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Ooh you tease, I was hoping for a small skirmish (might be a double sided sword, good to vent frustrations from Voxxik and disheartening to kill brothers)

Why would there be a skirmish? What could possibly happen aboard an ice angel vessel that would cause any sorry of combat other then training?

Tee hee hee. ........ *cackles maniacally*

Razzik passed through the double doors of the vault entrance. The entry way reminded him of the exterior of a ship craft. The double airlock and scanning system was also reminiscent of any venture back onto a space craft. These multi chambered rooms were connected by wide doors, large enough for transport vehicles to pass through. The very last one opened into an ornate room with multiple stairways and hall ways. Directly across from him stood doors that were caked with ice and frost, wisps of frigid air danced around the room.

Gonatzu paused in the center of it all. Razzik looked and realized all of the other path ways ended at dead ends, there were no other doors other then the ice covered one and the entrance they came through. He also noticed another purity seal on the floor. Without the pressure of walking a specific path he approached and knelt over the seal. It was fixed to the floor with a golden pin.

Gonatzu spoke as Razzik read the seal, “Each purity seal marks where one of our own had to be stopped.” Gonatzu motioned back the way they came, “the white line you crossed was the furthest any of the White has ever managed to reach.”

“Dazranak the Relentless,” was all that was written on the seal.

The muscular form of the chaplain seemed heavy with the weight of his words. “The transition from battlefield back to frozen is the most, challenging. If we can not control them and they escape they are funneled through these doors. All of them open flush with the walls. The White have no place to go but towards the waiting guns outside the vault.”

Razzik took another look around at the dead ends. Gonatzu followed his gaze, “There are doors at the end of each hall way but they are seamlessly built in the walls. We do not want the White to ever wander around the inner workings of the vault. In their raged and confused state they have never once looked for any other door. Once they are given an opening, they move.”

A look for Razzik prompted the chaplain to elaborate. “Once loose from our control, they each have their own purpose or desire, it is hard to describe. Each case is slightly different.” Gontazu added.

“Case?” Razzik asked.

Gonatzu hesitated as if Razzik was asking about things he may not want to elaborate on. “Yes, each case. Whenever an Ice Angel looses his control, his entire history and life is studied so we may try to find a way to prevent further loses. It also helps immensely when we have a deep knowledge of the marine we are trying to corral on the battlefield.”

Countless questions about these cases came to mind but Razzik determined it wasn’t the right time. Now he wanted to see what kind of asset the White would be, or how best he could use them if the time came. For all the whispers about the Ice Angel death company, they were rarely unleashed. In Razzik’s history with the chapter he had only seen the White a handful of times.

“You mentioned the inner workings of the vault, what else is there besides the area where the White are held?” Razzik changed the subject.

“The vault was a self sustaining system within the Alabaster Reflection. It has its own power and life support system, it contains floors of empty barracks and a little used armory. If something were to happen to the majority of the ship, the vault also serves as the last fall back point. If the ship were to be taken, it would be the final stand.” Gonatzu chuckled and looked down the hall. “The enemy wouldn’t make it down this hall.”

Gonatzu then pointed to the stairs, “the vault has its own back up bridge if the main one falls. It has its own drop pod system and a small vehicle depot. The Vault is completely capable of managing every ship system from here if we needed it to.”

With a wave of his armored hand he gestured to the frozen doors.

Depictions of white clad marines fighting all manner of xenos and traitor adorned the door. Gonatzu pressed his rozarious into a perfectly matched indentation while turning one of the bone and sapphire, frost covered handles.

The cold air that assaulted him set off warning systems in Razzik’s armor. Immediately his void systems activated, Razzik looked at the icon to cancel the change in his armor but decided to let it be. Gonatzu opened the door just wide enough for them to slip through the opening. Immediately following he closed the door.

The dark chamber had only a dull glow coming from mounds of crystals. Razzik could make out tall columns of ice lining the walls and a hulking machine in the center that seemed to ooze out the frigid temperature. The distant back wall held rows of weapons of all shapes and sizes. Razzik was amazed at the scene. It was serene and peaceful. The machine did not make any noise. In fact, Razzik couldn’t hear anything. It was utterly silent in the room.

His footfalls shattered the silence as he took his first few steps into the room. Razzik examined the tracks in the ceiling and the machines near each of the pillars of ice.

Gonatzu stood back unmoving, simply observing his captain.

The workings of the room began to unfold to Razzik’s superior mind. He began to understand how the pillars were dismantled and each frozen member was loaded into the waiting drop pods that were held within the walls. Slowly Razzik crunched a path down the left side of the sub zero machine in the center of the room. In between the tall columns were other sub chambers. Within each were frozen servitors and even tech priests. Everything the room needed to function was frozen within.

Beneath the center pillar on the left hand wall Razzik paused. The pillar was only two ice blocks tall, but wider then the others. Each block contained a dreadnought sarcophagus, white rectangles of metal that contained the broken forms of Ice Angels.

Razzik stopped in his tracks and looked back to the entrance were Gonatzu still maintained his vigil.

“How many members of the White are bound within sarcophagi?”

The frost covered chaplain looked down the left side of the room, then the right. He looked to the back of the room before he spoke. “Six.”

Razzik returned to his march as thoughts of six dreadnoughts played through his head.

After passing several more pillars he reached the rear of the room. Racks of weapons and equipment lined the walls. Four large doors that looked frozen shut sat deep in the wall, iconography notated that a weapon shop, apothecarion, workshop, and……..

Before Razzik could inspect the last door the hulking from of a skull covered black dreadnought froze his thoughts. The dreadnoughts sarcophagus was missing. The metal behemoth held upright in its firm grasp a weapon of gigantic proportions. It was a two handed crozius built for a dreadnought suit to wield. The frost covered wings of the Ice Angel emblem adorned the top of the weapon thirty feet in the air.

