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Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

The hands holding Adelana let go, allowing her to throw herself to the ground a split second before the darkness was dashed away by the Resurrected las fire.

Before Adelana could think, the three agents and Serghar stood in front of her, and their power swords were blurs as they smashed and deflected the rain of fire.

"I must admit you are clever, little girl," said Serghar through clenched teeth. "Smarter than my disappointing son, at least. Get out of here...We'll, we'll cover your escape. Just make sure the little frig gets to the tower."

Adelana smiled and picked up Attelus, grunting with the effort. Slipping his arm across her shoulders. She looked around and found Attelus' powersword lying amongst the sand only about a metre from the east-side wall. Lucky. Adelana moved as quickly as she could, she went to retrieve it. Keeping low as the fire blazed by and around her.

She scooped up his sword, activated it then plunged it deep into the wall, feeling it penetrate through to the next building. Adelana cut a quick, human-sized hole and, with a roar, kicked it.

Pain shuddered up her leg, and she cried out, bouncing away.

"Emperor damn it!" she yelled, stumbling to keep from falling. "Why do you make this look so easy?"

Attelus didn't answer; of course, he just swayed on her. His blood had begun to soak her cameleoline cloak and bodyglove.

She bit her lip and fought for her limbs to move again, she recognised it as concern, and it threatened to overtake her. Attelus would hate that; he would see it as pity. But it wasn't. She couldn't even begin to pity him.

With a snarl, she forced it away and kicked the wall again. Hoping beyond hope, there weren't any more Resurrected beyond.

With a groan, it fell in and smashed against the ground kicking up red sand.

To her relief, the small corridor beyond was empty, and she glanced back. Serghar and his three agents were locked in close combat. Or locked in slaughter, to be more accurate. She'd watched them massacre their way through the Elbyrans hours before. But this was even more impressive. The Resurrected all seemed to be sliced to bits the moment they charged in. Even though Adelana's eyes couldn't even follow their attacks, she saw the ferocity and desperation fuelling them. She couldn't help wonder how long their superhuman constitutions were going to last.

Adelana started onward, Attelus' powersword held ready, as much as she wanted to retrieve her prized bolter and las pistol, there wasn't enough time.

She had to get to the roof.

She couldn't help let another smile grow across her lips as she stepped into the unknown.

Adelana had no idea whether to go left or right, and she clenched her teeth.

In the back of her mind, the words 'the right way, was the right way' whittled in, and they made her turn rightward, although she couldn't recall who'd said it.

Sudden tears overtook her gaze as she remembered; it was her father.

Adelana swore he was the funniest and strangest father in the galaxy. He'd embarrassed her countless times over the years with his eccentricity and lame jokes. She'd inherited his red and gold hair and light green eyes. He'd died along with everyone else on Omnartus, and she missed him beyond human comprehension. He'd always been there for her even when he was weighed down with the stress of running his dying business-

She rubbed away the tears and thought, he may be dead, but at least he wasn't Serghar Kaltos.

Adelana gave Attelus a glance; he was still unconscious, his handsome face hidden behind an oily brown fringe which clung to his pale skin like the still drying glue her father used to paste separate layers of fabric together.

It seemed whenever anyone amongst those who knew of the destruction began to complain about something; they think at least they don't have it as bad as Attelus.

It was a good way to put things into perspective, to keep from being overtaken by grief, to wallow too much in, in Adelana's opinion anyway, in justified self-pity.

"Emperor, damn it, Attelus," she growled in a bid to try to negate the sound of fighting behind them. "Here I am, saving your butt yet again. I thought you'd learned your lesson about rushing in again? Before, it was your sentiment, wasn't it? But now it's your damned blood lust, wasn't it?"

Attelus' sudden gurgle caused Adelana to flinch and stop. Fear running through her like a near-freezing stream.

"Attelus?"

The gurgling kept going as blood gushed down his chin. It sounded like...like.

Anger overtook her fear, and she fought the urge to throw him on the ground when she saw his blood coated smile.

"What's so damned funny?" she said.

"Y-you just...know me too...well," he said, his hissing voice below a whisper.

Her anger flickered away as quickly as it came, and she started on again. "Sometimes, I wished you'd just die."

"Well," he said. "That'd...be a pointless wish, Adelana. As it...wouldn't last long, apparently."

"You always have a damned comeback, don't you? Anyway, isn't it me who's to learn stuff?"

"D-don't you...Don't you remember what...Raloth s-said? We're...learning, all-all of us...all the time. Except for...me, obviously."

Then he straightened, forcing Adelana to stop at the edge of the corner.

"What is it, Attelus?" she said, although the tightening through her stomach already told her.

"Just as I'd...I'd just learned we aren't alone in here," he said.

He slumped forwards, causing Adelana almost to lose her balance.

"I'm...sorry," he breathed before losing consciousness again.

Adelana wanted to let out a groan, but the light crunching footsteps around the corner caused it to die in her throat.

Something wasn't right, something she couldn't quite comprehend.

With powersword at the ready, she peered around the corner.



Tathe reloaded his laspistol for what seemed the millionth time, but what he knew to be his twelfth from the three remaining clips in his belt pouch and brought it to bear with a swish of his storm coat. He didn't need to aim as he opened up on the baying horde as they fought to fight at the front.

Meanwhile, enemy fire battered against Karmen Kon's kine shield and the Elbyran shots slaughtered. So far, casualties had been minimal, but even so, more and more familiar faces and coloured armour had joined. Most were men Tathe knew fought in the rear or on the north and south flanks. That was of little surprise.

Rage welled within him at the sight of everyone. They were men and women who'd fought with him for years. Who'd given their lives so they could take another step? It sickened Tathe; they were forced to fight after death. They deserved the peaceful release of oblivion after their honourable and admirable service to the Golden Throne.

He never hesitated in killing his former comrades, as every time they died, it allowed the Elbyrans one more step to hopefully, maybe end their purgatory, their enslavement.

Tathe would've shaken his head but kept his attention focused forward. He had to have faith, faith that his father was the key to this, that defeating him would permanently stop the Resurrected from coming back again and again.

He was a cynic; he wasn't faithful any more. But he wasn't really 'faithful' any more in his decades of fighting the Ruinous Powers; he'd seen time and again that something, somewhere was the key to bringing them out of the warp and destroying it was the key in sending them back.

The tower was the key; his father was the key.

All while he was thinking this, Tathe's laspistol seemed to have of its own sentience as it shot and shot.

It was when Tathe's mind came back from introspection into reality when the cultist he'd drawn a bead on exploded.

It only took a second for the cultist's body to bulge and warp, then coat the Resurrected around it in blood and gore.

What stood in the cultist's place sent painful icicles to spear into Tathe's heart. It made him halt as it did every guardsman and throne agent.

The daemon stood head and shoulders taller than any other being about, despite being hunched forward like the worst sort of hunchback. Its tongue snapped and writhed out its forever opened maw and teeth as long as Tathe's index finger coated the top of its mouth. Its scaly skin was such a bright, blood-red; it made Tathe's eyes water. Its eyes gazed gold, a gold so pure that Tathe swore it was the same gold that might have lived at the heart of stars. It was long-limbed and surprisingly slender compared to its height and broadness of shoulders, but its arms were still thicker than Tathe's torso. Its skull elongated to such a height it reminded Tathe of the helms worn by the eldar and to huge, course horns weaved from the sides of its head. It held a sword as long as it was tall, a huge blade meant for two hands, even for a Space Marine, but it held it with one hand as easily as Tathe would hold his laspistol. Its legs caved backwards at the knees and ended in sharp—cloven hooves.

More of the cultists in the crowd followed the first in exploding and transforming into daemons.

Into Bloodletters.

Despite this, Tathe was still smiling, and he activated his vox bead.

"Flame troopers, take point!" he said, slashing his sword down. He'd been expecting this, and almost immaculately and immediately, the flames were at the front.

The daemons began to charge and were met with a wall of flame which bathed them in cleansing fire.

"All units advance," said Tathe. "Cover the flamers with all we have."

It was then Tathe noticed the Guncutter fly overhead from the east, and he was forced to stop the down rush of air from blowing off his cap. It flew down the road and at the back of the Elbyran advance.

"What the hell's going on with that?" demanded Tathe.

"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

Adelana slipped back the split second she saw the cultist around the corner.

It was about five metres away and moving toward her with a wary slowness uncharacteristic for its kind.

The cultist obviously hadn't seen her, or else he would be charging like a maniac.

Adelana hissed a curse through clenched teeth. Wishing beyond wishing she'd taken her bolter. She slipped Attelus off her shoulder then sat him against the wall. Attelus was murmuring something, and she willed him to shut the hell up.

She had her hand plastered across Attelus' mouth. She would have liked to shut him up another way, but it wasn't professional and ethically questionable when done to someone barely conscious. Even though she knew he'd like it, for someone apparently trained to hide his emotions and himself, he was about as subtle as a punch to the face in showing his affection for her.

Adelana shook away the thought and glanced around the corner again. The cultist was still approaching in strange slowness. His tunic was covered in blood, announcing his seniority in his cult, and he carried a chainsword, its teeth coated in bloody bits of human meat, some still with parts of flak armour.

Adelana felt a shiver slide through her; that could mean it was champion. Far out of her league in close combat.

She pulled back and started to gather Attelus up again. She'd need to try the other way.

It was then she heard the jets of the Guncutter through the roof above. The sweeping roaring allowed her to visual Darrance, turning it over the street to aim the lascannons at the building still with Serghar and his agents inside.

Adelana smiled again.



Agent 2k-3 was the first to hear the screeching of the Guncutter's engines.

"Master," she yelled while decapitating yet another Resurrected cultist. "It is Attelus' ship. It is here."

"Yes," said Serghar. "It seems once again I have underestimated my son's little bitch of a girlfriend, again. She is too clever for her own good. Agent 2k-3 go after my son; we still need him to retrieve the sword, so he cannot die here, not yet."

"Yes, master," she said and disengaged with such grace she seemed like a feline on enhancement stimms.

"1k-3, 3k-3," said Serghar. "Cover me."

"Yes, master," said both agents in one voice as Serghar lunged back, and the pair began holding back the horde.

Serghar calculated he had six seconds before 1k-3 and 3k-3 were overwhelmed. That hardly mattered as, like all of Etuarq's servants, Serghar himself included, they were utterly expendable. But Serghar knew for this mission he still needed them. He just hoped they wouldn't look too much into his allowing them to escape with him.

Serghar reached for the small, unassuming knife secretly sheathed behind a pouch on his belt.

The lascannon barrage then started to slaughter the building above them.

Adelana had made it halfway toward the left side of the building when she heard the shout behind her, and she turned.

The cultist had stepped around the corner, seeing her somehow through the dark with ease. He let out a snarl and burst into a charge, chainsword revving and raised.

She cursed and slipped Attelus off her shoulder, then readied his sword, trying to ignore her heart crashing through her.

The cultist was on her so fast Adelana had barely any time to react; it moved like one of Serghar's agents; it moved like Attelus.

Adelana barely managed to throw herself back before being decapitated, but in her desperate haste, she slipped on the sand and fell on her back. The next split second, the cultist was on her, his chainsword held over his head.

But he straightened and spun, and Adelana saw the shadow flitter behind him a split second after a clash echoed into her ears. Another followed that then another as the cultist fought an assailant Adelana's eyes couldn't follow.

She shook herself back to sanity, stood then started to slip Attelus arm over her shoulder.

The cultist and his attacker were blurs, gashes, and slashes that just seemed to materialise in the walls and floor.

"Adelana," said Attelus almost in her ear, causing her to flinch. "Give me my sword."

"But-"

"Give...me my frigging...sword, now."

"You're injured."

"I know, frig you, give it, now."

His tone was that of a petulant child; he almost screamed it right in her ear, causing stinging agony to blast through her skull. She did, and he snatched it from her grasp so hard and fast she was almost flung from her feet. Then he was gone, rushing in a blur to join in the fight.

No one with a gut wound should've been able to move, let alone fight. It was easy to forget, even after witnessing him fighting countless times, how inhuman he was.

Attelus only lasted a few seconds before he was flung like a rag doll and smashing onto his back at Adelana's feet.

He writhed and screamed so sharply, it caused a primal fear to crash through Adelana. Blood burst from his wound like a geyser.

"Emperor damn it," she yelled and knelt over him. "I told you-"

She was interrupted by the now-familiar slosh, sound of splattering blood and saw the Cultist had been decapitated, it fell to its knees, and Adelana straightened. It was the female agent, the cultist's blood still evaporating off the powerfield of one of her blades.

"What-"

"Get him up; we have to move," said the agent.

That was when the last building collapsed under the lascannon barrage, in a crashing, deafening cacophony.

Adelana froze, feeling her teeth clench as she fixed her gaze on the agent. The agent didn't seem to care.

"I said, get him up, now."

Adelana did as told, doing as quickly as possible. Attelus grunted and groaned the whole way. How the hell he was still conscious was beyond her.

The agent slipped by them.

"I will lead the way," she said. "I am assuming that you are going to rendezvous with your ship on the roof of this building?"

Adelana fought the urge to ask her about her comrades. "Y-yes."

"Then let us go," she said and started on.

Adelana bit her lip and began to follow.

"Elandria," Attelus gasped.

The agent stopped but didn't turn, and second after

"I...I know it's...you."

"You can 'know' it all you like, Attelus. It does not mean it is true."

"Elandria?" said Adelana; she'd heard of this Elandria but didn't know much; in fact, she didn't want to know much.

"Oh, she was just his girlfriend, before you, I mean."

"She's not my girlfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend."

They said as one.

"Be quiet," hissed the agent. "And hurry it up."



It took what seemed an age to climb up the stairwell and onto the roof. All the while, Adelana could almost feel Darrance's impatience in her chest the entire agonising time.

Much to her surprise, they never ran into any other Resurrected the entire way, but this was just fuel to the fire of her paranoia. The sound of the Guncutter's engines should have drawn them like a Grox to feed. All this time, Attelus constantly fell in and out of consciousness, his head drooping back and forth, almost like a pendulum.

What surprised her the most was the absence of the roaring engines; when they emerged into the sunlight, Adelana was surprised to see that Darrance had landed on the roof.

Darrance stood on the ramp, glaring at them as Adalana had just drunk his recaf.

"What in the Emperor's name is she doing here?" he snarled, pointing his powersword at the agent.

"Be at peace; I am merely escorting Attelus Kaltos and his girlfriend to safety," said the agent as she stopped and raised her hands.

Adelana, still holding Attelus, fast-walked past the agent and started up the ramp.

"I don't understand," said Darrance. "What in the name of the Warp is going on here?"

Before she could react, Attelus spun to face the agent, Adelana barely managing to keep her feet and keep him up in the process.

"I...know it's you, Elandria," he stammered. "I...can tell by the way you fight...Stop lying."

The agent sighed, although it was distorted, almost beyond recognition. "I may possess her body, but she is long dead. She bled out three years ago, in your arms."

"Then...what are you...?" he gasped, slipping and sliding to keep his feet.

"Attelus," said Adelana. "You need to get to the medicae."

"The master does not possess the knowledge of how to create a perpetual," said the agent. "Hence why he needs you to take the sword. I am Elandria, but I am not; I am a gestalt of souls warped together to create one that reanimates her body, restores it, and enhances it beyond her original capability. I have her skills but nothing else; there is nothing left of her. She is gone, forever."

"Take...off your...mask."

The agent shrugged and did, revealing a beautiful, pale visage boarded by a bob cut. Attelus straightened, and Darrance's jaw dropped, and his power scimitar lowered.

"There," she said. "If it makes you happy. Do not look so shocked; you already knew. Now, I must go."

"What about my...father?" said Attelus. "I...he the...same?"

"That, I cannot tell you."

Then she started to turn.

"Why...did you just tell me all of that?" Attelus called, causing her to stop. "It's because she's still in there, somewhere...I know...it...She wanted me to know...that. You still...have her mind...literally."

"D-don't be a fool, goodbye," said the agent, and her shoulders rose for a brief second before she slipped on her mask again and disappeared down the stairs.

"Elandria," said Attelus, as he slumped again, but so hard and fast that if Darrance hadn't grabbed Attelus' arm, Adelana and he would've fallen on their faces.

"Let's get him inside," Darrance said.

Together, they carried the half-conscious Attelus to the medicae and laid him on the gurney for the servitors; the entire way, he kept murmuring Elandria again and again.

Adelana had a thousand questions for Darrance, but he had to leave for the cockpit.

She could only stand and watch the surgery for a few minutes before Attelus' constant murmuring of that name drove her away and toward her quarters. Trying to blink away, the tears smearing her gaze.


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

The gun line was dying, both literally and figuratively. Ammunition was growing scarce. Tathe didn't know the exact number of men who still had ammo and who didn't. Tathe was a commissar, not a colonel or general; logistics weren't his responsibility until he'd taken over the contingent and had to learn much first hand. He'd just ordered those that did keep back to cover the flamers with precision fire. Tathe, his makeshift command squad and the many soldiers without ammo and bayonets fixed followed the flamers. Two flamer troopers had died, trooper Bulok who'd been decapitated by a daemon's blade and who was then avenged by Dellenger and trooper Sulvik, who'd been gutted by a bayonet thrust from a former Velrosian comrade. Five still advanced at the fore, but despite the wall of fire, many Resurrected and daemons still managed to get through, many of which had already fallen to Tathe's blade.

Adreen had taken a bad cut across the thigh and Dellenger a chainsword tear on his left shoulder and taken a glancing blow across the side of his head from the butt of a las rifle. Blood streaming down his face.

Although he was now coated with blood, Tathe and the rest of his command squad had yet to be injured. Still, he couldn't help curse and wonder where their leader: Attelus Kaltos and his girlfriend had gone; this was the time he needed that melee monster the most when ammunition was running dry, and his men were dying like flies. He'd gotten Karmen Kons to look for them, but she couldn't. Tathe had to guess it was to do with the arrival and extraction of their Guncutter about an hour ago.

Reports flooding from the flanks told that they were falling behind and taking horrendous casualties. Tathe knew this was going to happen; the men and women fighting on the flanks knew it was going to happen. But that didn't even begin to allay the pain in Tathe's heart.

Tathe's bolt pistol shot blew a charging Marangerian trooper's skull into red mist; he knew the trooper's name but had shoved it back into the recesses of his mind, then he shot a cultist through the guts. A snarling daemon shoved both corpses as it burst through, moving with inhuman speed; it lunged at Tathe.

Tathe didn't even blink as he emptied his pistol's clip into the thing's oversized skull through the roof of its oversized mouth. The daemon's momentary distraction allowed three cultists to charge in. One was stabbed through the neck by Dellenger, who was too distracted by taking down Tathe to see it coming.

Tathe knelt beneath the sweeping chainsword of one while cutting through the knee of the other. Tathe turned the cut's backswing into a parry to intercept the chainsword headed for his head. Tathe then twisted his sword into a vertical up slash, which sliced through the cultist's groin.

The shriek the cultist let out was so loud it almost eclipsed the roar of the fire and the buzzing of las guns. Tathe had long ago decided to deal blows that took some time to die from. It'd delay them from coming back, and it proved cathartic to his more sadistic sensibilities.

But he found himself incapable of doing it to guardsmen, no matter how hard he tried to.

"How far away now?" Tathe yelled to Dellenger as he cut through the chest of a charging Sovrithian.

"Five more blocks," said Dellenger, while sliding aside a wild bash from a cultist, then stabbed the cultist through the ribs. "Not far, sir."

Tathe clenched his teeth that didn't seem 'not far' to him, and that was just until they converged on the strange hole which descended into the middle of the city, and Emperor only knew what lived down there.

A scream drew Tathe's attention just in time to see trooper Heunstein being stabbed through the chest by a Velrosian scout trooper.

Heunstein fell, clutching at his horrible wound. With a roar, Tathe dashed for the scout trooper, powersword slashing for the scout's skull. The scout had left with Adreen's squad to scout ahead only a few hours ago. He'd been fighting on the front line and was one of the best, up with Adreen and Dellenger. Tathe had had no idea he'd been killed, despite the fact they'd advanced only a few metres from each other.

The scout saw the sword slicing for his throat, but even he couldn't react fast enough to dodge. A clang echoed as another powersword sheered off Tathe's, sending shivers up Tathe's arms and the cut-off course.

Tathe slipped back, just out the way from a thrust and looked to his attacker and couldn't help let his jaw drop.

It was Valketh. The captain's eyes were glazed with psychotic anger, the same murderous look he'd treated Serghar's agent only hours ago. Tathe would've never imagined he would ever be on the wrong end of that glare.

Then Valketh launched at Tathe, sword cutting for his wrist.



Adelana stood in the recreation room, watching Sarkeath swirl and twirl below; somehow, the blood sands weren't visible from orbit; here, it seemed like a normal desert world with brownish sand. There was a better term to describe the colour, one she'd learned from her father, but she'd forgotten it. He'd known every name for every colour in this galaxy. It was just one of the many things she'd forgotten, replacing it with more knowledge on how to kill, how to manipulate and read others. She recalled what Hayden said about her becoming like Attelus. She'd snarled him down, but now she was beginning to see his point.

She'd enjoyed it a bit too much setting up the trap for Serghar and his minions.

She was beginning to enjoy the killing. What was she becoming? They chased Etuarq in the name of justice, but were they really? It was becoming more and more obvious that them chasing him was exactly what Etuarq wanted and-

"Adelana?"

Adelana couldn't help jump and spin to see Attelus, his shirtless torso bandaged as he entered the doorway. He was somehow paler than normal, and the purple bags beneath his eyes darker.

"Sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to give you a fright, Adelana."

Adelana nodded; she knew he didn't mean it, even injured. He moved in instinctive silence.

He was just as silent as he moved to stand beside Adelana and gazed down at Sarkeath with her.

"You alright?" he said.

Tears welled in her gaze, and she looked at him. Faster than thought, he met her eyes, and it caused her to turn away.

"I-I'm fine," she said. "I should be the one who asks that."

"I'll live," he said. "Thanks for saving my ass, Adelana. I'm alright now. We need to get down there."

He turned and started away.

"I don't think we should," she forced herself to say.

He stopped, his broad back facing her.

"What?"

"I-I know that sounds insane, but please hear me out, Attelus."

He turned to face her, his glare so intense she couldn't help but flinch.

"I don't understand how that couldn't be anything but insane, Adelana," he said.

"I uhh, uhm."

"But I'll hear you out, and this better be good, frigging really good."

"I-it's what he wants," Adelana spluttered out.

Attelus' eyes narrowed. "Who?"

Adelana couldn't help roll her eyes. "Etuarq! Your father. Your father even said he needed you alive to get that sword. If you go down there, you're playing right into their hands."

Attelus pursed his lips and shrugged. "But I already said that we might need it so we can kill Etuarq."

"But...she...told us that Etuarq doesn't know how to make a perpetual, Attelus. So we don't need the sword."

Attelus flinched slightly, and his attention fell to the floor before glaring back to her. "Yes, but what if she's lying, Adelana. What if he's able to turn himself into a perpetual, just not others?"

"Yes, that might well be true, but you do remember that it's a daemon blade, right?" said Adelana. "I'm no expert on those things, but don't they tend to corrupt the wielder? You know, make them into chaos worshipping psychos?"

"Well, what do you want me to do?" said Attelus. "Wait, safe up here while our friends die down there?"

Adelana faulted at that.

Attelus sighed. "It's too late now for us to turn back, Adelana. I have to get that sword; we'll just have to deal with the consequences of it when it comes up."

He turned to start away again.

"I think we've made a huge mistake," said Adelana, stopping him yet again. "We should've just left Etuarq alone; we should've just let inquisitor Tybalt chase him or another part of inquisitor Enandra's organisation. To me, to you, this is too personal. We say we do this to stop him, for justice. But really, it's out for revenge. It's just an excuse for you, for us to kill more people, and if we don't stop, it'll end in the death of another world."

Attelus sighed and slouched his shoulders. "It's already happened even without our involvement, Adelana. Don't you remember one of the reasons why we've travelled all the way here? We're going to the surface, and that's that. Even if all your speculations are true, we can't just leave the Velrosians, our friends, okay? We're in too deep in every which way, anyway. We've better get prepped-"

"Attelus," said Adelana, trying to keep the desperation from her voice for her last-ditch attempt. "If you take that sword, I'm leaving. I've been thinking about transferring since before we shipped out, and if you take that sword, I will. I mean it. Avenging Omnartus be damned."

She wanted to add, 'if it meant losing you,' but couldn't get the courage to say it.

His shoulders shook the briefest of shakes; the movement reminded Adelana of the Elandria-thing's earlier reaction to Attelus' pleas.

"If that's-If that's what you feel you must do, Adelana," he said.

There was a long, awkward pause which was cut by a heartbreakingly un-enthused laugh from Attelus.

"That's if we don't die on our way there," he said before disappearing into the shadows.

"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand


Karmen was overwhelmed by exhaustion, the servos of her power armour were what kept making her take step after step forward. Advancing in front of her were Vark and Verenth, they'd both run out of ammo, so Vark fought with a bayonet attached to his hell gun, while Verenth had 'borrowed' a las gun with a bayonet. Verenth was surprisingly effective, not on the level of Dellenger who'd mastered the form, but he held his own. The thought of Dellenger, made her fight the urge to glance at the scout, who was almost hypnotising in his preternatural grace and skill. He was also exceedingly handsome, but of course, he didn't even spare her a glance, she'd be offended if she didn't know the scout was completely clueless on the matters of human interaction. That and he was fighting three cultists at once, despite his numerous injuries.

But the real battle was between Tathe and the Marangerian in a captain's uniform. Both exchanged power sword swings almost faster than her eye could follow. She couldn't help be impressed at the Marangerian's skill.

The loss of her kineshield allowed for numerous casualties to be wrought from the guns of the guardsmen Resurrected. The guilt gnawed at her, in her earlier days as Estella Erith, she too had idolised the Velrosians, so now to see them die like flies around her without her being able to do anything hurt her more than she could say.

More good people she'd failed.

Not just that but her bolter had run dry, and she couldn't fight at the front either, she had to regain her strength for the very last push. When they finally descend into the city's depths.

So here she was, useless, yet again.

A Galak Heim trooper advancing beside her fell, he flew off his feet and landed on the sand, writhing, screaming. Karmen hadn't even seen what hit him. Two troopers broke from the gun line, one a Marangerian, the other from Despasia and picked up the man and turned to take him to the medicae truck as the soldiers behind them parted with admirable discipline. Karmen couldn't help let a smile cross her lip; all these men and women all from different cultures were like family. From countries that had warred and hated each other for millennia before the coming of the Imperium came were now fighting side by side, blind to the hate-fuelled tremulous past and the colour of each other's skin.

This was unity; this was god-Emperor's vision. The pride of finally fighting alongside her heroes flooded into her, but along with it came regret. Regret because she knew this would be the first and only time. The Elbyran contingent was dead. Dead the second they stepped out of their makeshift fortress and began for the tower. Not just that but this suicidal mission was made on Attelus' and Karmen's volition. More souls sacrificed in the god-Emperor's name—more deaths to hang onto her conscience.

She shook away the thought; it wasn't about her or conscience. This was about the Elbyran; this was their battle, their glory, their sacrifice. The long-suppressed soldier within her bubbled back.

Another one of the flame troopers died, her head exploded in a welter of blood and brains. She collapsed and began to spin toward the Elbyran.

Karmen only in the last millisecond managed to raise her hand and send the flame trooper spinning forwards again.

"Someone, stop her," Karmen roared through clenched teeth. "I can't...hold it for long."

Both Verenth and Vark moved to comply, fighting with a sudden burst of ferocity which somehow broke through their almost palpable exhaustion. Karmen couldn't watch their advance, as much as he dearly wished to, too entrenched in concentration. She cursed Attelus' name through gritted teeth, wondering yet again where that idiot went.

"Karmen?" said a voice over her vox unit a voice she recognised as Verenth's. "You can let go of the body, Vark's getting on her flamer."

With a gasp, she let the flame trooper's corpse fall. It sickened Karmen to see the poor woman's body disappear beneath the feet of the advancing Elbyrans, but what else could they do? She had a very good idea how many soldiers were left, but she refused to name the number, not even in her thoughts, not until she had too.

She watched Vark as he clumsily swayed the flames from side to side as Verenth laid in again and again with his lasgun. Karmen looked to see Tathe or Tathe's blur while he now fought the Marangerian captain, the Velrosian scout and a cultist at once. All the while, he still somehow managed to keep stepping forwards.

Karmen's thoughts were interrupted by a rain of las shots which splattered off her power armour, the kinetic force caused her to writhe, but the two soldiers on her flanks weren't protected by power armour so writhed and screamed as they were cut down.

"gak," said Hayden over the vox, ever the epitome of calm. "Enemies in the building, two down on the left, fifth story. Any suppression fire sent their way would be appreciated, please.

By now the Elbyrans had grown to trust Hayden and his auspex and instincts beyond question and instantly a small number of shots flew where Hayden had indicated.

"Do we have any missile launcher ammo left?" said Hayden.

The reply was swift from a captain named Sevon of the Despasians who was in charge of the supplies. "No, sir throne agent, we have run out of both missiles and missile launchers if you catch my drift."

"I understand," said Hayden. "Let me take care of this. Stop the pinning fire in ten seconds and make room for me on the right flank."

As he was saying, this Hayden was fanning right, watching the building through his long las' scope.

It was almost exactly ten seconds later that the pinning fire stopped, then Hayden opened fire. Six shots in rapid succession.

"Targets neutralised," he said. "But I am on my last three shots."

Karmen turned as something caught the corner of her gaze; she just managed to see Tathe managing to disembowel the cultist before losing his sword; it was smashed from his grasp by the Marangerian captain. The scout then skated in, thrusting for Tathe's chest with his bayonet.

But before Karmen could even raise her hand, let alone cry out sergeant Adreen shoulder barged the scout off balance when the bayonet tip was only a millimetre from Tathe's chest.

Then she was decapitated by the Marangerian officer.

Tathe's anguished scream somehow managed to rise above the roar of war, then he was on his feet sword back in his hands and charging for the officer with wild abandon. Tears shone in his eyes.

Karmen knew he was running to his death, having last all discipline and skill in his rage and grief. Dellenger and Delathasi were moving to intercept Tathe, but Karmen knew they wouldn't fight their way through in time, but Tathe was just about to run past Karmen.

So Karmen reached out with her power armoured hand and grabbed him by the storm coat and with a tug, tore him off his feet and crashing his back against the sand.

Dellenger and Delathasi were then on the scout and the captain, respectively, launching into a blurry melee.

Then Tathe was on his feet; his rage etched face turned on Karmen.

"Why did you do that, witch!" he screamed, raising his crackling powersword, Karmen flinched, knowing it could slice through her armour with ease.

"Answer me," he yelled, but he wasn't interested in her answer as he already began to slash.

He didn't even make it halfway before two troopers grabbed him and hauled him back.

"Let go of me," Tathe said, struggling.

Karmen nodded her thanks to the pair of troopers, one a Galak Heiman, the other a Velrosian.

+You were going to get yourself killed, commissar,+ she sent. +Get a hold of yourself, commissar.+

"Frig you," he said.

+This world, this tainted world is influencing you. You need to control it, you are in command, and many will die other than her if you do not.+

Tathe didn't reply, he just sneered and struggled more.

Karmen nodded to herself. +We'll all die if you don't, die without reaching your objective and join the Resurrected. Every step and death and especially the death of scout-sergeant Adreen will be pointless. Get your head together now."

The commissar looked down in what may have been shame.

Karmen turned away, and it was then the Elbyrans finally advanced into the final cross-section before they would delve into the depths of the city.

Karmen was finally forced to admit the number of survivors. They'd left with just under one thousand men; now they were down to about two hundred and fifty. This would be the do or die part.

She inhaled deep and reached into the warp and erected another kineshield against the withering, flanking fire. But a heart-achingly many Elbyran troops were killed, slain at the blades of the daemons and cultists as they burst from the side streets in a rushing tide.

No, Karmen corrected, not killed, slaughtered. The many of the Elbyrans being too exhausted to put up much of a fight. It was a miracle they'd lasted this long, a true testament to their skill and limitless discipline. But their morale, their stamina wasn't.

A cultist managed to push past the two remaining flamers and charged Karmen, swinging down an old axe.

Karmen blocked the blow with a forearm, then punched the cultist through his face.

She was wrong, Tathe keeping his head wouldn't make any difference, this was the end. Frustration boiled through her, to come so close for it all to be for nothing was...was...

Karmen cursed Attelus' name for what felt like the umpteenth time, even though not even he could halt many of the deaths, but if he were here the love of Tathe's life would likely still be alive.

Verenth and Vark his flamer having run out of promethium, fought back to back laying in their bayonets and las gun butts. Helma cut down cultist after cultist with her sword as a Velrosian sergeant stood at her side, his chain sword whining and tearing and whirling with flying blood. Delathasi and Dellenger still fought the scout and the captain. Even Hayden was forced into close combat, his long las swinging and smashing with.

How they hadn't fallen yet was amazing, but it was just a matter of time.

A matter of inevitability.

The las fire smashed through the Resurrected's south flank, an accurate, disciplined deluge. Even many a daemon fell beneath the focused fire.

The enemy baulked and turned to address their new attackers, and the Elbyrans hesitated their confusion on who their savours were, was almost palpable.

A second later, Karmen's exhaustion addled mind managed to comprehend, and a scream of triumph burst from her throat.

"The Sovrithans!" Karmen yelled. "The Sovrithans are here!"



