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That sweet taste of blood is something I have not tasted in some long time. As I glance down at my core I see it, I see what I had hoped not to see. I look back up at the Seargeant, he is a Salamander Space Marine. I can smell his fear, I can hear his shuddered breath. His power sword is lodged in my torso section and so I pull it further in drawing myself closer to him gnashing my teeth fighting the pain off. I reach the hilt and I look into his eyes and whisper my prayer into his ear.

'Thank you... Brother... For freeing me' Disgusted he wrenches free his power sword and in a powerful swing cleaves my head in two. Dead before my mind registers I fall down and my vision blurs. Yet I still hear the Sargeant and his men talking as they pick through the dead of my warband.

'He'Rean, are you alright?' came the abrupt question from a terminator behind the Sargeant.

'I am, this one seemed to have tenacity sewn into its very being.'

'Remember He'Rean the Emperor protects and rewards the faithful'

'Aye he does Ma'Roan'

The voice inside He'Rean's head was the first clue, my voice whispering to him, coaxing him with all the pleasures of the warp. The damned fool. The static on their vox was the second clue, atmospherics hy believed, no. No it was not atmospherics it was my hand that played with their vox. The last clue was my body, it started with a small twitch and then became full animation. The sargeant noticed first and called out to warn his brothers as the half headed beast I am, turned to them and chuckled. First slowly and quietly then louder and louder until my cackle filled the fields.

Rising up I picked up my Daemonblade As'Gra'Xrx'Thrax and I took my first step looking closely with my one eye into the squad that had butchered my men. I drew my hand to my face and felt the jagged edges where my face should've been. I look at the blood and lick it off my hand and look deep into the eyes of The Sargeant.

'Brother, you've failed me?'

Its good but if this is the salamanders they wouldnt be laughing over the dead heretics, plu if they are space marines they dont know fear. So no screaming or smelling of fear. Other then that it was pretty good

Very nicely written.

Thank you LoneLictor. & Willhman what do you suggest I do to change it to make a more realistic space marine. I was assuming they just thought a brother marine started laughing while kicking through the dead, and they all picked up on it. As for the screaming I'll fix that up. Thanks for sharing your opinions!

Im a fluff nerd so Yeah they if we are talking about the salamanders they are one of the more serious chapters in a sense. My opionon. anyways If this was orks or humans then yes there would be fear and laughing. More orks then humans and stuff. But orks arent as affected by warp as humans and Ig just die to marines. Your choice sir but Salamanders are dead serious when it comes the dead. It is really unlikely a squad would just start burst out laughing.

Looking into the sargeants eyes I threw a punch which connected to the sargeants helmet, cracking his head back. He stumbled back attempting to bring his plasma pistol up to snap fire off at me. I saw his intent and lunged at him. Grabbing his plasma pistol we wrestled back and forth. Two titanic figures pressing all the might on a single point. I forced the plasma pistol to the sargeants head slowly. It was nearly a half an inch before I could have a clean kill. The sargeant used quick thinking and jutted his leg into my groin flipping me over him. He flipped off the ground and snapped off a shot of the plasma pistol.

A lucky shot seared through my shoulder guard seperating my secondary arm from the torso. As the arm severed and hit the floor my wound cauterised itself instantly. Things blacked out as I went into an animalistic rage. Which contained quick decisive thrusts and bloody slashes. As I performed my dance of death limbs were maimed and sent skittering onto the field. I could not see anything yet I could see their emotions within the warp which gave me a clear as day picture of my targets. I saw the Sargeant was lieing on his back choking, He had a mangled face and his jaw was horribly dislocated setting itself nearly 5 inches to the left while the right mandibular fossa was completely torn off. He gurgled blood and choked on his words before he managed to get out a short sentence.

'Here...tic you wi.. burn' The sargeant looked at me and spit a curse. I looked down in joyish delight as his men lay dead next to him and the field was burning and filled with the harrowing screams of the dying.

'You're service will not end here brother, no.. You are mine!' I reached down and snapped his neck. Whispering a dark prayer to the Pantheon, I asked for the gift to be given to this one. I spoke the words into his ear slowly.

'Drath mengar ndurak maj nduk klehj' The dark words forming a black wispy cloud of air that flowed into the sargeants mouth. I stepped back and drew out the sacred blade and slit my hand open dropping black ichor onto the corpse. A few seconds passed with nothing, and then a small twitch and a shudder brought life back to my prize. With a deep gasp, as someone who has been held under water too long might, He'Rean rose from the realm of the dead. touching at his jaw he tore it free and tossed it down.

'Master I serve you.' the words brought an unholy grin to my face as I looked at the abomination which would be my attack dog.