“The Crozius Ultima,” Razzik mumbled in awe. He had never scene the weapon but every Ice Angel knew of its lore. One of the greatest chaplains in the Ice Angel history wielded it for centuries. It was said it could crush battlewagons and knock limbs off titans in a single swipe.

“I wonder if we’ll ever get to see another chaplain wield the Ultima,” Razzik’s words trailed off in thought. Slowly he reached up to touch the weapon.

The crunch of Gonatzu’s boots drew Razzik’s attention. The chaplain stood next to the last pillar on the right side and motioned for Razzik to look within. A black sarcophagus was held within it. A white X was painted across it.

Razzik couldn’t make out the name so he scraped off some of the accumulated frost. He recoiled his hand in surprise when he could read the name of the ancient chaplain held within.

“Shar-Shamii,” he stammered, “He has been dead for hundred of years, that can’t be him.” Razzik was astounded that the legendary chaplain could still be here.

Gonatzu stood next to Razzik. “Officially, yes he did. What really happened was a secret no one must know of Razzik. Our greatest chaplain fell in battle and when he was recovered he was far from dead. He had lost himself to the rage. One of our purest souls had succumbed to our greatest weakness. He has only been woken a handful of times, he is very lucid in between battles but once unleashed and he begins to kill….” Gonatzu paused. “He will not stop until the enemy, or we, disable his war engine.”

Razzik took another look at the sarcophagus. One of the greatest heroes of the Chapter was held frozen before him. A sense of awe and a sense of dread seemed to crush Razzik. Why would such a marine ever be released? How could any Captain give that command? What situation would be so dire that it could jeopardize the integrity of the chapter?

Alerts chimed in Razzik’s heads up display. The cold of the room was beginning to stress his suit beyond agreeable levels. He hadn’t realized he had been rubbing his gauntlets together as if it would warm up his hands.

Gontazu stood studying Razzik. The chaplain almost seemed at one with the cold and the room. He seemed peaceful.

“We must leave the vault Captain but before we do, you must know,” Gonatzu hesitated, reluctant to go on, “if we need to unleash them all. Shar-Shamii will be our only hope of controlling them.” The chaplain looked back at the white marked sarcophagus. “Only such a hero as Shar-Shamii could command that kind of force.”

Putting command in the hands of a broken soul, bound in a dreadnought did not seem like a sound tactic to Razzik but he had little experience with the White. He wanted to trust Gonatzu’s judgment, but had trouble comprehending the logic. He had more questions for his chaplain and thankfully, they still had some time to discuss. Their destination was still weeks away.

Oooh, a chaplain DC dread, that MF'er would rip things APART!

I do like description of this area, I see it with a heavy fog up to the marines knees and with icicles forming in moments whenever there is moisture in the air.

I eagerly await your next instalment.

I know! He is going to be awesome. I really loved the idea of a two handed weapon being held by a dreadnought. I'm glad the scene came across in proper icy form.

Now, enough about Razzik for a bit. I've neglected some of my other characters.

I wouldn't say neglect, I'd say building tension

It has been almost a month without a post. That is shameful. I will have to rectify that.

Chapter 4

The hours had ticked by and the room had been relatively quiet. Several slaves had stopped by to deliver reports but the remainder of the time had been calm. An occasional chuckle or the tail end of words would sneak out of her master’s mouth as they watched the chamber before them fill with ships. Ethereal images of the other commanders stood around the room. They each waited on their own ships. The command could come at any moment so they dared not leave their master’s side.

She tried to ignore their hateful glares as they played their own mental games with one another. Each of them had their own agenda and desires, and the tension it created was delicious.

Outside the viewing glass was a gathering like she had never seen before. Ships of all shapes and sizes packed in next to each other. They lined up all facing the ship she now stood on. Prison ships, raiders, vast crescent shaped murder platforms, and vessels that had unfathomable purposes, all jockeyed for position. Directly in front of her in the center of the chamber floated a crystal of light that was held aloft by a mirror ship. It was half of her master’s prized possession.

Another chuckle issued from her master. “Soon, very soon,” he whispered. “I can feel their hunger. I can taste their lust for pain. Even from here, I can feel their anticipation.”

“Savra, whose emblem is that?” Her master pointed to a ship with mild curiosity. A dark purple flower was dying in what looked to be a pool of dark liquid.

“That is the Coven of the Drowned Garden a sub cult of the Kabal of Silent Scream, they accepted your invitation only after the Pain Sears announced their intention to join,” she stated. She kept her voice level and quick. She did not want any of her words later held against her.

“Ah,” her master responded without taking his eyes from the view.

Off in the distance a dark cloud of vessels entered the chamber. The view port suddenly lurched forward to zoom in on the ships. Her master stood up and adjusted his vest. With a sneer and a hand wave, the images of the other commanders vanished.

“Savra, bring me my tools. I believe we will be having a visitor before we depart.”

Savra looked at the view port one last time. The red iconography over a black circle was known to everyone. The Kabal of the Black Heart, led by the overlord of Commorragh Asdrubael Vect, had sent a raiding party to join in the real space raid that her master had orchestrated.

This boded very well for her master which in turn meant it was good for her. She couldn’t help but smile as she whipped around and ran out of the room. Her master needed his weapons and gear.

Oooh we have some skinnys added into the mix, good to see the PoV from the enemy as well, always showing the good side and never knowing what the bad guys are up to leaves the readers in the dark (of course if thats what you're going for then ignore me)

The hall was cloudy. Dust and debris floated in the air from recent repair. The warp engines were very quiet, so quiet that Inushi had to concentrate to hear them. Silently he walked the halls towards his destination. He wore his body glove under a simple tunic with a small mantis icon on his breast. He looked forward to spending another day training with the humans he traveled with. The camaraderie they had with one another was refreshing and despite being the outsider they seemed to have accepted him as a guest in their unit.