Jelket led from the front with captain Dantian and his command squad. He fired his Hellgun at the hip he cut down Resurrected after Resurrected. The enemy wilted underneath the Sovrithan gun line, like waves pulling back from a beach after smashing against it. This was their plan, to distract the enemy with the Elbyran's push so the Sovrithans could circle the city and flank them.

It'd worked surprisingly well, the Elbyrans somehow managing to push so far and so fast the enemy attention was forced to be completely fixated on them. The bias of their commander would have surely attributed to that fixation as the commissar had predicted.

Jelket didn't know how many of the Elbyrans were left, he just hoped there'd be enough to push into the depths and that his comrades and friends were still alive.

"For the Emperor," Jelket yelled. "For Sovrith. For the ordos."

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2021/04/25 11:04:56


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

The enemy seemed to pour over the lip of the incline in a never-ending tide in a desperate bid to keep the Sovrithians and The Elbyrans from meeting. The Elbyrans were locked in melee, still pushing forward despite the odds. At the same time, Jelket and the Sovrithians laid down a constant hail of las shots to somewhat stem them.

Jelket fired from the hip, racking his hell-fire through the Resurrected it was impossible to miss. Many Resurrected tried to turn to address the Sovrithians but were slaughtered. In any other battle, this flanking manoeuvre would've been devastating, maybe leading to a decisive victory.

Here it was just so two forces could meet, one resupply the other, then join into a combined, desperate advance toward an objective they had no idea would even make any difference.

Despite this, Jelket's heart sung, he'd left the guard to escape this stuff, but now he'd never felt more alive. He was never the best at anything, but here he was, saving the butts of the others, assuming they're alive, of course.

He could see the enemy's sporadic fire smack off an invisible wall over the Elbyran front line, so Karmen at least was still alive.

The next half an hour was the most intense battle Jelket had ever taken part in, hundreds, maybe thousands of Resurrected and dozens of daemons. Jelket couldn't imagine how hard it must've been for the Elbyrans for these past few hours.

Once the Sovrithians pushed into the intersection, giving the Elbyrans a break from the front line, they stopped their advance. I didn't take Jelket long to find Hayden, Karmen, Torris, Helma, Verenth, Delthasi and Vark all were dead-eyed, beyond exhausted, and barely acknowledged Jelket. It was the same with every single other Elbyran around as the Sovrithians moved by to take over the rear guard. Many entered the buildings around to secure them.

"It's good to see all of you made it," said Jelket, then his relief was overtaken with concern as he noticed something. "Where's Attelus and Adelana? Halsin?"

"We don't know," said a voice, but it wasn't any of them that answered Jelket, and he turned to find a bloody, beaten commissar approaching, using his beautiful single-edged power sword as a walking stick. "We believe they are in orbit as your ship lifted off about an hour back. And the young medicae is in one of the trucks tending the wounded."

Jelket nodded, his concern somewhat stifled, and he couldn't help wonder why Attelus and Adelana had abandoned the Elbyrans.

Dantian stepped forward. "You are commissar Tathe?"

"I am," said Tathe.

Jelket fought the awe welling in him. So this was the famous commissar Delan Tathe? He seemed to ooze charisma and leadership beyond humanly possible, even with the exhaustion and what the other thing? Jelket couldn't put a finger on it.

"We have brought the resupply you wanted," said Dantian, straight to business as usual. "I will be honest, commissar, I was tempted to leave you and your men for dead."

Tathe shrugged. "I would understand that...if you did, and I must thank you for not leaving us for dead." Tathe's tone was stilted, robotic. "I have sacrificed too many good men and women in this; I just hope it's not for nothing."

"I pray that it isn't commissar," said Dantian. "But I am afraid that we'll lose many once we begin down that hill."

"I know, captain," said Tathe, and while he didn't roll his eyes, his voice seemed to scream he wanted to. "We're about to descend into hell. Are you and your men prepared?"

Dantian bristled. "By the god-Emperor we are. We'll fight one hundred times harder than you did, and we will show the enemy the deaths they more than deserve."

Tathe grinned. "Please, don't take my question personally, captain. I was merely asking, and it gladdens me to see you so fired up."

"I am a captain of the imperial guard, commissar," said Dantian. "And while my regiment isn't as well known or said to be as elite as yours, we will prove that reputation means little to action. When will you and your men be ready to advance?"

The commissar pursed his lips. "I know this must seem to be much, captain, but we need fifteen minutes. Many of my men are dehydrated, and we all need food. If we have any less time, we'll be little use to you."

Dantian raised an eyebrow and looked Tathe up and down. "We'll give you half an hour."

Tathe took a shocked step back. "I-I that's too much, captain."

"I have over one thousand men, commissar," said Dantian. "Even with that number, I doubt it will be enough down there, so I really don't want your men to slow us down, and I want to prove to you just how good we are, understand?"

"Understood," said Tathe.

Dantian nodded and peeled away, his finger to his microbead as he began to call out orders.

Jelket looked at Tathe as the commissar collapsed onto his arse. "I saw what you did there, sir."

"What's your name?" said Tathe.

"Trooper Jelket, sir."

Tathe glared up at Jelket, his head tilted forwards. "Trooper Jelket...shut up."

Jelket stood for a few seconds, trying to decide how to react to the commissar's rudeness.

Jelket shrugged. "Fair enough," he said, then turned away and walked up to Hayden. The bid sniper laid on his back, his attention to the sky.

He sat down next to Hayden and handed him his water canister. "I'm glad you made it, big guy."

"I'm glad I did too," said Hayden, his voice as lifeless as Tathe's. "I've never had to do anything like that before, and I frigging hope I never have to again."

"Never thought I'd hear such words from you," said Jelket. "And I hate to say it; we've still got a long way to go."

"I know, I know," Hayden growled. "And that frigger abandoned us."

"Who?"

"Attelus," said Hayden as he took the canister and unscrewed the lid. "He flew up into the damned atmosphere leaving us to bleed and struggle down here."

Jelket couldn't make a reply; he'd never heard Hayden so bitter and angry before.

"I...I'm sure the kid had his reasons-"

"This mission right from the start has been a screw-up, Jelket. He's just made mistake after mistake, after frigging mistake."

Jelket began thinking about that, but Hayden interrupted him. "He's twenty-eight, one of the youngest of us. It was a huge mistake of the Inquisitor to put him in charge."

"I don't know. If Attelus weren't in charge, we wouldn't be here if it wasn't for his connection to the Eldar. But, yeah, he's made a few mistakes."

"Just a few, you're a master of frigging understatement, Jelket. Don't you have somewhere to go? Fight alongside the Sovrithians."

"Maybe I should," said Jelket after a pause. "But they aren't my comrades, my friends. I'd rather spend as much time with you guys as I can before we all might die, and they don't need me."

Hayden laughed. "You're so frigging sentimental, and of course Attelus isn't here for that-"

"Get over it," said Jelket, snatching back his canister. "I'm going to talk to someone who's not all bitter and twisted right now; I'm not in the mood for this."

Jelket stood and started toward Torris, who sat with his back against the wall, his head hung forward, a water canister almost falling from his hand.

"Marcel?" said Jelket kneeling in front of him. "You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm alright. I'll live, for now. It's good to have ya back, Jel."

"Good to be back, despite some of us being..."

Jelket trailed off, unsure what to say about it.

"Hayden? Yeah, I heard it. I understand where he's coming from, but it isn't worth getting so pissed about. I was like that, remember?"

Jelket just smiled and nodded while his thoughts screamed yes.

"Anyway, the good commissar forgot to mention Attelus got a call over the vox from Vark saying one of the flanks needed help. It turned out that Vark hadn't sent the communication and Adelana went after him."

"Of course she did," said Jelket. "So he then got in over his head, and either he or Adelana got injured, so they had to call Darrance to save their arses."

"That's what I think, too."

Jelket grinned. "Either that or they're up there finally screwing."

"Doubt that," said Torris.

"Why's that? Is Attelus gay?"

"Nah," said Torris with a low laugh. "Although that's an understandable question, he's just got a gak ton of baggage."

Jelket laughed. "Yeah, being indirectly responsible for the death of a whole planet would be a lot of baggage."

"Nah, it goes deeper; it's from before then..."

Torris trailed off before saying more.

"You aren't going to say more?"

"Don't think he'd appreciate that, Jel. Now please, bud, I've gotta rest."

"Yeah, alright," said Jelket as he stood up and looked over his allies. Most had thrown themselves on the sand where they stood, but Karmen and Vark sat together against the wall on the opposite side of the street, engaged in conversation.

Jelket sighed and sat down, he wanted to talk with his friends, but they needed their rest more than he needed to catch up.

Half an hour wasn't enough, but it was the best they could get.

"Jelket," said a voice, and he turned and found Helma approaching.

"Hey, captain," he said and started taking a swig of water.

She sighed and sat down next to him. "I don't want to die, Jel."

Jelket almost spat out his water. "W-what?"

"Don't get me wrong; I'm not afraid to die. I've faced that already; I just don't want to become one of them," she said. "They say 'only in death does duty end' but not on this Emperor forsaken world, here if you die you become an immortal chaos worshipper."

Jelket shuddered and said, "I-I really hope that doesn't happen to either of us. Why does everyone come to me to talk about their gak?"

Helma smiled. "Because you're a good person, Jelket, you're better than you think you are, despite all those weird conspiracies you believe in."

"I still think Marius Hax is involved in this."

"And maybe he is, Jelket, but we don't know that, do we? Anyway..."

She stood and patted him on the shoulder. "Keep up the good work, Jelket, but excuse me, I need a snooze at the very least."

She turned and started away.

"Hey Helma," said Jelket, making her stop. "If we somehow manage to get through this, how about we get a drink sometime?"

Helma looked over her shoulder at him, and a smile crossed her face. "Yeah, sounds like a good idea."

Jelket smiled back.



"Are we ready?" Attelus said, just slipping on his fresh new bodyglove while walking into the common room. "We haven't much time left."

Adelana stood up from her seat. "I've been ready for a while now, Attelus. Been waiting for you."

"Well, sorry, Adelana, I just had a blade stabbed through my guts and-"

"Yes, I saw that," said another voice, a deep voice that reverberated through the entire Guncutter. Attelus turned to face the shadow, his powersword drawn and flaring into life, but he stopped in mid slash.

"Kalakor," he said.

The Raven Guard towered over him, and although Attelus couldn't see any pupils in his black eyes, he knew he looked down at him.

"You may be inquisition, but that is lord Kalakor to you."

"How the hell did you get in here?" said Attelus.

The Raven Guard's reply was narrowing his gaze.

Attelus sighed and slouched. "How the hell did you get in here, lord?"

Kalakor's huge shoulders shrugged. "I am Raven Guard; if I wish it, I can get anywhere."

Attelus' guessed that the huge Astartes managed to slip aboard when Darrance had picked them up.

"I didn't know that Raven Guard Space Marines were so arrogant," said Adelana, and Attelus couldn't help smile at her brass...ovaries?

"So, lord," said Attelus. "Why are you here? For a rematch?"

As he said this, he slipped back a step and readied his sword.

Kalakor raised an eyebrow. "No, I won decisively. Why would I want a rematch?"

"Well, I'd like one," Attelus muttered; now he had his powersword, things might be different.

"We must wait," said Kalakor. "The Elbyran and Sovrithians have rendezvoused."

Attelus straightened. "They have?"

Kalakor smiled. "Yes, unlike you, I have bothered to communicate with the surface."

Attelus frowned and exchanged a look over his shoulder at Adelana, who was frowning too.

"Well, I'd just been stabbed through the stomach and-"

"Stop making excuses," said Kalakor. "You took responsibility for getting yourself and your group captured; this is not any different."

Attelus dropped his gaze to the floor; the Space Marine was right, frig it.

"Why must we wait, then?" said Adelana.

"They are soon going to push into the depths of the city; I do not know what they are to encounter. If we attack at the right-"

"We can open up a gap for them to reach the tower," said Attelus.

"But you will unnecessarily put this ship in danger," said Darrance as he stepped out of the cockpit. "I've already flown down far too often, now. We still need the Guncutter."

"Do I seem to care?" said Kalakor. "I can assure you; I do not."

"Of course you don't," said Darrance.

Then a realisation hit Attelus; it made him grip the hilt of his sword so hard he was afraid it might break.

"How many will die before we go down there?" said Attelus. "We might lose one of us, I-"

"That does not matter, little girl. They are in service of the Emperor; it is their duty to sell their lives for the Emperor. Only in death does duty end."

"That's easy for you to say," said Attelus. "You don't know them; you haven't fought with them."

"I do not, and it seems you know them too well, throne agent of the ordo Hereticus. You are allowing your foolish sentiment override your logic. This is the reality of being a leader; you must be ready to sacrifice your underlings if needs must. This might be that time. I had to do it with my brothers to defeat that greater daemon, but do you know the difference between that and this?"

"What?" said Attelus through clenched teeth.

"Their deaths were guaranteed," said Kalakor. "Your allies deaths aren't; man up, little girl and take my advice. I have been at this for much longer than you have, so take my damned advice."

"Yeah, but your brothers weren't going to become mindless chaos worshippers," said Attelus.

"That does not matter; only what matters is victory."

Attelus couldn't reply; he could barely keep from hyperventilating; his hands shook now.

"But they're my friends."

"I see you have made the cardinal mistake of leadership, getting too close to your underlings," said Kalakor. "Your inexperience is showing. You do not have to do as I say; I will not stop you if you go to the surface now but let me tell you, you may regret it."

Kalakor smiled. "And you are only human, despite your enhancement."

"I hate to say it, apprentice," said Darrance. "But the Space Marine has a point. We're all expendable, even you."

Attelus closed his eyes and forced himself to calm.

"Adelana, what do you think?" Attelus said.

"I-I," she said.

"Do not place the burden upon her," said Kalakor. "This is your decision and yours alone."

Attelus opened his eyes.

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2022/05/19 05:17:30


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

The Sovirthians held the line, and they did it frigging well. Tathe couldn't help be amazed by their skill and discipline even when daemons advanced among the Resurrected's ranks. Tathe didn't know the casualties the Soviritians suffered, and he didn't want to know, just to allow him and his men some rest time, but it would be too much, even if it were only a few.

Tathe laid on the blood sand, trying to rest despite the sound of constant roaring battle all around him.

"Sir?" said a voice over Tathe which caused him to open his eyes, finding both Dellenger and Vark standing over him.

"Vark," said Tathe. "Any word from Attelus Kaltos?"

"No, sir," said Vark. "Nothing, but that's why I scout trooper Dellenger and I are here."

Tathe clenched his jaw.

"No, we haven't, sir," said Dellenger. "But they have."

Dellenger indicated the Sovirthians with a subtle nod.

Tathe raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Dellenger shrugged. "Been watching their commander, listening into him talk on the vox, and he seemed to be talking to someone about 'being in orbit' or something."

Tathe furrowed his brow. "Why would Attelus communicate-?"

He was interrupted by Vark handing him the vox horn. "Speak of the devil, sir. It's him; he wants to speak with you."

Tathe took the horn and placed it to his ear. "Now, I know you're inquisition and gak, but you better have one hell of a good excuse-"

"I ran into my father and his lackeys," Attelus said, and Tathe couldn't help simmer at the young man's gall to interrupt him. "They...defeated me, and we needed to escape into orbit so I could get treatment for my injuries."

"That's all well and good," said Tathe. "But we're about to descend into the depths of the city, where everyone knows the fighting's going to be the thickest and we could use your blade, so get down here-"

"No."

Tathe's anger blasted from simmering into exploding. "What in the Emperor's name do you mean by no? Hurry the frig-"

"No means no, commissar. I'm sorry, but it would be better for us to stay up here, come down when the time is right to maybe, hopefully opening a large enough gap in the horde for you and your men to push through to the tower."

Tathe couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What? Do you seriously think that you and your girlfriend would make such a difference?"

"Well, no, but we do have the Guncutter and a Space Marine-"

"A Space Marine?"

"Yes...He's uhh...a stowaway. This was his idea."

Tathe rolled his eyes; the plan did sound like the typical, ruthless pragmatism of the Adeptus Astartes. "You're insane."

"That is most certainly not the first time I've been accused of being that, and it most certainly isn't the last. So I take that as an 'okay'?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's an okay. But there's not much I can do about stopping you from doing it, is there?"

"No, I guess not," said Attelus. "Commissar."

There was a long, weighted pause.

"Yes?" said Tathe.

"I...hope you don't die; you've been a hero for me ever since I was a kid."

Tathe frowned; if he could feel older than he did now, he couldn't believe it.

"Uhh...thanks?" he said.

"Don't get yourself dead," said Attelus, then he cut the link.

Tathe rolled his eyes, but he couldn't prevent the slight smile from crossing his face.



Karmen's vox beeped, and even though she didn't accept it, it came through anyway. Indicating it was: important and on the general line for everyone on the team, and for it to be forced meant it was from the team leader: Attelus.

"This is Attelus Kaltos," he said, despite surely knowing everyone already knew. "And I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" said Hayden. "Sorry about what? You've got more than enough to be sorry for."

"I know," said Attelus. "So I'm sorry about...everything? But mostly about leaving you guys down on the surface. As I'm sure all of you have guesses, I got in over my head. My father...I knew he was good, really good. But in all honesty, I never imagined he was that good; I've got a long way to go, it seems. I apologise again. I'm meandering. But that isn't what I'm most sorry about. I won't be coming down for a while yet."

"Why?" Karmen couldn't help blurt, as did a few others on the line.

"Pragmatism, I'm afraid," said Attelus. "Karmen knows the philosophy better than anyone, but we're going to enter the atmosphere and watch and wait for the exact right opportunity. Then we're going to fly in and try open a gap for you."

"You and who's frigging army?" said Hayden. "This is insane."

"I don't have an army, well, perhaps, I do. In the most metaphorical sense, anyway. Got a stowaway named Kalakor, who so happens to be a Space Marine. You've met him, Hayden. I need you to appreciate this is his idea, not mine."

"But you still agreed to it," said Hayden. "We've had to bust our arses-"

"Hayden," said Attelus. "Don't think for a second I want to do this, but seriously, old friend, can you think of a better idea?"

"I've never been your friend, old or otherwise," said Hayden, then he cut the link.

There was a long pause before Attelus gave the longest, saddest sigh Karmen had ever heard from him.

"The rest of you understand, I hope," he said. "If any of you die before we get down there. I need you to know, all of you, that despite all the gak that's happened...If this means anything from me. It's been an honour to work with you, to fight with you and as much as I've botched up: An honour to lead you. I'm sorry to have led you to this hell hole, and if any of you die and become one of them. I swear, I will not hesitate to go into the Eye of Terror itself to save your souls if I have to. And I will make sure that your death won't be in vain."

"That's if you don't die, too," said Verenth, and that made a few sad laughs to echo through the link.

There was another long pause.

"Yeah, yeah, that's if I don't die...Too, Verenth," said Attelus. "I-I wish all of you luck and-and I hope to see all of you soon. G-good luck again."

Then Attelus cut the link.

"Well," said Halsin after a few seconds of stunned silence. "Sucks to be us."

Now that made everyone laugh.



Adelana sat and watched the whole thing, and she couldn't help smile: for someone so cynical about 'amazing, awe-inspiring speeches' Attelus wasn't half bad at making them. The hypocrite. She gave him three and two-thirds stars.

Attelus wiped his eyes with a sleeve.

"Are you...crying?" said Kalakor, his tree trunk-like arms folded over his gigantic cuirass.

"N-no," squeaked Attelus. "It's just the...recycled air."

Adelana was sure if Kalakor had pupils, he would've rolled them as he shook his head and sighed. "You humans, always so sentimental."

"Should...I...Should I fly us in?" said Darrance.

Attelus confirmed it with a nod. "Don't forget, you're human too, Kalakor."

"Lord Kalakor, and no, I am not human. I used to be human, but I had sacrificed my humanity a long time ago, so I could fight the wars that normal humans cannot, in the Emperor's name."

"So, do you think yourself above us mere humans, then?" said Attelus and Adelana felt sudden stinging fear channel through her chest. Was he seriously trying to antagonise this demi-god?

What Kalakor might've believed was a smile grew across his face, but in actual fact, it seemed more like a hateful silent snarl. "In the ways of battle, yes. But I cannot say that I would do as well as an administratum bureaucrat at sitting and mindlessly typing on a cogitator all day, every day. So yes and no."

Attelus and Adelana both couldn't help smile at that, but Attelus' smile was short-lived.

"So what about me? Is that why you didn't help me in my fight with my father? You just stood there and watched, didn't you?"

"Oh, figure that out, did you?" said Kalakor. "Well, I will apologise for that, but..."

"You're not going to tell me that, are you?"

"No, afraid not. But I do have my reasons."

"Was it so you could measure the enemy? Their strengths and weaknesses?" said Attelus. "Their weaponry?"

"That is one reason, yes," said Kalakor. "And surely after our little sparring session and how close it was, you must see that if I get in close combat with that father of yours, I will be dead."

Attelus sniggered. "So much for you being so much better than us humans at 'the ways of war.'"

"Your father, like you, is not a mere human," said Kalakor. "That is obvious, but unlike me, you didn't have to sacrifice your humanity. But your father and his underlings had, it seemed and willingly too, maybe."

"Sacrifice," said Adelana. "You keep saying that. Do you regret becoming a Space Marine?"

Kalakor's black eyes swing to her, and she couldn't help wilt beneath them, but she couldn't help swear for a split second; tears shimmered in their depths. "Regret is not becoming of the Adeptus Astartes do not think for a second we are capable of such a pathetic notion."

In the corner of her eye, she saw Attelus was smiling.

"One of them I knew," said Attelus. "In fact, I knew all of them. One was...special to me-"

His words made Adelana baulk.

"Yes. I am assuming her name was Elandria?" said Kalakor. "Because you were-"

"And I know she wouldn't ever give her humanity willingly. I'd tried...I'd helped her find it-"

Adelana didn't let him finish before she got up and stormed out of the common room. Ignoring his cries of her name the whole way.

"Leave her," she heard Kalakor say. "The Imperial Guard are beginning to move."


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

Tathe blinked back the tiredness as his body seemed to move in autopilot and raised his laspistol to put a bolt through the skull of yet another Velrosian trooper. Yet another trooper who Tathe recognised but refused to recall the name of or what squad he was from. Dellenger on his right shot flurry after flurry of las fire from the hip, while Karmen Kons on his left sent aside las barrage after las barrage with her kine shield. The Sovirithians now had their flamers at the fore, and they bathed the enemy with a constant wall of fire.

His gaze wandered over the horde of Resurrected, searching for Adreen. Hoping to the Emperor that she would never be amidst them, that he wouldn't be forced to kill her.

Adreen was never the most skilled combatant or stealth practitioner. Tathe was the former, and Dellenger the latter. Still, she was insightful, able to read people as well as a battlefield with almost freakishly on-point accuracy, but she was also charismatic—a leader. Tathe had believed she deserved a higher rank for a long time and even suggested it to his father once.

General Tathe had dismissed it with his typical lack of explanation, saying: 'You are a commissar, a political officer, in charge of morale and discipline, and that is that. Such advice is out of your jurisdiction. I don't need your advice on who to promote. I know what I'm doing.'

Tathe had later put this to Adreen after a night together, and she, too, had dismissed him. 'I'm not interested in climbing the ladder, Delan. Never have been; I'm happy where I am.'

He'd been a naive fool; she'd always seemed immortal, so he almost believed she was. No matter the mission general Tathe or colonel Vonlet sent her and her squad on, she and Dellenger would always come back. That was a lot more literal now.

Sudden tears blurred Tathe's vision, and anger made him pump wild shot after wild shot into the Resurrected. It'd been only a few minutes since they started moving, but it already felt like an age. The Imperial forces' slow advance had slowed even more. The Resurrected came in even thicker and faster and from every direction. Both the once-guardsmen and the cultists now acted like an ill-disciplined rabble. It wasn't just ill-disciplined, but it also stunk of desperation. It was getting more and more obvious they really didn't want them near the tower.

Tathe smiled. It was strange but despite the increase in enemy numbers and despite the exhaustion and the newly found slowness of their advance and the mixture of the regiments. Morale seemed high, higher than when they began somehow. Tathe supposed it was because their objective was near, and the enemy's desperation fuelled them like it sapped the remaining discipline from the Resurrected.

At times cries of 'for the Emperor!' or 'for Sovrith!' and other such exclamations echoed through the almost completely consistent buzzing of lasgun fire.

Tathe allowed their enthusiasm to wash through him; it seemed to make the anger and grief flow from his chest and into his legs. He knew it was temporary; he just hoped it'd be temporarily long enough.

He was foolish; he was supposed to be a commissar, so he was meant to be amongst the most ruthless beings in the cosmos. As a commissar-cadet, he'd believed he was, but Tathe knew after years of developing his self-awareness he was never capable of such ruthlessness.

Tathe was just lucky he served with a regiment so disciplined; he never needed to exhibit such ruthlessness.

His laspistol clicked dry, and only two seconds later, his hands had reloaded and continued to launch shot after shot. He glanced at his surroundings.

As much as he hated to admit it, the Sovrithian gunline performed better than the Elbyran one. Their accuracy was excellent, and their discipline, as they covered every inch with las fire, was remarkable. The Elbyrans, beside the Marangerians, were skirmishers first and foremost; they'd rarely needed to perform such tactics in their long service. But the Sovrithian rifles seemed to specialise in this warfare. This made Tathe re-think his decision for him and his Elbyrans to play decoy; perhaps if the Sovrithians had done it, there would've been fewer casualties. Tathe dismissed the regret; he'd known his father would naturally wish to have all his attention on the Elbyrans. The general seemed to have some way of viewing what was going on in the city, how Tathe could only speculate, but he'd hoped it was somewhat limited, which so far had proven true.

Unless, of course, it was just a feint.

Tathe clenched his jaw and shook himself back to reality; now wasn't the time for paranoid overthinking.

Now was-

Tathe's thoughts were interrupted by a screeching that seemed made of rage and eclipsed all other sounds throughout the city.

It took Tathe a good few seconds to realise it was from the speaker horns in the city. Having forgotten about them utterly.

"How?" general Tathe's voice roared; it seemed to morph from the screeching into clarity. "How are you alive still? By now, all of you were meant to have joined my army! Can you not see? Khorne is offering you immortality. The opportunity to forever be in his service, but still, you refuse my offer."

Tathe didn't say anything; he just sliced off the head of a charging cultist who managed to make it through the rain of fire with a backhanded slice. Then sent the corpse cartwheeling back with a front kick, the rattling chainsword flying from its grasp.

"Can you not see that your efforts are pointless?" said the general. "That your Emperor is nothing but a foolish tyrant without any power to save you?"

If anything, the general's rant just increased the speed of their advance and intensified the accuracy and rate of fire from the Imperial forces.

Tathe's father let out another roar of frustration. "It doesn't matter. All your fighting and dying will soon be for nothing. Even if you manage to descend into the depths, you will never, never make it to my tower. You will find the true gifts given to me by the blood god within the depths. Oh, and do not believe for a second that I do not know of that accursed ship you have in orbit."

That caused Tathe to pause in his shooting, albeit for less than a second.

"Well, Khorn has finally gifted to me the servants necessary to bring that little, bothersome craft crashing down," said the general.

He laughed. "I suggest that you vox them and say your goodbyes to the cowards hiding up there."

The speakers screeched again, then went silent.

"Vark," said Tathe, choosing not to bother to point out his father's hypocrisy being that he is cooped up in his tower. "Get on the vox-"

"Way ahead of you, sir," said the Inquisition operative.

"This isn't good," said Karmen.

Tathe glared at the psyker. "Look where your damned pragmatism got us now?"

Karmen frowned back.

"No, good sir," said Vark. "I can't get through to them; something's..."

He trailed off.

"Or someone's blocking us?" said Tathe.

"Don't worry," said Verenth as he blasted again and again with his pistols. "Darrance is the best pilot in our organisation; they'll be fine."

Tathe didn't reply; after seeing how skilled these Inquisition agents were, he believed Verenth.

To an extent.

"Keep trying, frig you," said Tathe.



Kalakor reached to his ear.

"What's wrong?" said Attelus as he sat up from the couch he lay on.

"I have lost communication with the surface," said the Space Marine.

"Great," Attelus groaned and flumped onto his back.

"It is about as 'great' as you are a swordsman," said Kalakor.

Attelus blew the Raven Guard a raspberry, and much to his surprise, the Space Marine rumbled what may have been a laugh.

The vox link beeped into life in Attelus' ear.

"We have company, apprentice," said Darrance.

Attelus sat up. "I...but the Eldar aren't scheduled to arrive in three days."

"The Eldar?" said Kalakor.

Attelus winced. "I-"

"These are not the Xenos, boy," said Darrance. "I don't know what the hell they are, but they're coming out of the warp, and they are coming fast. Dozens and counting, void fighters of an unknown make. I have no frigging idea how they are managing to warp travel outside of..."

He trailed off. "And they are coming this way! How do they know we are here? I have the stealth field up!"

"What do you mean by Eldar? And they are 'scheduled'?" said Kalakor.

Attelus slipped off the couch and gaped up at the Marine. "It's uhh, it means-"

"Shut it, both of you," said Darrance. "Now isn't the time for this crap; get strapped in, evasive manoeuvres."

Attelus ignored Darrance, dashed into the cockpit, and sat on the co-pilot's seat.

"What are you doing?" said Darrance. "I told you-"

Attelus grinned and clipped in his belt. "I am."

Darrance groaned then he sent the Guncutter into a left-ward spiral. Attelus could see the ships bearing in on them now. They were blood-red, bulging things that would've been moving faster than he couldn't follow if his eyesight weren't enhanced. Their shots lit up the void, heavy bolter fire, and las cannon shots sheered straight for them.

Darrance laughed and sent the guncutter wheeling and spinning through the torrent. He veered right and sent a las beam slicing through two ships, and their halves erupted into explosions.

The ships wheeled after them, and Attelus could see one as it sped so close by the cockpit's window it seemed barely a few metres away. The yellow and green cat-like eyes that studded along its length. That was how it could be in the warp without a larger ship; they were more daemonic than material.

The Guncutter's bolter emplacements fired afterwards as Darrance spun the Guncutter into a 180-degree arc, tracing through the black and smashing into numerous attacking craft. Two shuddered under the shots and stopped their momentum; the smoke seemed to grow from them, white-hot against the black.

The rest swung round out of sight, and Darrance grinned as he made the Guncutter slide side to side, wind up and down. Attelus could only clutch to his seat and watch the incredible level of munitions fly past the cockpit to either explode, sending the ship into shudders, or continue onward to Emperor only knew where.

"I have been waiting for something like this," said Darrance as he sent the Guncutter into a brief, deep dive. "Bored out of my skull until now."

Attelus didn't reply; he just glanced at the scanner and the alarming amount of red dots following after them.

"Apprentice," said Darrance. "Can that frig Ulysses do this, huh?"

Before Attelus could ask, 'do what?' Darrance sent the Guncutter into a downward spin and fired las cannon blast after blast into their pursuers before facing forward again.

"Could he do that, huh? Huh?"

"I don't know," said Attelus, remembering the large dark-skinned man with dreadlocks who was thought to be one the organisation's most skilled pilots. Darrance had a rather one-sided rivalry with him since they'd joined the Inquisitor's employ three years ago. Attelus had worked with Ulysses once or twice but never in a combat capacity, so he genuinely didn't know.

"Aww, frig you, then," said Darrance.

Attelus clenched his teeth as Darrance sent the Guncutter into a twirl, then hung left, allowing Attelus to see the entirety of Sarkeath pass by, changing from being on their right to their left in only a few seconds; it made his mind whirl.

"We have to find a place to hide," said Attelus. "Get to one of the moons."

"Shan't," said Darrance while he suddenly slowed, allowing three of the daemon ships to overtake them, then he blew them into pieces with three separate shots.

"What the hell do you mean 'shan't'?" said Attelus.

"It means 'shall not,' shan't! Do you need to be sent back to the Scholam to re-learn your low gothic?"

Attelus clenched his jaw. "That's...not...what...I meant, frig you."

Darrance laughed again and banked right before twirling through a massive barrage of bolter fire; after a good ten seconds, he replied. "We can't. If we hide, those Lightnings will enter Sarkeath atmo and-"

"And attack our Imperial Guard allies," said Kalakor. "Who will be defenceless against air attack."

"Exactly," said Darrance while wheeling the craft into a zig-zag. "It is good to see that one person on this ship has some intelligence."

"But the little girl has a point," said Kalakor. "As much as your void craft piloting skill is impressive, we cannot just do this forever."

Attelus gave the pilot a side-long smirk.

Darrance let out a roar and turned the Guncutter toward Sarkeath.

"What are you doing?" said Kalakor.

"Doing something other than this," said Darrance.

There were three quick-fire beeps from the console.

"What's that?" said Attelus.

"We've got missile lock," said Darrance. "Three of the bastards."

"We are entering the atmosphere too deeply," said Kalakor.

"I know," said Darrance. "Throne take you, all of you frigging backseat pilots, even the ones that are Space Marines."

Much to Attelus' surprise, Kalakor laughed, and then the fire began to waver across the glass.

"Well," said Attelus as the fire became brighter and brighter, and Darrance continued on the same angle. "If you know we're heading into the atmosphere too deep, why are we still doing it?"

"Because shut up, that's why," said Darrance and a second after, the console beeped another five times, and he reached out and pushed a few buttons with quick fingers. "Putting all power into shields," he said.

