Mutated Chosen Chaos Marine
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NEW ENTRY! Jesus, this took me forever to write. Writing Terra was hard. I kept deleting everything and starting over. In the next 2 days there will be more stuff. Also, I suggest you look up Ignatius Grulgor on Lexicanum so you understand the part about the currents of the warp he was rescued from.
Chapter Seven
Shatterpoint
The Endurance burst into realspace with an explosion of pestilence and vermin. A dozen other Plague Ships followed closely. The Death Guard had reached the Solar Segmentum and they were not alone. Hundreds of other vessels dominated the skies, fortified with spikes and plastered with icons of eight pointed arrows and staring red eyes.
Mortarion flicked off the comm. switch and watched the Warmaster’s grainy holo image dissolve into static. The flies, normally incessantly active and buzzing, were dead silent, seemingly aware of the unease. Very slowly, the Death Lord stood up. He turned towards one of the many nameless Legionnaires that stalked the ship. “Private,” Mortarion said unusually softly, his voice wracked by pain. “ My conversation with the Warmaster has enlightened me. Alert the troops. Tonight, I shall lead them in battle.”
Terra was ablaze with the fires of war. It’s vast, continent wide city structures and space ports could be seen crumbling in the distance. The screams of the dead and the dying drowned out all other sounds, save those of the mightiest explosions and largest battles. Thousands of ships, from the smallest frigates to the physics defying capital ships, threatened to blot out the sun with their sheer bulk.
The greatest of the Emperor’s triumphs and the crowning jewel of the almighty Imperium was being destroyed and all that he could do was watch from his besieged palace.
Mortarion stepped into the Dreadclaw. For this battle he would not use his Thunderhawk; he didn’t want the comfort and safety of a controlled vessel. He wanted to be shot into the heart of the conflict to truly experience it. The Death Shroud silently filed in behind him, Manreapers in hand. Their blighted weapons would reap many souls tonight. A timer beeped, signaling the start of the countdown to launch.
5. Mortarion deliberately drew his own scythe, examining his reflection on the venom dripping metal. 4. The Dreadclaw shook uneasily as the Endurance jostled for a position in the crowded sky. 3. The magnetic locks disengaged. 2. A mechanical arm retracted from the Dreadclaw into the main vessel. 1. The final lock disengaged. 0. The thrusters kicked in.
The Dreadclaw shot into the atmosphere at thousands of miles per hour. It burst into flames, blackening metal and scorching away the molds and funguses that had previously threatened to envelope it. Flak from hundreds of anti aircraft turrets ricocheted off the Dreadclaw’s adsteel haul, leaving shallow dents where they struck. As the Dreadclaw neared planetside, the reverse thrusters activated.
It slammed into the cityscape, leaving a web of deep cracks where it struck the concrete. The Dreadclaw’s Deathwind weapon system activated, gunning into the crowds of fleeing civilians and struggling Astartes. Meanwhile, the central arms extended from the bulk of the drop pod, slowly opening it. Mortarion stepped out and surveyed his surroundings with grim satisfaction. They had landed in the midst of a fortified hab center swarming with Blood Angels. It was a claustrophobic hellhole of elegant spires, brick like habs and walkways. The roads were littered with corpses and rubble. In the distance, a Mars Pattern Reaver Titan could be seen plowing through a Manfactorum District.
With a stroke of his scythe he disemboweled three of the Angels. One attempted to swing a shimmering power fist at the Primarch, only to be decapitated mid-swing by one of the fearsome Death Shroud. A large squad of the loyalists charged towards them, chainswords blazing. Laughing madly, Mortarion impaled one of the pole of his scythe and kicking one back with the strength to send him flying ten feet into a concrete wall. Meanwhile, the Death Shroud systematically cut down another eight with brutal efficiency.
Reaching down, the Death Lord caught one by his neck and snapped his spine with ease. One Blood Angel attempted to attack his outstretched arm, but he easily dodged the attack and proceeded to bisect the Angel with his Manreaper. Desperate now, the loyalists began to back away, opening fire with bolters and boltpistols in an attempt to hold Mortarion and his Death Shroud back. It didn’t work.