First he had to pay Nefas a visit. Inushi didn’t know what the Inquisitorial Captain would need from him but it was his first summons in weeks.

The distant warp engines and periodic noises from repairs drifted away from Inushi. He found himself thinking about his old mentor. Memories of war games in the jungle and arguments in the class room brought a smile to his face. Before he knew it he stood before the quarters Nefas had chosen for himself. They were in a distant part of the ship seemingly alone from the rest of the crew. Not even Jaska had a room nearby.

Inushi was raising his hand to the door when he heard the whispers of voices from inside. He stopped mid hand raise. He had no desire to snoop but nevertheless he couldn’t help but try to ascertain who Nefas could be talking to. The voice of Nefas was quick and full of hisses, it did not sound like any version of gothic Inushi was aware of. In fact Inushi couldn’t make out any words but it sounded like a heated debate was being had.

For several minutes he stood motionless before the sound of Nefas’ voice died down. Inushi then firmly tapped on the door.

“Enter” Nefas responded.

When Inushi opened the door he met the red gaze of Nefas from across the room. The Inquisitorial Captain sat at a large wheeled chair rubbing his temple with his left hand. The room was void of decorations and furniture, only a simple bed and desk joined Nefas and his chair. The smell of lubricants and incense swirled in the air. Another smell wafted past him. It strung a familiar chord but he couldn’t remember what it was, all he could recall was a feeling of sorrow.

“You summoned me?” Inushi began. He mentally shook aside the bizarre combination of smells.

Nefas sighed before composing himself. He stood up from his chair and smacked his dry lips several times.

“Very soon we will be arriving at a planet that is harboring a traitor,” Nefas began as he looked around the room, carefully choosing his words. “The Inquisition has several agents already there and I believe they have finally located our target. You will be joining the Clishmacleaver and assisting them with whatever needs to be done. An attack is imminent and the entire world is in danger if we can not stop this traitor.”

Nefas approached Inushi and held a gaunt hand out to clasp Inushi’s shoulder. His touch was startling warm. With his other hand he pointed and touched Inushi’s chest.

“I will need you to help me do whatever is necessary to stop them. Whatever…. Is… Necessary.” Inushi momentarily lost himself in Nefas’ gaze before Nefas released his warm grip.

“Once the agents contact me I will know more, until then continue to familiarize yourself with the Clishmacleaver and their tactics. They are unlike astartes but they are exactly what we need.”

“What do we need Nefas?”

“Subtlety, Inushi.”

Inushi thought for a moment before speaking, “How will the Ice Angel fleet help with that?”

Nefas smiled and it made Inushi uncomfortable. “We will need them if we are too late to stop the traitor.” Nefas turned and sat back in his chair. It rolled back before stopping at his desk. “I’ve found it much easier to stop an invasion when I have fleet of astartes vessels at my side.”

Oooh missed these entries, I've been hanging out for far to long.

The lack of something/someone in the room does have the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Who was Nefas talking to. I'm thinking he was communicating with someone/thing in the warp, but the warmth of his hands and the room goes against the canon of everything going Ice cold when the warp comes through.

Eagerly await more, who is this traitor, how much power does he hold. How do the Dark Eldar feed into this!

Great reply Knightley. It made me laugh, reading your string of questions. Many questions that may or may not get answered.

Next we go back to mortifex. Let us see what he is up to.

The rusted and over grown remains of the Ruby Gate were often mentioned in the books Mortifex had committed to memory, yet as he stood before them he couldn’t understand why. It was a marvel that any of the gate still stood but it was also a reminder of the inadequacies of the people that lived behind that gate.

The technological masterpiece that was the spire behind that gate was now a mile high treacherous pillar of decay and lush foliage. For a moment Mortifex thought on the power of the jungle slowly reclaiming the cityscape for its own purpose.

Dusk was settling in around him. The constant chirping, buzzing, and yelping of the diurnal creatures was quickly converting to the eerie whoops and caws of the nocturnal beasts.

Once the darkness fully settled they would move in but now they waited and watched. There were no signs of the others. Mortifex was very unsettled. With another glance at the night sky Mortifex slowly turned back to hide behind the cover they were borrowing. He looked over at Xerin as he moved behind a fallen metal beam. The Sons of Ouroboros marine was eating a large fruit in silence. His short hair was messy and his bronze skin looked like well worn leather. He always had a stern look and Mortifex couldn’t remember if he had ever heard him laugh.

The smell of the sour fruit wafted past Mortifex. His mind was instantly analyzing the scent for poison or possible source of nutrition. Xerin met his gaze at that moment then glanced to his right. Five more fruits were next to him. His red gauntlet grabbed one and quickly threw it at Mortifex.

A second followed quickly there after. “Micus, eat.” He commanded.

Mortifex threw one of the fruits to the hooded marine. Micus didn’t lift his head or move until the last possible second. The gray armored marine caught the fruit and broke it in half in one efficient motion. He was consuming the purple flesh of the unknown fruit within seconds.

The three finished their fruits and by the time they were done the jungle had become a dark landscape of countless horrors. Mortifex thought about all the variety of creatures that had been killing humans on this planet for centuries. It made him smile. He moved a lock of his dark hair out of his face before reaching for his helmet.

“Sergeant, is everything copasetic?” Xerin asked before retrieving his own helm.

Mortifex stood and looked at his two marines. If all went according to plan, the other six will be inside the spire or will arrive soon. He looked back towards the jungle covered mountain of metal. The death of the spire had turned into the rebirth of the jungle. It reminded him of so many lessons his chapter preached. For a brief moment the sounds were muffled as he secured his helmet onto his armor. The helm systems, upon contact, allowed the sounds to filter in just as they had sounded a moment ago.