The ship started to rock.

The realisation hit Attelus, and he straightened in his seat, looking at the scanner. The eight blinking red icons were slowly gaining, but he could imagine them wobbling and burning in the atmosphere.

Sweat began to bead and run down his face as the blinking red icons came closer and closer. And after every few seconds, another beep announced another missile lock.

He imagined the servitors slaved to the heavy bolters spewing shot after shot in an attempt to shoot them down.

"gak, gak, gak," Attelus couldn't help hiss as he realised the sweat wasn't just from nervousness now, but the heat which now sweltered inside the cockpit; the oxygen seemed to seize inside his lungs.

But his gaze didn't move from the scanner, even as the Guncutter's rocking became worse and worse.

The first few red dots were only a centimetre on the scanner when they blinked faster and then seemed to disappear, apparently burning up; they lacked a shield and moved faster than the Guncutter, so they were bound to burn up first.

"Evasive manoeuvres," said Darrance as he began to bank up, it only caused the Guncutter to shudder even more, and the heat outside intensified.

There was another different beep.

"What does that mean?" Attelus said.

"The shield," said Darrance. "It's at below ten per cent, so just shut up and let me concentrate."

Attelus wanted to say that it was too late, that they were just going to burn to death in complete agony, and that Darrance's stupidity got them killed, but he literally bit his tongue.

Instead, he looked back to the scanner just in time to see that most of the other missiles had disappeared too.

The beeping of the dying shield warbled and warbled and warbled; it seemed to warp into his hearing to such an extent it almost felt like it'd been a part of it for his whole life.

When the shrilling finished, it took him a good few seconds to realise it.

"We're on proper entry angle now," said Darrance with a laugh. "All the missiles have burned up, and we are through the atmosphere...now."

A split second after lascannon beams and heavy bolter rounds passed by.

"That is all well and good," said Kalakor. "But we still have those corrupted ships on us."

"I am aware of that," said Darrance while sending the Guncutter into a spin, then a left-side banking, through the shooting and heading straight for a huge city which towered out of the blood dunes like the trees of an oasis.

Attelus said, "is that-"

"No, that is Sorkath," said Kalakor. "It's two hundred kilometres of-"

An explosion shook the ship and interrupted Kalakor, and the city seemed to grow and grow.

There was yet another different beep from the console, which made Darrance curse colourfully.

"And again, what the hell does that mean?" Attelus sighed.

Darrance didn't answer; he just reached out without looking and deft fingers and manipulated the scanner. It seemed to zoom into the green triangle, which represented the Guncutter, and then it zoomed in more and revealed schemata of it. A good dozen blinking red dots were at the back of the ship in the hangar bay.

"This is just getting frigging better and better; we've got foreign spoors, we have enemies on board," said Darrance. "Apprentice you and your Space Marine bud-"

Attelus had already undone his belt and leapt from the co-pilot's seat before Darrance said, 'this.'

"Way ahead of you," said Attelus as he drew his powersword and activated its edge in a blaze of blue.

As he stepped into the rec room, he exchanged a nod with Kalakor. Attelus couldn't help but wonder: If their enemy had these capabilities, why hadn't they been used sooner than this? Why now?

That mattered little now; what mattered now was killing these stowaways. Whatever the hell they were.

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2023/01/25 09:38:02


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

Attelus and Kalakor didn't bother with stealth or subtlety, and the Space Marine led the way as they stepped out of the corridor and onto the hangar's catwalk.

Instantly las and solid shots rained against Kalakor's power armour, and Kalakor raised his bolter and replied in kind.

Attelus slipped past Kalakor and, in a split second, took in his surroundings. The docking bay was now crawling with dozens of cultists and guardsmen. Two huge, hunched, horned daemons were amongst them, standing head and shoulders taller than any of the Resurrected.

Grinning, Attelus smashed aside a few shots and vaulted over the handrail. His sword sliced through one unlucky cultist from head to the groin as he was in mid-fall.

Attelus landed into a kneel then lunged across six metres to cut through the chest of a guardsman as he was raising his lasgun. The throne agent whipped out his foot in a hook kick which sent the corpse's upper half flying and spinning, then smashing into the skull of a charging cultist who collapsed and crashed into a guardsman beside him.

He laughed and dashed aside a withering hail of shots that followed him as he continued to sprint.

A cultist stepped into his path; a chainsword held ready. Attelus slid into a kneel, and the chainsword swing which was meant to tear through his torso passed over his head. Attelus gutted the cultist with a horizontal cut, darted onto the screaming cultist's flank, then onward, so the rounds raining in his wake tore the heretic to shreds.

He charged for the enemy flank, a Marangerian trooper roared at Attelus, stabbing with a bayonet. Attelus sidestepped, then bisected the Maragerian's skull with a downward, diagonal stroke.

A cultist let out an enraged screech and came at Attelus, but before Attelus could counter the cultist's stabbing combat blade, the bastard's head exploded in a haze of red and sent spinning back, the neck spewing out a thick tendril of blood.

Attelus back-pedalled a Velrosian sergeant's whirling chainsword, then his sword parried through a swinging lasgun. Attelus sent a side-kick that bashed in the last guardsman's face. Attelus' backswing then opened the sergeant's throat. He carried his slash into a 180-degree arc that sliced through the elbows of a cultist as he was in the midst of a wild overhead chop.

A thrusting bayonet made Attelus duck, then as the enemy guardsman was about to swing out the butt of his lasgun Attelus kicked him under the jaw with his boot knife; Attelus pulled his foot out and kicked the man back into his ally.

Attelus blocked a slashing axe then weaved beneath another cutting chainsword. He then impaled the axe-wielding cultist through the skull, pulled out his blade, then sliced straight diagonally from the shoulder to hip of the guardswoman sergeant with the chainsword.

A split second later, one of the daemons burst through its Resurrected allies; it snarled and, with a sword as long as it was tall, smashed out a downward, diagonal strike. Attelus danced back of it then ducked its huge reverse swing. The second daemon pushed past the first's left and swung down vertically. Attelus dashed out of its path, and the black, hazed with blood-red blade hit the deck with a deafening clang and smashed in some of the steel.

"Get out of the way," Kalakor said over the vox, and Attelus started darting toward the stairs.

Two frag grenades clanged at the daemons' clawed feet and exploded. It sent them and the six nearest Resurrected flying.

Attelus sprinted up the stairs while drawing his autopistol from its chest holster and stood beside Kalakor.

"You are a fool," said the Raven Guard as he fired bolter round after bolter into the enemy horde, which seemed to grow and grow. "Why did you abandon cover and an elevated position?"

Attelus took cover behind the marine and added his piddling fire to Kalakor's roaring deluge.

"Mostly out of fun," said Attelus. "And a little so I can be a distraction for you to be able to kill as many of the enemy as possible."

Kalakor sighed. "You aim for the mortals; I will take care of the Bloodletters."

"Bloodletters?" said Attelus while sending a cultist cracking, bouncing down the stairs with around to the chest. "Is that what they're called?"

With incredible speed, Kalakor ejected his empty clip and reloaded. "You are a part of the Inquisition, but you do not know what those daemons are named?"

Attelus shrugged as he darted back from a brief fusillade. "We're Ordo Hereticus; the daemonic isn't our speciality. I do know that they are in the service of the blood god, though."

"But you still ally with Xenos, despite the fact that you are not Ordo Xenos, but the alien is not your speciality, either."

Attelus said nothing, just cut down a guardsman as he was starting to advance up the stairs.

His vox bead beeped.

"We're about to enter the city," said Darrance. "Get ready for-"

"Yes, yes," said Attelus. "Evasive manoeuvres, we know."

"Hold on to me," said Kalakor as he magnetised his boots.

Attelus sheathed his sword, holstered his pistol then grabbed the Space Marine by his overly-large backpack.

The ship began to tilt right, and an idea hit Attelus, and he activated his vox bead.

"Darrance, keep the line open and tell us how you and when you are going to turn."

"What?... Oh yes, I see where you are going with this. I am about to turn hard to starboard."

Before Attelus could ask what the hell that meant, the ship whirled right, almost ninety degrees; Attelus cried out and only just managed to hook his hand around Kalakor before he was thrown against the wall. The Resurrected and the daemons weren't so lucky. Their crashes were almost deafening as they hit the wall, as were their pained cries.

Kalakor pumped bolt round after bolt round into the stunned, injured enemy ranks; even if he wasn't shooting insanely powerful miniature missiles, each shot would've been a kill shot.

Attelus found purchase with his left hand, pulled himself behind Kalakor and drew his powersword with the right.

"I am going upward," said Darrance and a second after, the Guncutter straightened and started swinging up.

The Resurrected were thrown back against the airlock doors, but the daemons were ready. They'd already dug their huge claws into the bodywork, but that was what Attelus was counting on as he hurtled at one so fast that it had no time to react before Attelus' powersword sliced through the Bloodletter's chest. The daemon roared. Attelus forward momentum carried him onto the large airlock door, but he'd angled himself so he could roll into a kneel to negate the impact.

He ignored the pain which flared through his legs, stood and faced the huge cultist coming at him, his whirling chainsword smashing for Attelus' skull.

Attelus slipped aside the attack's path, but the cultist turned it into a horizontal cut. Attelus weaved beneath the attack; then, he heard the huge, clawed feet hitting the steel behind him.

He darted past the cultist and sliced his sword across his ribcage on the way. He drew his autopistol and put a point-blank round through the face of a guardsman while he was in the midst of raising his recently retrieved lasgun, then gutted a cultist with another bolt. Kalakor's bolter blasted, and Attelus glanced over his shoulder to see the daemon reeling and writhing beneath the deluge.

His senses sent him dashing left just out the way of a blurt of las. The last blast managed to nick his shoulder, making him reel and pain to flare down his arm, but his flak jacket protected him from the worst of it. With a backhanded throw and an enraged roar, he sent a knife into the eye socket of the guardswoman who'd shot it, sending her writhing and screaming in agony. Attelus dashed forward and put her out of her misery with a horizontal cut that sliced through her hips.

Attelus parried an incoming chain axe, then ducked a swinging las rifle butt. He sent the guardsman smashing against the wall with a sidekick and back-pedalled the cultist's back-swing.

His powersword was a blur as it deflected a few blasts of las-fire.

Then he flinched as another pair of huge, clawed feet smashing onto the door behind him.

Attelus glanced to see the two Bloodletters that towered over him. One of them still had a tear through its elongated torso.

"Fire in the hole," said Kalakor over the vox, and a grenade fell amongst the Resurrected advancing on Attelus. The explosion sent them screaming and writhing off their feet.

Attelus burst out in laughter and sidestepped the first daemon's downward diagonal cut, then darted back as it reversed it into an upward diagonal.

Attelus was still laughing; he imagined the daemons had the sneering face of his father.

"You are enjoying this far too much," said Kalakor as his bolter shots sent the daemon blanching away.

Attelus was in the midst of opening his mouth to retort, but Darrance's voice interrupted him.

"I am about to dive."

"gak!" Attelus said through clenched teeth as he jumped over the daemon's blade as it arced for his legs.

Attelus heard the Resurrected being shot to gak by Kalakor behind him, and he hunched into a sigh; perhaps going down here wasn't a good idea.

Then the Guncutter began to drop into a dive. Attelus jumped just before it met the apex, so when it did, he was already diving toward Kalakor. It took him less than a second for him to sheath his sword, holster his pistol and grab Kalakor by the backpack and spun to face upward. The abrupt stop caused pain to burst up and down his arms, and he cried out.

Around the Resurrected rained in screams and flailing limbs.

Kalakor's barking bolter also made it rain blood as he exploded heads and torsos into chunks. There was so much blood it almost disturbingly reminded Attelus of the underhive of Omnartus all those years ago.

Attelus was forced to let go one hand and hang aside a guardsman's falling corpse. The two Bloodletters claws had allowed them to keep from falling, and the entire time, they'd been moving into the middle of the door, directly overhead. Their snarling visages stared down at Kalakor as their long tongues flicked and writhed.

A shiver passed through Attelus as a realisation hit him.

"Kalakor, the daemons," he said.

"I know," said Kalakor. "I am going to de-magnetise, jump for the handrail on my count."

"I-"

One of the Bloodletters dropped.

"Now!" said Kalakor.

With a roar, Attelus flung himself off Kalakor and wrapped his fingers around the catwalk's handrail.

Kalakor leapt from the arc of the hurtling daemon's blade, and the crash of their collision with the wall was deafening.

The other Bloodletter let go and flew straight for Attelus.

"gak, gak gak," cried Attelus and slid left.

The Bloodletter's weight buckled in the adamantium handrail, and it made Attelus' hands slip. With desperation fuelled strength, Attelus managed to keep hold by the tips of his fingers. It wasn't far to fall, but he could hear Kalakor's and the other Bloodletter's fight raging beneath his feet, and he sure as hell didn't want to drop into that.

The daemon turned to him and stabbed its sword for his face, Attelus clambered leftward, and it whistled past him by a hair's breadth.

With a cry, he threw himself up and perched onto the handrail.

He drew his sword and activated its powerfield.

The daemon let what may have been a laugh and swung for his chest. Attelus slipped back from it and cursed; the Bloodletter was a good two metres tall, its reach with its sword almost double that, he had no way to get in close enough to use his sword effectively.

The daemon cut out a large horizontal blow that Attelus just managed to duck; then, he was forced to jump over the reverse swing aimed for his legs. Attelus clenched his teeth and leapt onto the top of the catwalk, and the daemon was a split second behind him.

He stumbled back from another whistling slash, well aware of how he was getting closer and closer to the wall. He parried a thrust and almost made him lose his sword in the process. It then whirled out an upward diagonal cut which he knelt beneath. It stabbed again, and he hurtled himself back so far his back hit the wall.

He stared at the daemon, eyes wide.

It let out what may've been another laugh and drew back its sword.

Las fire smashed against beneath its jaw, a full auto flurry which made it flinch and look down at the source of the shots from down the corridor. It had to be Adelana, yet again saving Attelus' arse.

It gave Attelus the opening he needed, and he pushed off the metal into a sprint. The Bloodletter turned to him and swung out its huge sword, but it was too late. All Attelus had to do was slide beneath it and hold up his blade, so the daemon's arm was sliced off at the elbow by its strength.

It bellowed out in rage and pain, and that allowed Attelus time to close in further. Attelus first cut hacked into the side of its neck, as did the second, but before he could hack, Darrance's voice again came over the vox.

"I am levelling out."

Attelus was forced to dart away from its swinging stump then drew his pistol as another idea hit him.

The Guncutter began to flatten.

More las shots erupted from the corridor and smashed against the side of the daemon's head.

Attelus ejected the clip of standard ammo and slammed in a fresh one of dumm dumm rounds, the daemon was unarmoured, so it was worth a try. He added his shots to Adelana's, unleashing point-blank shot after point-blank shot into its face. Their combined shots blistered its features, exploded its eyeballs and smashed its teeth into nothingness. The Bloodletter growled and backed away, trying to raise its arms to protect itself.

Once it'd stepped far away enough, Attelus charged again; by then, the Guncutter was angled about twenty degrees.

Despite its mashed face, the Bloodletter still managed to swing out at him. Without breaking stride, Attelus ducked its huge claws, then with all his inhuman speed behind him, lunged into a cut that went clean through the last half of the daemon's neck.

Attelus dropped into a silent roll as the Guncutter finally equalised, while the Bloodletter's limp, headless corpse smashed against it with a clang.

He turned to the fight between Kalakor and the last Bloodletter.

Kalakor was on the back foot; his bolter wasn't in his grasp; all he had was his knife, a knife which would've been a long sword for an average person but was minuscule compared to the daemon's. Attelus had the feeling that Kalakor's armour would be but tissue to the Bloodletter's blade as Kalakor was trying his best to keep away from its arcs. Attelus raised his sword and waited for an opening.

"Attelus," said Adelana as she started down the stairs, a lasgun in her hands. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."

"It's alright, Adelana," gasped Attelus as the exhaustion from the fight seemed to smash into him. "You made up for it by coming right at the right time. Please stay on the walkway; more might be coming."

"Coming? Coming from where?"

"The warp, I suppose," said Attelus.

The ship suddenly tilted left, causing Attelus to stumble slightly.

"Damn it, Darrance; you were supposed to warn us-"

The pained roar interrupted him.

Kalakor's right hand had his knife buried in the Bloodletter's forehead; his left clutched the daemons sword arm. As it writhed to get free, its other claw was slowly pulling the knife out.

"This...is...your...cue...throne agent," said Kalakor.

"Oh! Right," said Attelus and lunged. His slash took the daemon in the neck, it only went halfway, but his momentum knocked it off balance and made it let go of Kalakor's wrist.

Kalakor then ripped out his knife and tore its head off with one brutal blow.

For a few seconds, they stood as Attelus struggled to regain his breath.

"Well," managed Attelus with a grin. "That was one hell of a fight."

Kalakor's helmet's inscrutable glowing red gaze swung to Attelus as he went to retrieve his boltgun.

"You need help," he said, shaking his head.

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2022/06/23 09:54:00


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

Kalakor chose to remain in the hangar just in case more Resurrected appeared, while Attelus and Adelana struggled through the weaving, winding ship toward the cockpit.

Darrance warned them of each turn before it happened, which was now almost every few seconds, but that didn't stop them crashing and bouncing off the walls, and for every split second, Attelus expected the Guncutter to explode and consume them in fire.

The fact that it hadn't happened yet was a true testament to Darrance's incredible skill as a pilot.

Incredible was the understatement of understatements.

"You alright?" said Attelus as he helped Adelana prevent herself from smashing her face against the wall.

"I'm fine," she said a bit too fast while tearing her arm from his hand.

"Why'd you storm out-?"

"Seriously, Attelus?" said Adelana. "Now?"

"Yeah, sorry. Thanks, Adelana."

"For what?"

"Thank you for being you," he said. "And thanks for saving my arse back there; how many saves do I owe you now?"

Adelana smiled. "I lost count."

"Yeah, sure you did," said Attelus, and they burst into the recreation room.

The Guncutter swayed left, forcing them both to plant their feet.

"We can just take a seat here," said Adelana.

"To hell with that," said Attelus. "I've gotta see what's happening."

Adelana sighed and said something about 'men.'

Attelus ignored her, dashed the rest of the way into the cockpit, and retook the co-pilot's seat.

He stayed silent while buckling himself in, not wanting to break Darrance's concentration.

The world through the window was a blur of blood sands and grey towers and buildings. This view was almost eclipsed by the massive amount of munitions strafing by. Las cannon shots and heavy bolter fire churned through rockcrete walls, turning it into dust and sent sand into the air in waves of kicked up crimson.

Adelana took the seat at the scanner and peered out the window.

Attelus glanced at the scanner and couldn't help start, seeing only seven red triangles were following them.

"You are all strapped in now," said Darrance. "Now, I do not have to hold back anymore."

"Hold back?" said Adelana.

Darrance's reply was a sudden banking right, making them head straight toward a ludicrously huge tower.

Attelus waited, expecting Darrance to begin going up or around it, but instead, he powered up the lascannons.

"No," said Attelus as icy tendrils spread through his chest. "No frigging way."

"Yes, frigging way," said Darrance, and he opened fire then tapped his vox bead. "All servitor turrets open fire on the building in front of us; spread your fire."

A second after heavy bolter shots joined, raking across the tower.

"You're insane," Attelus shrieked through clenched teeth as he pushed his back into his seat. "You're frigging insane!"

Then they were eclipsed in darkness.

"Servitor turrets, fire lanes of thirty degrees," said Darrance as he pumped lascannon shot after shot while constantly swinging the ship side to side through the enemy shots.

Attelus took another look at the scanner; all of the daemon ships were still following them.

Adelana was screaming, and Attelus couldn't blame her.

The top of the cockpit was covered in sparks and the shriek deafening as the ship skirted the ceiling.

Darrance let out a curse and tried to straighten the Guncutter out but ended up skidding on the floor, the shrieking was replaced by grinding, and the ship slowed. Darrance lifted it, wobbling the ship so much it threw them around in their seats. But by some Emperor given miracle, Darrance stabilised it. And all the while, he still shot the lascannon.

"gak, that was close," he said.

Attelus couldn't even consider making a reply; his fingers had somehow become paler as they gripped the armrests so hard they were beginning to crack. He couldn't help believe his teeth would've cracked too if they weren't made of wraithbone.

Then they were out of the darkness and headed toward another tower only about thirty metres away.

"Y-you're not doing that again," Attelus cried; the relief hit him so hard it made the words burst from his mouth like machine gunfire as he exhaled. He'd no idea he'd been holding his breath the whole time.

Darrance didn't answer verbally as he sent the ship climbing toward the sky. There was another horrid grounding as the ship bounded off the tower's wall, and the G-forces pinned Attelus to his seat.

Attelus looked up, and his jaw dropped so fast it hurt his cheeks. The huge tower was collapsing in a wave of thick grey dust and debris which rained toward them.

Only two ships were after them now. Some of them must've been crushed by the collapsing tower.

His attention shot forward as Darrance banked the Guncutter left, just a microsecond out of the path of a cluster of falling metal beams. It threw Attelus to the side, and Adelana almost smashed her face into the scanner screen.

"Turrets, aim for the ships," said Darrance. They flew diagonally over the building, which was a blur; Attelus lost count of the number of times Darrance swayed the Guncutter through bits of the falling building. It took only a few seconds but seemed like tens of minutes before the baby blue sky surrounded them.

Now no enemy ships were in pursuit.

Darrance slowed and levelled the Guncutter.

For about half a minute, the only sound was gasping.

"I can't believe..." managed Attelus.

Darrance grinned. "Seeing is believing, is it not, apprentice?"

"I...yeah..."

Darrance shrugged. "It was not all me; if it were not for this ships advanced gravity dampeners, the G-forces would have crushed us in our seats."

"I...I never thought I'd see the day..." said Attelus.

"Never see the day when you would bear witness to such piloting finesse?"

"No, never thought I'd see the day when you'd be somewhat humble about something."

Much to Attelus' surprise, Darrance laughed. "Oh, come on, give me this one, please."

"Yeah, okay, fair enough," said Attelus. "We've really got to head back; we might've already missed our window of opportunity."

"Of course," said Darrance as he wheeled the ship around. "We still have much on our agenda. Just this time, please keep yourself from being impaled again."

Attelus sighed.


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

With a roar and a swipe of her hands, Karmen sent the last few remaining resurrected flying off the ledge with her telekinesis and falling into the depths of the hill with flailing limbs. Each one was different in one way or another, but Karmen had lost the ability to care about the differences. Every one of them was now just the Lost and the Damned.

'Karmen,' said Tathe. 'Shield up, please. We are about to descend into a hellscape beyond your imaginings.'

She couldn't help frown; she was a psyker. She had looked into the immaterium itself; her 'imaginings' could far exceed anything of his. But she realised something; he probably meant himself in that too.

Karmen raised the shield, and a few seconds later, the front line of the Imperial advance stepped over the ledge.

If it weren't for Karmen's kine shield, they would've been torn to slivers by the massed upon the massed gunfire. It made Karmen stumble and clench her teeth as fighting the combined force as it almost overwhelmed her shield and her will. Below, the Resurrected and daemons swarmed throughout the depths, swarmed so thick there was almost no sign of the blood sands beneath their feet. Down, down down, to the base of the tower for almost half a mile.

It was ridiculous, beyond ridiculous; there was no way they could fight their way through that! Tathe was right, damn him. Karmen's mind reeled, it almost made her drop the shield, but around her, the men and women of the Imperial Guard didn't hesitate as they fired back, cutting down swathes of countless Resurrected. Karmen's shield couldn't protect even a tenth of them; once they advanced down there, they would be surrounded and slaughtered. Then join the ranks of their enemies.

She'd been considering why this was for quite some time now, and she concluded...the Blood god was killing them and resurrecting them so they can become more and more experienced in battle, so they can leave Omnartus to make war against the Imperium of Mankind. That was why the Imperials and cultists fought each other before they all began fighting the loyalists. And until every soldier on Omnartus joined him, the warp storm would trap them here.

That was Karmen's theory, anyway. It seemed a logical one, but that was the problem; the stuff of chaos was far from logical. It could just be a game or something for all she knew.

Perhaps the Space Marine was right, frig the bastard.

The loyalists flooded down the hill, laying down shots; many fired from the hip as it was impossible to miss. Hayden stepped to advance alongside Karmen and Tathe, using his long las to headshot Blood Letter after Blood Letter as they charged up the hill. He and the other snipers and many of the Sovrithans took down others with disciplined, massed volleys, despite the range. Yet again, Karmen couldn't help be impressed with their marksmanship. The Sovrithans were truly first-class line infantry. Despite knowing how many of her brothers and sisters had died, she couldn't help be glad the Sovrithans had been in reserve until this last push.

But not even Attelus Kaltos, the greatest swordsman Karmen knew a Space Marine and the Guncutter's firepower could make much of a difference against that horde.

She just prayed that Attelus and the others could get here in time.

Or even get here at all.



So they descended and descended, and Tathe led from the front, ironically placing him amongst the safest. The Karmen woman wasn't the most powerful psyker he had ever seen, having seen those from the perfidious Eldar, the Space Marine Librarians and the horrid mutants serving the arch enemy. But she was easily among the most skilled, even in his, thankfully, ignorant opinion. He made damn sure to make a mental note to thank her if they lived through this; if it weren't for her, many more of his men would be dead. If it weren't for her, he'd most likely be dead too.

Her shield was finite and only able to protect a radius of a few metres, so all around him, more and more guardsmen writhed and fell and died. They couldn't bring the medicae truck down with them, so the injured were either fighting with the able-bodied or being carried on stretchers at the epicentre of the advance.

According to the reports from the rearguard, the enemy had melted away, which concerned Tathe as much as it relieved him. Concerned him as it could mean the enemy were preparing traps for them or just so the Resurrected could place as many bodies between them and the tower as possible, which was a tactic beneath his father's prowess and stunk of the basest of desperation. And relieved him as the rear guard had borne the worst of the casualties, and it meant the advance would be able to take advantage of the high ground while it lasted. Tathe was tempted to have the rearguard stay at the top of the hill and lay down cover fire. Still, their diminished numbers might allow them to be overwhelmed by an attack from the rear, which was much too likely with the enemy's ability to appear out of nowhere.

Tathe had abandoned too many men already; if they stayed together, it might mean more to secure than to hold the tower or at least he hoped.

Two cultists managed to somehow break through the barrage of las and came straight for Tathe. One held a huge double head axe, the other a chainsword. Tathe parried aside the axe as it fell for his head; it opened the cultist up for Tathe's short, almost tender slash across his stomach. The chainsword swung for Tathe's neck, but he put a las bolt through the cultist's chin and out the top of his skull. A monster of a guardsman, a once-officer of the Sovrithans, came for Dellenger, drawing back a chainsword for a horizontal swing. The scout didn't even need to block or parry as the butt of his lasgun broke the Resurrected's chin, then Dellenger reversed the blow to plunge his bayonet into the officer's throat. Then went back to racking las fire through the horde from the hip. Tathe's jaw clenched at the scout's flagrant misuse of automatic fire.

But more and more cultists were getting further and further up the hill, as did their daemonic allies. Tathe didn't need to order his men to concentrate their fire on the Bloodletters, and neither did Dantian, apparently. But the cultists kept onward, flourishing their eclectic collection of weapons and shrieking their psychotic snarls.

The Imperials on the front already had bayonets fixed and, with a crashing roar which Tathe was so desensitised to now, met the cultist's charge.

Laughing, Tathe decapitated the first cultist and everywhere beside and behind came the cries of 'For the Emperor!' 'For Elbyra!' 'For Sovrith!' And many others, morale was on an all-time high for the reason that Tathe could only speculate upon.

For Emperor only knew how long, everything was just a blur of combat, a press of pushing bodies and Tathe was filled with instinct. His sword slew and slew as it cut and thrust and stabbed and slashed, while his laspistol blasted over and over again.

The high ground lent the Imperials a huge advantage as the rear echelon thinned the ranks with a rain of las.

No daemons made it into close combat.

Eventually, the packed mass of cultists seemed to melt away. Tathe was so in it; it took him a good few seconds to realise it.

Tathe, gasping, glanced about, finding that all of the Inquisition agents were alive, and so was Dellenger and Dantian, but many more familiar faces were gone. He looked forwards and found they'd advanced at least fifty metres toward the tower as many more Resurrected were running at them.

Tathe raised his sword to the sky and let out a roar of triumph. This wasn't even a victory, but it was enough for now. The Imperials joined in with Tathe bellowing down at Resurrected, snarling motto's, the Velrosian 1st's 'First among equals!' being the most prolific, some soldiers even began smashing their fists against their flak armoured chests.

The ferocity even gave the Resurrected pause, and by the Emperor, it sent a chill of thrill through Tathe. Somewhere within himself, something said this was out of character for the Elbyran contingent, that they were normally in stoic, disciplined quietness. This may be them finally giving in to the corruption and bloodlust that ruled their enemy even in death. But he didn't care anymore, and he suspected that he couldn't.

It was then that a roar erupted from the base of the tower, a roar which seemed made of aeons upon aeons of bloodlust and didn't just eclipse the Imperial's bellows but murdered them in their throats.

The Resurrected started screaming alongside the tower.

Tathe and Dellenger shared a look. His eyes were wide with terror, an uncharacteristic show of emotion from the scout. They knew that sound, and so did many within the contingent.

The huge adamantium doors into the tower opened, and an at least twelve-metre tall behemoth stepped onto the blood sands. Its corded arms were as thick as the widths of the hulls of tanks, and its skinless wings were longer than it was tall, as was its huge double-headed axe it kept clenched in a fist the size of a man. Its snout was like a permanently enraged, sneering canine, and its long tongue slabbered and slobbered out its mouth like it had a life of its own. Its skin and armour seemed made of the red of the centre of suns, the red of the thickest gore imaginable.

Several men froze, and the stench of gak hit Tathe's nose. Some screamed; some even dropped their weapons and turned and ran. Some dropped to their knees and buried their faces in the blood sands; two even shot themselves with their lasguns.

In less than a split second, his men's high morale sapped away and broke into nothingness.

The Resurrected below brandished their weapons and laughed and started up the hill with almost inhuman speed.

'No,' said Tathe. 'No! No! No!'

Then there was another roar, no several roars which quickly converged into one shrieking cacophony. It came from the sky behind them.

Tathe turned to Dellenger, who met his gaze.

'Lightnings,' said the scout. 'Three of them, coming in from the west, on a bombing run. Will be on us in less than half a minute.'

Even when embroiled in utter terror, Dellenger's senses were sharper than any human Tathe had ever known.

Tathe cursed and old Velrosian curse and turned back to the Bloodthirster. Its huge, skinless wings were beating and making it lift off the ground despite its wings being only bone.

'Karmen!' Tathe cried. 'Can you do something about this daemon?'

'I cannot. It is taking every ounce of my will to merely keep this kine shield up.'

The Bloodthirster kept rising and rising, far faster than any creature with wings had any right to fly; it'd risen so high it was almost above the tip of the tower.

'Frig!' said Tathe, shaking himself back into reality. 'Everyone back in line! We-'

'Sir,' said Vark as he held Tathe the vox horn.

'What in hell's teeth is it, frig you?' snapped Tathe.

'It's Attelus,' said the throne agent.



'Where have you been?' roared Tathe's voice through the cockpit vox speaker. 'We have a greater daemon of Khorne on us!'

'W-we see it,' said Attelus, his gaze locked on the daemon through the cockpit's window as they dove down toward the battlefield. 'A-and we're about to take care of your bomber problem. Darrance?'

Darrance answer were three blasts of the lascannon, which sent each daemonic ship exploding and spinning, then to the ground and smashing through the hordes of Resurrected like comets created from fire.

'Great, thank you,' said Tathe; the exasperation in his voice seemed almost like sarcasm. 'Now, can you please send that daemon back into the damned warp, please?'

'We'll find a way,' said Attelus, and he cut the communication while the commissar was in the midst of shouting his first syllable.

Then an idea hit Attelus so hard it knocked him back to some semblance of sanity, and he turned to Adelana. 'I need you to stay here in the ship.'

'What? Why?'

'Because if the daemons and Resurrected decide to teleport in, here again, Darrance will need all the help he can get.'

'You need not worry about them getting in here again,' said Kalakor as he seemed to materialise in the entranceway. Attelus didn't even flinch, now used to the Space Marine's ability to appear out of nowhere seemingly.

'How do you know that?' said Attelus.

'Call it...instinct,' said the Space Marine, smirking his sneering smirk.

'You do know that I don't trust you,' said Attelus.

Kalakor just shrugged.

'So, what in the Emperor's name are we going to do with that daemon?' Darrance almost screamed.

'I need you to get above it,' said Attelus as he unclasped his safety belt and stood.

'What?' said everyone, even Kalakor.

It was then the huge daemon seemed to see them and, with a roar which somehow penetrated through the hull, began to fly toward the Guncutter.

'Frig frig frig,' Darrance cried as he opened fire lascannon and bolter round alike smashed into it, sending it writhing and reeling, but it seemed far, far, from dead.

'Just do it, damn you. Okay? Kalakor, I'd like you to accompany me to the storage bay, please,' said Attelus.

Kalakor's black eyes narrowed. 'Hmm, alright.'

Attelus started out of the cockpit, but Adelana followed.

'You aren't doing something insane, are you?' she said.

'It's as they say; insane times call for insane measures.'