'Mongrel, let us walk we have much to discuss.'

'Yes Master let us walk'

As we walked through the plains I found numerous more dying that I could save with my dark gift. At the edge of the field I had found 17 Marines and 34 mortals. We had a sturdy start. The Mongrel made growls at any who got too near to me. One marine began talking to me and the Mongrel put a shell through their skull. He is an obedient dog. I shall keep him near me.

Oh my....well this is grim. And I like it! Will follow thios closely and provide merciless purging when needed.

'Haurvatat Arash, your soul is mine.. You can run the universe over, topple the imperium, be lord over all domains, and you will still be but a dog to me' The Lord of change croned at me. It's billowing robes flowing around it ensconing it in a sorcerous haze. The giant beast looked down at me and continued speaking It's hawk eyes leering over me all the while. 'I was there when prospero burned Haurvatat. It was I who saved you, you were dead by all rights, and I saved you plucking your lifeless corpse from the void and breathing my gift of life back into you. Now you go about claiming you are master of your own soul. No Haurvatat... YOU ARE MINE'

The daemon was stopped and peered off into the distance as I looked to try and follow it's sight at the end of the plane I saw Prospero burning, as if it was happening at that very moment. I saw where I had been skewered through the eyes of my enemy. Looking at my body I saw my face and in place of my face was a distorted mass of flesh. I saw my body slowly drop to a knee and crumple down. This was my first death, damned from the day I was born, I will never be allowed the warm embrace of deaths kiss. I saw my soul leave my body as it flitted away pulled by some dark force. Cursed with the dark gift, I was forced immortality by the daemon, it spoke life into my corpse and cursed me to roam the universe blessing others with the dark gift. Or was I cursing them? Doomed souls cursed to roam endlessly throughout the remainder of time as monsters of my own creations.

I woke screaming from my night terrors. Looking around my quarters I had been operated on as I felt a new arm and my head had being drmatically reconstructed through the extensive usage of bionics. Although my sight was gone completely I was able to see the emotions of those around me. Mongrel was standing in the corner of my quarters holding a gigantic axe. He looked at me and nodded

'Master.. I carried you to the droppship and we fled from the planet... What would you have me do?' I looked at him and thinking of what I could last remember I asked him.

'Where are we Mongrel?'

Master we are at Lobontii prime in the Lonbontii system'

'How many are we Mongrel'

'Master we are quite small in numbers, there are 26 rubrics and nearly 200 cultists, what would you have me do?

'Tell the Navigator to direct us to the dead moon in orbit of Lobontii prime.' As I said this the air locks disengaged to the door and Mongrel slipped through them into the hall. The airlock slammed shut with a loud hiss of air and I found myself once again in the dead silence of my quarters alone. I leaned back to my bed and sat down. The silence hung in the air and there was an eerie feeling about the room. Leaning back up I spoke out.

'You are quite the assassin, what are you Callidus? Ah yes only you are able to hide yourself from me in the warp. But that is how I can find you. The lack of a presence gives you away. The assassin moved forward and drew out its blade ready to spill my blood and fulfill its assignment. I could not see it's movement quickly enough as it ran me through with its blade, my skin sizzled and melted to the burning hot touch of the sword. It gave it's position away and I used it to my advantage finding the emotion, I heard the assassin loud and clear his thoughts were simple and few

'Did I kill him?' Using his thoughts I whispered to the assassins heart playing to his desires and amplifying his biggest fears. He feared his dead brother more than anything. Using this as my alibi I cast an illusion onto his mind and I appeared as his dead brother to him.

'Brother.. why...' The fear in the assassin's eyes cast deep emotions which I saw. I took my chances and toyed with his mind and the illusion of his brother. The assassin began to shake and dropped his blade. He took steps back from me trying to make sense of the situation but not being able to. He back up to the airlock door and released it opening the door with a hissing moan. Taking a single step back, a black sword slid through his back protruding through his flesh. The wielder drug the sword upwards through the assassins chest and ending below the head. Kicking off the body. Mongrel stepped into the room and rushed to me.

Master we are under attack

You noticed? I was about to continue when the claxons of the ship started and the vox picked up.

'ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS WE ARE UNDER FIRE, BOARD IMMINENT.' I went over to my armour and began suiting myself with the help of Mongrel. My thoughts were rushing a mile a minute. I ignored my worries as I armoured myself and readied my mind for the coming battle. I can see their fear gathering like moisture in the air.

Wait? I know sorcerers are powerfull, but killing Callidus assasins like that? I dunno how my mind feels about just that. But beside that I like it

I was imagining the sorceror had known about the assassin the whole time, so when the assassin was ready to strike it was too late.