“Of course,” Mortifex spoke into the vox. He didn’t see the point in explaining his own amusement to Xerin. Xerin wouldn’t find it amusing regardless of what he said

How has anyone else not responded to these posts! this is a travesty of the highest order!

So is it just me or is this old habspire (my assumption) filled with dread? I got a sneaking suspicion there might be a small skirmish in there with some rather unhappy wildlife who'd be p*ssed some huge marines busting in to their home.....


Edit: and for anyone who is reading this story, chime in with what you like, what you don't like and what you think will happen next!

Thanks Knightley! I agree completely. More comments means more motivation which in turn means better writing. In essence, please comment. I'd appreciate it.

The massive Ruby Gate was wide enough for a knight titan to stride through. A skilled Thunderhawk pilot could fly the astartes transport through the gate if needed, but despite the width of the gate the over grown entry way only had a single beaten path between the large leaves. Beyond the gate, moonlight streamed through massive gaps in the ceiling. Trees wove around the metal and moisture dripped down from the levels above them.

The trio moved cautiously through the foliage and ancient debris. Mortifex led without weapons in hand, constantly scanning for signs of more squad mates. Micus mumbled to himself right behind while Xerin followed, constantly scanning with his bolt pistol like he was engrained to do.

Tread marks, wear on trunks, and general proof of passage was easy to find but none of it suggested the armor of an astartes. Mortifex was often surprised at the amount of traffic he was seeing in the spire he thought was abandoned but then again most of the books he had read about the site were several hundred years old or older.

Moonlight began to lesson as they marched deeper into the wreckage. The broad leaves of the jungle could be seen clogging what holes remained that let in any light. A gentle reddish glow could be seen as they approached their destination.

The Ruby Terrace was the first security check point after the corresponding gate and from it paths and roads led to other areas of the spire. Centuries ago city block size lifts took cargo and vehicles up and down hundreds of levels to other areas within the spire. A massive twenty story now shattered window, let in an abundance of light into the metal graveyard. A lone panel in the window was left unbroken. The red transparent material was held in place at the top of the nonagon shaped window.

Trees and the jungle had reclaimed the entirety of the room. Mortifex held up his auspex to begin a series of scans when a static blip pierced his silent vox. A data file opened within his HUD. Red 611

Mortifex put away his auspex. He looked towards the far wall at the same moment Xerin did. Nearly all of the office numbers and symbols were destroyed or worn away but a handful still defied the test of time. Near the ceiling of the room 611 was stamped in the same ruby coloring as the others.

With a more specific target in mind they moved forward. They began to climb up the various levels to get up to the sixth level of the terrace. Mortifex understood why 611 had been picked, it was nearly impossible to reach for a human. The balcony system had torn off the wall some time ago. Xerin put away his weapons as they resorted to climbing up the wall face up from the fourth floor. Only when they reached the open door to 611 did Mortifex see the first physical signs of his marines.

A beam of red moon light was illuminating a discarded bolter shell. It stood on a long desk that must have sat twenty people. Dirt, metal, and a handful of vines crept across the desk and the line of chairs. Mortifex walked towards the desk. Micus came second and looked around the room before giving a short chuckle. Several doors were sealed behind the desk, a large hole and been torn open in the ceiling by what appeared to be a fallen generator.

Xerin was last to enter and he immediately scanned behind them to confirm they had traversed up the wall unnoticed. Mortifex reached for the shell. “Dragonfire Round,” he said.

A smooth voice responded, “I don’t carry anything else.”

Xerin spun around, bolt pistol in hand. Mortifex gave him a side long glance at the movement. Slowly one of the chairs turned around. Brother Tek’Ar sat in only his body glove. His larger then usual storm bolter lay across his lap.

“Welcome to the Spire of Glorious Jungle Rubble!” Tek’Ar said with a smile.

“Are the others,” Mortifex began.

“All here and accounted for,” Tek’Ar interrupted before he stood up. He threw the strap to his storm bolter over his head. He walked over to stand under the hole in the ceiling. He glanced up before looking back at Mortifex.

“You look disappointed Mortifex,” Tek’Ar added.

Mortifex smiled to himself at Tek’Ars candor. “I would never wish the loss of any of my squad.”

Tek’Ar grunted his disbelief. “I am still very disappointed that you stuck him with me for two years Mortifex.”

“You should never let disappointment cloud your judgment, especially when it comes as a command from your superior,” Xerin chimed in.

Tek’Ar grinned as he met the gaze of Mortifex, “I guess it could have been worse,” Tek’Ar said as he let his gaze pass from Xerin to Micus.

A slight rumble quaked through floor. The marines looked at one another before returning to look at Tek’Ar.

“We are still trying to determine what that is,” he said as he motioned to the hole. “Come on, it is time almost time for you to hear the good news.”

“You found the traitor?” Mortifex said with surprise.

“Olivero believes so,”

“HA,” Mortifex laughed as he shook his head, “how many traitors have you come across during your time together?” Tek’Ar rolled his eyes.

“I stopped counting once we reached a hundred, and we reached that milestone about a year ago.” Tek’Ar paused to think, “I think at one point he thought I was the traitor.”

Mortifex snorted. He was already dreading dealing with Olivero, or the Celestial Unicorn, as he often called himself.

“To his credit Mortifex, this one does seem much more plausible then the others,” Tek’Ar went on to add as he leapt into the air. He grabbed a beam on the edge of the hole. He quickly climbed up and within several seconds the agile astartes had disappeared into the darkness.

Mortifex motioned for Micus to follow. Xerin took a final glance out the way they had come before he too began to climb up the hole. Mortifex looked out at the broken window, the sliver of red was glowing with moonlight. A fleeting part of him was hoping the spire would collapse on them and crush them all to death.

“Who would then be around to save the Imperium?” he thought to himself. With another sigh he walked over to the hole to follow his marines. The glimpse of hope that this mission would soon be over was beginning to simmer in the back of his mind. He quickly smothered the idea.