'What? No one has ever said that.'

'Hmm, yes, you're right. I'd just made that up, I think. But it still fits, I think.'

She stopped as they started down the stairs, pursing her full lips, hunched her shoulders and let out a frustrated growl. 'I can't do anything to persuade you otherwise?'

'Frig no, sorry, Adelana.'

'Okay, just don't get killed, okay?'

'I'll try.'

Adelana studied him for a few seconds before shrugging and turning back toward the cockpit, apparently satisfied.

Attelus and Kalakor moved on.

'You are not having the female stay here to protect her, are you?' said Kalakor.

'No.'

Kalakor grinned. 'You are aware that I do not trust you either, right?'

Attelus shrugged. 'Fair enough, just please trust me in this.'

'Oh, I will on this,' said Kalakor. 'I think I have a good idea of what you are planning.'

'You do, do you?'

'Indeed so,' said Kalakor. 'And if I am correct, the female was right. It is completely and utterly insane. And I frigging love it.'

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2021/05/27 07:52:11


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

Explosion after explosion coated every inch of the Bloodthirster's hide. Adelana had witnessed lascannon blasts burst through adamantium walls, fry people into ash, but all the constant barrage seemed to do to the daemon was slow it slightly.

The Bloodthirster, as Tathe had called it, swooped like a comet made up of blurring blood toward them.

Cursing, Darrance sent the Guncutter arcing away and wheeling onto the daemon's flank, just finding some space out of the huge axe's arc.

'Why won't you die!' he roared, Adelana had never heard the pilot so frustrated before, and she couldn't blame him for it.

She then saw it.

'Darrance, watch out!'

The gigantic cat 'o nine tails whip seemed to grow out of its freehand and swung for them faster than thought.

With reflexes that left Adelana's breath in her throat, Darrance barely managed to bob the Guncutter beneath it.

'Frig you,' Darrance screamed; Adelana had no idea who "you" was. 'You little frigging bastard, Attelus...'

He swayed aside of the whip as it flew straight for them.

'"Get above it",' he said, what in the warp does that even mean...'

The daemon exploded toward them, spinning around in a whirling red blur of whips and axe.

This time Darrance sent the Guncutter banking upward, fast enough to escape the full arc but not enough to prevent the whip from skimming the bottom of the void craft. The void shield took most of the impact, but it made the entire craft shudder and bound so hard; it made Adelana's head bound so hard it sent pain through her, causing her to cry out.

'How high do you want me to get, huh?' said Darrance, apparently unaffected by the impact. 'And how am I supposed to...'

Adelana wanted to tell him to shut the frig up but didn't dare distract him and didn't want his anger directed at her.

He was losing it; they were all losing it. She just hoped they wouldn't lose it before it was too late.



'That is exactly what I thought your plan would be,' said Kalakor. 'It is as insane as it is brilliant, boy.'

Darrance's evasive manoeuvres had delayed Their advance to the storage bay, evasive manoeuvres which Attelus could tell were incredible despite being unable to see them.

Kalakor had his boots magnetised and didn't try to help Attelus as he lumbered about trying to keep his feet, and Attelus didn't want him to either.

They emerged into the storage bay, and Attelus took the risk to slide down the handrail on his shoes as Kalakor's smashing footfalls followed his wake.

Attelus ran across the floor and punched the console control, and the doors began opening. He ran over to the supply hooks to take a parachute, ignoring the shrieking of klaxon alarms.

'Apprentice,' said Darrance over the ship's intercom. 'Why is the docking bay airlock opening?'

'Surely, someone with your dizzying intellect would've figured it out by now,' said Attelus.

There was a long pause.

'You are really going to do it?' said Darrance.

'Well, try to, anyway,' said Attelus.

'Well, you better do more than just try!' cried Adelana.

Attelus grabbed the console. 'Will do, now just get above the damn daemon, please. Now wish us luck.'

'Will do,' said Darrance. 'And good luck, indeed.'



Tathe had to fight with every inch of his willpower to keep his attention forwards and to the enemy in front of him, away from the shuttle battling the Bloodletter above. From what he saw, 'battling' seemed too stronger a word, more like evading just to for another second or two. And for some reason, was trying to get above the Bloodletter but couldn't as the Bloodletter would rise when it tried to rise, and its constant onslaught slowed the Guncutter's climb, which forced it into incredible evasive manoeuvres.

The imperials were advancing again, Tathe having managed to rally them back into sanity, thankfully without having to execute anyone. But the men were nowhere near as passionate or as effective in their advance as before.

And because of this, casualties kept mounting and mounting like never before, the Bloodthirster's presence raising enemy morale while it drained the Imperials.

Then an idea hit Tathe.

'Karmen!'

Her answer came after a long pause.

'What is it?'

'Is the daemon within your range?'

'The daemon meaning the Bloodthirster?'

'Yes!'

'I-I think so, but I will have to drop the shield.'

'I know, but...'

'But what? What do you want me to do?'

'I need you to use your telekinesis to arrest the daemon's flight, to allow the Guncutter to get above it.'

'Why?'

'I don't know...But they might have a plan...so can you do it?'

'It'll open us up for the enemy fire!'

'Yes, yes, I know, but can you do it?'

Tathe couldn't read Karmen's face behind her helm, but he could sense her determination. 'The servants of Khorne are naturally more resistant to psychic power.'

The commissar shrugged.

'But I will try,' she said.



Karmen exhaled and closed her eyes and, with great hesitation, dropped her kineshield. She tried to ignore the screams of the dying guardsmen around her and the slaughtered Resurrected below her. Then she opened her eyes to the sky, and as much as it hurt her eyes and caused sickness to well within her guts. She rose her hands and began to enforce her will, her power upon its wings. She only needs to slow it for a second or two. Clenching her teeth, she began to pull it back to earth. It didn't move, not even a millimetre, but she pushed on and on, pulling, pulling. She began to growl, her brain throbbed inside her skull, her teeth gathered together so hard she swore they would crack.

Her growling turned into a shriek; her brain felt like it'd blow an aneurysm, and blood began to tide from her nose and into her mouth and amongst her teeth. The blood then flowed from her ears, and her gaze was blinded, flooded by crimson.

She pulled it for what seemed like an eternity until blood began to come out of her mouth, her gums.

She pulled until she couldn't do it anymore, and the blood flowing from her tear ducts started to dissolve turned into blackness.

But a split second before unconsciousness overtook her, she realised.

She'd managed it.



'It's slowed,' said Darrance. 'How-'

'The how of it doesn't matter,' said Attelus as the daemon seemed to struggle against some force pulling it down about twenty metres below. 'This is just it.'

'This is insane,' said Adelana. 'Darrance, fly down as soon as you can clear that gap for the Elbyrans.'

'It is,' said Attelus. 'It really, really is. Kalakor, you ready?'

'Indeed, I am.'

Then they lunged into empty air. The powerfield of Attelus' sword exploding into a blaze of blue life.



For the rest of his life commissar, Delan Tathe would thank his instinct, or the Emperor or whatever it was which forced him to look up in that split second. For it would easily be the most spectacular things he'd ever seen. Two figures leapt out the back of the Guncutter as it rose above the daemon. Karmen having somehow managed to slow it.

One figure was large enough to be a Space Marine; the other was a far smaller spot who Tathe guessed was Attelus. Both dived toward the Bloodthirster like comets, straight for its wings.

'Look!' Tathe roared, pointing with his sword for the sky.

Many Imperials did as told, and so did many Resurrected, just in time to see both diving figures using their momentum to cut their weapons straight through the Bloodletter's wings.

Tathe watched with bated breath, expecting the daemon to manage somehow to defy gravity, but after what seemed like an age, it began to drop.

'It's falling,' said someone. 'It's frigging falling!'

The Imperials bellowed out a triumphant roar, while the Resurrected seemed to cry in pain.

'They did it!' said someone. 'They actually did it.'

Tathe couldn't join with the cries of his men as he wondered, where had the attackers gone? He couldn't see any sign of them.



Attelus reversed his sword with a cry and plunged it deep into the daemon's back, as did Kalakor and held on as the daemon fell.

As the wind whipped his hair off his face, bellowed through his ears, Attelus couldn't help let out a 'woooooo!' as the blood sands grew ever closer and closer. Adrenaline and joy pumped through him like never before, and while Kalakor made no sound, Attelus couldn't help imagine the Space Marine grinning that snarling grin.

Attelus tore out his sword, kicked himself off the daemon and pulled the cord of his parachute. He was tugged up as the parachute found its full size and activated his vox link.

'Good luck, Kalakor. I'll be able to help you against it on the ground soon.'

'I do not need your luck, boy,' said the Space Marine. 'Keep it for yourself.'

"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand


'You did it, Karmen,' said Tathe turning to the psyker. She didn't respond but kept stepping; due to the servos of her power armour, Tathe was sure. A chill blasted through Tathe; he hoped he hadn't got her killed. He met the gaze of the nearby Vark and pointed to Karmen. Vark nodded and began to approach her. He took off her helmet with deft hands, and Tathe felt a shiver of shock through him as he saw the blood that coated her face from the nose down. Vark felt her pulse.

'She's alive, unconscious, but alive,' said the stormtrooper. 'I will call up a medic.'

Tathe nodded.

It was then the Greater Daemon of Khorne smashed amongst its servants with the force of a bomb. It hit the hill about fifty metres to the left of the Imperial advance, crushing countless Resurrected under its huge bulk; all they could do was cry out, being too packed in even to attempt to get out of the way. Then it rolled and crashed down the hill, throwing up what must've been tons of sand into the air in its wake. Its roars and bellows as it rolled and rolled were...surprisingly human; tathe could hear, pain, anger, but most of all, and most surprisingly...embarrassment or humiliation. Then, half a second later, its wings fell amidst the Resurrected, crushing even more.

Tathe's attention was torn from the fallen daemon by the familiar, throaty barking of a bolter to see a Space Marine of the Raven Guard standing amongst the Resurrected, his shots scything through them, exploding heads and torsos into red mist and chunks. Any Resurrected unfortunate to get close would be treated to the heel of the Space Marine's boot or the butt of his bolter. The Marine threw out a round kick which sent three Resurrected flying away completely broken, before decapitating another with a flick of his knife.

The Sovrithans, Dantian included, bellowed, 'KALAKOR! KALAKOR!' And exploded into fighting on with breathtaking fervour.

How had this Kalakor got down here? Had he somehow ridden the daemon down? That was the only explanation Tathe could think of.

Finally, the daemon came to a halt by smashing against the tower with such force the reinforced rockcrete cracked outward like an instantly built spider web. The Bloodthirsters hoofed feet were flung up almost comically. The daemon was far from dead, but Tathe had never seen such...a creature brought so low and so humiliatingly.

A thought struck Tathe, and he looked back to Kalakor and his slaughter. Had the Raven Guard used just that knife to cut through the daemon's wing? The knife may have been a short sword for a mortal, but for an Astartes, it was well...a knife.

Even with all his weight, strength and momentum from the fall that shouldn't have been possible, Attelus less so due to wielding a powersword, let alone a mastercrafted one-

The roar of engines drew Tathe's gaze upward and to the Guncutter as it hovered about fifty metres above.

'Air support is here,' said a melodic, arrogant voice over the voxlink. 'Allow me to lend some hands to your effort, commissar. Or shots, to be more accurate. A frig ton of them.' The deafening cacophony of heavy bolters and lascannons tore an incredible fusillade through the massed ranks of the Resurrected. Almost instantly tearing a huge, straight gouge toward the tower's entrance.

Tathe raised his sword and swiped it down. 'Advance!' he roared.

As the Imperials, now running high on morale, moved onward, Tathe caught a glimpse of the lone, grey parachute falling and weaving toward the Bloodthirster as it was snarling and snorting and writhing the remnants of its wings; it seemed to shake its gigantic head to regain its equilibrium, another strange human-like mannerism.

Attelus wasn't...He couldn't be...

Kalakor had also moved a fair ways towards the daemon by then, slaying and slaying all in his way with inhuman ease.

'By the Golden frigging throne,' Tathe managed and pointed. 'Provide that insane little fool cover fire now, frig you!'



Attelus hoped the daemon's fall would be enough to restrict enemy attention away from him and his parachute.

And by the Emperor, it seemed to have worked; no las fire or anything flew his way. Not yet, anyway. Nonetheless, he still zigzagged down like sergeant Starkeren of Enandra's Stormtrooper corpse had taught him.

But in all honesty, this whole frigging insane scheme shouldn't have worked in the first place. He'd known the second it'd started how the Bloodthirster had stopped rising but had tried to ignore it. Not just that, but she hadn't just stalled its flight but, perhaps, even managed to pin back the daemon's limbs. He'd been callous towards it, but he couldn't afford to be; it was the corruption getting to him. It was the corruption making him take such insane risks. It was the corruption causing him to feel the rush of battle more than ever before. He needed, needed to regain control of himself.

Yet now here he was, about to fight a greater daemon, he'd regained control, but it was too late to back down now.

Attelus unclipped his harness about two metres off the ground and dropped. One Resurrected, a Sovrithian, looked up at the shadow growing over him just in time to take Attelus' feet in his face, his neck snapping with a crack which somehow overrode the chaotic cacophony of battle everywhere around.

The man was flung onto his back, and Attelus' power sword sliced twice to take the heads off two others. He hit the ground and ducked a cultist's whining chainsword a split second later. Attelus' diagonal slice went from the attacker's hip then out his shoulder.

Another cultist swung down a chain axe which Attelus sidestepped. Before the cultist's axe even hit the sand, Attelus' round-house kick smashed the Resurrected's ribs into splinters, and as the cultist was flung off his feet, Attelus turned his round-house kick into a side-kick into the cultist's face.

Attelus sliced through the chest of a Velrosian as she drew back her bayonet to stab, then reversed the cut to slash a Marangerian stomach open.

He fought the urge to laugh; he fought it far harder than he fought and killed the Resurrected coming for him. They seemed to be turning all their attention for him, as though the hive mind leading them knew he was the one who came up with the plan which laid their champion so low. Or for billions of other conjectures, Attelus didn't even want to start speculating on. That was good; the more pressure on him meant, perhaps, less on the Imperial advance But they couldn't bring their numbers to bear on him as Imperial covering fire swathed through them, mostly focused for enemy ranged fighters and Bloodletters. Attelus was just glad that Tathe had seen him, as he hoped he would. But even so, sooner rather than later, he'd be overwhelmed if something didn't happen. He briefly wondered if he'd become one of them if Faleaseen's owning of his soul would make him immune. He hoped so, as the Resurrected version of himself would slice a bloody, bloody swathe through his friends and allies.

Bolter fire turned at least a dozen of the Resurrected advancing on him into clouds of blood and bone chips.

In the next split-second, Kalakor was advancing by Attelus' side, firing his bolter from the hip. Attelus couldn't help hiss a curse beneath his breath: in his enthusiasm, he'd forgotten to grab some sort of automatic gun from the Guncutter, which would've proved invaluable now.

'Took you long enough,' said Attelus as he drew his autopistol and added his pitiful shots to Kalakor's.

Kalakor's reply was lost as the Bloodthirster's roar eclipsed every other sound, and it climbed to its hooves. Its hate-filled cylindrical eyes were plastered on Attelus and Kalakor; its snarling snout rippled, and blood-tinged saliva drooped from its yellow teeth.

The familiar ice hot tentacles of fear sprouted from Attelus' heart and throughout his entirety. Yet he welcomed it, embraced it like a lover her hadn't seen in an eternity. It'd seemed he hadn't realised its absence until now. Attelus knew fear more intimately than any other human he knew. He knew fear was one of the most important facets of being human. Perhaps it was his earlier moment of self-awareness that brought him back from the brink? Perhaps...perhaps it wasn't blind faith or even a severe level of willpower that was the anathema to corruption? But it was the wisdom of knowing oneself?

Despite the onrush of fear, Attelus stood his ground.

Then the Bloodthirster sent out its whip for Attelus and Kalakor, stretching the one hundred or so metres between it and them in a millisecond and slicing through the dozens of Resurrected in the way...


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

Jelket now advanced with the rest of the Throne Agents. They surrounded Karmen in an escort formation as Halsin tried his best to treat Kamen's wounds as they jogged down the hill in the middle of the Imperial Guard ranks. Jelket's, Vark's and Helma's Hellguns, as well as Hayden's long las, were dedicated in their firing arcs in taking down the daemons, while everyone else held their shots back. But even still, their ammo was nearing empty.

He tried his very best to keep his attention away from the breathtaking battle going on between Attelus, Kalakor and the daemon.

And he tried to fight the tears in his eyes.

'Battle' was too stronger a word as his eyes couldn't follow, but he didn't have to see it to know all they were doing was holding it off. Sacrificing themselves for the Imperials advance.

'Get a hold of yourself, Jelket,' snarled Vark.

Vark's words did anything but as the tears poured unbidden down his face.

'For frig's sake,' said Vark.

'We should help them,' said Jelket. 'We can't let them face that...monster alone.'

'Don't be stupid,' said Vark. 'Don't be frigging stupid! We can't fight against that, and besides...'

'Besides what, Vark?'

Vark's reply was just a grimace.

Jelket repeated his question.

'Just shut it, you idiot,' said Vark.

'Show Jelket some respect, Vark,' snapped Helma.

'What? You standing up for your boyfriend, Helma? Or you just letting yourself get controlled by sentiment for that gak, Attelus? Screw you, the Imperium of Mankind isn't what it is today because of sentiment.'

'And it's a gakky hell hole,' said Torris. 'Maybe it could use a little more sentiment.'

'Frig you,' said Vark. 'You dare you question the God-Emperor's vision? I should shoot you for heresy. Leave them. Leave that idiot to his fate. You hate him too, Torris; why are you standing up for him?'

Torris sighed. 'Believe me, Vark. I find Attelus obnoxious that there's something wrong with him, and leaving him, and the Space Marine is...logical, but...'

'But what?'

'I-I don't know. I don't want to help, but I don't know...'

'I-I don't want to fight that thing,' squeaked Delathasi. 'I really don't.'

'Why are we even debating this?' said Vark. 'Stop talking, and keep moving!'

'W-we can't-' said Jelket.

'Frig in hell, Jelket,' said Hayden. 'That...boy has just made mistake after mistake after mistake. He manipulated us into working with Xenos. He is responsible for the deaths of billions, an entire world. He's insane; he thinks he's some kind of immortal; he deserves this.'

'Wait? What?' said Halsin.

'You're just pissed you weren't the one who led this mission, Hayden,' said Helma.

'Frig you,' said Hayden. 'You frigging bitch. And frigging right, I should have been put in charge!'

'No, you shouldn't have,' said Verenth. 'Because you're an arsehole.'

There was a long pause, and Hayden's pale face turned bright red.

Verenth didn't wait for a response as he began pushing his way toward the fight.

'Where in the God-Emperor's name are you going?' said Vark.

'Where the hell do you think I'm going, genius?' said Verenth over his shoulder.

'You're just going to get in the damn way,' growled Hayden.

Verenth ignored him.

Jelket smiled and was the first to follow. Then it was Helma, Torris and Delathasi.

'You won't do anything,' said Vark. 'You're throwing away your lives!'

'An Emperor botherer like you should know,' said Helma. 'Only in death does duty end.'

'I'm going too,' said another familiar female voice which echoed with strength and authority, and Jelket turned to see Karmen had regained consciousness. Her bright blue eyes intense against her blood-smeared face, her bolter unclasped from her power armour and in hand. 'I cannot use my powers now, but I can sure as hell lend my firepower to the effort.'

'And I can't let my patient go alone without my help,' said Halsin.

'Y-you're nuts,' said Hayden in the strongest outburst of emotion Jelket had ever witnessed from the sniper, and it caused him to hesitate in his step. 'This plane... it's getting to you!'

'No,' said Jelket. 'It's getting to you, Hayden. And Vark, too. So screw the both of you. Attelus may be far from perfect, but he's a good man, and maybe one day, he'll be a great one, and after everything he's done and been through, he deserves our respect and maybe...admiration. So, good luck in storming that damned tower. Goodbye and good frigging luck.'

With that, he turned and began running toward his certain death without even a split second of hesitation.



Tathe's vox bead crackled to life in his ear, and Karmen's voice came through.

'As you may have guessed, commissar, I am awake. You and your men may run for the objective.'

'Sir!' said Dellenger, pointing, and Tathe turned to see that most of the throne agents were running away from the rest of the advance. Straight for the ludicrously fast melee between Attelus, the Space Marine and the daemon.

'What in the damned warp are you doing?'

'We are helping Attelus,' said the psyker. 'We cannot let him and Kalakor fight that Bloodthirster alone!'

Despite already assuming this, Tathe still couldn't help drop his jaw.

'But-'

'Do not worry about us. Just get you and your men to the tower.'

Tathe couldn't find a response; he never imagined that agents of the Inquisition could be capable of such camaraderie.

Or such foolishness.

'Don't go! We might need you-'

'This might be the last time we speak, commissar. The Emperor protects, Tathe,' said Karmen, then she cut the link.

He couldn't help let out a growling curse through clenched teeth, but he decided not to argue anymore.

'Go! Go! For Sovrith! For Elbyra! For the Emperor!' he yelled, sword held aloft as the Guncutter overhead slaughtered all in their way from above and he and his fellows ran into Emperor only knew what was waiting for them in that cursed tower.



It was almost impossible to believe, but it was reality; here he was fighting perhaps the most dangerous creature of all, Attelus didn't know what a Bloodletter was, but he had a good idea of what a Bloodthirster was. After his utter defeat at his father's hand, he shouldn't have been so ready to engage such a horrid monster and yet here he was dodging, darting, weaving and sometimes being forced to parry its constant, constant barrage of blows subtly. Every one of them more than capable of smashing him into a paste with even the smallest touch. Desperate fear and adrenaline thumped through his every millimetre. His every breath burst through his oesophagus out of his mouth with such force it felt like he was breathing out a lung. And they exploded between his ears; it was like a bolter firing right beside his skull.

Through this utter chaos of struggling to survive split second after split-second Attelus had completely lost track of Kalakor. He hoped the Space Marine was still alive. He hoped Kalakor had some way to defeat it.

Attelus could never defeat it, not in a million years, to last even this long; however, the hell long this was, was amazing in itself.

Then something happened, the daemon let out a laugh, and somehow it was more horrid than all its roars combined.

'You are a tenacious little perpetual, are you not?' it said, the daemon's voice echoed with rage and bloodlust, but yet...yet it sounded almost friendly, affable and spoke with an intellectuality which took Attelus off guard. But what took him off guard even more was that the daemon had stopped in its assault.

And that he no longer stood upon blood sands but in a bright white void of nothingness.

Unable to reply as he struggled for breath, Attelus bent over, hands on his knees. But his gaze was locked on the huge daemon as it towered over him.

It smiled. 'I am Kharkartskar, the voice of my lord and master, the greatest god of all, Khorne. And upon his behalf. I merely wish to speak to you, little perpetual.'



Her bolter blasting, Karmen stopped in her advance, her jaw-dropping, and Kalakor seemed to reel back.

The Bloodthirster and Attelus had gone.

Disappeared into nothingness.


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

'What?' said Attelus.

The daemon smiled, or at least it may have been a smile. 'Well...an ultimatum, to be more precise. You can either pledge your allegiance to the blood god, or I will just slaughter you, and you will become his servant either way.'

'W-why?'

Kharkartskar shrugged. 'If you give your soul, it will allow Him to grant you strength. Did you ever wonder why it was always cultists that could match you? That received his blessings?'

'No...not really. I was...too busy trying not to die.'

Attelus couldn't help wonder why in hell was he treating with this abomination?

The daemon's snarling maw grimaced.

'Then you are a fool.'

Attelus just shrugged.

'You may be a fool, but you do not mindlessly worship that corpse-like rest of your kind.'

'I worship no one and nothing,' said Attelus, defiance echoed through the white void despite the fear throughout him and the bemusement. 'And I prefer it stays that way.'

Much to Attelus' surprise, the daemon let out a chuckle as dry as the desert. 'Even if you will be given the power necessary to defeat your father?'

Attelus didn't reply.

'Even if you will be treated to a lifetime of slaughter? To be free from the constraints of your Imperium and free to kill and kill and kill. You enjoy killing-'

'I don't enjoy killing, daemon. Don't presume to know me.'

'Oh, but I do, little perpetual. The warp knows you. Knows you better than you know yourself. You are a murderer through and through. You fight nought for the anathema nor the foolish, transient realm which you call The Imperium of Mankind. You merely fight to sate your bloodlust for the joy of the fight. To test your martial prowess against a worthy opponent. Is that correct?'

Attelus couldn't help grimace as the words kind of swept through his mind.

'I fight to bring Etuarq to justice,' said Attelus. 'To make sure his conspiracy is ended!'

'And if you pledge your allegiance to my master, he will make sure you have the necessary power to accomplish that.'

'What?'

The daemon laughed again. 'You do not still think that he is in service to us? You truly are a fool. He is our enemy as much as he is yours. But that is just your ulterior motive. Once all have joined under my master's sway, they will leave unto the stars and spread slaughter and the Blood god's blessing and with you at the fore as His mortal champion!'

Despite everything, Attelus couldn't help scoff as he began to circle the daemon, and it started to circle in turn. 'Champion? If your "god" knows me more than I know myself: it'd know that I'm a gak leader, to say the very least.'

'Champion and leader are not the same thing, fool. The former general, Tathe, will act as the army's commander as well as his son, the commissar.'

Attelus straightened. 'Will they be immortal out there, too?'

'No,' said the daemon and Attelus hoped it would elaborate, but it said nothing more.

'So, if I pledge my allegiance now, I will be given enough strength to kill my father, right here? Right now?'

Kharkartskar grimaced, and the remnants of its wings kicked out in what may've been irritation. 'I explained that already. Your father humiliated you, defeated you with contemptuous ease. Wouldn't you love to inflict such agony upon him? Crave it?

Attelus' cheek twitched; in all honesty, he did; he really really did. That bastard deserved it and more.

'All He wants is that you forever provide skulls for his skull throne and constantly spill blood to sate his never-ending thirst. And maybe Khorne will provide you with some much-needed intellect as well.'

Attelus shrugged. 'With respect, daemon, this is a rather large decision I have to make, so I have to make sure to confirm everything.'

The daemon laughed, a roar of blood lustful mirth. 'I suppose that is fair enough. So, what say you?'

'Farseer Faleaseen already has my soul, daemon. It isn't mine to give.'

'Indeed, she does. The utter stench of that witch's magic radiates off you. But she is nothing compared to my master as He will wrench away your soul for himself as easily as a mortal takes a breath. You will gain power beyond imagining, may be powerful enough to one day defeat me. Give yourself unto Him, or I will make you.'

'Hmm, why is Etuarq such a threat to you and your all-mighty master?'

Kharkartskar sighed. 'That you do not need to know. You will know all when you give yourself to Him, that I assure you, little perpetual.'

'Do you know where Etuarq is, then?'

A roar bellowed out of Kharkartskar's maw, and he sent his whips screaming for Attelus. Attelus danced aside all of it and reactivated his powersword.

'I'll take that as a no, then,' said Attelus.

'You test my patience, fool,' said Kharkartskar. 'And you do not wish to test it further. That I assure you.'

'Oh, I believe you,' said Attelus. 'But I feel that is the only complete truth you've said so far, Kharkartskar. Well, beside something else...'

The daemon grimaced. 'What else?'

'You said "us"' said Attelus.

Kharkartskar growled through his razor-sharp teeth. 'What? Stop wasting time, fool!'

'You said, "you do not still think that he is in service to us." It isn't just your master involved in this. But the other...things, too. What could make Etuarq such a threat to force you to join forces?'

'It is not just Etuarq,' said Kharkartskar. 'It is not just him. Something else lingers. It is...'

Kharkartskar shook himself and grimaced in obvious distaste. 'Foreseen.'

'W-What else lingers?'

'Enough!' bellowed Kharkartskar while stomping a hoof toward Attelus and swiping down his huge axe. 'Renounce your foolish loyalty to the eldar witch and the corpse which you so insist on calling "Emperor." Kneel before Khorne and receive His blessings, and all will be revealed to you. Do it now!'

Attelus grinned.



'W-where did they go?' said Karmen as she and the rest finally managed to fight their way to stand beside Kalakor.

'"Where did they go, lord," said the Space Marine; his attention was fixated on where Attelus and the daemon had disappeared as his body seemed to slaughter any enemy nearing enemy like it was on autopilot.

Karmen couldn't help sigh and roll her eyes. 'Where did they go...Lord?'

Jelket and the others spread out to set up a perimeter.

'Hmm,' said Kalakor as he magnetised his bolter to his hip and reached out a huge hand as if to touch the sky. 'That was sorcery.'

'S-sorcery? I sensed nothing. I thought the servants of the Blood god hated sorcery.'

'Exactly,' said Kalakor. 'You are a psyker, a powerful one, but you have not delved into the art of sorcery.'

Karmen pouted, unwilling to admit that she had used sorcery to implant the seeds in the minds of Taryst's men, which allowed her to read their thoughts easier. Then later control them to use as cannon fodder against the Space Marines invading their base.

'And what? You have?' she said.

'I have,' said Kalakor as his thumb curled and seemed to tear into reality like it was made of parchment. 'I have indeed.'



'What! Do! You! Mean! No?' Kharkartskar screamed.

'It means what it means, daemon,' said Attelus.

'You are faithless! You are a heretic in their eyes, yet you still insist on pledging your allegiance to them and their foolish Imperium?'

'No,' said Attelus. 'I would rather just defeat my father and his master on my own merits; I've already been just given enough strength. Besides, I would be betraying the faith of my friends and comrades, and I will never do that. Never.'

"Given" was too stronger a word, Attelus neglecting to mention the utter, utter agony he had to endure to gain his enhanced strength, speed and reflexes.

'Then you really are a fool!'

'Am I? Am I really? I don't know, selling my soul to Chaos seems pretty frigging foolish to me,' said Attelus. 'Anyway, if it doesn't truly matter whether I pledge my soul to him. Then why haven't you killed me yet?'

'I already-'

'Those rules seem...superfluous. Too limiting for what you call a "god," daemon,' said Attelus. 'It might be somewhat true due to the evidence, but the "evidence" could just be a clever ruse. A...manipulation, and you have already hinted that it isn't just your master involved in this.'

Kharkartskar didn't reply, just watched Attelus as he circled.

'You know what I think,' said Attelus. 'I think that I have to pledge myself to...Him or else my perpetual soul is immune to becoming His. I'd rather turn my...less than good side to something constrictive. To be its master and not let it master me. So screw you and screw your frigging god.'

Attelus' was off footed as the daemon suddenly threw back its head and bellowed out a laugh. 'Maybe I was wrong; maybe you are not a fool. Or less of a fool than we had thought. You are correct in your observations, little perpetual.'

Kharkartskar clapped a slow, contemptuous clap with his gnarled, curled claw hand on the handle of his whip. 'Ahh, but you neglected something. This place, along with the...manipulation, was a gift from Tzeentch. This place is a realm created by him, a prison to entrap a soul...a perpetual soul. Forever. If only you had given yourself to Khorne, then you would have been spared this fate.'

A fate worse than death, Glaitis' voice echoed through Attelus' head.

Cold fear beyond the point of freezing grew throughout Attelus. His teeth clenched together so hard it felt like they'd fused. Why hadn't the daemon told him this before? But something within Attelus screamed Kharkartskar was telling the truth.

The sound of cracking came, and the daemon's and Attelus' attention snapped to its source. A few metres away, the white was slowly, slowly tearing asunder.

'That would be your "friends",' said Kharkartskar. 'But their effort is for nothing; you will be long dead before they penetrate the veil.'

Then Kharhartskar was on Attelus, the huge axe smashing down for him.


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

'Where did they go?' Adelana cried. 'Where did he go?'

'I have no frigging clue,' snapped Darrance. 'Shut it and get yourself under control, calm your damned farm and all that crap, damn it.'

Adelana shut it, mostly out of bemusement for Darrance's strange colloquialism.

The beeping from the scanner drew Adelana's attention to it. 'We've got more ships coming on us,' she said.

'Yes, I got that; how many?'

'Twelve. From the south-east, will be on us in a few minutes.'

'Great, just frigging great.'

'What do we do? The Imperial force still hasn't reached the tower. If we run...'

'Damn it. I was hoping that would have more time,' said Darrance, then he started to flick switches.

'W-what are you doing?'

'Putting more power into the shields. If you wish to abandon ship to look for Attelus, now would be the right time.'

Adelana gaped as the implication seemed to sink into her pores. 'But we-'

'I am sure the Eldar will be able to extract you from the surface once they arrive. No offence but with your skillset, you will be far more valuable down there.'

Was that a compliment? An actual, albeit backhanded, compliment from Darrance? They were as rare as

'But without being able to manoeuvre, you'll...'

'Oh, I know young Adelana,' said Darrance. 'But before I was recruited to become an assassin, I was a pilot and well...I would rather go fighting from a cockpit than with a sword in hand. Now go, go now, before it's too late.'

Despite herself, tears welled in Adelana's eyes, and she found herself giving him a salute.

'Emperor be with you...Darrance,' she said as she began for the door.

Darrance snorted. 'I do not need the Emperor. As He does not need me.'



Tathe's microbead crackled. 'This is the pilot of the Guncutter. There are twelve enemy ships inbound, so my cover fire will be minimised so I can hold them off. I'm sorry. And Throne Agent Adelana is about to parachute down to you, so please give her cover fire.'

