bent around the floating creature. It was the last shot as the pistol reached a scorching temperature, forcing Zakarus to drop the weapon, that swung in a wide arc around the Aboleth. It revolved in a near perfect sphere before tearing away from whatever force held it on its path. Zakarus saw its route, but it was too late. It clipped the side of his knee and nearly took him to the ground.
This Sergeant of the Twilight Wardens had killed innumerable tyranids of all shapes, sizes, and strains, and he knew now that he had met his match. He had wanted to give Ady more time to escape, but the Aboleth would be moving for a final blow. Zakarus reached for the detonator, and a half dozen tentacles or more shot out at him. One entangled each of his legs and another wrapped them together; a fourth squeezed his waist, a fifth his ribs; and a sixth tied up his arm holding the detonator.
And then the Aboleth entered his mind with a deafening screech that seemed to reverberate through every fiber of the Marine’s being. He roared in pain. The detonator was a distant, forgotten thing. He felt himself being pulled to the Aboleth, perhaps to be dropped into the pool, and that would be a merciful act by an enemy without mercy. For a moment the screeching stopped, perhaps so Zakarus could come to his senses in time to experience the collapse of his ribcage, and the Marine sensed what he could only describe as laughter. Baemel’s laughter. Projected directly into his mind. Baemel, his squad, the Emperor, sparring on the Lightbringer, the Twilight Wardens . . .
Just another worm to scrape off my boot! Laughter.
Robera, Ronaud, Me’kai, Jami, all the others. Dead. Debris in space. Aflame. Planets shredded to the bone. Screams, terror, pain. Agonizing pain.
It’s back into the gene pool for you, worm.
Ady carrying Edaum. A pathway of blood. The night sky. Fire and smoke as far as the eye can see. Bolter thunder. Pain, pain, pain.
No, **** you!
The power fist clenched over the tentacle around Zakarus’s chest, smashing it to a pulp and breaking it into two. Now it was the Aboleth that shrieked in pain.
“For the Ever-Dark!”
The detonator pulled, and a bright flash filled the chamber.
**************
Ady heard the blast of the explosion and braced for the oncoming torrent of flame to incinerate him and Edaum Firdicci. But the flames never came, not even the slightest force of the explosion reached them. He knew they were well within the blast radius, and so it could only mean that something had gone wrong. So Ady continued along on his final mission.
You must take word to the Lightbringer, and that one job he would see done. Seven dead marines, presumably more from the two other missing squads, a Sergeant and Librarian as well. Eduam clinging to life, clinging to his chainsword with its tip dragging in the dirt. Blood flowed from the blademasters armor, rolled down his hilt, along the chain blades, and left a thin line marking their travels. Light ahead in the shape of a sphere.
As they approached the exit of the tunnel, a faint, rhythmic chanting could be heard. Ady could not make it out at this distance. He carried Edaum into a clearing under an open sky. The dense jungle surrounded them in all directions, and it was here that he found five enormous bonfires tall enough to engulf a mawloc. The chanting became louder. The roaring fires created dense clouds of smoke rising deep into the night sky.
“AHHH - BOLLLL - LETTHHH, AHHH - BOLLLL - LETTHHH, AHHH - BOLLLL - LETTHHH!”
They came from the brush in the hundreds. They came wielding pitchforks, awls, hammers, or whatever implements they could. Some caught fire as they walked by the bonfires; their skin melted and pitched black, caked, and peeled off their faces, hands, and legs. Still they chanted, “Aaaa-BO-LETH.”
With his comms long lost, Ady took Brother Edaum’s bolter and made his last stand.