“Hope in reality is the worst of all evils,” he recited to himself. With a leap he grasped the beam and pulled himself up. He doubted Olivero was right but maybe today would be different. “That’d be a nice change,” Mortifex thought to himself.

Well now we're introduced to some new players to the game!

The body glove that Tek’Ar is wearing? what's the significance of that? I'm not sure where the red glow came from as well, perhaps I need to re-read the passage (which I will anyway)

Loved the banter between the marines btw, such an enjoyable read.

 Knightley wrote:
Well now we're introduced to some new players to the game!

The body glove that Tek’Ar is wearing? what's the significance of that? I'm not sure where the red glow came from as well, perhaps I need to re-read the passage (which I will anyway)

Loved the banter between the marines btw, such an enjoyable read.

I am not sure that the body glove was meant to have any significance. All marines have one on underneath there armor. Unlike Mortifex and the others, Tek'Ar is a marine that enjoys being without his armor. There will be more about that later.

The red glow: I was trying to convey that the gigantic window had one red panel of glass left in it and the moonlight was coming in through it. That was creating the red glow.

I'll try to revise the passage to lessen any confusion. Thanks Knightley!

Warden Officer Tsabin Tsabo. Two weapons, one blade, and armor. Reset talisman. Scheduled return in eighteen hours.” Tsabin spoke as he handed each article of gear, followed lastly by his talisman, to the storage servitor in the officer’s armory. Each command appeared on a screen that covered the servitor’s mouth. An affirmative icon was added seconds later as the servitor began to process the commands.

Tsabin watched as his weapons and armor were carried away by conveyor belts into the wall behind the mounted servitor. There they would be inspected, cleaned, and locked away, fully ready for his next shift. Tsabin anxiously waited for his granted seal of release. It had been three weeks since his last eighteen hour shift break and he was very excited to be out of the barracks.

The servitor paused waiting for further commands before writing on a small seal his release form. Tsabin held his hand out as close to the seal as he could. The small metal limb etched the seal in a matter of seconds. Tsabin looked at the half face of the servitor. He wondered if the lobotomized human was toying with him or if he always took this long to write.

Perhaps he was more excited then he had been in the past, he certainly had a story to tell. The moment the servitor was done Tsabin ripped the seal from the servitor’s metal clamp and quickly moved out of the officers barracks. He had eighteen hours to see his family and didn’t want to waste any of it. The thought of telling his son about meeting an Ice Angel captain made him quicken his step. It was rare for Tsabin to have much to tell his son because the White were rarely woken and it had been months since they had had to do any transfers.

His six years aboard the Alabaster Reflection had been thankfully full of routine guard duty and patrols. He had been in twenty nine war zones and not once did he have to fire his weapon at an enemy.

The Ice Angels on the other hand, they scared him. How the Emperor’s finest could ever devolve to mindless killing machines still disturbed him, perhaps it was the price they paid for being demi-gods. What could have driven them to have an entire ship created to imprison them? While every other ship had its own defense force to protect the ship from invaders, the Reflection had a force just to contain the marines within. It was a unique responsibility and one he couldn’t talk to any one about. Even his son didn’t know what he truly did on board the ship. Tsabin chuckled as he thought of his decisions that led him here.

The mandatory PDF tour turned to an extension with a pay raise once he transferred to the Alabaster Reflection. What they didn’t mention was that it may turn to a life tour or a possible memory wipe depending on how he handled his duties. It was a simple decision at the time but now….. now he has a son.

“Officer!” a kid shouted.

Children and adults alike snapped to attention. Tsabin had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t realized he was right outside the institute. Around him were men, women, and children, many of which were standing at attention. Tsabin smiled briefly at the sight of the smallest kids trying to imitate the larger boys. The hard look of command iced over Tsabins face as he put his arms behind his back to inspect the five and six year olds that surrounded him.

“Dress up that line!” he commanded. Several boys looked around to see if they were at fault before snapping back to attention. “YOU!” he pointed at one of the larger boys who was dressed up in a home made commissariat uniform. Quickly he stepped up to him to look down at the child. The outfit was a simple dress uniform with attached red and gold paper. An excessive number of fake medals covered his left side from his breast to his naval.

“Commissar. You have an important role; can you tell me what you told the class about your position?” The boy tried not to make eye contact before blurting out, “Commissars enforce discipline and devotion to the Emperor of Mankind!”

The boy looked up at Tsabin. He gave a curt nod and a slight grin. Tsabin looked at the row of children. All of them were out of their typical attire and wore their created outfits.

He questioned children dressed as a naval colonel and an astropath as he slowly walked the line. Tsabin quickly recalled the campaign hey must have been studying. Parents, members of the institutional ecclesiarch, and ship crew slowed down to watch the show as they exited the double doors from the school.

“YOU!” Tsabin shouted as he caught one of the children looking away. The boy dropped his baton. Tsabin looked down at the boy and was about to ask him a question when he heard a chuckle coming from his right.

The last two children in the row wore foam space marine helmets on their heads. They had armor made of dishes and plastic tubing. Tsabin recognized the art work on one of them. Tsabin didn’t know which one had chuckled but he side stepped over to the pair.

Tsabin studied the two outfits. He began with a loud grunt, “Gravilack the Conqueror and Varriaxxi the Gold, I do not recall those two hero’s laughing as they fought back the enemies of the Emperor.”

“Standard Mark V tactical armor does not allow sound to travel outside of the enclosed helmet unless the wearer requests it but this one is not up to its required battle standard.” The child that wore the Varriaxxi outfit stated, “I fully believe Varriaxxi the Gold spent a great deal of time laughing while wearing his.”

The statement perplexed Tsabin for a moment but he smiled at his son’s question, “and why would the hero of the Sha’Ha Nebula and first sergeant of the Gold Squad, spend time laughing?”