It took Tathe about half a second to gain the breath to reply. 'Got that...What's your...name?'

'Darrance, commissar.'

'Your whole...name...please.'

There was a weighted pause. 'Saderth Gocrillian Darrance.'

'Thank you...I will...make sure to remember you and your sacrifice, Saderth Gocrillian Darrance.'

There was a pause.

'You are aware there is a thing called an ejection button, commissar?'

Tathe smiled, choosing not to point out that Darrance would be landing smack bang in the midst of hordes upon hordes of the Lost and the Damned, most likely without support or anything.

'Good luck...You snarky son of a bitch.'

'Thank you, good sir. I will take that as a compliment,' said Darrance. 'And do not worry about me. I...have a...tendency to get out of insurmountable situations miraculously, with nary a scratch. Out.'

Then Darrance cut the link, and Tathe couldn't help shake his head.

All of these Throne Agents were such...characters.

Tathe looked where the other throne agents, but they were lost among the sea of Resurrected.

He frowned and fixed his attention forwards again. The tower was only a few hundred metres away now. This was the worst time to let distractions rule him. He can only hope they would somehow make it.

They weren't bad. For agents of the Inquisition, anyway.



Without Kalakor, the Bloodthirster's attacks were even faster and harder than before. Every split second was a battle to keep from being pulped.

Attelus wanted to roar, to rage against the unfairness, the injustice, but it took all his will, his concentration just to survive. He couldn't win; every dodge, dart and parry was just delaying the inevitable.

Kharkartskar was silent; no roaring, no bellowing came from its grinning maw. Skill and speed fuelled its attacks rather than the ferociousness of earlier.

Attelus couldn't help think that this was the real Kharkartskar that the baying beast of before was just an act.

Attelus was forced to leap back from a downward axe bash which sheered into the floor but didn't bounce or smash into whatever the flooring was made of.

The daemon's whip flew for him, and Attelus dodged aside from the first, then the tails seemed to gain a life of their own, and they wound and flicked his way.

He clenched his teeth and was a blur like never before as he slipped and slid and weaved through it.

Then Kharkartskar was on his flank, the daemon's huge axe sweeping in a diagonal cut.

Attelus managed to duck it, and his weary weakened limbs made him stumble another few steps. The axe reversed into a downward diagonal smash, Attelus jumped back, and his foot slipped from him, and he fell into a kneel before rolling aside another vertical blow.

Every millimetre of him was as covered in sweat as he was in fiery pain. Attelus knew he couldn't keep this up for much longer. Attelus slipped to his knees again.

Kharkartskar loomed over him like a titan of legend.

'I offer you power, I offer you the gift of purpose,' it said. 'Instead, you choose an eternity of suffering.

With a roar, Attelus lunged.

Kharkartskar managed to tilt his head aside enough, so Attelus' sword cut through its cheek instead of its head.

Attelus landed just in time to dash aside the daemon's axe swing, and he leapt back to get some space.

It was then he realised Kharkarskar was laughing. 'A good try, little perpetual. You almost had me there. Although such a blow would not be enough to kill me.'

Attelus couldn't answer; he could barely breathe.

'If it were up to me, I would never have offered you this honour, this gift. You are a-'

'I'm a...fool...I get...it. But...I'm...still a...fool who...managed to clip...your...wings and...hold out...so...long against...you.'

Kharkartskar seemed to sneer. 'Only because you received aid from the twice traitor and that witch.'

'Twice...traitor?'

'That Space Marine that you have so foolishly placed your trust in...'

Kharkartskar trailed off in its sentence, and a smile creased through its wolfish features. 'You are stalling. You almost had me there, little foolish perpetual.'

Attelus grimaced, hoping he'd hear more about Kalakor.

'But maybe...maybe you are not as foolish as I thought. Only a little, as your refusal of Khorne's gifts, is foolishness beyond even the imaginings of Tzeentch himself.'

In the next microsecond, Kharkarskar had launched into attacking Attelus again. But before that, Attelus managed to steal a glance toward the tear in the air.

It was halfway open. He had to keep going; he had to fight on.



Adelana hit the button to open the airlock, and the buzzing klaxon alarms began their shriek as the door began to open. She hated that shriek but now seemed almost...almost a friend. She was going to miss this ship.

'Good luck, Darrance,' she said. 'If you won't accept help from the Emperor, maybe you will from fate itself.'

Then she threw herself out the airlock and fell for the crowd below.


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

Dellenger pointed to the sky as he ran, firing flurries from the hip, and Tathe looked to see the dot falling from the back of the Guncutter.

There wasn't much the Imperials could do for Adelana now, so Tathe just told Dellenger to keep an eye on her and the Guncutter. But there were only about twenty metres between them and the tower's entrance.

He didn't know whether the young woman would be able to land in time to join them. He didn't know this Adelana well, but she seemed a good person, and he hoped she wouldn't be slaughtered-

Tathe slid to a stop, as did everyone else as they saw it.

Blocking their way was a crowd made up of the Resurrected of their closest friends and comrades.

There was colonel Quatrat, the leader of the Marangerian regiment, and the other colonels, including Vonlet. Vonlet looked every bit the aristocrat his name implied; he was the middle son of the lord of the province Freldreth in eastern Velrosia. But his personality was anything but aristocratic. He was always friendly, encouraging. He'd been like a mentor to Tathe over the years, the propaganda always had highlighted Tathe, but it really should've been about Vonlet; he was the true tactician, the true leader. He always led from the front; it had been that reason he had died so early in the peace. There was Valketh, but worst of all...

Adreen, she stood smiling at him; the horrid scars on her face were gone, replaced by her old beautiful visage.

Tathe had wondered when she would appear among the number of the Resurrected and had suspected that his father was using them as a last desperate line of defence to resort to such psychological warfare.

Pathetic psychological warfare. Tathe had killed countless upon countless people he had known for a long time; for so long, he had become numb to it.

This move just made the enemy's desperation even more obvious, and Tathe knew now Adreen was no longer Adreen, just like Valketh was no longer Valketh, and Vonlet wasn't Vonlet. All that mattered was the killing.

No! All that was important was moving on the objective. That was important.

Tathe raised his laspistol and put a round right through Adreen's forehead. She seemed to show a split second of surprise before she fell onto her back. The look almost made Tathe slightly regret it.

There was a long pause as the Resurrected looked down, almost seeming shocked by this.

The silence was destroyed by the Imperials letting out a roar and opening fire.

Tathe roared along with them and raised his sword aloft as he saw Vonlet's face buckle and mould as a las round burst out the back of his skull. As Valketh's torso was torn into shreds by numerous shots.

Ignoring Dellenger's look of horror, the commissar started to run again, and about half a second after, his men followed. He heard the same, usual bellows of: 'For the Emperor!' among the others, but he also could've sworn that he heard one or two bellows of:

'For the blood!'

And: 'For Khorne!'



It was Hayden Tresch who'd put that las round through colonel Vonlet's head and smiled as he did so. He looked important, and he was a sniper; assassinating leaders were his bread and butter, and he was better at it than anyone else. Better than the frig wipe Attelus, he was better at everything than Attelus.

He continued to shoot, not bothering with accuracy anymore. Inquisitor Enandra hadn't bothered to think when she appointed Attelus in charge, why should he bother to be professional in his shooting anymore? Why should he serve a woman, an organisation which didn't see his ability, his potential? He had thought the Inquisitor was different, better than his old master, Glaitis. Glaitis had been a ruthless, manipulative bitch, but she had always seen his seniority, his skill. After he had joined Enandra, he had been pushed into the background. Usually seconded into a support role for the likes of Attelus or even that lowly, ex-magistratum gak, Arlathan frigging Karkin. Arlathan Karkin, who'd for some reason beyond Hayden, been chosen as Enandra's Interrogator.

Actually, that wasn't true; Hayden had seen Arlathan...improve a lot over the past three years. He had become a highly competent agent and leader. Arlathan had never been much of a...

Hayden shook away the thoughts. He was a leader; he was the best. The best at everything, why should he serve someone who cannot see that?

Why should he serve a 'god-Emperor' who couldn't see that either? He gazed up at the falling figure, the falling figure which was just then opening their parachute.

Hayden raised his long las and gazed through its scope. It was the beautiful young woman Adelana who rode the wind currents with quite a bit of skill.

She was abandoning Darrance. Just leaving him to die with along the Guncutter and the mindless servitors. He could easily pull the trigger now, cause Attelus more pain at the loss of his little girlfriend. He doubted he could do it without-

'What are you doing?' said Vark, causing Hayden to lower his gun and turn to him. He couldn't help be taken aback by the accusation in Vark's gaze.

'Just checking on whoever it was parachuting to the ground,' said Hayden. 'It's Adelana.'

Vark's eyes narrowed, and he looked like he was about to say something when they heard the roar of heavy bolters in the sky, and they both looked to see the Guncutter was streaming shots. One ship exploded into a ball of fire which spun and whirled down and crashed into a building, collapsing it into pieces. Another and another followed that one, but deep in his bones, Hayden knew it wouldn't be enough.

Hayden supposed Darrance to be the closest he had to a friend after the loss of Castella after he escaped from the Adeptus Arbites so long ago.

Hayden frowned; he could only hope his old friend would make it.

He couldn't have cared less for Adelana. Frig her. Frig the little bitch.



Adelana was around fifty metres below the Guncutter when the shooting began and watched with bated breath. It was too fast for her to follow in detail, but she saw the explosions as Darrance shot the ships out of mid-air. One was transformed into a ball of whirling, twirling fire, like a comet or a bomb and came right for her.

Adelana choked back a scream as instinct made her turn a millisecond before it crashed through her parachute. She couldn't help watch it as it passed by and smashed into the tower. The impact seemed to shake her very soul, but the ship just became nothing against the adamantium surface and barely left a frigging mark.

She turned back to Darrance and his fight; her heart shuddered her entirety. Adrenaline made her hands shake so hard she could barely keep hold of the handles of the parachute's controls. The cooling fans in her bodyglove couldn't begin to cool her or stop the sweat, which covered her as entirely as her bodyglove. The Guncutter pivoted left and right, left and right. Sometimes it would swivel thirty degrees or more, its lascannons and bolters tracing after an attacking craft.

Some of them would just disappear in flashes of fire; some would careen and twist like the first one. All the while, the majority of the heavy bolters issued blast after blast down into the Resurrected below.

But by the throne! The worst of it was the sound! The frigging sound! The shrieking and roaring of the flyers, the hovering jet engines, the bashing bellowing of the bolters and the 'tswuu! Tswuu! Of the lascannons mingled into a cacophony which she couldn't begin to describe. I was like nothing she could've imagined. It was like the roar of a god of unimaginable power in the heights of unimaginable agony. It was a frigging miracle that her eardrums hadn't exploded into nothingness.

All the while, the Guncutter writhed beneath enemy fire, explosions and countless munitions shimmered and sparked across its void shield.

A void shield which Emperor- and Darrance- only knew how much longer it would last for.

It took all of her willpower to tear her attention away and down to the advancing Imperials below.

Adelana bit her lip. They were advancing far faster than she thought possible. They were nearing the tower's entrance fast.

Way too fast.

A lump blocked Adelana's throat.



The exhaustion frigged up Attelus desperate parry, and his sword was flung from his hands with such abruptness, it exploded away like a gunshot. Even still, if he wasn't far beyond the point of exhaustion, he could've snatched out and caught it.

He stumbled back several steps he couldn't begin to count and fell onto his arse. His body heaved and shuddered in its struggle to give him another breath. He shook, by the Emperor did he shake, and the bile kept rising from his throat the very second he would swallow it.

'That's it,' said Kharkartskar. 'You are finally done. By the Blood God that should not have gone for such a long damned time.'

The greater daemon of Khorne raised its huge sword and, without any words, swung down.

A figure almost faster than Attelus' eye could follow darted in, and it sent the daemon's smashing sword sweeping off course.

The figure seemed to materialise into view, its back facing Attelus as three other black figures fell on Kharkarskar.

Attelus' relief was shattered into tiny pieces throughout his chest.

'I hope that you didn't think you had rid yourself of us, son,' said Serghar Kaltos over his shoulder.

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2022/05/12 02:51:57


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

Karmen was down to her last clip, but Kalakor seemed almost done all the while the bellows of his bolter went in rhyme with hers. She couldn't help wonder how a simple line sergeant could have learned such complex sorcery, and she came up with many differing and wild theories.

And none of them was good.

For how long they had stood, surrounding Kalakor and keeping the Resurrected at bay, she could only take an educated guess at and with how much of her psychic strength had returned, at least a couple of minutes.

She stole let another glance at Darrance and the Guncutter above and whispered yet another prayer for him and the void-craft. She also gazed at the slowly falling figure beneath the parachute and wondered if anyone else in the group had noticed her. It was Adelana, and she was heading straight for the advancing Imperial Guard. Which was a mistake as they were so very close to fighting their way towards the tower.

Karmen clenched her jaw and gave Kalakor a look. He was almost finished so that she couldn't land in time with them either-

Then an idea hit her; she could save Adelana but...but should she? This could be a great way of...getting rid of her, and with her dead, Attelus would...

No, that was wrong; despite everything, Adelana was a good person; allowing her to be torn to shreds would be a horrid act, then she would join the Resurrected number. And besides, they needed all the help they could get. Even if it would make it, she couldn't use her psychic power against whatever was waiting for them through the portal.

Karmen reached for her microbead. 'Adelana! Can you hear me?'

'I can...barely, Karmen,' came the young woman's reply, shouting over the wind and the horrid roaring of the dog fight above.

'I need you to unclasp your parachute.'

'What? Say again, please? Did you just ask me to unclasp my parachute?'

'That's exactly what I said, girl. Don't worry; I will use my telekinesis to slow your fall and bring you to us. You must do it now! We are running out of time!'

"How-'

'You just have to trust me! I know we do not get along, but now, now you must. Please.'

Adelana sighed. 'Okay.'

Then she did.



Despite her initial determination not to scream, Adelana couldn't help but shriek so loud it hurt her throat, her lungs. Her arms seemed to gain lives of their own as they flailed about like they believed they could somehow make her fly.

The blood-covered legion below her grew and grew by every split second. But as it seemed she would smash into them and explode into tiny chunks, they seemed to grow a little less. And less until she stopped completely, her feet hanging over the heads of cultists. They noticed and looked up at her; there was a second of alarm on their faces, then they began to raise their weapons.

But before they could shoot, everything was morphed into a blur as Adelana swung almost horizontally toward Emperor only knew where. She screamed again, the terror swirling and making her kick and writhe.

'Adelana, it is me! Please stop struggling. I can barely keep hold of you.'

Adelana furrowed her brow and gritted her jaw, and took control of herself. She straightened, pushing her feet together and her arms against her sides.

Then before she knew it, her feet hit the sand, and she was flung on her side. A strong hand wrapped around her arm and hauled her to her feet, but she was so disorientated she couldn't find a clue who it was, even with his distinctive dark-skinned features. He grinned down at her and said. 'That was one hell of a ride, wasn't it?'

All Adelana could do was nod, and her mind seemed to find itself somewhat. 'T-Torris?'

'That is me,' he said. 'It's good to have you back, young Adelana. But I'm sorry to say we've gotta move!'

Before Adelana could make a response, Torris hauled her over his should and was running. Then the sky and the crowd around her was gone.



Karmen and Kalakor were the first through the portal. Side by side, they lunged into the strange dimension, bolters raised. It took Karmen a few seconds for her head to adjust, and they both lowered them at what they saw.

The Bloodthirster was fighting three- no four figures. It was far too fast for Karmen to make out any detail, but she knew it was Serghar and his lackeys. She had no idea why they were protecting Attelus.

Sitting not far away was Attelus Kaltos; his back was to them as he watched on. His exhaustion was almost palpable even from metres away.

Kalakor was moving, his heavy boots crunching and rocking the floor as he fired from the hip at the daemon.

'Get the boy!' said the Space Marine through the vox.

The sheer power of Kalakor's voice made her run toward Attelus, not daring to shoot at the daemon for fear of it making its attention turn to her and that she might accidentally hit one of the enemy agents.

'Attelus!' she cried. 'Attelus.'

He only turned his attention to her on the second cry of his name. Attelus looked up at her, and she couldn't help slip to a halt; he looked like he must've been fighting for days upon days. His face was utterly beaded with sweat. His long brown was hair soaked through and even messier than normal.

She wanted to wrap her arms around him; the relief of seeing him alive was almost overwhelming. But she-

'Attelus!' cried a voice, and Adelana ran past Karmen, fell into a kneel and crushed him into a hug. Attelus was so exhausted he couldn't pat her back or even smile.

Verenth and Halsin walked by and separated Attelus and Adelana. They then picked up Attelus and placed his arms over their shoulders.

'Kalakor!' Karmen yelled. 'We've got Attelus. We've got to go!'

Kalakor nodded, broke off his shooting and started back toward them. 'I have closed the portal,' said the Space Marine. 'I will open another; it will allow us to get into the tower.'

'How?' said Karmen. 'And why didn't you do that earlier?'

Kalakor shook his head as his finger began to tear into the air. 'I was not within a strange range. That tower is...warded. This dimension is beyond space and time and the immaterium, so it is far safer to do it here than in than anywhere. But even still, it is a risk. And we will not be able to get in far. Those fools will hold the daemon off as we escape.'

'Wait,' said another voice and Torris stepped past. He had slung his shotgun over his shoulder and was carrying his meltagun. 'I'm going to try this.'

Before Karmen could reply, he ran a few metres from the horrid melee; he stopped and raised his melta. Seeming to wait for an opening.

'Torris! Wait!' said Karmen about to follow, but Kalakor's raised hand stopped her.

'Let the fool go if any weapon we have that can hurt the daemon it is that melta... But we cannot risk you-'

The Space Marine was interrupted as Delathasi, Jelket, and Helma sprinted by. Helma and Jelket firing their Hellguns, and Delathasi joined the horrid melee.

'Emperor damn it,' said Kalakor. 'They are just going to get in the way!'

Karmen agreed, but she couldn't do anything but watch. Her marksmanship wasn't good enough, and her psychic power drained for now.

All they could do was wait and hope and pray.

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2022/05/19 05:10:50


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand


Despite being in the midst of the whirling, chaotic melee and smashing and bashing with his precious, now empty long las. Hayden still managed to see the little bitch fall, then suddenly be taken like a child's hand snatching up a doll and fly a long way. That was Karmen; it had to be her using her telekinesis to bring Adelana to them.

Lucky little-

Hayden's commlink beeped into life.

'Hayden,' said Darrance.

'What in the hell do you want, Darrance?' Hayden roared as he smashed in the top of a Velrosian Resurrected's skull. 'I'm in the middle of a frigging battle here!'

'I'm sorry to avert your attention, old friend, but just let me speak. We have worked together for a long time,' said Darrance. 'Over twenty years now. You have been a good friend, a good colleague. You must have saved me on countless occasions now-'

'I saved you far more than you saved me frig you.'

'...Indeed. Do you remember what that Eldar warlock said? That this world, this planet, is infected with chaos. You and I are not the most faithful of the Emperor's...employees, so I think you and I are a bit more liable to be corrupted than the Emperor botherers like Karmen or Hark. And it seems to be getting to you, old friend-'

Hayden screamed through his gritted teeth while kicking a chaos cultist in the chest, cracking in his ribs and sending him flying back.

'Just do not let it get to you, don't let it take over you,' said Darrance. 'You are stronger than this, Hayden. I know it. Just try to gain control of yourself. Hayden? Are you listening to me?'

'Yes!' Hayden shrieked while cracking the butt of his rifle into the side of a Resurrected's skull. He just wanted Darrance to frig off now.

'Alright, alright. I am sorry to distract you; I'm going to be honest with you. I don't think I'll make it out of this alive. That after all these years, old friend, my luck has finally run out. So you take this as my last will and testament. My last words. Even if I do somehow live, you got that.'

Hayden grimaced as he blocked a stabbing bayonet with his long las.

'You get that?'

'Yes! Frig you! Yes!'

'Good, now good luck. My old friend.'

Darrance cut the link.

Hayden scowled and continued to fight. He cursed Darrance's name with every strike and block and parry.

For how long he kept doing this was impossible for him to know.

Just as he didn't know how long it took before the Guncutter exploded.



Torris stood, meltagun raised as he searched for the opening he needed throughout the blurring melee. He only had one shot; if he frigged it up, the daemon would be on him in a split second.

Not just that if he accidentally hit Serghar or one of his minions or Emperor forbids, young Delathasi, it might not have enough power to try to damage it. Combat stimms must've pumped her up to be able to keep up with them. He couldn't help wonder how long those drugs would last.

He couldn't tell which blur was which, but that didn't stop Jelket and Helma from blazing away with their Hellguns.

'Stop,' said Torris over the vox link. 'You two just frigging stop.'

'What?' said Helma. 'Why?'

'I don't know what the frig has come over you; you might hit Delathasi. In fact, you're frigging lucky to not have his her already. And your shots are doing less than nothing to that daemon. Not just that, but you might draw its attention to us!'

'Well,' said Jelket. 'I'm kind of hoping I might accidentally hit Serghar frigging Kaltos. You know?'

'Yeah, but what about Delathasi? This world isn't corrupting us but making us stupider, too. No wonder the arch-enemy use such crap tactics and are so damned undisciplined.'

Helma and Jelket grimaced yet still lowered their weapons.

'What are you going to do, anyway?' said Helma. 'That daemon was taking lascannon blasts straight to the face not long ago. I think we should just let those friggers fight the damn thing and escape through Kalakor's portal-'

'That is lord Kalakor to you, ma'am,' said Jelket.

They exchanged looks then burst out laughing.

Torris waited for their deluge of laughter to finish. 'You saw how the flamers hurt the Bloodletters? A meltagun is just a far more concentrated and powerful flamer. It might hurt this one more than a lascannon. Hopefully.'

Both Jelket and Helma grimaced and exchanged glances. 'I am aware of that, Marcel,' said Helma. 'But a lascannon is concentrated laser. It's hot too, you know.'

'I know that,' said Torris. 'But I don't know the flamer could be symbolic or something. I think beyond the Ordo Hereticus using it to kill heretics. Frigging Imperial Guardsmen knew this better than us, apparently.'

Jelket shrugged. 'We're Ordo Hereticus, not Malleus. Daemons aren't our purview.'

Torris sighed. 'Yeah, I know and mores the frigging pity. We should've been more prepped. We should've had a blank in our team at the very least.'

Torris changed the channel before they could reply. 'Delathasi. Disengage when I give you the word.'

'Ac-knowledged.'

'Even if you somehow manage to kill it,' said Helma. 'How do you know it just won't be back in material space in a few minutes?'

Torris grimaced and clenched his teeth. 'I suppose I have...faith,' he said.



Verenth managed to tear his attention from the battle to the limp, almost lifeless form of Attelus Kaltos. He frowned.

'You awake?' said Verenth.

Attelus muttered a barely audible, 'yes.' And nodded like a badly controlled marionette.

Despite himself, Verenth couldn't help smile. 'History repeats itself, eh? Remember how we were in this situation three years ago? Except it wasn't me and Halsin, but...but...'

Attelus suddenly wretched, leaned forward and vomited so violently Verenth couldn't help fear he might be going into spasm.

He waited for Attelus to recover himself and spit out the rest of his bile.

'Hayden said something interesting,' said Verenth. 'That you believed you were immortal or something. Is that true?'

'I do, although I have yet to die to...find out...proper,' said Attelus. 'Are you...asking if when...I promised that when...we are...finished with this, you could kill...me. That I knew...then and was manipulating you?'

'Yeah,' said Verenth, his gaze fixed on Attelus. 'I don't know if I want to still do that anymore. I see the bigger picture now. But I still need to know.'

Attelus laughed or at least tried to as it came out as wheezing. 'That's more...than...fair enough. And more...than fair enough...you would suspect...me of...that. Me...being me...after all.'

'Did you or didn't you?'

Attelus looked at Verenth, clasping their gazes together. 'I swear, Verenth. I didn't find out until later of my immortality. I'm sorry, I destroyed yours, Arlathan's and Adelana's home.'

He looked at her, and she focused her beautiful blue gaze. His hazel and tears began to well in his eyes. 'I failed at stopping them destroying it. I failed in defeating my father. And now I can't even keep this promise to you. I'm sorry, Verenth.'

Verenth couldn't even begin to think of a response, so he looked to Kalakor as he slowly opened his tear in this 'reality.'

And frowned.


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

Tathe reloaded his laspistol for what seemed the millionth time and blasted a flurry from the hip, taking down about seven Resurrected charging for him, all of them seemed to have Adreen's face, but he ignored it. Did his father think him so sentimental? So pathetic? He was an Imperial commissar; maybe he was a nice one, too nice. But he'd never baulked in the service of the Golden Throne.

He couldn't help flinching a little, but not because he parried the chainaxe of a Resurrected then impaling him through the chest, but because he had realised that wasn't true. He'd baulked from rebelling against Serghar and his cronies.

Well, now he would make sure that wouldn't happen again.

Without the covering fire of the Guncutter, they had slowed down to a jog, but that hardly mattered; the entrance was only ten or so metres away.

'Sir,' came Dellenger's voice over the vox, but Tathe ignored it. 'Sir!'

Tathe decapitated a Velrosian sergeant as he lunged at him with a chainsword.

'Sir!' yelled Dellenger.

'Whaaat?' Tathe roared as he cleaved a cultist's skull down the middle.

'You're laughing.'

Tathe hesitated in pulling the trigger of his laspistol at the Despasian guardsman charging him with a bayonet, so Dellenger cut him down with a single shot.

He was right. How the hell didn't he know that?

'Sir, you're losing it. You and everyone else.'

Tathe roared through clenched teeth as he sliced across the armoured chest of a charging Sovrithian NCO. He wanted to tell Dellenger to shut up. That he was an Imperial-frigging-commissar, and he had no right to speak to him with such egregious disrespect.

But he held his tongue, and he didn't know why.

'Listen to me, sir,' said Dellenger. 'Don't let this get to you. What would Adreen want?'

'Adreen would want us to reach the objective!' Tathe snarled. 'She would want us to slaughter all in our way! Why do you have to ask such inane questions now of all times?'

'Yes,' said Dellenger. 'But would she want you to lose your soul in the process?'

'Lose my soul? What a load of ridiculousness.'

'No!' said Dellenger, and Tathe couldn't help flinching. 'Don't talk like that. You know it's not...You know it's not.'

'Shut up,' said Tathe. 'I am a killer, Dellenger. You are too. Don't think for even a second that we are human. We will reach that tower at any cost, no matter who or what gets in my way. Are you getting in my way, scout trooper?'

There was a long pause, so long that Tathe hoped the scout had actually: "shut up."

'You're right, sir,' said Dellenger. 'It's so true that we are able to kill even while we debate philosophy. But isn't that all the more important that we keep that last small sliver of our humanity? We were humans first before we were shaped into killers. Unlike Space Marines, we never gave up our humanity in His service. Not completely, so we should treasure what we have left and hold onto it until death. This is the precipice, sir. If you keep going on as you are, the corruption will take you and everyone else who fight alongside us.'

Tathe clenched his teeth, unable to find any way to argue with the scout. Even from the founding, Dellenger had known things, things that no normal trooper should know. About the Xenos, the daemon. Tathe had wondered why, but he neglected to push it as his father had always seemed to accept it, even having the scout as an advisor on these matters. It was Dellenger's knowledge that had allowed them to know that fire was so effective against daemons. His almost inhuman fighting skill was also...out of the ordinary.

The commissar snarled a silent curse as he decapitated yet another enemy. Dellenger was right, frig it!

He just hoped it wasn't too late to be able to come back from that precipice.

Tathe glanced at the men around him; the few left he had fought battle after battle with over the years and from their insane smiles and screams of blood lust, a mirror of the Resurrected's own.

And tears welled, thick and swirling all through his gaze.

But it was then that the large double doors into the tower suddenly grew, and Tathe ran through and were the first to step inside the objective finally.



Torris, Helma and Jelket watched on. Helma's and Jelket's earlier amusement had melted away, replaced by utter awe.

For Emperor only knew how long Serghar and his cronies and Delathasi fought the daemon.

The speed, the inhuman skill which Jelket's gaze couldn't even follow made him clench his teeth. There was nothing he could do if he tried to fight with them, bayonet fixed, he would get in the way. If he tried to shoot, he might just hit one of the freaks. Something he wouldn't regret, but it might just allow the daemon to break free and attack them.

Jelket managed to tear his gaze from the fight and to Torris and wondered when he would finally fire his meltagun and, most importantly, how the hell Torris would know when to shoot.

The man had always struck Jelket as strange, being so dark-skinned but apparently hailing from a hive world how he could read people so preternaturally well. How he could be so calm, rational and detached about some things, yet so anger ridden and almost hateful about others. He was a contradiction of the highest order.

Jelket's vox bead beeped into life.

'Everyone, regroup,' said Karmen's voice. 'It won't be long until Kalakor has penetrated the veil; we must be ready.'

'What about Delathasi?' said Torris. 'We can't just leave her. This might be our only chance to destroy this daemon.'

'I will call her when we are about to leave,' said Karmen. 'It will be up to her to make it. Torris, you have to-'

'No, screw you!' said Torris. 'We have to do this. I have to do this. Let me try!'

'It's fruitless, Tor,' said Karmen. 'We are just going to leave Serghar, and his...agents take care of it. You don't know whether your melta will make that much of a difference, didn't you see how the lascannons of the Guncutter did almost nothing? Get over here, now!'

Torris clenched his teeth.

'Do not...worry about...me, Torris,' said Delathasi. 'This is my function...I...I will stay, although I am slowing...the drugs are...wearing...off.'

Jelket wanted to say something, but in truth, he couldn't find who he sided with. Again he found himself useless.

'I-' Torris straightened. 'Delathasi, move, now!'

Jelket looked back to the daemon a split second before Torris opened fire.

To Jelket's peripheral vision, it seemed to take tens of minutes to travel through the air. Wavering and winding like a pillar of magma but much, much brighter, headed straight for the daemon.

Jelket looked away to see a blur which Jelket hoped was Delathasi, waver away from the fight. For that whole time and with bated breath, Jelket expected the daemon to move like its enemies. To materialise tens of metres away or even behind him. It seemed logical. Or at least logical to the illogical rules of this place.

For all his thirty-six years, never had he been hit with such a powerful wave of surprise when the melta hit the daemon right in the chest then burst out of its back.

The roar of utter agony which burst from its maw shook everything, and Jelket pushed the palms of his gloved hands against the sides of his helmet. But no matter how hard he pushed, it couldn't begin to eclipse it. The daemon reeled and rocked, stumbled back, then fell into a kneel, stopping itself from dropping onto its face with the top of its axe. Its whimpering and snorting were so pained, so pathetic, Jelket almost couldn't help feel somewhat sorry for it.

Then Serghar and his minions seemed to materialise into unreality; all four of them stood over the daemon and seemed unscathed somehow.

Serghar held a small, simple knife in his right hand and a crackling power sword in his left.

'Ohh Kharkartskar,' he said. 'That is not your real name, but it suffices. You tried, you so so tried. But it's all for nothing. Not even you nor your god-like masters can fight the fate we have been making. And guess what?'

The daemon snorted a response.

'You like my son are...daemonic, this eternal...Or even...perpetual.'

Even from such distance, Jelket could see the blood-red eyes of the daemon widen with what may have been fear.

Then, much to Jelket's surprise, Serghar sliced the daemon from the crotch to skull with the tiny knife.

The daemon didn't roar but screamed a pitched, almost feminine shriek which no creature like that should've been able to do. Then it shattered into thousands of minuscule shards.

Serghar and his cronies turned away and began to approach. A horrible smile was on Serghar's face.

Jelket and Helma managed to get over their surprise to raise their guns on them.

The vox beeped again, and Karmen cried. 'Get out of there!'

'Oh, lower your weapons,' said Serghar. 'They are useless against us. You, Marcel Torris, I must say you did well, very well indeed. But...'

Torris raised his meltagun; his glare was beyond intimidating.

'You still might have killed me then,' said Serghar. 'And you are a mere nothing in the eyes of fate, so you now must die,'

Helma, Jelket and Torris went to open fire, but before any of them could pull the trigger. Serghar had exploded the distance and sliced Torris' melta in half.

Jelket and Helma tried to draw a bead on Serghar, but in the next microsecond, Jelket was off his feet, his vision spinning, his Hellgun flung from his hands. Then a foot planted on his back, pinning him to the ground.

'For the Emperor,' said Serghar.


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

Attelus' power sword sent Serghar's stabbing blade off course. Then Attelus' round-house kick smashed into the side of the female agent who had Helma pinned. His front kick crashed into the curved swordsman's jaw, which shattered it and sent him spinning and writhing to the floor. Attelus sent out a horizontal slash which forced Serghar to stumble back.

The short-swordsman was about to lunge for Attelus but was forced back, dodging and weaving through Helma's and Jelket's fire.

Attelus deactivated his power-sword and used it as a lean-to to keep his feet. His gaze fixed on Serghar.

'You...petty...son of a bitch!' Attelus gasped. 'Torris saved your arse and...this...is...'

Attelus swayed on his feet but suddenly regained himself, then raised his sword and aimed the tip at Serghar. 'You can...cut me...gut me...or anything but if you try to hurt any of my people again. I will use everything within me to stop you...even if you have to kill...me!'

Serghar grimaced. 'You are aware your soul will be trapped in here along with that daemons. And forever.'

'I know.'