Still....if the assasin is a blank I imagin the Sorcerer would be rather paniced.

I have changed it. And I kind of thought from the book thousand sons how ahriman could find the blanks by the lack of a presence yet there was a feeling. IIRC. Haurvatat is panicked but he's keeping his cool, and using emotion to find his enemy because he's blind he can't see . It was hard on thinking an encounter with an assassin.

It seems awfully petty of Tzeentch to personally speak with Haurvatat just because Haurvatat says, "I'M MY OWN MAN. Also, the appearance of a Chaos God should carry more weight. Tzeentch is one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy, and he didn't even get a description.

Beyond that, this entry is good.

 LoneLictor wrote:
It seems awfully petty of Tzeentch to personally speak with Haurvatat just because Haurvatat says, "I'M MY OWN MAN. Also, the appearance of a Chaos God should carry more weight. Tzeentch is one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy, and he didn't even get a description.

Beyond that, this entry is good.

Agreed keep it flowing.

It was just one of the Lords of change not the actual big guy. Ill go back and edit to make it more informed and easier read.

 The Obsidian King wrote:
It was just one of the Lords of change not the actual big guy. Ill go back and edit to make it more informed and easier read.

Oh, sorry for the confusion. I agree, it works better as a Lord of Change.

The edit will be up in a few minutes. & no problem I didnt clarify enough

I looked at my company commander, a grizzled war veteran who's led us for 12 years faithfully. Earning himself high honors in many fights. Captain Markos Layd of the Sertisian 103rd, was paging through a devotions book and muttering prayers to himself. Commissar Irin, looked at my rank stripes noticing i was just a ensign he spoke up.

'First time boarding boy?' The sentence hung in the air for a few moments until I caught on. I nodded slowly unsure of what to reply.

'He has the look of a child, he must only be 18 years eh Irin?'

'They get younger and younger, most cant even grip a lasgun.'

'The emperor protects boy, because you sure as hell are going to need something more than that flak armour.' Commissar Irin then made some wheezing sound that had me befuddled for a moment, I realized he was laughing and Captain Markos was too. I smiled weakly and clenched my fists around my lasgun, I quickly checked it over again and strapped up my helmet. I looked over to Rafardson, one of my close friends from training camp. He was shaking and his knuckles were white from how hard he gripped the flamer.

'Emperor protects Raf, Don't worry.'

'Tillman, I don't care about the emperor.. I just want to get this over with.' The words were out before Raf could reel them back in. Commissar Irin looked directly at him unsnapping the button lock to his laspistol and starting towards him. My stomach hit the floor, I knew exactly what came next.

'...I...Irin I didn't mean that..'

'Private Rafardson, cowardice in the face of the enemy will not be permitted, God-Emperor forgive you, because I cannot.' Commissar Irin brought the laspistol up and squeezed the trigger, a bright light bored it way through Rafardson's head, both inflicting massive internal bleeding and cauterising it at the same time. His head smacked against the back of the wall and he slid down, unmoving.

'Private Tillman, grab the flamer, you've been promoted.' slinging the lasgun up on a rack, I shouldered the flamer tanks and picked up the flamer. I closed my eyes and shot a prayer to the emperor. In the dark of my mind, I can see It burning. The vision dissapated as our boarding vessel came under intense fire shaking the small craft violently. Inside there was a metallic rattle of two things clanging together coming from somewhere not too far off a trooper ten down the line closed his eyes shut and held tightly onto the brace before loosing the contents of his stomach in one violent expulsion.

'Steady men of the Imperium we are almost there, no matter what happens, die with the emperors word on your lips. Into the depths of hell we go, and we will destroy these heretics! Private Tillman to the front!' Captain Markos had a charismatic look as he paced down and walked to his brace fastening himself in. I blinked, then gulped down the last assured breath of air I was promised. Over the comms I hear the impact countdown start.

'10.... Let the heretic burn..'
'9... Remember your place..'
'8... We serve the God-Emperor..'
'7... Steady your aim Tillman..'
'6... I can see it burning..'
'5... Let my aim be true..'
'4... For Sertisia..'
'3... Let it be done..'
'2... Emperor protect me..'
'1... Or Death take me..' The sudden rush of it was exhilirating, all so quick the floodlights shot off and the boarding tip blasted through the chaos flagship Tyrannus Rex. Showering the inside of the breach with a storm of metal, Markos was first into the breach calling out to the 50 men behind him. 'Forward for the Emperor!'