Tsabin caught a glance from Mother Clairece Dejin Pepin Voyreaux. She narrowed her eyes and gave him a suspicious glare, as she always did.

“Wouldn’t you if you were an unstoppable xenos killing chosen one of the Emperor?” the child responded.

The Warden Officer looked at the faces of the adults and other children as he evaluated the question. He was soon nodding his head, “Yes, I think I would.” Tsabin lied. He looked down the row one last time. “Dismissed.”

Children and adults began to leave the institute in every direction. Many of them gave him signs of respect in the form of salutes and bows. Tsabin’s reclusive position was held in high esteem by the crew, one of the few perks of the job he savored and even more amusing that none of them knew what he truly did.

Tsabin knelt before his son who jumped at him with arms wide.

“I missed you Gravilax, “Tsabin whispered.

His son leaned away and looked at his chest, “I missed you too father.” His tone wasn’t what Tsabin was expecting. He grabbed his sons foam helmet and took it off.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

Gravilax took his hand and they started walking. After a few minutes his son spoke again. “I wasn’t accepted into the accelerated program,” his five year old son said while trying to keep his emotion in check.

The accelerated program is for the gifted children within the Ice Angel fleet. Those that excel in the program are taken to the academy on Shattermantle, the Vliawatha’ven. Countless officers, commanders, and even marines had come out of that academy. It was the dream of all of the children on board to be accepted into its ranks.

Tsabin sighed as he felt his son’s hand shaking with sadness and pent up grief. Tsabin stopped walking and pulled his son to the side of the ornate hallway they were in. Art work of heroes and triumph decorated the hall. He knelt down and gave his son another hug. His eighteen hour shift break was not shaping up to what he had planned.

Omg omg omg omg, so excited to get more of the Ice angels story!

Very interesting read for Tsabin, I hadn't even thought about what would happen for those enlisted men on the ships. Having mainly had stories of marines who don't require down time having this little slice of humanity betwixt all the foreboding entries is a nice change of pace.

I have a hunger for blood though, so if my request can be listened to.... blood, not a ton of it, just enough to temper the craving

Blood you say? How very khorne of you? I'll see what i can do.

A deep somber bell tone rang three times in Razzik’s chamber. He issued a final deep breath before opening his eyes. He was fully alert within seconds despite having had several hours of deep sleep. He couldn’t recall the last time he had slept so well.

Razzik listened to the ship and concentrated on the vibrations. He knew they were still traveling through the warp. That fact alone made it even stranger to him that he felt so refreshed. He silently thanked the Emperor before standing up from his bed.

Next to one of his weapon racks sat a waist high column. Razzik tapped one of the three runes on its top. A warm wafer popped out next to the rune. He grabbed the steaming brick of nutrition and began to consume it while taping the second rune.

Behind the column built into the wall were four panels of varying sizes. At the press of the second rune they opened to reveal the severed heads of criminals and the dishonored. The first head began to speak giving its report of the ships status. The second began shortly there after with messages specifically for Razzik. The third had nothing to report while the fourth finished with a psalm to the Emperor.

Captain Razzik began to warm up his body for his morning exercises before he caught a glimpse at his desk. On top of the hand carved desk sat a book that Razzik didn’t remember putting there. The black metal bound book sat in the center of Razzik’s desk, it was one of the books from the Eldar museum. For the briefest moment Razzik thought he witnessed the wired design glow but he immediately dismissed the thought.

Razzik stared at the book and recalled giving it to one of the serfs that handled archives for the chapter. Razzik scanned the room once again to see if anything else was altered. When he was confident it wasn’t, he sat at the desk looking down at the book. He vividly remembered handing over all of the items they had confiscated from their short trip through the torturous labyrinth. He did allow several of the weapons to be kept by his brethren but all of the books and trinkets were turned in, at least he had thought.

He flipped through the flexible metal pages. Every page was a different series of raised runes that appeared to be woven from the same wire. He began to think of having Philosir look at it when the door chime rang.

He shut the book and carried it with him to his door. The icon of Tech marine Philosir shined on his side of the door. “How convenient,” he thought to himself as he finished the last bite of his caloric brick.

The sturdy door swung open and Philosir titled his head in respect.

“Captain,” his monotone voice greeted.

“Tech marine Philosir,” Razzik responded.

“Here is your report of the items Nefas has sent to us. I think you’ll find it most interesting.” Philosir handed over a data crystal.

Razzik took the crystal while handing Philosir the metal bound book. The tech marine passed the book from his hand into the clamp of a servo arm. He didn’t seem to notice the book as it dangled from the claw at his side.

“Tell me what you think of that book when you have some time Philosir,” Razzik began as he motioned to let Philosir in. The tech marine took only several steps before waiting in Razzik’s foyer. Captain Razzik sat in one of the high back thrones and looked towards several others but Philosir remained standing. Razzik then placed the crystal in one of the arm rests. An image floated in front of him containing the information on the crystal, images and an inventory of the items Nefas had shipped over.

The list of items was a mix between out dated cannons, priceless relics, and weapon designs unfamiliar to Razzik. The inventory was impressive but when he reached the image section he paused.

“Philosir, were there any Munitorium reports amongst the shipments?” Razzik asked, suddenly disturbed by the list.

“None that were intact, Captain. I tried to recalibrate the reports and even trace through the shipment logs but all of it had been corrupted and rendered useless.” Philosir blandly responded.

“I don’t think we need to data mine the logs to determine where some of these were going.” Razzik sighed.

“I would concur, Captain. Using the images alone you can see that many of these weapons are destined for other chapters,” the tech marine stated as he slid the images to a pair of combi-weapons with white U’s on them.

Razzik let the images lazily slide between the chair and the armored tech marine. He shook his head as he saw the iconography from multiple chapters adorning some of the weapons. When the images stopped, Razzik sat back in his throne.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment internally debating on what should be done.