Serghar's snake-like gaze narrowed and fixated on Attelus'. Attelus didn't flinch. And Serghar's agents regrouped around him. Swords readied. While Helma, Jelket and Torris did the same around Attelus.

After about half a minute, Serghar sighed, shook his head and nodded. 'I do not know whether I should be impressed or sickened by you.'

He raised his hand, making his agents lower their weapons. 'Your foolish sentiment for your worthless underlings has placed you in needless danger. But you still have managed to make us stand down. So...the ends justifies the means here, I suppose. I am...actually...impressed...maybe even...proud. Excellent work, my son.'

With that, Serghar turned and, with his agents tailing him- walked away.

Attelus collapsed to his knees and would've fallen on his face if Torris and Helma didn't stop him.

'By the Emperor,' said Torris. 'That took some serious frigging balls, kid.'

'D-did you mean it?' said Helma, her voice in hushed awe.

Attelus laughed. 'If I didn't, my father would've known, trust me.'

There was a long pause.

'Thanks,' said Torris. 'I...owe you.'

Attelus wanted to tell Torris that was one of the biggest understatements in a million years but felt it would be better to remain silent. Besides, he could barely breathe in the first anyway.

Attelus' vox beeped, and Kalakor's thunderous voice echoed through his ear and pulsed his skull.

'The portal is open. Hurry it up; I cannot keep it open for much longer.'

There was a pause, but Kalakor didn't cut the link. 'You did well, Marcel Torris and Attelus Kaltos. You did well.'

Attelus couldn't help curse as he was carried toward Kalakor's portal entrance. It was a literal tear in the air like a serrated knife had sawed through a thin cloth. He had no idea what would be lying on the other side of it. That was all the more reason why they needed his blade at the front, perhaps one of the most critical times to have his sword up front, but here he was, beyond the point of exhaustion and frigging useless.

He just hoped Kalakor would be enough. Despite this, he couldn't help but smile; he was only like this because he was forced to hold his own against a Greater Daemon, one of the most dangerous, if not the most dangerous, things in the entire galaxy. A Greater Daemon which had needed the combined efforts of his father, three of his agents, Delathasi and Torris, to take down. At least he could take some pride in that.

Jelket was bridal carrying Delathasi, who seemed barely alive in his arms. The stimms and the last vestiges of adrenaline had run out for the young apprentice a long time ago. It was beyond impressive that she could survive against Kharkartskar for so long, even with the help of his father and his agents. Despite it not being too long since his defeat at his father's hands, Attelus couldn't help feel if and when he fought Serghar again, it wouldn't be anywhere nearly as one-sided.

If she managed to survive this mission, she had a bright future ahead of her, and Attelus would make sure to recommend she be promoted. And make frigging sure Darrance do the same.

She more than damn well deserved it.

Jelket's gaze met Attelus. 'She really didn't want to fight that daemon, Attelus. But when it came to it, she still didn't hesitate.'

Attelus nodded as much as it annoyed him that she too could not help; he couldn't help admire her more.

Kalakor's sigh burst from the grill of his helmet. 'I suppose that I must take point?'

Attelus smiled. 'I thought the mighty warriors of the Adeptus Astartes knew no fear.'

'You dare question my courage. I...' the Space Marine wandered off in his sentence. 'I see you are joking.'

Attelus nodded. 'Yep. Because...that's what friends do...we joke around and make fun of each other. And I would like to count you as a friend, Kalakor. Could you consider me your friend, too?'

Kalakor studied Attelus before finally giving a slight, almost perplexed nod.

Karmen sighed and rolled her eyes but still smiled. 'Alright enough. We've got to move.'

So everyone turned and began for the portal, and Attelus swallowed. Wondering what was waiting for them on the other side.



Tathe stopped as a shivering cold coursed through him. He expected to find another Resurrected horde waiting for them, but it wasn't, not at all.

It was a horde, but it wasn't former Imperial Guardsmen or cultists that stood and sat, packed throughout the vast lobby.

It was the civilians, hundreds of dirty, dishevelled Imperial civilians, most of them looked at him with wide-eyed fear like vermin caught in torchlight.

'What?' said Tathe and Dellenger, and many others slipped past him, guns raised to cover the civilians. Tathe couldn't help flinching as someone closed the doors into the tower behind them. As far as he knew, all of the civilians had been killed during the conflict between the forces of chaos and the PDF before the arrival of Imperial reinforcements.

These people must be Resurrected, but...yet none of them attacked. They just withered and whined away from the guardsmen like a herd of sheep collapsing from a dog herding them. They did it in such haste Tathe couldn't help fear they might start trampling each other.

But there was very little room for them to move, so blocking Tathe and his men from advancing further, at least in any productive capacity.

'W-what do we do?' said one of the Sovrithan troopers. 'What in the God-Emperor's name is going on in here?'

'I-It has to be an illusion,' said trooper Goret, a Despasian trooper, her voice high pitched with fear, and her gaze met Tathe's, her eyes pleading for him to agree with her. 'The great enemy playing games with us! It-it's gotta be!'

Tathe knew he had to step up and speak, and as he opened his mouth, another voice interrupted him.

'It's a trick!' and everyone turned to find it was the Throne Agent, Vark. 'It's a frigging trick. They are heretics brought back to seem like civilians, so we put off our guard and open to an ambush.'

'What?' shrieked a woman in the crowd, and they began to wither away even faster.

Tathe wanted to say something but found he was unable to argue with the throne agent's logic.

'Kill them,' said Vark. 'We need to kill them all, now.'

No one hesitated to raise their weapons - no one but Tathe and Dellenger.

'Stop!' yelled someone, and they did lower their weapons and looked to Tathe, and it took the commissar a good few seconds to realise he was the one who'd spoken.

'Stop?' said Dantian. 'What in the God-Emperor's name do you mean by stop, commissar? Even if they aren't Resurrected, they must be corrupted! They can't have been in here for all this time and not be.'

'Then what about us?' said Tathe as he turned to face his men, the tip of his sword pointing at them. 'I...I cannot help believe this is a test, and if we give in and kill them, we'll fail.'

Or pass, he thought cynically.

'What else can we do?' said Hayden. 'They are in our way, and we must move.'

Tathe's jaw twitched, and he began to lower his sword but stopped as a thought suddenly hit him. 'I can't...No. I won't let you do this. We are going to push our way through them; that is an order!' There was something strange about this. Why was the door open for them? If there was a time for them to kill Tathe and his men truly, it was when they were driving through the choke point of the door. But that could be because his father, in all his desperation, had thrown all his tactical prowess out the metaphorical door. But Tathe doubted that.

'Frag you,' said Dantian. 'I am an actual officer, not some commissar playing at commander. I am in command here, and I order you to step aside.'

Dellenger stepped to stand beside Tathe, lasgun lowered but ready. He didn't say anything, and neither did he need to, as many of the Imperial Guard force flinched back in fear, even a few of the Sovrithians.

'No,' said Tathe. 'If you are going to kill these people, you will have to kill me first.'

'When did you become so frigging caring about the civvies?' said sergeant Tegrod. 'We haven't got time for this. We don't wanna kill you.'

'I have cared for a long while, Tegrod,' said Tathe. 'If we knew where they were when we first invaded, I would have plead the case to my father to try to help them.'

'Why did we never get told about this?' said trooper Stelkste.

'Because I would always plead in private,' said Tathe; he frowned, seeing he couldn't appeal to the humanity, he decided to try their pragmatism, but he doubted that would work even less.

'Look! We might've been quite recently re-supplied, but we have burned through a lot of that fighting our way into the tower if there's a chance that-'

'Excuse me,' said a voice, a voice which was gruff and ravaged by age but yet still projected itself throughout the massive room with the ease of a gifted orator.

Tathe turned to its source, and an old man in what could've been in his late sixties was making his way through the crowd of haggard civilians. He was just as dirty and damaged as the rest so much, so his clothing was unrecognisable but wasn't nearly as cowed or hunched. Tathe figured him some priest of the Ecclesiarchy or a local aristocrat.

'Before you gun us all down on the mere suspicion of us being heretics, would you allow us to speak for ourselves?'

'Depends,' said Tathe, trying to mask his relief, this man seemed far more rational and calm than almost all of his men, but that didn't guarantee anything. 'Who are you?'

'I am Delethain priest of the Ministorum. And I can assure you that I am not a heretic. I have been a loyal servant of His holiness the almighty God-Emperor of Mankind for-'

'Shut it!' snapped Hark. 'Your words mean nothing. Heretics speak nothing but lies. Even if they do not even know it.'

Tathe licked his teeth, unable to argue with the Throne Agent's point there. But beyond the strangeness of all of this, something else was even stranger.

'How dare you disrespect me, young man,' said the priest. 'I am a man of the Emperor; I speak his words-'

'And I am an agent of His most Holy ordos tasked to hunt down heretics, and you forget to acknowledge that we are the ones aiming weapons on you.'

To his credit, the priest showed no fear. 'I do not understand this attitude. What is going on? None of you is of our Planetary Defence Force. Have the Imperial Guard already arrived to fight off the invasion?'

There was a long pause.

'What do you mean by "already"?' said Tathe.

The priest finally seemed off-footed, as did all of the civilians around him as they exchanged looks. 'We...have only been hiding in her for about an hour. So, will you inform us what is going on out there? And how did you get in? We had the doors closed.'

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2022/06/23 09:45:42


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

Attelus and the others emerged into a wide, well lit plastcrete corridor. At the end of it, perhaps fifteen metres away, there were the tops two separate large escalators and opened out into what might've been the tower's main lobby. Kalakor's bolter switched about as he prowled forwards, somehow as silent as the void despite his heavy boots.

It took Attelus a few seconds for his dazed, exhausted mind to realise that everything was utterly intact after all the time being in a city of ruined buildings; it was like stepping onto a whole new world. Even the subtle rumble of the air circulation unit was in his ears.

He'd expected to emerge into more fighting, by the Emperor was he sick of fighting and couldn't imagine how tired the likes of commissar Tathe and his men were of it.

War was gak Attelus had seen this himself; it had destroyed his home, his city, his country and his world. It'd almost destroyed him. But until now, he'd seemed to have forgotten this somehow. It was funny how humans have such short memories.

'Hmm,' said Helma as she aimed her Hellgun from the hip with one hand as she and Torris carried Attelus arms over their shoulders. 'Thought there'd be Resurrected around for sure.'

Attelus looked at Karmen. 'You can't have a look around, Karmen?'

She nodded and frowned before closing her bright blue eyes.

She did this for only a few seconds before opening them again. 'No, I'm afraid I can't. Something is keeping me from leaving my corporeal form; it's much stronger than in the city.'

'That is hardly a surprise,' said Kalakor. 'This is the epicentre, the source of the corruption of this damned world.'

Karmen shot the Space Marine with a glare so withering, Attelus couldn't help flinch from it.

'Tell me, sergeant, how did you become such an adept sorcerer?'

'I learned how.'

'That isn't an answer.'

'It is.'

Karmen's power armoured hands opened and closed, her jaw twitched.

'That is all the answer you will get,' said Kalakor. 'Now, will you waste more time glaring at me, or will you attempt to do something useful?'

'You will answer when we are done.'

A distorted bark of a laugh erupted from Kalakor's helmet grill. 'You may believe what you want. I cannot stop you.'

The Space Marine turned his back on her and began his advance again.

'Calm down, please, Karmen,' said Attelus as they began to follow Kalakor.

Karmen turned her glare on Attelus. +You do not actually trust him, do you? I heard you calling him a 'friend', or is that you doing your manipulations?+

Attelus shrugged. He saved my life, Karmen.

+And so did your damned father.+

Attelus tried to think of a retort but couldn't; she had a frigging good point.

+He is a sorcerer, Attelus. He is not a mere front-line officer as much as a Space Marine can be 'a mere front-line officer.' You know that sorcery is a tool of chaos.+

Yes, you're right. In all honesty, I did feel something off about him but was forgetting that; thank you for reminding me. I will keep an eye on him, but if he decides to turn against us, there's nothing I can do in my current condition. And Torris' meltagun was destroyed. And I've seen first hand just how effective hellguns are on a Marine.

+Don't worry,+ said Karmen. +Just leave the marine to me.+

Scepticism flared through Attelus, but he nodded, deciding to humour her just in the hope she'd let the subject lie. She was right; Kalakor couldn't be trusted, but now he didn't need the distraction of her nagging him about it.

Karmen nodded back and looked forwards. Attelus couldn't have been gladder she couldn't read his mind right then.

Then Attelus turned to Kalakor's huge back and wondered; whether he could read minds as well.

A few seconds later, Kalakor stepped into the foyer, his bolter sweeping about, but when he saw something to the right, the escalators went down; he lowered his bolter and turned back to them.

'I think all of you should see this,' he said.



'What?' said someone that Tathe couldn't have begun to comprehend who.

The priest frowned. 'The...attack seemed to come out of nowhere, they bombed us from orbit, and their ships flew, and I gathered as many people as I could to take the shelter in here. Many of us died on the way here, and they began to land their...cultists, and...What is going on? Since we ran in here, we have heard nothing that's going on outside and haven't seen any officials or-'

'What a load of gak-' snarled Vark.

He was interrupted by the screeching of the speakers through the lobby, which caused everyone to a man flinched; it lasted a good few seconds before a sigh took its place.

'He tells the truth, you fool,' said general Tathe. 'Of course, he is. It was hoped that you would just kill them, but my soft-hearted son had to step forward and stop it, didn't you, Delan? Didn't you? Oh, how I'm disappointed in you, you are meant to be a commissar! To be beyond pathetic sentimentality.'

Tathe frowned.

'But that doesn't matter,' said general Tathe. 'Because you must slaughter them no matter what.'



Attelus, still being carried by Helma and Torris, emerged from the hallway; the foyer was even bigger than he first thought; four escalators led down dozens of metres into the entryway where a vast fountain was made of white marble. Still, of course, it spewed out blood, but that wasn't what drew his attention, wasn't that.

'What in the Emperor's name,' he said.

Looming over it was a swirling ball of blue energy, which somehow didn't give off any light.

Attelus tore his attention to Kalakor. 'What the hell is that?'

Kalakor didn't answer; he just looked back at Attelus, seemed to straighten, then raised his bolter and opened fire.



'What do you mean?' said Tathe as he exchanged a scowling look with Dellenger.

'I am glad you asked. You are trapped inside a sub-dimension gifted unto me by the gods; You will be trapped here until you slaughter these worthless peons. If you do not, you, along with...them, will starve to death. If you want to reach me, if you wish to continue to fight for your Emperor, to keep all your fighting from coming to nothing, all you need to do is sacrifice a few hundred worthless souls.'

'And give our souls to your gods in the process!' said Dellenger.

Tathe couldn't help glance at the scout, never had he heard Dellenger be so emotional before.

The general laughed then the speakers whined and died.

There was a long weighted silence then confusion began to spread through the Imperial Guard ranks.

'Are they truly loyal?'

'We cannot trust him.'

'What's going on?'

'We've got to kill them.'

Were only a few of the exclamations.

Tathe rolled his eyes, then suddenly had to fight the urge to close them; he was exhausted beyond frigging exhausted. His whole body felt like it was made of strings, but he drew from his last vestiges of energy he had to shout for them to quiet down.

But he didn't need to as the priest stepped forwards and roared, 'Be silent!'

And everyone did.

'I am ready to sacrifice myself so that you can bring justice to a heretic, but my people d-'

'You needn't worry, good man,' said Tathe as a thought hit him. 'We aren't going to hurt any of you.'

'But you heard what your father said!' said Vark.

'Yes, I did; it was pretty frigging hard not to hear. But you forget something, agent of the throne.'

'What?'

'You forget that your friends are still out there, and they might be able to get us out of here, so we will not kill these innocent civilians. We are going to wait, understood.'

'No, not under-'

Vark was interrupted by Tathe lying down on the floor.

'What in the God-Emperor's name are you doing?' cried Vark, his voice shrill.

'Taking some time for sleep, by the Emperor...I need it, and I'm sure all of you need one too.'

'How can you do this?' said Vark.

'I have faith, Throne Agent,' said Tathe as the tiredness began to overtake him. 'I have faith in your...friends...Or are you...a heretic?'



The Space Marine's bolter rounds flew straight past Attelus head, and his eyes managed to follow them before they exploded on a kine shield, a kine shield which was projected by a staff which was held in the claws of a blue, beaked daemon, and rainbow wings sticking from its back. The feathers that covered it seemed like they were made from bark too, its beady milky white eyes were also circular.

It stood at about two metres tall, and somehow Attelus knew its blank gaze was on him.

'Ahh, Kalakor, you should know by now how ineffective your pathetic projectiles would be against me,' it sneered. 'And Attelus Kaltos, Karmen Kons it has been a while.'

Attelus managed to tear his attention from it to glance at Karmen, who seemed to share his bemusement.

'For you, anyway,' it said. 'It has been three years after all.'

'W-wait three years?' blurted Attelus. 'You mean during the Omnartus incident?'

'Oops, I said too much,' the daemon giggled, but it didn't seem to regret its slip of the tongue. 'Maybe? You're such a special, pretty little free-thinker, so I am sure you can figure that out for yourself. Anyway, you will not pass, and you will not interfere with my little dimensional ball there.'

'The little dimensional ball which contains the remaining Imperial Guard?' said Kalakor. 'Where are the Bloodletters? The Resurrected?'

'Oh, Kalakor, I wonder how long it took for your enhanced Space Marine brain to figure that out. Kharkartskar and his minions have failed, so I am here to succeed.'

'So, if we kill you, it'll release them?' said Karmen.

'May-haps,' said the daemon. 'Although, I am what you ignorant mortals deem as a daemon, so "Kill" is not the correct term-'

Kalakor's and everyone else's weapons opened up; the hell shots only scored against the daemon's shield as Kalakor's bolter shots just exploded.

The barrage made Attelus wince and lasted a few seconds before dying down.

The daemon sighed and placed its clawed hand against its face. 'All of you are the same! Always trying to solve your problems with blades and bullets and lasers.'

'We have more than that,' said Karmen as she started forward, hands raised.

The daemon's beak curled into a smile. 'Of course, you do, but do you seriously think that you, a mere human psyker, can match me in psychic might? Especially after all that exertion, your own poor mortal form. You better hurry, or you will run out of time.'

Karmen kept on, her face harder than Attelus had ever seen before. 'It is lying, Attelus. I can sense it now; the source of this all of this is at the top of this tower, as we thought. I will hold this daemon off while you and the others go.'

Attelus swore that the daemon smiled ever so slightly more for the slightest of split seconds when Karmen said it was lying.

It sighed again. 'Seems there is no fooling you, oh well.'

With a swipe of its claws, dozens of things exploded into existence in flares of white light. Some had pink, scaly skin; some were blue and had long, gaping mouths in the middle of their torsos. Rows of sharp, rotting teeth jutted out from their maws as they snarled. They had three arms, one on the left, two on the right and flames blazed on their clawed hands. Tentacles writhed from the back of its body.

'Pink horrors,' said Kalakor, raising his bolter. 'Karmen?'

'On it,' said Karmen as she brought up a kine shield just before the pink horrors began to fling their fireballs.



The adamantium walls around them began to vibrate, making Tathe waken. It took almost all of his will, as the second he closed them, they seemed gummed together.

'W-what's going on?' said one of the civilians.

'I don't know,' said Dellenger. 'But I can tell you that it isn't going to be good.'

Tathe crawled to his feet, rubbing his eyes.

Then the floor began to vibrate.

Panic started to rip its way through the people around him.

Tathe opened his mouth to call for calm but was cut short as the speakers shrieked into life again.

'I had told you what you had to do,' said the general. 'But you refused.'

The place rocked harder, sending a few falling off their feet.

'Did you truly think you could just do nothing, that you can just lie down and sleep and there would be no consequence?'

The walls, the entire room, then began to close on them like a gigantic sphere slowly.

'But it isn't too late, my son. You can still free yourself and your men.'

Shrieks rose.

'All you need do is slaughter these pointless animals. It's either just them or all of you.'

Tathe clenched his teeth.


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in us
Fresh-Faced New User




Just joined and wanted to say I really enjoy your stories, keep up the good work, I am always looking forward to the next chapter after you post a new one.
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

giff07 wrote:
Just joined and wanted to say I really enjoy your stories, keep up the good work, I am always looking forward to the next chapter after you post a new one.


Well! First of all, welcome to the forum! I hope you enjoy it here! And thanks for the nice comment. I'm glad you're enjoying it and I hope you keep enjoying it. Thanks again!

"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

For a reason lost to Attelus, the las, hellgun fire, and Kalakor's bolt rounds proved far more effective against the Pink Horrors than the Bloodthirsters before as many were torn and sliced apart, but it barely made a dent in the daemonic ranks. Their flames crashed against Karmen's kineshield in blooms of expanding explosions like opening flower petals. Attelus frowned, oh how he wished he could burst forward and tear through them like a whirlwind. If his and Delathasi's close combat abilities were needed, it was sure as hell now.

+Get into cover!+ Karmen cried. +I can only handle one more!+

The throne agents and Kalakor scattered, firing from the hip. Adelana, Helma, Torris and Jelket right. Kalakor, Verenth and Halsin left, running for the cover of the twelve long gardens surrounded by one metre high walls, along the room's length.

Torris and Helma dropped Attelus on his side as the others took up firing positions.

Attelus managed to make himself sit upright to watch Karmen; she still had her shield up, but he could see the strain on her face as she slipped toward the left.

He watched with his breath lodged in his throat, expecting for the kine shield to die in any millisecond then for her to be eclipsed in daemonic flames. Flames which Attelus couldn't help believe would melt through her armour like it was made from plasteek, and he couldn't help clenching his teeth as the image of her being eclipsed in daemonic fire flashed through his thoughts, her shrieking popped into his ears as she writhed and melted like wax.

But it was gone the split-second Karmen managed to dive into cover.

Attelus managed to exhale; then he frowned; Kalakor was right; damn it, he did care too much. He wished his feelings for Karmen would go the frig away. He gave Adelana a glance; her face was set hard as she fired her lasgun over the wall. He wished his feelings for her would go away too.

He pulled himself further to look at the daemons raining fireballs towards them. They were being cut down left and right by his friend's fire. But every time a pink daemon died, two smaller blue ones grew from the remains like mushrooms rapidly growing from a tree. Behind them, the beaked daemon stood watching on, as it seemed to make more abominations appear into reality with swings of its staff.

Attelus wished even more that he could help. Then an idea came to him, and he fixed his gaze on Halsin, who was looking over the still unconscious Delathasi. With a shaking sore hand, he reached to open his vox-link, he didn't like this, but there was no choice here at all. '

'Halsin! 'Halsin!'

Halsin's attention snapped to Attelus. 'Yes?'

'I need you to see if she still has any combat enhancement stimms remaining.'

'Why?'

Attelus fought back a sigh and rolled his eyes; how can someone so smart be so dumb? 'For me! So I can fight, frig you.'

'I advise against it,' said Halsin. 'You do not use it often, and it takes a long time of taking smaller doses progressively getting larger before one can take it proper. If you do not, you could lose control of yourself-'

'I know...I frigging know,' said Attelus, trying to keep calm. 'But I have to try if I don't...we won't make it for much longer.'

'It could cause you irreversible muscular and artery-'

'Halsin, only a few hours ago I was stabbed...no impaled right through the stomach. And I mean literally, impaled right through. I should be good. Now please look.'

The young medicae nodded and began rifling through the Delathasi's pouches as Attelus watched with bated breath, hoping she still had at least one.

It took him about half a minute to stop and hold up a syringe. 'She has three left, but-'

'Throw them over here.'

Halsin grimaced and, with all of his strength, threw them, one by one; each landed right next to Attelus with impressive accuracy, and Attelus scooped them up, slipped two into the pouch on the back of his belt and tore off the plasteek cover off the needle of one.

'With your enhanced metabolism, I calculate the drug's effect will last half the time for a normal person, so around five to six minutes,' said Halsin. 'Once it has run its course, it is advised to wait at least half an hour before using again, but that is, again, only if one has built up an immunity-'

Halsin was interrupted by Attelus jamming the needle into his neck.

Pain immediately pumped through him, and Attelus felt all of his veins and muscles harden. He rose his chin, and his teeth clenched by themselves. His fingers curled. Faleaseen hadn't only made his skeletal structure almost indestructible but also increased his muscle density to ten times that of an average human. It was one of the ways the drug worked, so he wasn't sure if it would help him. But the aching in his limbs seemed to melt away, the pain throughout every inch of his musculature was replaced by a dull ache which pulsed inside his veins, but he found he was able to move again.

The edges of his vision tunnelled with a black haze, and everything blurred with black and grey lines and slowed.

Attelus writhed as a strange sensation bubbled in his chest and from there grew to the tips of his toes and fingers, but it never went away.

Adrenaline pumped inside him like never before, and he drew his sword. His breaths exploded from him in ragged gasps. For all of his professional career as a mercenary assassin and later, a Throne Agent, he had refused to use combat stimms; it was more out of pragmatism than much else, he believed and still did that if one became too dependant on them if one was caught off guard without it, they could be useless. Until now, he had never needed to.

He hoped he wouldn't have to again, but it seemed the pragmatic thing to do in this situation, and he won't hesitate to use it afterwards. To push himself to finish this, to retrieve the sword of Kalncerak, defeat general Tathe.

Attelus straightened, and that was the last thought before the killing urge overtook him.



Adelana was forced to duck down yet again as the daemon flames flew her way. She checked her lasgun's load and found it three-quarters empty. She sighed and shook her head; she dearly wished she hadn't lost her bolter; it'd be far more effective against them. They were killing daemon after daemon despite their small numbers. Still, with every one of the pink ones breaking apart to make smaller blue ones and their leader continuously summoning more, their ammunition wasn't going to last much longer, then they'd be pinned and flanked and slaughtered.

She glanced over to Kalakor and Karmen as they shot theirs and pursed her lips, then she noticed Attelus, he was twitching and writhing, sitting with his back against the parapet, his sword in hand. It looked like he was having some kind of seizure.

Adelana furrowed her brow, concern welling within her, and she opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong; then he shot to his feet, spun and leapt over the wall, then exploded forward like a madman, charging for the daemonic horde, sword blazing into blue life.

He was a blur as he swayed and slipped through the countless fireballs the daemons tried to throw his way, then he was in amongst them, slashing and stabbing. Slaying like a whirlwind but without any of his usual skill or finesse.

'W-what?' she said.

The voxlink beeped into life, and Kalakor's deep timbre erupted through it.

'Everyone, focus your fire on the leader,' he growled. 'Hold nothing back!'

Adelana couldn't help do as he said, but she had no idea how much it would help. She switched her lasgun to full auto and rained shots across the daemon's shield.

The daemon reeled and raised its staff, then the shield began to light up more, but the lesser daemons seemed to slow spawning so much.

Adelana's lasgun clicked dry, and she dropped to reload again. What was the Space Marine planning? She glanced over her shoulder at Attelus as he slaughtered; how had he managed to recover? She knew he could regenerate himself far faster than a normal human, but not that fast.

Then she saw the empty syringe; she grimaced, reloaded and popped up over the parapet; without so many daemon flames thrown at them, it was much easier now.

She just hoped the drug wouldn't ruin him.

'You hypocrite,' she said with a smile.



+What are you planning?+ Karmen sent to Kalakor.

Kalakor didn't pause in his shots. Do you have any strength left?

Karmen blinked as she realised his reply was from his mind, +A little, why?+

I need you to distract it.

What? How?+

Try to take down its kineshield.

I...what? I can't-!+

I didn't say to take it down, just try.

She let out a groan through her teeth. + I doubt I can even do that.+

Kalakor shrugged. Well, then we are all dead.

And if I manage this miraculous feat, what will you do?+

I cannot tell you, as that daemon might be listening in to this.

Karmen couldn't help purse her lips, +point taken.+

While I understand why you mistrust me, I do, but you must trust me on this. You do not know how long Attelus Kaltos can keep this up.

Karmen frowned and stole a glance at the slaughtering Attelus.

'Yes, I suppose...'

'Hurry it up then,' said Kalakor.

She sighed and glanced again at Attelus. 'You bastard, I'll frigging try-'

But when she turned back to Kalakor, he had disappeared.

She growled out her frustration and activated her microbead. 'Everyone! Cover me; I am going to try to take down its shield!'

Ignoring the chorus of either confirmations or curses, Karmen raised her hands.



'We need to kill them,' bellowed a Sovrithian. 'We have to!'

Tathe pointed his pistol at the trooper. 'No, we don't, but don't make me have to execute you. I am not a commissar who usually resorts to it, but I can always make an exception.'

'Do not dare threaten my men!' shrieked Dantian.

Tathe swept his aim at the captain. 'As you so eloquently pointed out before, captain, I am not an officer of the Imperial Guard; I am a political officer of the Commissariat. I am not beholden to you nor any regimental commander; I am beholden to His Majesty the Emperor of Mankind so that I may threaten whomever I wish and that includes you, so do not even attempt to question me.'

Dantian straightened and shut up.

Tathe had given up on negotiation; it was pointless fear and panic had overtaken the ranks.

'It's just you, commissar,' said Vark. 'While I respect that you are able to stand up to us, but it is pointless, you will be cut down in a second along with these...civilians, you and your sycophant. So step aside, you don't need to die, only they have to.'

The commissar couldn't help blink; Vark sounded surprisingly rational, he didn't think such a puritan arsehole was capable of such rationality, but Tathe didn't step down.

'Frig off, Vark,' said Tathe and aimed his pistol at the Throne Agent. 'I will know when you are about to shoot, and I will make sure to take down as many as possible before I go down, and I will make frigging sure the first will be you, who will be the first you kill, Dellenger?'

Tathe wasn't lying; he was a commissar; reading people was the name of his job.

'The sniper Hayden Tresch,' said Dellenger without hesitation, his aim on said Throne Agent. 'He is the biggest threat.'

Tathe smiled his most wicked smile and nodded. 'Okay, so I'm sure all of you are wondering who will it be next.'

He pointed his pistol at Dantian. 'Maybe it will be you, captain; I've got to say I'm beginning to dislike you, snide, superior. It would almost be a pleasure to put a las round through your skull.'

Dantian bristled but didn't reply.

'Or you,' said Tathe, aiming at the Sovrithian trooper who spoke before. 'I don't want to, but-'

Vark sighed and raised his hellgun.

So Tathe shot him through the face.

The Throne Agent's corpse flung back and crashed into the troopers behind him. Everyone stood shocked, even Hayden.

Tathe lowered his smoking pistol, his face grim.

Hayden seemed to manage to get over his shock and raised his long las, but Tathe's pistol and Dellenger's lasgun covered him.

'Don't even try it,' said Tathe. 'Attelus will be angry enough when he finds out I killed one of his agents; I can't imagine how pissed he will be if I kill two.'

The sniper grimaced and glanced around, then seemed to realise no one was going to back him up, so he lowered his gun.

'This is my final word!' roared Tathe. 'We are not killing these people, and that is it, all of it! Understood?'

There was a mumbled reply.

'I didn't hear you!'

The Imperial Guard survivors exclamation of 'yes!' echoed.

'Good,' said the commissar as he sat back down. 'That's good.'

All the while, the place continued to close in on them.

"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

Karmen cursed for what must have been the twentieth time in the span of about a minute. She wished she could leave her physical form; she wished she'd never gone on this foolish mission. But most of all, she truly wished that they had succeeded in saving Omnartus. It was ridiculous, now of all times to dredge up such a regret, but even with all of her power as a psyker, all her years of training under the Inquisition. She couldn't have done anything! But now, she wouldn't fail.

So she used that regret to fuel her power, she had held back a greater daemon of the Blood God, not for long, but she still managed it; if she could do that, she could do anything. Frigging anything! And so she wasn't just going to try to take down the daemon's shield but tear it down entirely.

Because frig that bastard Kalakor! And frig fate and chaos.

The daemon's shield blinked from transparent to white and shook as Karmen pulled at it with her telekinesis while munitions rained and rained against it. She wished Kalakor hadn't disappeared; his bolter would've put even more pressure on it.

Its attention was on her, she knew. The summoning of the daemonic entities had slowed to almost nothing, so Attelus, in his frenzy, joined in on attacking the shield. He was a frenzied blur as he rained slice after slice. It reminded Karmen of him attacking the shield which surrounded Edracian's power armoured corpse in the mansion-fortress back on Omnartus three years ago. But unlike three years ago, Faleaseen couldn't be here to pull away out of nowhere for Attelus to phase through again. Karmen sorely wished she knew whatever power Faleaseen used, whether it be psychic or sorcery.

She just hoped Attelus wouldn't be accidentally hit by the numerous shots flying toward him.

+You know you cannot do this,+ said the daemon in Karmen's mind. +Even at your full strength, you could not manage it.+

+Frig off!+

+What is the Space Marine's plan? How is he going to use your distraction?+

Karmen just grimaced more.

+Ohhh, your mind is strong, very strong, for a mortal a human. Let me see, shall we?+

Pain exploded throughout Karmen's skull like a shattered bottle, and she couldn't help crying out through her teeth.

+Get out of my mind!+

+You do not seriously believe that I will 'get out of your mind' just by telling me too.+

Karmen sent a mind-spear out toward the source of the pain.

+That hurt, you cruel, cruel human.+

She just let out another roar, putting more psychic strength.

+I was going easy on you, but I would truly like to know where the Space Marine went and what he is planning.+

She could've just let him know she didn't know, but she fought back, sending out another mind-spear.