“Fools! I am one with death!”
He blazed through the retreating Astartes, cutting them down before they could even react. Thousands of chainsword blows and bolts impacted his flesh, achieving nothing. His rotting form was immune to all but the strongest blows and he was fast enough to make sure those would never hit. A loyalist brought a glowing meltagun towards him. Almost casually the Death Lord skewered the loyalist through the chest with a lethal punch and kept on fighting.
Almost as quickly as the fight began it was over. Mortarion found himself standing atop a pile of corpses, completely along save for his silent Death Shroud. They were soaked in blood. Looking down, he found he was the same.
“Too easy,” he said. “I need a challenge. Perhaps we should seek out the Custodes; they would be worthy of my scythe.”
As he hiked through the carnage towards the sounds of a distant battle, he walked past a statue slightly larger than himself. It was the glamorized visage of a Space Marine, decorated with the golden icons of the Imperium, the Emperor and the Astartes. On its base there should’ve been the familiar quotes by the Emperor on the creation of the Space Marines. It was rare that the Emperor made public speaking appearances; when he did his words would always be recorded by thousands of scribes.
Battle damage had eroded most of the speech, save a single line. They will be untouched by plague or disease, no sickness will blight them. And Mortarion suddenly felt very weak.
“Death Shroud, I am leaving the battle. I will go back to the Dreadclaw and dock within the Terminus Est. There, I will kill 1st Captain Typhus. From the first day of your indoctrination hundreds of years ago, you have never left my side. But now you will.” He took a deep breath. “I must do this alone.”
2nd Librarian Kharyun, correct? asked Lucanus. Now that Typhus was a crippled shell of an Astartes waiting to die, he would need a new psychic. It was a real shame, considering the 1st Captain's potential. Given the proper circumstances he could've ended up as the new Master of the Legion as Lucanus had intended.
"Yes," answered Kharyun. "And I presume you're the Lucanus I've been hearing so much about."
Grinning sheepishly, the Daemon said, Guilty as charged. Making a good first impression was always important. I've heard that you're a talented psyker, and it appears so. At this very moment I can see your brilliant immaterial presence. It's rare to come across a mortal like you.
"Thank you. Now, why are you here?"
There are many other Daemons of Nurgle, some even greater than me, that seek entrance into the Material. Unfortunately, I am unable to bring them in. But you, Lucanus said. With my assistance, you could. What do you say?
Ignatius Grulgor glanced behind his back yet again. The claustrophobic engine corridors always unnerved him. Anyone could be hiding under grates or behind pipes, just waiting for the evidence they needed to kill him. "This isn't safe," he grumbled.
Neither were the swirling currents of the warp that he so mercifully rescued you from when the Plague One chose to leave for dead.
"What do you want now?"
Many things, the creature said. It was reminiscent of a hideous, humanoid vulture with vibrant blue feathers and beady red eyes. Where it stood the mold and slime shirked back, as if wounded by its sheer presence. The Changer of Ways expended much energy saving you, and for what? Let's begin with information. How has Mortarion been acting lately?
"He's determined, very determined. All he does is plan the assault on Terra. He's down there fighting right now."
That isn't useful in the slightest.
"It's all that I know!" Grulgor shouted, slamming his fist into a nearby rusted pipe. It burst open, spraying steam in all directions. "He's introverted; they all are. There's something wrong with them."
Very perceptive of you. He has been protecting you from ending up like them; the Plague One is worming into their minds. Be thankful for this. Now, what about Typhus?
"I did what you said and sent him up there, into the fortress. His leg and back were horribly injured in the fight and Nurgle isn't healing them. Nobody talks to him except Lucanus. Mortarion was going to replace him with Vitus, but he went missing."
Executed by Lucanus, no doubt. If you aren't careful, he'll start gunning for you. Now, what about Lucanus?
"You seem to know more about him than me. He always busy, always stalking through the ship and collecting supplies and talking to people. Mortarion doesn't like him; I don't think anyone does."
Good, good. Now, I have on more task for you and you shall have repaid your debt.
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