Philosir emitted a short gurgle of static, which Razzik had learned was the equivalent of the tech marine clearing his throat.

“Forty percent of the weapons can easily be associated with other loyal chapters. The remaining sixty percent do not have clear allegiance to any one.” The tech marine paused. “I believe their machine spirits yearn to be let loose,” his monotone voice flatly added.

For a moment Razzik stared at the wizened tech marine before allowing a smile to break his stern façade. “Very well Philosir, make sure we can appease the machine spirits of the weapons. I want them in the hands of my company before we arrive. I will send you an updated squad inventory tomorrow. The weapons destined for other chapters shall be kept in their crates until we can send them to their rightful owners.”

Razzik stood up and stepped over to a pitcher of water that sat upon a shelf behind his chair. He poured himself a glass before turning back to look at Philosir. The tech marine silently stood, his optical units quietly twitching and monitoring his entire surroundings. A head nod from Razzik ended the conversation. Philosir walked past Razziks throne, opened the door with one of his servo arms, and departed the room.

Squad break downs and weapon lists flooded his thoughts. He wanted each unit to have access to the new weapons if they proved to be needed. In the back of his mind he felt that Nefas wouldn’t have sent them other wise. He headed to his desk, completely focused on determining proper distribution of the weapons, unaware that the metal bound book was resting on the seat of his throne.

I can imagine Razzik handing out the weapons like...


Great to see some focus back on the marines we've come to know and love, been far to long away imo

So this Eldar (supposed) book has me intrigued, it almost seems to be like...


Klaatu verata nikto

HA! Good call Knightley.

How did you feel about that last passage? Did you enjoy it?


Btw, I totally forgot to post because of some family visits yesterday, but February 13th is name an Ice Angel day. Any one have any more name suggestions?

I wouldn't have posted if I didn't

Name an Ice Angel, hmm. let me sit on it and see what I can come up with.

Chapter 5

The dark ship was a nightmare of screams and carefully orchestrated tortures. Savra padded through the halls to a section of the ship she rarely visited. The haemonculi fleshshops were a deranged area that fully disgusted her. They however served a vital role in the life of the dark eldar. They could rebuild and regenerate nearly any wound, some of them were said to bring back the dead as long as a piece of the decedent could be located. The process was time consuming and said to be incredibly painful, but then again, pain through death was said to be the most exquisite of emotions.

Savra silently passed open doors with screaming victims that fed the regeneration process. She ignored them all as she thought about her victim.

A twisted trio of masked women barred her way into her final destination. Her lipped curled at the thought of stopping. She plotted the quickest way to kill them all before stopping before them. The spiral door behind them was closed. Muffled screams and other delightful sounds murmured around them all.

She studied the twisted trio, annoyed that they hadn’t addressed her yet. They each had multiple sets or arms, each in different places then the other. Venom coated daggers were held in every hand. Savra could smell the potent concoction of pain serums and combat drugs that each vile woman carried. Slowly she eyed them all.

With a hiss, the door slide open, each spiral sliding back into the frame. The center woman titled her head and stepped aside after a voice floated through. “Do come in my dear,” the velvety voice was deep and sweet.

A few steps later and Savra was in the room, the door slid closed behind her. She was in the lounge area of the flesh shop, but she was still alone. She stalked through the room and into another hall, she had only been here twice before but she knew exactly where to go. A few turns later, past several more twisted abominations, each larger then the previous and she was in a private room in the back of the flesh shop.

Ithilv the Artisan, stood over his latest victim. Savra looked at the wounded creature and marveled at the damage done, yet the creature still breathed. She didn’t understand how it still lived but it whimpered and gave off waives of agony that made her palms sweat. The suffering of the creature was one like she had not experienced in a long time. She opened her mouth and took a deep breathe; she swooned at the intense pleasure it caused her. She was astounded at the power, in mere seconds even she felt invigorated. She didn’t want it to stop.

Ithilv took a side glance at her and smiled before stepping on a petal under the table. The flat slab sank and slide into a panel into the wall before being sealed behind glass.

“He is one of my favorites. Stubborn, defiant, and very resilient, his kind has proven to be very,” he paused, “profitable.” Ithilv smiled. His teeth were white, except for a silver canine. The four armed haemonculus was an ancient being that wore a back pack that was grafted into his back. Vials and smaller appendages sprouted from it to aid him with anything he may need. Countless blades and devices hung from chains around his waist. He wore a long cloaked that was a deep teal.

For a moment Savra began to like Ithilv but then she caught herself. This was the exact reason why she never came here. He was one of the best at his craft but would just as quickly turn her into one of his next victims as he would aid her with any request.

His gangly form rumbled as he witnessed her firm up her stance and force the pleasure aside.

“I see you aren’t here to visit with me,” he purred. He stepped aside and pulled a lever built into the wall. Quietly Ithilv shuffled out of the room as a glowing hexagon shaped panel floated down from the ceiling. On it was the naked form of a male.

His body glistened with sweat; his hair was matted from the moisture. The heavy scent of the man sent shivers of a different kind of pleasure across Savra. She stepped over to the panel. She moved a dark lock of hair off of his face. His eyes snapped open before he snarled. He took a heavy breathe before pushing himself up.

Savra studied the eldar. His body was once again perfect. All of his broken bones and shattered organs had been repaired. She placed a delicate hand on his shoulder. The corded muscle seemed even stronger then before. He stared at her through hateful eyes. She delighted at the site.

“Hello my sweet,” she whispered as she drew a finger down his chest.

“Don’t touch me wych,” he snapped as he began to look past her towards the departing Ithilv.

She removed her finger and her smile returned. She leaned forward as if to kiss him, but she paused. “We have some catching up to do,” she said as she bit her lip. Seeing him full of pent of anger excited her. She had been so bored while he was away.