+You are a servant of the great and almighty Changer of Ways, surely you should know.+

+Well, it is obvious I do not; even your limited human mind can comprehend; that is why I am trying to read your thoughts? Is he using his heretical sorcery to gain access to my sub-dimension to free your Imperial Guard allies?+

Karmen furrowed her brow, even though she swore she couldn't do it anymore, fighting the urge to say "no" or "I don't know" in her head. This was all a part of the distraction; it was amazing that the daemon could keep up its kineshield while delving into her surface thoughts despite having the strongest of mind-blocks; she just hoped it would take a while to delve into her.

There was a long pause, and it was then she realised sweat had beaded all over her face. So she decided to focus on thinking about that.

+Oh, are you sweating? I would have never guessed; you are a weak human, after all. Anyway, if that fool is attempting to get through that barrier, he will fail.+

+Why do you not know what Kalakor is doing?+ Karmen sent.

+You do not seriously believe that I will tell you that?+ It sent, and another mind-lance sent agony through Karmen's brain.

She smiled despite the pain. +I think I have an idea, daemon. He is an anomaly. He is something which you and your...master didn't foresee or couldn't.+

More agony eclipsed her, and it didn't abate; she couldn't hold back a cry and fall to her knees, but still, she kept her grip on the daemon's shield and kept her line of thought from slipping.

I'm sweating. I'm sweating, she thought over and over again.

+Just tell me, and the pain will end. I can see you and the fool slashing at my shield as excellent servants. You are powerful and knowledgeable now, but imagine how much you will learn if you pledge yourself to the Changer of Ways. How much power will you acquire? You could single-handedly defeat Serghar Kaltos and his cronies. You could bring down this tower and its corrupted inhabitance.+

'Frig off!'

Then an idea hit Karmen, and she began thinking and sending The Emperor's Prayer.

Adore the Immortal Emperor

+For He is our Protector+

+Oh, come on-+

+Admire the Immortal Emperor

For His Sacrifice to Mankind+

+That is not going to work.+

+Venerate the Immortal Emperor

For His Holy Wisdom!+

Strength seemed to pile drive through Karmen, and she gripped the daemon's kineshield with her telekinesis so hard it began to writhe and blink even more.

+Give it up!+ The daemon roared, and the agony rose to heights Karmen couldn't have imagined. Her vision swam, and blood burst from her ears. Unconsciousness dragged at her, trying to pull her into blackness, but she shook it away.

'Honour the Immortal Emperor

For his Eternal Strength!' She yelled, making a few people glance at her.

+Shut up, just shut up!+

The pain began to ebb, and the daemon's voice grew quieter.

'Glorify the Immortal Emperor

For His All-seeing Vision!'

The daemon shut up and the agony dulled into an ache.

'Praise the Immortal Emperor

For His Unending Rule'

+And there is something interesting,+ said the daemon.

Karmen blinked; she'd hoped she had gotten rid of it from her mind.

+Did you know that someone has been in your head? Someone has erased your memories and replaced them, yes. It is very subtle, almost beautifully done. It is very well done. I could only see one mortal being capable of such high ability.+

'Hail the Immortal Emperor

For He is the Lord and Master!'

+Do you wish to know what could do this horrible thing to you?+

+You're lying.+

+I am not. I am not, although if I am lying, I would say that. But this is the truth. They have been wiped and replaced for a long time. I do not know why but I will tell you what did this to you and how long they erased, and I will eventually restore the memories for you if you just tell me what the Space Marine is up to and pledge your allegiance to my master, for he shall one day become a god.+

+G-god? I thought that the Changer of Ways was already a god.+

Agony lanced through her brain again. +Just give me your allegiance and your answer.+

'Worship the Immortal Emperor!'

+You cannot be serious; I will help you!+

'For...without Him we are...Nothing!'

With one final roar, Karmen pulled with her strongest telekinesis, stronger than even when she held back the Bloodthirster.

But that was all she could do before the blackness utterly overtook her.



At Tathe's order, everyone gathered in the middle of the cavernous room. The civilians had been understandably hesitant at first, but the priest convinced them to. The priest, Delethain, stood on Tathe's left and Dellenger on his right.

Tathe's whole world hurt as his heart smashed all through him. If that young fool and his allies failed, they would all die an extraordinarily agonising death, and there were many things Tathe was ignoring or forcing himself to not think about. From what the priest said, that was unlikely, but he had to have faith. The first being that he had no idea if time was in line with the outside. Tathe stole a glance at Dellenger, wondering if the scout with all his strange esoteric knowledge was thinking the same. The scout seemed as stoic as ever, but his fear was betrayed by a slight twitching of his eye and jaw. He was also soaked in sweat, but that could just be from hours of constant fighting.

They could all die a horrific death, but it would say a big: "frig you" to his father and the Ruinous Powers; it would be frigging worth it.

He looked about at his men and the civilians. He could smell the stench of terror on them, and Tathe couldn't blame them.

'Excuse me, commissar,' said the priest. 'But I feel that I might need to lead everyone in prayer. It might help them contain their fear.'

Tathe straightened as he got a better idea, he wasn't the best singer, but he still didn't hesitate to raise his voice in song.

'We are humanity

We are mankind.'

Tathe paused and glanced about; everyone's attention was on him, but their eyes were hooded with knotted bemused brows. He didn't allow this to get to him, so he forced a smile and began to sing louder, raising his hands.

'Forever, we shall stand.

For we are the Imperium.'

Dellenger and a few others began to slowly join in, most of them Velrosian and a few civilians. Tathe had chosen the song because it wasn't an Imperial Guard marching song but a famous children patriotic song in the hope the locals would know it. It was well known in the Calixis sector, but it seemed they knew it all the way in the Gothic Sector. Thank the Emperor.

He couldn't help puff out his chest and smile more broadly. He clenched his hand into a fist and began swinging in front of himself like a pendulum.

'For the Emperor guides us

For we are faithful.'

More began joining in, and those who already had raised their voices higher and Tathe couldn't help yelling, 'Everybody!'

'For we are

We are the Imperium'

Almost everyone but Hayden, Dantian and a few Sovrithians were singing now.

'We serve Him

We are loyal

Loyalty is its own reward

For we are the Imperium.'

Their voices rose to a higher crescendo.

'The Emperor protects

For we are faithful

For we are

We are the Imperium'

Tathe now felt his smile became genuine.

'We will never give up

We will never give in

We will forever move forward

For we are the Imperium!'

Even Dantian and the few remaining Sovrithians joined then; the only one who stayed silent was Hayden Tresch, who stared down at Tathe with hate-fuelled eyes.

It took all of Tathe's will to pretend to ignore him. He had made an enemy, and the assassin was amongst the few people Tathe would not want to make an enemy of. He thanked his luck even still. Vark was a stranger to both the Elbyrans and the Sovrithians; they didn't care for him, so they were less likely to hold a grudge.

Tathe also suspected Vark wouldn't even be missed by most of his comrades.

'None shall stand before us!

Our souls shall stay true.

For we are

We are the Imperium'

It was then a realisation came to Tathe, making him smile all the wider. Maybe time here was running in conjunction with outside; that might be why his father had made this place close in to crush them. If it wasn't, then he could've gone with his initial claim they would just starve to death. This spoke of desperation, of a limited timespan. Time may be limited by that fool Attelus and his band of ill-disciplined misfits nearly freeing them?

Joy seemed to explode through Tathe's chest, and his smile turned genuine again.

'Our dignity is in duty

Our lives, our very breath is all in His service

Our duty only ends in death

For we are

We are

The Imperium!'

'Again!' Tathe yelled. 'Again, everyone!'

If they were saved, it would be great to be spared such a horrific death; if they weren't, well, it would be great that they died without giving their souls to the Ruinous Powers. But again, just doing it for the spite was worth it.

They launched into the song again, but Tathe couldn't help glancing around at the enclosing everything and wonder; How long was his spiteful joy was going to last?



As consciousness returned, Karmen's eyes felt like they were glued together by the strongest adhesive known to man. After a few seconds of fighting to open them, the sound of lasfire and hellgun fire tore into her ears; it made her flinch.

'She is conscious,' said a voice just above her; it was Halsin. 'Karmen? Nod if you can you hear me?'

She nodded. 'Where's the daemon?' she croaked from her torn up throat. 'Did Kalakor kill it?'

'No!' said Halsin, and Karmen had not heard the young medicae sound so overjoyed or emotional, not since the death of Omnartus. 'You did it! You frigging did it!'

Karmen frowned. 'Did what?'

'You managed to take down the daemon's shield! It was frigging amazing. Then Attelus decapitated it. It's gone. It's dead; its minions have gone with it.'

Karmen's frown only deepened; that sounded far too good to be true. Was this a trick? 'Then why are you still fighting?'

'Killing it made the doors into the tower to open, and the Resurrected are now pouring in.'

She sighed and finally managed to open her eyes, finding much to no surprise Halsin's plain face loomed over her, a bit too close for comfort. It was a shock to see him smile for once.

Agony burst through her head, and she couldn't help let out a long groan. 'I've had enough, Halsin. I just cannot do any more.'

Halsin nodded. 'More than understandable, mamzel Karmen. I doubt any other human psyker could manage to do what you have done. Too bad we're all going to be overwhelmed and slaughtered soon, making all of your achievements pointless. Like Omnartus.'

Karmen sighed. 'Where is Attelus?'

'Kalakor came into reality and took Attelus with him; they're going to try to get to the top of the tower to...assassinate the general.'

She couldn't help laugh. 'Attelus the assassin actually being an assassin for once? How did Kalakor react when he found I managed to take down the shield?'

'He was pretty angry,' said Halsin. 'He was planning to teleport inside the shield then kill it from behind. He said you wasted your strength when it could be used to aid in holding back the Resurrected.'

Karmen furrowed her brow. 'Well, he should've told me that then!'

Halsin just shrugged and pursed his lips.

'How long have I been out for?'

'About ten minutes.'

She closed her eyes.

'Mamzel Karmen?'

'It's alright, Halsin. I am praying.'

'Praying for what?'

'Praying like hell Attelus and Kalakor succeed.'

'Why? The Emperor has no power here; you should know that by now.'

'I do, I know,' she said. 'But right now, it's all I can do.'


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

Thanks to their elevated position and solid plasteel parapets, they'd made the corpses of The Resurrected pile up at the bases of the four escalators, so it was almost impossible for them to climb over, so they to clear them; that just made them easier targets. Even still, Adelana kept her lasgun on semi-automatic and was careful with each shot.

The enemy swarmed within the confines of the foyer about ten metres below. If they exhibited any discipline, they'd have Adelana and the others pinned at the very least. Still, they just kept trying and trying to ascend the escalators like mindless beasts, even the Elbyran and Sovrithian soldiers. Adelana couldn't help wonder why, but she shook away that train of thought, trying to understand that gak was what led to madness.

She also didn't know why there weren't materialising all around like in the city; she supposed it was the...beaked daemon doing it.

Attelus and the inquisitor had taught her the names of each deity of the Ruinous Powers, but Attelus especially had told her to say rarely them or even think them.

He was paranoid, among many other things, but he seemed on point in this case, especially after Inquisitor Enandra said so. It was all so complicated; it'd been only three years since she was recruited into the Inquisition, and she was already tired of it.

Another las blast from her rifle took the head off yet another Resurrected; she didn't even know if it was an Imperial Guardsman or woman or cultist anymore, neither did she care.

She thought about Attelus, how he and the Space Marine had disappeared up the stairs after trying the elevator, leaving them to hold off the horde. She'd wanted to try to convince Attelus not to take the sword again, she knew it wouldn't work, but she wanted to...no, needed to try. But before she could, the massive doors swung opened and the Resurrected exploded inside.

So Attelus, with his new Space Marine best friend, was going to defeat the surely possessed general in an epic battle. They will win then Attelus will find the sword of Kalncerak, thus damning his soul to corruption. Because the ends always justified the means, didn't it? Didn't it!? If the drug he took didn't kill him first.

Tears welled in her gaze, which caused Adelana to curse. She wiped them away then increased her rate of fire into the massed Resurrected; it was frigging impossible to miss anyway.

Adelana then wondered if the beaked daemon's death made it the Resurrected could no longer teleport, so with the death and entrapment of the Bloodthirster, could they no longer resurrect? She also saw there were no more Bloodletters among them either.

Even if they no longer came back to life, it didn't matter; they still numbered in the thousands.

The big, blue ball of energy was still shrinking too. That couldn't mean anything good for Commissar Tathe and the rest of the Imperial Guard trapped inside.

Adelana knelt as another burst of fire erupted their way.

She was beginning to re-think her transferring. Now she was starting to want to leave the Inquisition entirely, and why shouldn't she? They go on about doing what it takes to protect the Imperium and humanity, but what good did that do her homeworld? Attelus' and Seleen's world? Three years ago, Inquisitor Enandra went on at her about her potential and 'only in death does duty end.' What a load of gak.

Adelana rubbed her eyes; she was tired, not just the exhaustion from all the damned fighting but everything.

It had been only three years, but it was more than enough.

More than enough.



Attelus took the steps three at a time, while Kalakor took six but even still, Attelus led the way. The bashing of the Space Marine's boots was merely an echo in Attelus' ears as his breathing dominated his world.

He barely felt his muscles as his legs pumped, again and again, just his knees. It was strange, like his legs were made from air.

Strange but good.

Through his red-addled mind, Attelus' tried to remember Kalakor's plan. They were going to run to the second to the top floor, and there Kalakor was going to open another tear, in reality, allowing Attelus to step onto the top floor to assassinate general Tathe finally.

A grin spread across his face. He grinned for two reasons, the first being the coming fight against the general who undoubtedly will be bloated by the gifts of his gods, making him surely a worthy challenge. The second, being that Attelus' was finally being an assassin, not just in name.

For...a reason Attelus couldn't remember Kalakor couldn't come with him. Was it because of the powers protecting the general's world? Or did the Space Marine lie and have another agenda? Which he wanted Attelus not to take part in? Or both, perhaps? Karmen had told Attelus not to trust the Space Marine, and she was right. But he didn't have much choice in the matter.

Attelus shook his head; he wasn't sure if he was mastering the drug, or it had almost drained through his metabolism as he could begin to think.

He held up a fist for a halt, stopped, reached into his pouch for the second injector, and then turned to Kalakor. The Raven Guard loomed over Attelus despite being four stairs below him.

'Are you sure that is wise?' said Kalakor.

Attelus wanted to grin but realised he was already. 'W-w-when d-did you-you b-begin to c-care?'

The Space Marine shrugged. 'Have you wondered why we have not encountered any resistance?'

Attelus hesitated in stabbing the injector into his neck and shook his head.

Kalakor sighed and gazed up the stairs. 'I suppose with the death of the daemon of Tzeentch, the enemy are not able to teleport around, but there must be something guarding the upper levels.'

It was Attelus' turn to shrug and managed to stop himself from injecting the syringe again; he needed to keep his head clear now.

'M-makes s-s-s-sense, I suppose,' said Attelus. 'B-but, i-in all h-honesty we're r-running out o-o-of time, Kalakor. I-I think we have-have to throw a-all caution to the w-w-wind.'

Kalakor shrugged. 'You are the one standing there, speaking to me instead of running ahead with skinny those little legs of yours. Hurry it up.'

Attelus nodded, turned and exploded back into a sprint, but a thought hit him, and he reached for his micro-bead. 'K-Kalakor wh-whatever happens n-next. I-I-I'd l-like to say, it' s-it's been an honour, f-fighting a-alongside y-you.'

The Space Marine snorted; it was like an explosion in Attelus' ear. 'What do you know of honour, assassin?'

'I k-k-know e-enough to k-know i-it's overrated i-in most c-circumstances, a-anyway. B-but n-not in this case.'

There was a long silence.

'You are...an interesting little man,' said Kalakor. 'But I am...inclined to...say the same to you.'

Attelus smiled wider; he was 'little man' now, which was light years better than 'little girl' he supposed.



Kalakor's huge boot sent the double doors flinging from their hinges like rockets had been attached to them and turned on.

Attelus and he slipped inside, guns sweeping, covering the room. It was once a vast stateroom of sorts for visiting dignitaries, Attelus managed to guess through his hazy mind. A long marble table sat at its centre and surrounding it was about a dozen leather-backed chairs. On the northern wall, windows surely made of glassteel allowed an almost 180-degree view of the blood sand eclipsed city far below. Beneath numerous cupboards, which Attelus couldn't help suspect, filled with all the most expensive alcohol in existence.

'This room is below the governor's suite,' said Kalakor as he stormed inside. 'I will cut an entrance into the warp that will allow you-'

'Y-yes, yes, I-I-I k-know,' said Attelus. 'But I-I s-still d-don't-don't-don't u-understand why-why you can't c-come with me.'

'I already explained why, Throne Agent.'

Attelus sighed.

'You do not believe me; that is understandable,' said Kalakor. 'I had hoped you would be more willing to now, but alas. Your whining and mistrust are understandable but pointless, now and cover me while I cut.'

'C-cover y-you? W-why?'

'Because the enemy will detect me attempting to penetrate the barrier. Now, by the Emperor, watch the door.'

Kalakor raised his hand.

'Y-you think-think th-they'll s-send daemons?' said Attelus through gritted teeth and shuddering breaths which shook his shoulders. 'Th-the Bloodletters? Or w-whatever they-they're c-called?'

'Oh, most definitely, my young friend,' said Kalakor. 'Now shut up and let me concentrate; the barrier is not thin here, so this will take me a while.'

Great, Attelus thought as he pulled out another injector. It's frigging convenient you didn't inform me of this, Kalakor, or I may not have agreed to this idiotic suicide mission. Now, we're even more frigged as hell.


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

Editor's Note: Excellent, yeees. This thread has reached over 10,000 views which is sorta a goal for me for threads I've made, so that makes me happy. Well, we're on the end road, hard to believe, took me another five or so years to complete just like Secret War, but during the time of writing Upon Blood Sands I was studying Creative Writing full time and had to put it aside.

Anyway! Enjoy!


Another blast of las fire forced Verenth and the others to duck again. Verenth didn't dare try to check how damaged their plasteel parapet was.

He didn't want to know how much ammunition was left among them.

They'd expended so much on that daemon's shield; surely the others were as low as him? Verenth opened his revolver and placed another round of bullets in; he only had two rounds left. He moved a few metres to his left and glanced about. Adelana and Halsin knelt not far away, both firing over the lip with disciplined blasts of lasfire; meanwhile, Kamen sat with her back against the wall, looking like she was nodding in and out of consciousness. Further on knelt Jelket, Helma and Torris. Jelket's and Helma's Hellguns sliced through the enemy far more effectively than the lasguns or Verenth's revolver and autos.

Verenth cursed beneath his breath, wishing he hadn't stuck to his guns and at least brought a lasgun.

His mind wandered back to the underhive of Omnartus, how his pistols were more than enough then. The gang fights he took part in were brutal and brief; some were close fought, some were slaughters but on a whole lower level than all of the struggles he'd taken part of as a Throne Agent. Those fights seemed so important, so vital; he remembered how he was the best fighter in his gang, his pistols faster and more accurate than anyone else's and how so many enemy moody hammers died by his bullets. But none of that mattered; what he thought were battles were only tiny skirmishes fought for vain, selfish reasons; this was revealed to him, his brother and his gang when Inquisitor Brutis 'Bones' Tybalt came to them for help. Frigging in hell, later, he then realised how he wasn't that great when Attelus and his crew of nine others began their 'investigation' and slaughtered so many of his friends and allies and enemies like they were nothing. Breaking or sneaking into hideouts they had thought impossible to find or attack.

Verenth couldn't help roll his eyes at the thought of that strange, strange, strange little man. Could he be an immortal? Attelus seemed frigging sure he was, but that could just be him being insane.

But if it were true, now Verenth wouldn't get his vengeance against the man who killed his brother.

Since the death of Omnartus, Verenth's thirst for revenge had withered his thirst for anything had withered.

Including the idea of him dying, which was going to happen very damn soon.

Verenth frowned and blinked away his exhaustion. He was beginning to regret joining up with Inquisitor Enandra instead of Inquisitor Tybalt. Still, the belief had driven that choice that he could one day avenge his brother and his planet.

In his arrogance, and after all he'd survived through, he truly believed he would live to finish those goals. That he was just and so the God-Emperor would protect him and guide him until then.

Verenth grimaced; maybe the Emperor wasn't because Verenth wasn't so special, maybe he was just a tiny part of this gigantic scheme? Maybe everything he did, didn't really matter?

Verenth exhaled and popped out of cover, pistols blazing down into the horde below. The killing field they'd made was beyond ludicrous now and was ever-expanding. That did matter, Verenth supposed, that mattered to him and the others and the enemy.

And before they ran out of ammo and were overrun, Verenth would make damned frigging sure that it would matter even more.



Only a few seconds into Kalakor's sorcery, despite the pumping in his skull Attelus' enhanced hearing caught the clomping of hooves down the corridor; Attelus quickly counted there were at least five pairs.

'F-frig, they're coming!' There's no way in f-frigging h-hell I-I-I-I can h-hold th-them off!'

'I am aware of that, and you can, you will, you must, Attelus Kaltos. Or all of our efforts will be for nought. You only have to face one at a time if you fight well and you need only hold them off. Now might be a good time to use that second injector.'

Attelus swayed, nodded and pulled one from the pocket of his flak jacket with a shaking, sweaty hand.

'I-I ha-hate this sh-gak, K-K-Kalakor.'

'What "gak" do you mean? This situation? Or the drugs coursing through your veins?'

'B-both,' said Attelus as he finally managed to inject the stuff into his neck.

Attelus began to writhe and shake even more. His head raised to the ceiling into a silent scream as the pain and strange bubbling exploded through every inch of his musculature. His vision became encircled by a red haze, and his fear dissolved into a killing urge.

The first daemon appeared in the hallway, stepping out of the left side of the T-junction around seven metres away. The Bloodletter could barely fit in the corridor, its tongue wavering and probing from its black maw bordered by razor-sharp teeth. Its long sword the same as all the others before, made from black obsidian-like material and veined with lines of bright magma bright lines of blood. The Bloodletter's black, lidless gaze appraised Attelus with what might've been a curious tilt of its huge, horned skull. It began towards him.

Despite the tightness in his chest, Attelus laughed so loud and hard it shook his frame. Then with a snarl which sent a spray of bloody spittle from his mouth, he exploded into a charge.

The Bloodletter raised its sword, then swiped out at Attelus in a vast downward, diagonal arc. Attelus darted aside it then cut his powersword across the Bloodletter's chest with a horizontal slash. It felt like he was cutting through a tree made out of plasteel with a wooden dummy blade. Even still, the daemon raised its head and roared out in pain. Now within the inside the reach of its sword, Attelus laid in, cutting the monster again and again with no rhyme or reason, and the daemon reeled from his onslaught. Eventually, the Bloodletter managed to swipe out its claws which forced Attelus to slide back. In the next split second, the Bloodletter cut for Attelus' knees. Attelus jumped over it then went to dash in again, but the daemon had learned, and it reversed its blade into downward vertical bash. Attelus managed to sidestep it before it smashed into the floor, denting in the rockcrete, sending up dust and making Attelus stumble. Then it turned its sword into a horizontal cut.

But Attelus wasn't as off-balance as the daemon thought, so he lunged forwards onto the daemon's flank and cut into the Bloodletter's right knee, once, twice, it was on the fifth when Attelus finally sliced most of the way through; then he sent a side-kick smashing against it.

The Bloodletter let out a roar, lost its balance, and fell like a cut tree. Attelus threw himself away just before it collapsed its sinuous bulk on top of him.

Attelus rolled and spun to face the next Bloodletter as it stepped over its kindred. It roared its hate, its fury at Attelus and Attelus roared back, then burst out into laughter, although he didn't know if it was out of joy for the fight or at the absurdity of it.

The Bloodletter charged and sliced out diagonally upward. Still laughing, Attelus ducked it, and as he did, he noticed the damage in the floor, and it gave him an idea that seemed to pierce his hazy mind. The daemon turned the diagonal attack into a downward vertical bash, and as it did, Attelus began slashing into the damaged floor. He managed three before the daemon's sword descended for him. Attelus slipped sidewards and did something anathema to his philosophy as a fighter; he spun, pirouetting into a downward bash of his power-sword that crashed against the back of the daemon's sword with all the strength, weight and momentum he could muster. He clenched his teeth at the impact, made shivering pain course from his fingers to the tops of his arms then his whole body, but he still managed to manipulate the daemon's sword's trajectory and momentum, so it imbedded deep in the damaged floor.

Before the Bloodletter could even begin to tug its sword, Attelus leapt up and slashed the daemon across the eyes. It cried out and spun away, letting go of its blade and clawing at its face. Attelus thanked his luck; these daemons felt pain, unlike the things Etuarq commanded back on Omnartus.

Attelus landed and watched while the third Bloodletter didn't hesitate to impale its brethren through the chest then smashed the second daemon against the wall, slinging it off its blade. The second daemon screamed and writhed as it fizzled and broke apart into shards of eldritch purple.

The third daemon came at Attelus with more caution than its predecessors, jabbing a probing stab for the Throne Agent, holding its sword with one hand for maximum reach. Attelus weaved beneath it like a prized pugilist, then slipped aside its short, diagonal upward slice.

Good, Attelus thought. Be careful; it'll make it all the easier to hold you back.

Another idea hit Attelus, which made him glance at the second daemon's sword, still embedded in there. Why hadn't it disappeared with its owner? The third Bloodletter cut again, with a deceptive low diagonal cut which could've been mistaken for being horizontal, but Attelus slipped out its arc.

Attelus gave the flat of the stuck blade an absent kick, but it only wiggled in its perch slightly, which was what he hoped for. Then he cut his sword into the cracked, beaten floor with all the power he could manage.

The Bloodletter seemed to sense he had a plan, and it came at him with two massive diagonal, downward blows which sent him skidding backwards in desperation.

Attelus managed a curse through his clenched teeth, by the Emperor he wished he could block or even parry. The Bloodletter kept on advancing, filling the width of the corridor with its constant swings. It came to the sword of its dead comrade and stopped there. It could've tried to keep coming, and Attelus didn't know why it stopped until it tugged out the sword.

Attelus sighed and rolled his eyes, but then he remembered something and his hand shot to his chest holster beneath his flak jacket.

The Bloodletter continued toward him, still laughing as it began to swing its dual swords in a sweeping arc after sweeping arc as its two remaining brethren followed not far behind it.

Attelus smiled back as he took out one of his four krak grenades, primed it, dropped it, then kicked it. The anti-tank grenade bounced and skittered across the floor, stopping in the middle of the cracked, craved rockcrete.

The daemons had only enough time to look down before the explosion rocked the corridor and evaporated the third in line Bloodletter's legs from the knees down and, as Attelus hoped, the floor collapsed a good five metres of rockcrete beneath their hooves. They bellowed as they dropped out of sight.

With careful steps, Attelus approached the hole while prepping one of his four frag grenades and glanced down. The Bloodletters had fallen a good ten metres into what seemed to be an old bar, they laid on their backs or sides, but they didn't seem stunned as they glared up at him with their black orbed, hate-fuelled eyes.

Attelus tossed in the frag, then another in quick succession, aiming them where he hoped they'd do the most damage.

The Bloodletters roared in pain and rage as they became consumed by explosive shrapnel and disappeared in a haze of rockcrete dust.

The micro-bead beeped in Attelus' ear.

'I heard explosions; how fares your defence?'

Attelus reached for his ear and managed to say through his teeth and hissing breathing. 'I-it's d-d-done, Sp-s-pace M-Marine. I have...m-m-manged to d-d-defeat them...s-somehow.'

There was a long pause. 'I do not understand.'

'N-n-n-neither do-do I. A-although, I-I-I-I did hold my o-own against a Bloodthirster before a-a-a-and I h-h-have d-d-d-d-defeated a Space M-Marine before. Two...N-n-n-no th-three, actually. O-o-one of th-them was a Chaos Space M-Marine named Erdaku...Erdaku-!'

'What are you on about? You are speaking a load of...'

The Space Marine sighed. 'Never mind, just get in here. I am upon the cusp of completing the tear.'

'U-u-u-understood,' said Attelus as he turned and ran back into the meeting room.

Kalakor had his back to him, the tear in reality about half a metre open.

'Do you think you can fit through this? You are quite very tiny, even for a mortal.'

'I-I'm n-n-not m...N-never mind. I d-don't k-k-know, in all honesty, but I-I can try.'

'Good. Tell me, young man. Are you afraid?'

'I-I am. I'm always afraid, Kalakor.'

Kalakor nodded. 'And yet you continue to fight through it all. This is why humanity is worth fighting for and worth dying for. I wish you luck, Attelus Kaltos! Now go!'

Attelus nodded back, then lunged and dived headfirst through the portal.

This message was edited 2 times. Last update was at 2021/10/27 18:41:29


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

Tresch wasn't singing. This despite having learned it during his youth in the Schola Progenium and having sung it loud and clear as a child there. Then after he joined the Adeptus Arbites as a young adult and many years after in law enforcement, as his attitude slowly soured and he became more and more cynical and joined Glaitis' organisation to become one of her assassins. This was natural; he was by and far the best sniper of his precinct, so much so he'd been seconded to aid the Scintillan PDF and Magistratum in missions too many times to count.

He was the best, he was always the best, and here he was about to die the worst death imaginable; he was about to die like a dog. He didn't deserve such a death.

Hayden glanced about at everyone as they stood and sang, but no one deserved such a death. He glanced again at the enclosing walls, floor and ceiling like they had fused into a sphere. Hayden wondered if anyone else had noticed it; he doubted it.

The thought made Hayden look to Dellenger. The scout wasn't singing either; he just watched Hayden through narrowed slits for eyes. Despite this himself, a shiver sliced through him, and he looked away. Something about the Scout terrified him, and Hayden didn't scare easy, and it wasn't just his reputation, but something else, something inhuman? Hayden couldn't quite place a finger on it. He had eyes like Attelus,' the weary eyes of someone far older than they seem or had led a short life of horrible experience. But to a far, far more significant extent than that little gak. It was Hayden's fear of Dellenger that made him stand down.

Hayden then looked to Commissar Tathe, who still sang the loudest and swung his arm side to side like a fool. But yet, despite the familiar stench of sweat and terror in the air, almost everyone sang alongside him, even the damned civilians and especially the frigging ecclesiarch.

It was...damned impressive Hayden was loathed to admit. He doubted even Inquisitor Enandra or Inquisitor Tybalt could rally and inspire people so well, make them sing in the face of inevitable death. Hayden clenched his teeth as envy stabbed into his chest. If he had that level of leadership skill and charisma...

He'd be the leader of this expedition rather than Attelus. Maybe...Maybe Inquistor Enandra was right not to place Hayden in charge, while he disagreed with her decision to put Attelus as the leader. Hayden wasn't a leader; perhaps he could never be one at all; he was too old, too aloof, too stuck in his ways. Attelus was still young, still with great potential, but Hayden doubted he could ever be a leader on par with the great ones such as Tathe. Not even close.

But he could still be a better leader than Hayden.

Hayden glanced at Vark's dead body, which was slowly sliding across the floor towards them with the enclosing door. Hayden sighed; both he and Hayden had wanted to slaughter the civilians to escape, as had most of the others, but the commissar had been right; if they had, they'd surely have fallen to Chaos, making all their hardship pointless. But they were going to get crushed to death, so it was pointless either way.

Unless Attelus, Karmen and the others pulled some frigging miracle and saved them.

Why was frigging Commissar Tathe so willing to place his faith into the little frigger? Hayden couldn't understand it, but as Darrance had said, Hayden wasn't the most faithful of people.

Darrance...His only other friend, who was likely dead, surely his luck must have run out? Darrance and Castella and many others over the years, she had died back on Omnartus, three years at the hand of Etuarq's witch-puppet Inquisitor Edracian. She had been faithful, a true believer in the damned Imperial Cult. Both Darrance and Hayden and sometimes Attelus would talk behind her back about her hypocrisy; she was a mercenary, she fought for herself and her organisation, not the 'God-Emperor' and yet, she'd been the best of them. The organisation's heart, it was her that first saw Glaitis' corruption, and it was her that convinced Darrance and Hayden to betray her. She had also been the only one who stood up for Attelus and...

Hayden sighed again; he missed her, he truly did and...He wondered why she had died where Attelus had lived.

Tears welled in Hayden's eyes as the realisation hit him; he probably wasn't going to see her when he dies, which will be likely very damned soon.



Attelus hit the floor and rolled into a crouch, his sword activating into a blaze of blue and held ready as he took in his surroundings. A man stood with his back to Attelus; about fifteen metres away, he was shirtless and was well over two metres tall and utterly corded and bloated with muscle. The muscles seemed to have burst from the skin, making the shiny, red fibres fully visible. The head covered in shaggy, short brown hair. He stood in front of a huge window that reached the ceiling, at least thirty metres above and spread to encapsulate half the width of the wall, around twenty metres and turned to allow a 60-degree view of the blood sands the buried city far below. The floor was tiled with expensive-looking sandstone, and to Attelus' right was a stairway which zigzagged up to a higher level which Attelus assumed must be where the living quarter must be.

'So,' said the man, keeping his back to Attelus. 'I cannot believe you managed to make it all the way here, little assassin.'

Attelus stood, pointing his sword at the man. 'General Tathe, I assume?'

'Indeed,' said the General. 'I cannot believe you made it, little assassin, but I am glad that you did.'