I was second through the breach followed closely by Commissar Irin, The men of our company were seared down in droves by auto-lock rifles and other crude weaponry. A man I knew was shot in the head, time slowed as the bullet hit his head and it slowly fractured and exploded. I moved on there was no time to mourn the dead. To my direct left was a dark hallway. Seemed empty, and so I followed Captain Markos, He was thundering into a large group of cultists, a wild man in combat hacking and slashing through bodies in wild blazing arcs. A cultist managed a lucky jab with his bayonet and stabbed through the Captains thigh as he left his guard down. They swarmed over Markos in a blur and I couldn't tell if he lived, so I let loose on them with the flamer, scorching them in a mad torrent of flame. The gunner lens' over my eyes were protecting my view I saw the heretics dying by the droves, Inspired I screamed out to the men around me who were fighting,

'Give them hell men!' I turned back to see where I was flaming, A crude club smacked into my face punching me to the floor. Knocked unconcious by the sheer force of the impact I layed motionless, barely breathing, I can see it burning.

I say this be a fine read lad! PREPARE TO REPEL DA BOARDERS!

The massive gold pyraminds astound me as I walked through the marble street that holds breathtaking architecture, I continued walking through the streets stopping once and looking over to another human I see sitting on a black marble bench. I stop and stared at woman is writing vigourously with a quilled pen. I slowly walked to the woman and began speaking to her, she makes no attempt at listening and continues writing. I sat down and exhaled loudly. People suddenly appeared from nowhere carrying scribes, merchandise and what-not. The city was bustling with activity, baffled I exlaimed,

'Where the feth am I...'

'Prospero, Lerik..' -came a reply.

'Huh?'

'You asked, I answered.'

'Who are you?'

'Haurvatat Arash, one of the survivors of the 10th fellowship.'

Looking up I shaded my face as the golden sun glinted off the blood red color of the Space Marines armour, His heqa staff slung to a side and a great white robe draped over his armour. I looked over to the area and looked back to Haurvatat and began to formulate a string of questions.

'When did I get here?'

'You aren't here you're seeing my planet as it was Lerik.'

'Then where am I? I've seen this place but every time it was..' -

'Burning... I know..' -came the sonorous reply. I stopped and thought of the place burning.

'No that can't be? Can it?' - I asked

'See for yourself Lerik Tillman.' The giant rounded and pulled out the heqa staff which extended to it's full length of about 7 feet. He pointed the hooked end to the Great Library, where all memories, knowledge, and tales were kept. Haurvatat spoke three words

'Nadath kluhj mennat' and a kaleidoscopic beam shot up to the Library which in turn shot back a black ray of energy to feet before me. Slowly I hear the rumble of cannons and the screams of dead and dieng men, women, and children all around. The half shadows of people long deceased some 10,000 years were rushing about in a world of ghosts as flames that did not truly exist lit up the golden pyramids. I saw many squads of troops thundering forward to join the din of battle. I continued looking on as a shade came to me and shouted out.

'Comon' Captain, The wolves have come! We must fight them off!' The shade threw me a weapon that existed both in my realm yet partly divorced from it. I caught the shade weapon and looked it over, an antique lasgun from the days of the great crusade? What madness was this? The shade looked at me and piped up again.

'Captain? Are you alright? You look a bit uneasy?'

'No, no, I am good. The wolves have come you say? Then lets give them hell.'

I followed after the shade and with my squad we ran down the street and looking around I saw the bodies of dead shades laying on the ground burning, the ethereal smell was pungent and worked its way into my nostrils making me gag. I stopped, trying to make sense of this. I couldn't take time enough to think before I was prodded on by a shade behind me.

We rounded the corner and came to a vast road which would've looked glorious had it not been for the war which consumed its being. I stopped when I reached a battle line the shades turned to me and welcomed me to their midst. There was a gigantic cyclopean standing in the front, anger eminating itself from every essence the shade had. I was beginning to speak when the giant cut me off.

'Lerik Tillman, we did not betray them.. We did everything we could to bring them to the truth. But now our brothers ready to kill us on the whim of a Emperor who knows not the truth behind the matter. We were innocent Lerik, we were the ones betrayed.. by Horus Lupercal. To the very end we stayed our hand. Lerik, you have been blessed with the knowledge hidden ten thousand years lost. In the name of what is just, Free my son, Lerik. You see her burning.'

The giant turned back as the shades called out contact had been sighted with the enemy nearly 100 metres out. 'Steady!' called out the giant shade. I raised my gun and took aim, seeing down the scope a monstrosity of a shade the true embodiment of raw, savage, power pounding to me. I began to squeeze the trigger when a heavy gauntlet touched my shoulder.