“I am not in the mood,” he spat as she pushed her aside. He slid off the panel and steadied himself, he hadn’t walked in several months. He narrowed his eyes and through sheer will walked out of the room by himself.

She danced after him, “you are still weak my darling, come join me so I can help you recover.” She stopped in front of him.

“How are you going to help me regain the respect,” he stopped mid sentence and clenched his teeth while trying to collect his thoughts behind the tide of anger.

“tsk tsk,” she grinned, “getting kicked to death by a giant robot isn’t that bad.”

His nostrils flared at the words. She laughed. He stormed off, his naked hate fueled body still dripping from the warm coffin he had spent months recovering in.

Once again Savra danced after him. She could tell it was going to be a great day.

Yay! it is truly great to see more of your writings!

I like how the DE are getting a slowly fleshed out story as well, am I correct in assuming it was a tau suit that kicked him down? from when the marines went through the portal to escape?

Please post more!

Knightley, you are correct! Thanks for responding to my story as always. I finally had some time to sit down and type up some of the story that has been filling up my brain the other day and it felt great. There is so much to come, i apologize for the short hiatus but this story will be completed. I don't know when or how long but I will get through it. There are so many great things to come.

Damn you, I got excited for another entry! then disappointment as it wasn't story.

Need more story is the long and short of it.

The launch counter was clearly visible to everyone in the hanger but it seemed meaningless to those inside. The crews went about their business prepping a handful of shuttles without an iota of haste. Servitors went about their tasks checking temperatures and docking clamps, loading a variety of equipment and every other job that needed to be done.

Inushi stood alone near the force field that kept them from being sucked into space. The lazy activity in the room bothered him. He was reading for action. He was ready to do whatever needed to be done. Then again, no one had told him what was going to happen. A lone message was all he received from Nefas.

“Hanger three, no armor, no weapons, 0800”

Inushi expected to see the Clishmacleaver dancing about but they were no where to be seen. The Benevolent Aberration had exited the warp and was now approaching a planet. He had no idea what planet it was, no one had told him that either. He couldn’t see any other ships in space around them, no vanguard or support ships were visible to his naked eye, but he assumed they were near.

The planet was very green with large bodies of water, from space it looked like nearly every other hospitable planet. There were no distinguishing markings or land marks that he could ascertain from space, “just another rock covered in humanity on the edge of peril.”

The words of Aquilum brought a slight smile to his face before Inushi glanced up at the mission counter. He turned around toward the pair of forward docked ships. Between them he saw a new group. A gathering of grey coated humans. They wore identical uniforms and carried M35 M-Galaxy Pattern Lasguns. Inushi walked towards the group. The twenty men and women stood in a circle around a sprawling machine on a tracked unit. A trio of armed servitors were mounted on top of the contraption. A pair of tech priests stood beside it, a strong smell of oil and lubricant billowed from the group.

There was a small gap in the circle at the end closest to Inushi. Next to the gap one of the ladies turned and looked at him. It was Widow, as the Clishmacleaver called her. She motioned to stand next to her. Inushi quickened his step to take his position. He dwarfed her lithe frame. She wore gloves over her metal hands, her hair was jet black, her face had block patterns painted on. The rest of the unit matched.

Inushi slowly drew his gaze around the squad. They had all completely reworked their hair, faces, attire, and even some of their bionics to assume the identity of a seemingly new unit, only the large dark skinned man still stood out amongst the squad.

Widow took a step forward into the circle. She bowed her head and gave a short prayer to the Emperor, she then stepped back into the circle before addressing Inushi directly.

“Nefas has requested you join us for this next mission. Until we return, you will follow my orders and do exactly what I say. Your mission is to assist the reclamation of two of our associates, Mithril and Onyx. They have the information we need to complete the rest of the mission.”

A simple head nod was all Inushi gave before Widow turned back to her unit. One of the other members stepped out of the circle towards the machine in the center. It took Inushi several seconds to determine which member it was. The physical alteration and make up was superb, he hardly recognized K’tla.

She waived some incense before activating several runes on the machine. The Tech Priests then took over, pulling levers and moving switches. It began to hum. When it reached its peak tone each member stepped towards the cart and pulled out a long cord. They retreated back to their position in the circle. Each member inserted the cords into varies places on their bodies. Widow in her arm, K’tla in her neck, several others connected through their faces, fingers, thighs, chest, or stomach.

Once they were all attached, Widow closed her eyes. New runes lit up on the machine. Others all followed suit.

“Partial memory wipe, process name change, identity alteration in,” blips sounded off from Widow and the Priests at the same time.

When the last pip went off each person reacted in a different way, some shook, some screamed, some laughed, some sang. It was a bizarre scene to be had in the middle of a hanger in between ships. Inushi watched each of them in turn as they went through this process.

When the last of them stopped, the machine powered down to a different setting. A blurt of binary code spat from the machine. One of the Tech Priests, whose mouth had been replaced by a scroll printer, vomited forth a short piece of parchment. The other Priest carefully tore it before reading it aloud. “BUILDINGS!” He shouted.

“Tower.”
“Morgue.”
“Castle.”
“Warehouse.”
“Library.”

Each member in turn, quickly named a building. As they took their turns, they opened their eyes and removed the cords. When it came all the way around, the woman previously known as the Widow, said “Spire”. While in her trance she removed the cord from her inner elbow. The cord retreated back into the machine. Several blinks later and the cloud of mental abuse had dissipated. She turned her head to regard Inushi.

“Your new name is Garden.” She stared at him. Her accent had changed. Her eyes were a different color. Inushi looked on, astounded and concerned.

Mental alterations and hypno therapy were common practices across the Imperium, but voluntary mind wipes? He decided right there, he should tread lightly around this group. They were most likely more dangerous then he first anticipated.