That put Attelus off balance. 'Before...I-I kill you, I-I-I n-need you to-to-to tell me...s-something.'

'I would like to have answers from you as well, little assassin,' said the General. 'Such as how you managed to bypass the warp storm conjured by my patron? You and that other group. Are only two, but I suspect you won't tell me.'

'O-o-of course n-not.'

The General sighed. 'What is it you wish to know, little assassin?'

'The-the e-exterminatus, how did it h-happen? And w-why? And w-why do y-y-y-your soldiers not r-remember it?'

The General raised his head and barked out a laugh. 'Hah! Is that what you came all this way to learn? To be honest, little assassin, I had forgotten about it as well, until a few months ago at the beginning of this war.'

'Y-y-you're a-a-actually g-going to tell me?'

Finally, general Tathe turned to face Attelus, a massive grin on his face. 'Oh, I am. I tell you only because I am weary, oh so weary of everything. I have been a soldier for over a century, I have been a commander of men for almost half of that, and recently, I realised that with my action of selling my soul to the Blood God, I have merely replaced one slave-master; for another.'

With that general, Tathe waved his huge paw in an arc. 'There, I have just released my son and my former men from their imprisonment. Call them on the vox-link if you wish for confirmation.'

Attelus, through his bemusement, managed to activate his micro-bead with a shaking hand. 'Commissar?'

'That you, Attelus?' said Tathe. 'We're, we're free! Did you kill my-'

Attelus cut the link, his chest.

'I didn't want to subject them to such a horrific death,' said the General. 'If you hadn't come up here, I wouldn't have had the courage to do it. To release them, I mean.'

'I-I-I don't-don't-n't-don't un-understand!'

The General shrugged his massive shoulders. 'No, you wouldn't. You came here expecting me to be a frothing at the mouth psychopath, fighting with all he has to kill you, and that's understandable, especially because of my announcements over the public address system. Still, I have managed to gain control of myself again, temporarily, mind you, so we have little time. Now, so do you wish to know about the Exterminatus or not?'

'I-I do. B-But h-how the hell d-d-d-do I know-know you're telling the truth?'

'You do not,' said the General. 'But you can take this as my last will and testament if that means anything.'

All Attelus could do was nod.

'Thank-' a huge animalistic growl tore from the General's mouth and his head raised, the veins popping from the muscle fibres in his neck. Attelus readied his sword.

But the General seemed to gain control of himself. 'My apologies, I am hanging by the thinnest of threads; my master wants you dead, but frig him...for now.'

The General hunched forwards and sighed, closing his eyes. 'It was two years ago we were deployed on the world of Gurtar to aid it in defending a Chaos invasion. Gurtar was an agri world with a population of around eight billion. My Elbyran contingent and I were deployed on the northern continent, which was the most urban and inhabited. The first month was a hard slog, but we were slowly gaining the advantage over the enemy, but...'

The General closed his blood-shot eyes again and took a long inhale through his nose. 'But then we began receiving reports of hundreds of strange, black domes scattered throughout the world.'

'B-b-black d-d-domes?' Attelus blurted as the terror overrode his red-addled mind.

'Yes, and by your tone, you are familiar with them as well?'

Attelus nodded; they were the daemon-things Etuarq had Feuilt, the triple agent, summon to destroy them back on Omnartus. They were horrific things, immune to pain and far more potent than the Bloodletters before. They would've wiped out Attelus and the others, then the entire population, potentially if Attelus didn't have the help of Farseer Faleaseen to stop them. They also only had to deal with one dome; Attelus couldn't help shudder at the thought of what hundreds would do. He didn't even begin to consider that Etuarq would be able to use them on such a colossal scale.

'None of us, not even Dellenger, had seen such things before; thus, I called the Inquisition, and it only took them two weeks to arrive, and during that time, teams monitored the domes, but they did nothing. But I was shocked, as were everyone when we found it was three squads of Grey Knights and an Inquisitor of the name Soloston.'

'And let m-me g-g-guess, th-the minute the Grey Knights d-d-deployed: huge, ugly, bloated th-th-things began e-e-emerging from the d-domes and a-a-appearing around th-them?'

The General nodded, and his huge frame shuddered. 'They were almost unstoppable; it took dozens upon dozens of shots to take down even one of them, they slaughtered my men and the enemy as well, we'd managed to hack into their vox network a week before and were just as bemused as we were by the black domes, and they too were being slaughtered en masse. The Grey Knights were more effective, but they were spread thin, and their psychic powers weren't effective; even they had no idea what the hell, the...monsters were, either.'

The General's eyes glazed as he stared into the middle distance. 'My command squad and I encountered two, and it took five krak missiles to take one down, but the other slaughtered all my men except for my voxman and myself with its angled teeth and more and more and more kept coming, so I turned to Inquisitor Soloston and said to him that we only had one option...'

'Exterminatus,' said Attelus.

'The world was lost, frig it!' snarled the General so powerfully it made Attelus flinch. 'And we only had enough ships to evacuate The Imperial Guard, so we evacuated, leaving the civilian populace to die and then I watched the world burn and die. But we had no choice! If those things escaped and managed to spread to other worlds! They would destroy everything. Only one Grey Knight escaped with us! All the rest were overwhelmed so fast it boggled the mind!'

There was a long pause as the General fell into short, sharp hyperventilating.

'T-then w-what h-h-happened?'

'The last remaining Grey Knight erased my memory and the memories of it for every Imperial Guardsman and woman who had fought on the planet. I and many others thought it was a blessing. But since then, a voice in my skull began to whisper again and again that something was wrong. Then eventually, I made the mistake of beginning to speak to that voice that was at the beginning of this campaign, and then it unlocked the memories of what happened, and it drove me insane and into giving myself to...Him and betraying my men and turning my back on the Emperor.'

Again, the General roared out then started storming toward Attelus but seemed to manage to stop himself and sideways a few steps. 'I-I can't control myself for much longer, little assassin! You have to kill me! I am a lodestone! I am the last fragment of His power left on this world, so when I die! The Resurrected die too! Kill me now! Before my son and your allies are overwhelmed.'

'I-I n-need to ask an a-another question!'

'I already answered! Kill me! Please. But, please just tell my son that I am so very proud of him. That he is a far greater man than I can ever...be! That I should...have told him that...years ago!'

'Y-yes, okay, b-but w-where's the sword?'

The General's eyes narrowed. 'What sword?'

'Th-the sword o-o-o-of Kalncereth or w-w-whatever it' s-it's called! Where-where is i-it? The-the voice s-said it was-was up here!'

'I have...no idea what...you are...talking about! Please! Just! Kill me! Noooow!'

The General's utterance of "Now!" descended into an animalistic, guttural growl, and spittle exploded from his lipless mouth and down his chin.

Finally, through his thundering skull and the haze Attelus' managed to realise the General was telling the truth, so he raised his sword and exploded into a charge.

Attelus made the fifteen metres in less than a split-second, but it felt like hours before he lunged into a decapitating slash. But the General, horrifically fast, ducked the cut. Attelus spun to face the General, then landed just in time to throw himself aside an uppercut that smashed a good few centimetres into the thick Glasteel, cracking it.

Then a huge chainsword seemed to materialise in the General's other hand, and he swung it for Attelus' chest horizontally. Attelus jumped away and cursed.

He had the opportunity to end it and frigged it.

He frigged it bad.

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2021/10/27 18:41:20


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

Adelana was still getting used to the fact that the blue sphere had popped. Commissar Tathe, Hayden, the remaining Imperial Guard and hundreds of civilians suddenly appeared behind them. It'd happened so fast Adelana and the others had almost shot them if Tathe hadn't made them stand down.

Now Tathe and the others had hunkered down beside the Throne Agents, adding their salvo into the massed Resurrected below. Although, it seemed many couldn't have run out of ammunition during their push into the tower.

That included Hayden, who Adelana then stole a glance at; he sat a few metres away, his Long Las laid over his shoulder and staring into space with hooded eyes.

'Concentrate,' said Tathe causing Adelana to flinch and go back to her shooting. The Commissar knelt beside her, about half a metre away, but his very presence seemed to smother her.

He was also devastatingly handsome, even with the scars on his face and his salting hair. Adelana would describe him using the cliche 'tall, dark and handsome.' Even more so than Hayden, but unlike Hayden, Tathe had an incredible amount of charisma just oozing from him and...

Adelana blushed and pushed the thoughts away, now wasn't the time for that.

'I should be up there,' said Tathe.

It took Adelana a few seconds to realise he was addressing her.

'U-u-u-up w-where, Commissar?'

'Up the top of the tower, fighting my father with your boyfriend.'

'H-he-he isn't my b-boyfriend!'

'He isn't? Why not?'

'B-because I-I don't like him that way! Okay?'

'Okay, okay. My apologies, young lady, if I caused you offence.'

Adelana sighed. 'Why do you think you should be up there fighting with Attelus?'

'Because I am an Imperial Commissar,' said Tathe as he fired off another flurry. 'It is my duty to bring my father to justice, and your...friend might need my help. Emperor only knows what my father has become.'

Adelana smiled despite herself as she ducked to avoid a blurt of enemy lasfire along with Tathe.

'Well, you do not have to worry too much about Attelus needing help,' she said. 'If anyone can take down your father, it's Attelus Kaltos.'



Despite just nicking him, the punch would've broken Attelus bones if they weren't reinforced with wraithbone. The pain burst through Attelus' ribs; it made him cry out as he was flung from his feet. In mid-air, he curled himself a split-second before he hit the floor. The world turned into a whirling blur as he rolled with the impact and finished in a crouch, looking up just in time to see the general charging towards him, chainsword raised. The chainsword swung out in a huge horizontal arc that Attelus barely managed to duck.

'You are a fool!' the General snarled as he smashed down for Attelus vertically, which Attelus side-stepped. The whirring blade crashed into the floor, leaving a large gash. The General rallied and began to slice for Attelus again and again with a wild mixture of downward diagonal and vertical blows, which made more grazes and in the sandstone and sent Attelus skidding and sliding backwards.

'See my strength?' snarled the General. 'My speed? Khorne gifted these to me! You could have been the same! But you rejected His gifts!'

Attelus clenched his teeth as frustration boiled through his hazed mind; he was sick of fighting enemies with such ludicrously longer reach than him, first Kalakor, the Bloodletters, the Bloodthirster and now frigging General Tathe. He was short, around 1.67 metres he'd always been short, he'd dealt with that fact a long time ago, but by the Emperor, it got to him now! Attelus sighed through his gritted teeth as he side-stepped yet another cut; that was just the reality of fighting in the 41st millennium, and whining about it wouldn't make any difference; it'd just get him killed.

Especially now.

As if to emphasise this, he barely managed to slip aside a thrust which almost came out of nowhere; the chain tore through his flak jacket, chewing the flak plate and black leather into shreds. Luckily for Attelus, the teeth were too sharp to become bunched into the material, so they just passed through.

His heart bashing through his entirety, Attelus darted leftwards, leaping three times, each making a good four metres to make as much room as he could from the General's onslaught.

The General wasn't far behind, his sprinting footfalls and roaring Chainsword seeming to shake the whole, huge room.

'Blood for the blood god!' the General bellowed as he brought out his Chainsword in an upward, diagonal bash. Attelus slipped from its path, but not fast enough to prevent more of his jacket to fly away in shards, and the onrush of air hit him between the eyes, sending him stumbling.

'Skulls for the skull throne!' the General reversed it into a downward, vertical cut, which Attelus back-stepped. This time the strike smashed into the sandstone, sending out shards in every direction; Attelus' sword sliced out seemingly on its own, the powerfield vaporising any bits that flew his way.

Attelus grinned. 'Y-y-y-you w-w-wouldn't h-have taken my-my skull if you hit then, just destroyed it.'

'It does not matter how the blood flows. Just that it flows!'

The General turned on him then launched into another flurry of chop after chop; Attelus dodged and weaved through it, searching desperately for an opening to exploit. But while the General's attacks were fuelled with breath-taking ferocity, it was tempered with skill and speed, enough that with his superior reach, Attelus couldn't take advantage of any openings. Attelus still had three krak grenades and two frag grenades left. And, well, his autopistol, too, but he doubted that would make much difference.

Even so, Attelus lunged back, drew his pistol and fired off a flurry of manstopper shots.

And, of course, they merely ricocheted off the General's chest.

The General stopped his offence and laughed. 'How pathetic! Khorne has gifted me immunity to such pitiful weaponry! You could have received this gift! Making it that you do not have to bother to jump and bounce around like some Eldar wench!'

Attelus frowned. 'I'd rather that...th-than s-s-sell my soul to-to-to Chaos.'

'You would rather sell it to a Xenos witch, then?'

Attelus' frowned deepened; how the hell did he know that? Kharkartskar knew about Faleaseen, so it made sense the General would as well. But what else did he know?

'I-I-I h-had n-no choice in th-th-that matter,' said Attelus. 'B-b-but y-y-yes, I w-w-would!'

'Little fool! Xenos are not meant to be trusted, least of all the damnable Eldar.'

'A-a-a-a-and I-I'm meant t-to tr-trust Ch-Chaos g-g-gods?'

'Yes! It is freeing; you do not wish to because of the Imperial lies forced on you since you were a child.'

'W-well couldn't i-it b-b-b-be th-the same with th-the Eldar? I-I-I h-have seen w-what Chaos does and it-it's f-far m-more h-horrific th-than the Eldar...Well...The Craftworld E-E-Eldar...Anyway.'

The General let out a roar that was so inhuman it caused Attelus to flinch and reminded him of Kharkartskar.

'It matters little,' said the General. 'You have rejected Khorne's gifts; He will not offer it to you again.'

An idea hit Attelus as he shrugged, then he exploded forward. Taken off guard, the General barely managed to parry Attelus' thrust. Then the clatter of something drew the General's attention downward as Attelus leapt backwards.

The krak grenade exploded in mid-air, but the General had dived out of its radius into a roll. But by then, Attelus had already primed a second krak and threw it in the General's path. It exploded in front of the General's chest, vaporising half of his torso in a cloud of red vapour and threw him writhing and spinning across the floor a good few metres. The General's shriek of agony seemed to shake the room.

'C-c-can't b-believe th-that worked this time,' said Attelus. 'G-good th-thing y-y-y-you aren't w-wearing p-power armour.'

'You dishonourable cur! Khorne spit on you!'

'I-i-ifff there's o-o-one thing I've learnt o-ov-over the y-years is that-that honour i-i-is o-overrated and-and that co-combat rolls are-are s-stupid...Except, f-f-for when th-th-they're a-absolutely n-n-n-necessary.'

But by then, the General was already dead.



'Stop firing!' Dellenger yelled over the vox. 'Everyone, stop firing now!'

Everyone did, Adelana and Tathe included, but it took them a good few seconds, and they exchanged confused glances.

Tathe reached for his micro-bead. 'Why, Dell...'

The Commissar trailed off, and his jaw dropped.

'W-what's wrong?' said Adelana as she followed his gaze down into the foyer below, and she gaped too.

The Resurrected were dropping one after another into loose, lifeless heaps. Like they just suddenly became aware they were dead.

'He did it!' someone cried, although Adelana couldn't begin to comprehend who. 'The frigger actually did it!'

'By the Emperor,' said Adelana, as the comprehension finally dawned on her. 'Did...did Attelus...Did he?'

'I don't frigging know what he did,' said Tathe. 'But he somehow managed to stop them! He stopped them!'

Adelana couldn't help let the welling within her make her squeal and eclipse Tathe in a hug as the triumphant cries of the survivors around began to rise.

Their hug was cut short as Adelana reached for her micro-bead with a shaking hand and tuned it for another channel.

'Attelus? Attelus?' she cried.

'A-Adelana? Th-th-that you?'

'Yes, it's me, dummy! The Resurrected, they're dying. So you got him? You got General Tathe?'

'I-I-I did, A-Adelana. So k-killing him-him d-did...W-what's th-that?'

'Wh-what's what, Attelus?'

'A light, it's-it's j-just a-a-a-appeared. A-Adelana I'll...I-I'll.'

Then he cut the link.

'Attelus?' she said. 'Attelus?'

'What's wrong?'

Adelana turned, Karmen, her eyes half-closed, and her head was lolling on her neck, still sitting and staring at her. 'What's Attelus doing?'

'Something's wrong,' said Adelana. 'Something's very wrong.'



The white light had appeared in the corner of Attelus eye, and he turned to face it and became fixated. It was roughly shaped like a door and shimmered and wavered just above the floor.

'Wh-what in th-the Emp-E-Emperor's n-n-n-name?'

+I have been waiting...+

The voice echoed through all of Attelus' skull and seemed to shiver through every inch of his frame. Attelus wanted to ask, "for what", but found his tongue frozen in his throat, and his feet began to carry him toward the light door like they suddenly gained consciousness of their own.

+For over ten thousand years...For only one such as you can find my prison.+

A strange fuzzing began to cover Attelus' brain.

+One such as you imprisoned me here...he was a fool...More the fool to make it possible I can be found by Perpetuals other than himself. Or perhaps that was the limitation of the sorcery he used to +

Attelus clenched his teeth and tried to fight, to make himself stop, but it was like trying to stop falling.

+You have managed to break from my trance, impressive, but I have control of your body, so it makes little difference. For 10,000 years, I have gathered power from the people who have lived in this world; you cannot defeat me.+

Attelus let out a growl and fought in spite of the words. But he wouldn't move; it reminded him of back in the base of Brutis Bones and his Moody Hammers, but far, far more potent. He had defeated that, overcome it so he could take Karmen in his arms and stop her from tearing into her beautiful face.

+I have been watching you since your arrival, little perpetual. I was the one who sent you that message; I am glad you. You are impressive, and you will make an excellent host.+

'H-host?'

+Yes. Have you not comprehended it yet? I am Kalncerak. The consumer of souls, I am the purest incarnation of death in existence, and thanks to you, I shall finally be free! Free to live in your little body in the Material realm and slaughter all that gets in my way, and you, little Perpetual, will have to watch all of it through my eyes, trapped inside of me for all of eternity. But first...first I am so very hungry, and there are a few souls in the base of this tower...+

Attelus heart iced over as tears welled in his eyes. 'No! Please! No! No, no, no. No!'

The voice of Kalncerak only laughed as Attelus stepped through the door.


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
Made in nz
Blood Angel Terminator with Lightning Claws






New Zealand

The triumphant roaring didn't take long to die down as the utter, overwhelming exhaustion overtook everyone except the civilians, who seemed more shocked and utterly confused than tired. Or they wept when they realised the terrible truth of their situation. Adelana couldn't blame them, she more than empathised, but she couldn't find the courage to help or even speak to any of them.

Only four people still stood: Tathe, Dellenger, captain Dantian and the priest, who were in a circle close to the elevators, discussing something Adelana couldn't hear. Probably about the ten million problems they still had even though they had 'won' such as water and food, especially now with all of the civilians. Also, how they'll get all of these people off-world. Adelana, Attelus and the others were going to be taken back to the Calixis Sector in the Eldar ship. Adelana wasn't sure how the other people would react to that. Well, with Vark dead, at least they wouldn't have to worry about him anymore. Adelana found herself not even beginning to mourn that puritan fool; she didn't know she could be so frigging callous. That's assuming the Eldar would want these dirty, dishevelled "Mon'keigh" on their fancy, beautiful spacecraft. Adelana remembered Autarch Raloth how nice, humble and patient he was, him and the other Eldar they met in the docking bay. She had to remember they were in the minority, the others probably think humans were less than apes, and that was assuming it was Raloth picking them up in the first place.

She shook away the thought and looked over at Delathasi, who had curled up like a feline, sleeping so deeply she seemed dead. Near to her were Helma and Jelket. Jelket sat asleep, his back against one of the battle beaten rockcrete slabs, his head hanging with Helma's head on his lap as she laid on the floor it caused Adelana a surge of jealousy, but she quickly suppressed it. A few metres away, the exhausted Halsin was on his knees, in the midst of bandaging a Velrosian soldier's las burned shoulder, both he and the trooper near to nodding off. Further away was Hayden, who sat on top of one of the slabs, his long las shouldered as he hunched forwards; Adelana couldn't tell if he was sleeping or looking at the floor. Then there was Verenth; he sat against the parapet, his gaze darting about as his hands with a life of their own had stripped his Autopistol and cleaned its parts. Torris wasn't far away from him, sleeping on his back, head raised as he snored softly.

Adelana sighed and looked down, she'd wanted them to go up to the top floor, but no one seemed willing or able to. She understood why everyone had allowed themselves to relax, but there were so many strands left unknown; Where was Kalakor? And Serghar frigging Kaltos and his cronies? What the hell was going on with Attelus?

Anxiety coursed through Adelana; it helped her combat her fatigue and the urge to close her eyes. Adelana sighed and tried to call Attelus on her micro-bead for the fiftieth time, but yet again, nothing, not even a signal.

Adelana couldn't help let out a growl and smash her fist on the floor, and she looked at Karmen, who now slept, which just served to annoy Adelana more. Maybe the psyker could use her powers to find out what's going on if she wasn't so...

Adelana clenched her teeth, shook her head and sighed; her frustration toward Karmen was not justified at all; the psyker had been pushed way past her limits; she deserved all the rest she could get. She then couldn't help steal another glance at the elevators, as the image of them turning on and the numbers of the floors beginning to descend popped into her mind.

'You alright?' said a voice, and Adelana turned. It was Hayden; he stood over her, his head tilted in concern; how the hell he managed to approach so fast without Adelana noticing was beyond her.

'Why do you care?' said Adelana. 'Tathe told me about you and Vark wanting to kill those people. They're Imperial Citizens.'

Hayden sighed and dropped into a kneel. 'I did, but please try to understand the situation we were in...'

'I do,' said Adelana. 'But you should have had more faith in us after everything we've been through like the commissar did.'

Hayden rubbed his eyes. 'Yes, I'm sorry, but this world... It'd brought out the worst in me, in all of us...And all of us...have a bad side...A terrible side. Even you. If we didn't, we wouldn't be a part of the Inquisition, would we? Many Inquisitors would have killed those Imperial citizens without hesitation. Remember the one who ordered the death of your world?'

Adelana found herself unable to reply, he was right, but it still just sounded like an excuse to her. Then her micro-bead beeped, and she activated it.

'Everyone,' said Tathe. 'The elevators are on, and one of them is coming down from the top floor. Stand ready.'

Tathe's words should've made joy burst through Adelana. Still, there was only dread, so she stood and raised her lasgun as did many others Jelket, Helma, Verenth included despite their exhaustion and technically not being beneath Tathe's command. It was just because his tone was so damn powerful and commanding. Adelana checked the elevator. The commissar was correct; one of the elevators was descending fast.

She tried to call Attelus again and again; she got nothing.

Adelana frowned and jogged up to Tathe, Dellenger, the priest and Dantian.

'Something's wrong,' said Adelana with a force and confidence which surprised even her and Tathe and the others stopped their conversation and looked at her. She fought the urge to wilt underneath their gazes.

'What's wrong, girl?' said Dantian, his narrowed eyes locked onto her, his frown so over the top he seemed like an animated caricature from the funny four-panel strips in the Informium papers back on Omnartus.

'I would show her some respect, captain,' said Tathe. 'She is a Throne Agent of the Inquisition who's fought alongside us with admiral skill and fortitude. Now, what's wrong, young mamzel Adelana?'

Adelana couldn't help feel her face begin to burn at the way Tathe called her "young mamzel Adelana", but again she forced that away.

'I-I just talked to Attelus before over the vox. He seemed...strange.'

'Strange? How so?' said Dellenger, his brow furrowed; it was the first time the stranger scout had addressed her directly. 'Please explain.'

Something in his tone made Adelana pause like he knew what she was talking about. 'I-I'm n-not sure, but there was a sword and...I don't know...it's a daemon weapon. I'm scared he found it up there, and it's...Taken him over.'

Dellenger and Tathe exchanged glances, and the Ecclesiarch raised a bemused eyebrow. 'What do you mean a daemon weapon?'

'A weapon infected by the essence of a warp beast,' said Dellenger before Adelana could reply. 'They are immeasurably, horrifically dangerous.'

Tathe frowned, his gaze burrowing into Dellenger's face. 'One day...trooper, you're going to have to tell me how in the Emperor's name you know this stuff!'

Dellenger looked away and shrugged. 'I'll-'

'Hello!'

The scout was interrupted by a familiar voice that echoed inside the foyer, and before she knew it, Adelana was moving toward the parapet. She couldn't believe it; she couldn't frigging believe it.

She looked down and found a small, beaten, battered svelte figure limping through the hundreds of Resurrected corpses.

'Darrance? Frigging Darrance! I can't frigging believe it!'

'Well, believe it, young Adelana. It seems my luck has yet to run out, and I managed to get through it...yet...again.'

'H...How the hell did you-?'

'As I informed the good Commissar, I did have the ability to eject from the Guncutter's cockpit before it exploded; you knew that, right?'

'I-I did but-'

'It helped that the enemy was too busy going after you and the Imperial Guard to come after me, but my landing wasn't the best after a Guncutter exploded only metres away...Anyway, my landing was not my best, and...I lost my micro-bead...Could you please retrieve Halsin or another medicae if he didn't make it? I need...treatment.'

Adelana nodded, 'Y-yeah, o-of course.'

She turned back but stopped as she saw the elevator only had five levels left to go.

'Oh, gak,' she said and readied her lasgun.



Despite the war waging through him, Tathe kept his nearly drained laspistol raised along with everyone else. Attelus Kaltos had just killed his father; he should've been more than willing to have him cut down in a withering hail of las fire, but the little frigger had fought tooth and nail, and he seemed...like a good person despite his many flaws and him being a pain in the butt. Tathe wasn't going to have his men just shoot right away on one young woman's hunch.

Tathe raised his hand. 'Fire only on my signal.'

There were a few mutterings and bemused looks among the troopers, but none lowered their guns, not even the Inquisition operatives, which surprised Tathe, but they would know about the so-called "daemon weapon."

Then, it was then the realisation finally hit Tathe. His father was dead; it was a hard concept to comprehend after more than twenty years serving the Imperial Guard beneath him. Tathe had always thought he would die before the general; he'd always seemed immovable, indestructible.

But so had Adreen, and now her corpse was rotting somewhere among the thousands of others down on the blood sands.

Tathe sighed and fought back the sudden onset of tears, now wasn't-

The ding of the elevator finally arriving interrupted his thoughts and Tathe gripped his pistol all the harder as fear began to pound through him.

It took only a few seconds before the door opened, but it seemed like an age. Then, of course, it did; both doors slid slowly open, and the young, insufferably pretty little Throne Agent stepped out and much to Tathe's surprise, he had his weapons sheathed, but he had a smile Tathe didn't like.

'Greetings,' said Tathe. 'You did an excellent job in assassinating my father, thank you, and while it's good to see you're back in one piece, but please, do not take another step and put your hands up.'

Attelus stopped, a brief look of surprise flowed across his face, but he still raised his hands.

'Scout trooper Dellenger. Would you please take a look at the sword sheathed at his hip?'

Dellenger grimaced, gave Tathe a nervous glance but even still moved toward Attelus, Lasgun raised.

Then Attelus' smile became a grin, which sent a new, massive wave of terror eclipse Tathe and before Tathe could even begin to pull his pistol's trigger, Attelus disappeared.

What seemed like a shoulder then barged into Tathe's side, sending him flying off his feet and crashing to the floor so hard it made pain bash through him and his hand to let go of his laspistol. Crying out, Tathe still managed to look up. A blur flew through the air where his head had been less than a second before. Dellenger knelt over him; how the hell the scout moved so fast...

Dellenger's lasgun spat a flurry of lasfire, but seemingly by itself; the lasgun was sheered in two, then Dellenger flew back, in a welter of blood and with the most agonised cry Tathe had ever heard the stoic scout utter. It happened so fast Tathe had no way to know where Dellenger was hit.

The others opened fire, crack of las shots and the bellowing of solid projectile weapons. Tathe, clenching his teeth with the pain, snatched up his laspistol and tried to find a bead, but he may as well be attempting to stay sane while bathing in the warp. People all around were being cut down, Imperial Guard civilians; it didn't seem to matter. They were dissected with diagonal or vertical cuts, decapitated. Tathe managed to glimpse the poor, brave Ecclesiarch's skull being sliced through and Captain Dantian's getting impaled through the chest, then flung limply backward as though being kicked off the invisible blade.

Another agony clenched Tathe's heart, so many having fought and survived against such incredible odds, men and women he had fought beside for years, decades even only to be slaughtered like dogs now. It was horrific, tragic beyond thought.

The men and women of the Imperial Guard still stood their ground, but the civilians shrieked in fear and turned to run the panicked fire of the Guard even perforated a few.

Tathe growled, he had seen Attelus fight, and while he was inhumanly fast, the Throne Agent hadn't shown speed on this level before. It must've been the cursed sword!

Then the Throne Agent, Verenth, died, a slice which took him across his torso felled him, splitting him in half in an explosion of organs and blood.

Tathe cried out and began to stand, but more agony throttled through him, making him drop. He must've broken a rib or two. He managed to tear his attention away from the carnage to check on Dellenger. The scout laid on his side, curled into a foetal ball and shaking, blood pouring from a wound on his torso, but he was alive, somehow, thank the Emperor.

For now.

Fighting the pain, Tathe began to crawl toward his old friend, he didn't know why, but he did.

No, Tathe knew why, because it was all he could do right now, and he wanted to; he needed to do something and if that 'something' was to die beside his friend, then so frigging be it.



As tears streamed down her face, Adelana shrieked out while she unleashed las bolt after las bolt on full-auto. Her initial hesitation to shoot had disappeared when Verenth fell dead.

All around, more and more of the survivors fell, their constant death screams seeming to coalesce into one single crescendo, which hurt Adelana's very soul. Screams which seemed to become abruptly cut short unnaturally, as though the cries themselves were being killed too.

Then Jelket and Helma died. Helma impaled through the chest, and Jelket's throat sliced open. They fell side by side in heaps, and as Jelket began dying, he managed to take Helma's hand in his. They'd been right in front of Adelana.

Adelana's lasgun then clicked dry, and in panic, she threw herself on her back, her gun falling from her hands. Somehow she knew he was...

Attelus was suddenly there, towering above her, the tip of a sword she'd never seen aimed at her face. His once handsome face contorted into a hideous, grinning rictus of utter insanity.

She cried out and raised her arms in front of her face expecting him to plunge his sword through her skull.

But it didn't come, and she lowered her hands. Attelus still loomed over her, his face still in that horrific grin. Still, he was shaking his sword arm especially, his left eye twitching as though waging a war of unimaginable intensity within himself.

'A-Attelus?' Adelana managed to say through her gritted teeth. 'F-fight it! I know you can win! I know it.'

Attelus' eyes widened, then, with a cry, he stabbed for her.

Adelana reeled and flinched, but the sword never stabbed through her; Attelus screamed a strangled bellow, turned the stab into a swing and flung the sword from his grasp and across the room.

Attelus stood for about a second, then fell to his knees, his eyes dead, tears pouring down his cheeks, his head tilting. She thought that he might scream out again, but he stayed silent, as though the agony, the horror of what he'd just done, was beyond any expression.

The slow, sarcastic clapping drew Adelana's and everyone's attention. It was Serghar who approached them, stepping contemptuously through the corpses as his three cronies flanked him.

'Good, very good, my son,' said Serghar as he glanced about. 'My master predicted that you would kill the girl Adelana before managing to break the sword's control, but he's not always correct.'

Attelus didn't reply; his blank eyes didn't even blink as they stared into space.

'W-wait,' said Adelana. 'This was what you wanted?'

'What a stupid question, little girl,' sneered Serghar. 'Why do you think I manipulated him here? My foolish boy thought he could control the sword of Kalncerak. How wrong was he?'

Serghar glanced around the dead in emphasis.

'Ah! There it is,' Serghar said and began to walk away; Adelana watched him the whole time as he approached the sword of Kalncerak.

'N-no don't!' she yelled, but he ignored her and picked it up.

'Hmm, did you think I would be controlled like my son?' said Serghar as he flourished it. 'My master made sure I would be immune to its control. Hmm, beautiful balance. Beautiful balance indeed. A sword worthy of my ability.'

Adelana bit her lip and glanced at Attelus, he still hadn't moved or blinked, and she couldn't help wonder if this was him or some trauma from fighting off the sword's control. She suspected it was the former.

'W-what now?' she said. 'You have the sword now. Can you just leave us?'

'Oh no,' said Serghar as he began to approach them again. 'Oh no, oh no, oh no. We still need my son, but we know he will be more useful to my master dead. His part in this ends here, I'm afraid, but I suspect my son won't mind that.'

Serghar grinned. 'He won't mind that at all. Look at him moping, depressed. Pathetic! Crying over the death of pawns that have no consequence in the fate of anything.'

Serghar stood over Attelus. 'Especially the fate my master has been spending decades creating.'

Serghar raised the sword.


"The best way to lie is to tell the truth." Attelus Kaltos.
My story! Secret War
After his organisation is hired to hunt down an influential gang leader on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse. Forevermore. Chapter 1.

The Angaran Chronicles: Hamar Noir. After coming back from a dangerous mission which left his friend and partner, the werewolf: Emilia in a coma. Anargrin is sent on another mission: to hunt down a rogue vampire. A rogue vampire with no consistent modus operandi and who is exceedingly good at hiding its tracks. So much so even the veteran Anargrin is forced into desperate speculation. But worst of all: drive him into desperate measures. Measures which drives Anargrin to wonder; does the ends, justify the means?

 
   
 
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