'No Lerik, this is not your fight..' Haurvatat closed the memories right before the two titanic sides clashed. Literally wisping away to nothing. I found myself floating in a realm of nothing, where Haurvatat was too. I called out to him and he turned, his armour had changed dramatically, all black with blue trim, and the great white robe was now a dull black. In his face was ten thousand years of burden, ten thousand years of guilt, ten thousand years of remorse. He looked into my eyes and spoke half-heartedly to me.

'I died on that planet, yet I was denied my final rest. The daemons had complete control over our legion, and I was forced to walk for eternity, damning others with this dark gift of immortality.' He stopped speaking and looked down to his hands

'I am a monster of my own creation, for ten thousand years I have marauded the Imperium, sacrificed whole worlds, searched the galaxy and back, all to try and find death. Not once have I been lucky enough to find it. Until now Lerik.. Until now. You are my key, we must journey together.. you and I, many will seek your death, you will be shunned, hated, persecuted. But you will be a savior to those of the Dark Legion, you shall give us our deaths.'

Pushed out of the warp I woke badly bruised, and in terrible pain as I stood, I saw two legionnaires standing infront of my door. I had been placed in living quarters that were strangley unproportianate to my size. Everything was for the size of a space marine where as I was the size of a human. I looked at the legionnaires and they stood motionless, unbreathing, thoughtless. I moved to the door and they snapped into a battle stance hefting their archaic bolters into a battle ready position. Stepping back I sat down and stared at the ceiling, I can see it burning.

Oh my, this was tense and very well paced. Well done

Thank you friend.

The Daemon known as Mongrel sat on its haunches, its black trident shaped tongue flitting out like a serpent would. The puny human master called Lerik Tillman. It looks scrawny, malnourished, and edible. Mongrel thought to itself and agreed with its chosen course of action. It crawled over to Lerik lifting its hands to grasp the good morsel. Picking up Lerik it looked at him, the creature stared into Mongrels' eyes, stammering to think of something to stop Mongrel, Lerik yelped as the pressure around his ribcage increase. Lerik screamed out as he slowly had the life squeezed out of his body.

'Nadath kluhj mennat,'

He cursed words in a language totally foreign to him. Emotions coalesced into a black haze that Mongrel inhaled. Intracranial nerves ruptured causing a cerebral vascular accident in its brain. The sudden buildup of pressure around the brain caused a subdural hematoma. The body dropped motionless, silent, it was a sudden death. Blood pooled to the base of Mongrel's body. Lerik fell too, his ribcage fractured in three places, gasping for air Lerik cried out.

'HAURVATAT!'

In the blink of an eye the sorcerer stepped through a dark mist that had sudden onset. He looked to Lerik and to the body on the floor a deep frown creased his forehead. 'You killed Mongrel?'

Dropping his eyes to the floor, Lerik layered on apologies and begged for mercy. Lerik was raising his hands around his head to guard his face from any incoming blows. None were received and as Lerik lowered his hands slowly he looked at Haurvatat. The sorcerer was smiling at the deceased body of Mongrel. Puzzled Lerik stood and asked the matter for the situation.

'Why are you smiling my Lord.'

'Because you'll love what is next.' came the dull reply.

Lerik looked back at the body, it was breathing and spasming. The dark gift had been bestowed upon Mongrel as it slowly reasserted control of its body. Looking directly into Lerik's eyes, yet more-so into his soul the beast uttered a single guttural word.

'Sorcerer..'

The obedient corpse rose as exactly it should, its cumbersome body becoming re-accustomed to the weight of itself, its terminator armour creaked under the weight. Haurvatat walked to Lerik peering at him inquisitively. For an extensive period of time the room was silent as if no one was present. Haurvatat Arash brandished his heqa staff and handed it to Lerik. The enormous staff was shockingly light and expanded when Lerik took hold. A kaleidoscopic flame was scorching over the jeweled eye at the enclosure through it Haurvatat saw Lerik in another realm.

A Herald of Destruction who bent nations and tore the heavens asunder with mere flicks of his wrist. Haurvatat took note, muttering to himself and calling in the automatons that were standing outside the quarters their blood red armour had the antiquity of ten millennia spent in smoldering dissention. They bore the original thousand sons colours with slight variations. The entire Dark legion as the called themselves had a black mass of warp flesh that pulsated over where their hearts should be, in memory of the dark gift they were plagued with.

As they stepped in Haurvatat cranked his head round to them and spoke simply, ‘Alert Lord Ahriman, I’ve found the Immortalis code. We’re coming to him and we’d better be getting something worth our work.’ The automatons nodded coldly and half stepped sideways and exited the captains’ quarters. ‘What’s happening to me my Lord?’ probed Lerik. ‘SILENCE’ boomed the sorcerer as he trifled through many different paper files of notes. The sorcerer picked up a last sheet of paper and stared at it; the shadowed runes wept off the page and dripped onto the floor, showing a portal to another realm, the hellish daemonic realm of chaos. ‘Look’ spoke Haurvatat, Lerik peered through the portal seeing nothing he became frustrated and cursed himself. ‘Look at what!’

‘At you, you lead vast legions to war, slaughter the innocent, and save the damned.’
Lerik looked onto the rift and saw himself. He was covered head to toe in unholy scripture burned into his flesh. The ashen runes on his body shifted slowly forming the star of chaos and also the immaterium veil. He looked further into himself, his eyes seared with a dark thirst for slaughter and carnage. Over his heart was a lump of warp flesh that pulsed like a heart, and would send distant vibes of worry through Lerik.
Enraptured in the image of himself he couldn’t manage to pull his eyes away.

The Horror in the rift stole his soul, and forever damned would Lerik be, damned to the demise of eternal life. He’d soon come to hate immortality, as his sweet gift of life turned into a damning prison of infinity. The horror spoke to him, sang him sweet lullabies, promising every pleasure, every honor, every scrap of forbidden knowledge that had been kept from him his whole life.
Lerik was given the option, eternal servitude to the horror, and all the gifts that could be gained in an eternity, or being devoured by the horror, to become nothing more than a bone fragment upon the heap of splinters that made up its realm of chaos.

Weighing his options and peering back from the rift, Lerik saw the face of Haurvatat, or more so what should have been the face. There was only a lone bale eye in the center, full of stimulating emotion and color, followed by a series of vertical slits for speaking and breathing. It looked around and focused on Lerik. The chorus of whispers rang out, in a slithering hiss. ‘Do as you are told... Save us..’His stomach rolled at the hideous sight of Haurvatat Arash, he was a monster yet a compassionate one. Beneath the hate and rage that roiled over the surface, he was tired, bone tired from millennia of constant slaughter, and destruction, all he asked for was death. Lerik paused to look within himself, looking back at the horror in the rift; Lerik took his combat knife and rammed it into his chest. Sinking to the floor in a slow pace, he took out his knife and reached in grabbing his heart slowly and with his last heartbeat, tore it free and tossed it to the denizens of the warp.

Falling back his body began spasming and the red viscera turned black. The hole where his heart should've been clotted with a black lump of warp flesh and began beating. Lerik's body warped and changed, bones fractured and buckled, muscle tore and tendons re-knit themselves. Howling screams of pain shot from Lerik as he slowly was claimed as a child of the warp. Vicious razor sharp talons tore through his hands, dark recurve horns burst through his skull, spurred onwards by the gifts of chaos, his legs lengthened and his muscles swelled. Teeth turned to fangs, flesh turned to warp substance, and with an archaic, devilish, roar. As'gre'Xrx'thrax, of the Dark Legion took his first breaths of Daemonhood. His massive clawed feet clicking on the floor. Looking down to the Astarte sorcerer. The Daemon prince, bent its knee. Roaring more than talking it spoke out.

'We shall topple the thrones of the gods, Lord Haurvatat.'

'No, good brother, you shall, As'gre'Xrx'thrax.'

Standing up and looking to Mongrel, As'gre'Xrx'thrax reached out with a taloned hand and touched lightly the warp heart on Mongrels chest. A blood curdling shriek ripped through the ship as Mongrel's mouth foamed and he began to contort and wither. He fell down dead. As'gre'Xrx'thrax spat at the body speaking two words.

'No... God...'

Oh my, this is turning out to be quite the read indeed. Well done

Well madew new entry! It was a great read

Good to see you enjoy'd it!

Haurvatat Arash, Sorcerer-Lord of the Dark Legion sat unmoving on his great throne, as all around him perceived his status. Only the many sorcerers under his command knew of the monumental task he had undertaken. He was a Captain steering his great vessel through waves of shattered souls, following the eddies as they rolled on towards the edge of reality. He could feel the hellish claws of fiends outside the hull running them against the ship as if it was his own skin. He felt the ships pain as it wracked his mind. Voices in the night gave life to every thought he had ever had, his fears became hellish nightmares, his triumphs became roaring crowds chanting his name, the times he evaded death showed every possible variation that could have happened, and the blood of the universe was on his hands. Was he disgraced? Was he proud?

It won’t save them, drawled a wet and crackled voice. Haurvatat tried not to imagine what manner of deviant plagued his mind, attempting to poison his thoughts and body. A bloated corpse of rotting musculature and bone, whispered to Haurvatat. And it won’t save you, even princes have and end.
Ahriman will save us Haurvatat reassured himself and focused on steering the helm of his ship. Even if Ahriman knew, that didn’t mean he’d help them in the least. Ahriman was notorious for his power-greed, and the lack of concern he held for all others. The Rubric, proved this.

The shock of realization came from how far he’d fallen from the Grace of Lord Magnus. To be begging from an outcast like Ahriman had shown just how low the Dark legion had been laid. He led them to ruin he realized but he hoped with a Daemon prince at his back he’d have more Marines flock to him. There were three hundred battle brothers left. A cold shadow of what once he led. His scalp itched where the icy bionics met the bare flesh. The flesh was badly infected turned a garnet red pulsing with each beat of his heart. Haurvatat realized how broken he was, he was a machine having completely forsaken his human body.

Funny how easily we bleed out he thought to himself but never die.

‘You hope for death? I bless those who call upon my name for hope.’
‘You hope for change? I bless those who call upon my name for change.’ - Came the dark echo’s from within the shadows of the Empyrean.

Haurvatat spoke sibilantly to the shadow. As he spun his body as much as a soul in the warp could he looked upon it. Nothingness surrounded him and yet everything was around him within him and was him.

‘What are you!’ –asked Haurvatat, as he conjured up a torrent of black balefire and shot it into the darkness.

‘Show yourself!’ He roared, summoning all manners of wards of mystic energies around his mind. He shot inky torrents of balefire.

‘What are you!’ came an exact echo of his voice.
‘Show yourself!’ came his voice again. ‘No Haurvatat, show yourself. You hide all the truth beneath those lips. Yet I know all your desires, passions, hopes, and ambitions. For I am these things and all these things are I.’
‘No Haurvatat, show me my prince. You hide all the truth beneath those lips. Yet I know all your desires, passions, hopes, and ambitions. For I am these things and all these things are I.’

Haurvatat furrowed his brow, confused by the voice of himself that seemed to mock him. I can possibly trick the shadow he thought, all shadows fear light.

‘Very well shadow, I concede. I show my truths and that of my prince.’ The shadow stepped forward and became hundreds of leering faces that gibbered and reached at Haurvatat. A warm summer breeze batted at his face as he stood with a lonely scholar atop a cliff facing the deep ocean. The ocean however was not one of water but of liquid crystal waves which rolled onto the beaches.

Haurvatat took a moment looking around, the distant call of gulls on the wind and the soothing turn of the waves made Haurvatat slightly more calm. The scholar was sitting at a chess board with a hand propped up to his cheek, staring intently at the board. As Haurvatat began walking towards the chess board he stopped short of a seat and looked onto the board. Befuddled, Haurvatat stared blankly into the board for what seemed an eon. When time seemed to come back to him the scholar still sat at the same place, arm propped looking at the board.

‘Come, Haurvatat. You have much to ask me, and I have much to demand of you.’ Spoke the scholar, slowly reaching and pushing a pawn ahead on the board of schemes.

‘You are one of the chaos gods are you not?’ The question hung in the air until it was swept away by a breeze.

‘I believe I would be exactly that, and so much more, yet nothing but emotions of you.’ The scholar looked up. His face was constantly shifting into new faces which muttered and repeated his words.

‘I want you and my prince, and yet, I am compassionate and you have ambitions. Bring me the heads of nine warlords, sacrifice me nine worlds, and sell your sweet soul to me. Then I will give you what you seek Haurvatat.’ On the chess board the pawn was run down by a knight and killed. A sly smile came across the scholars face, hinting at a sliver of deception.

‘I worship no Gods; I’ve seen what you do to us… Warp us, change us, and turn us into monsters. Hell I lost eight hundred battle brothers to your lord of change’s damned curse. Those battle brothers that I knew, and swore to lead through the end of the ages. How do you wish me to destroy nine warlords, slay nine worlds and sell you my soul and that of MY prince? He serves me and none other, especially not a God as horrid as you.. There is not a damned thing you can do to me. Give me death? I want that. Force me to live on, no matter, I hunt those who cursed me. You and no other God shall stand in my way Lord Tzeentch.’

Haurvatat literally was brazen and stern faced from his speech to the Chaos God. At the end of the speech the scholar, looked at Haurvatat, then down to his chess board, then slowly pushed another pawn and took the knight. Smiling the scholar looked back up.

‘For now pawn, I am amused to say the least at your determination to keep your soul. But I claimed that legion of Thousand Sons before the very universe took its first breaths. I want to give you two gifts, enjoy pawn. For no souls are beyond the grasps of emotion, and those emotions that you embody, are the emotions I am.’

The sun in the sky began caving into itself and was eaten by a ravenous black hole which slowly tore apart the plains on which Haurvatat stood. As the scholar disappeared with a chuckle into the black hole, Haurvatat was left standing on a small scrap of the realm he once was in. It was an island in an ocean of nothingness. He began stepping forward when his leg kicked something; he looked down and saw it. An oceanic blue blade that crackled with a mystic black lightning lay at his feet, reaching down he grasped the blade, its grip seemed to be made just for him. It was just light enough and he strapped it to his chest with a length of free chain. His journey had ended and he opened his eyes to realize he was at a stopping point on his journey, the Dread Clouds.

As’Gra’Xrx’Thrax looked at him and smiled when he saw the daemon blade.

‘The Gods must favor you Lord Arash.’ He attempted bowing but it turned into a squat which knocked over a small human member of the crew on the bridge. The human screamed and tried to run but was ultimately crushed under the weight of As’Gra’Xrx’Thrax.

‘Damn the Gods, brother’ Haurvatat took his first lumbering step off his command throne, becoming accustomed to his own weight always was a bitch to him. His armour was old and he’d need to change it and find some a new suit, which were a rare luxury in the ranks of the Traitors.

‘Captain Faedin, how long has it been?’ Haurvatat waited for a while but no response came so he walked to the control panel at the head of the bridge. Looking at the Chronometer he saw half a millennia had passed. He laughed at himself; Faedin was probably dead by now. The raggedy old bastard was a hell of a captain but was slow and incompetent.

‘My Lord Arash, I am…’

‘Needless, take us into the dread clouds, surely there are renegades who wish to try their luck against an actual legion.’ Haurvatat cut off the junior officer quickly and waved impatiently when the small human stood there looking unsure of what to do.

‘Well?’ he tensed his grip on his blade and could feel its energies running through his.

Kill the human as a sacrifice to The Architect of fate. It will please him most assuredly. The daemon spoke to his mind

No Gods will receive a sacrifice while I live. Haurvatat thought to himself.

‘It’s just that my Lord, while you were in the Empyrean, we were contacted by Lord Ahriman, He’s in the halo star region, and wishes we come soon.’

‘Very well Captain, inform Lord Ahriman we will be on our way eventually. Now take us into those clouds. It’s been fifteen hundred years since I’ve walked on solid ground.’

Great new addition, well done it was definitively worth the wait

Thanks friend! I felt like picking up on this because I was up last night with nothing to do. But now I'm going to have some trouble writing an assimilation of warbands.

On floating platforms riding atop the skies was the Chaos stronghold known as the Dread Clouds. The turbulent winds of acidic gas were batting on the thunderhawk gunship; as the thousand son legionnaire stood, the slow descent into the atmosphere started burning on the hull. Placing his armoured gauntlet over the warp-heart in the center of his chest, Zhavastra felt the steady beat as the ichor of the warp pumped through his veins.

‘When did I die Azhyr?'

The sorcerer was at the head of the thunderhawk with the pilot but had heard the words, they were a loud blurt coming
from the vox-grille of Zhavastra, a Terminator-rubric marine within the Dark Legion warband. The other rubrics slowly turned their heads to Zhavastra in confusion.

‘The wolves are coming Zhavastra, we must make it to the plaza! Captain Kalophis has commanded Sergeant Mithra, to defend that plaza!’ Azhyr was trapped within the memory of Prospero burning, and the Sorcerer Mithra, looked on in a mix of confusion and disdain.

‘Azhyr… Prospero is gone.’ Saroshs’ voice seemed to bubble with anger at the thought.

‘Sarosh, she is not gone yet! We can save her, are we not pyrae?’

Azhyr was up and pacing through the thunderhawk his heavy tread thumping on the metal grating as it bent under the staggering weight of his terminator armour. Azhyr was once a strong warrior within the Legion, first in his squad to be blessed with the revered Cataphractii armour. Yet he was also the first to lose his soul to the Terminator-rubric in the squad. Rendering him little more than a suit of armour with a soul bound to it by dark magic. None of the Terminator-rubrics were able to talk on their own, and so the unexpected words from the terminators shocked Sorcerer-acolyte Mithra.

‘Zhavastra, how did you do that?’

Mithra was up and moving towards the rubric when a Terminator-rubric’s plasma gun discharged, firing a superheated charge of plasma at a squad-mate. Boring through the helmet, the adjacent Terminator-rubric stood and his lightning claws started sparking. Mithra looked at the one who fired the plasma gun, seeing the overheated smoking barrel, Mithra followed up the gunmans’ arm to see brother Ashtad. Ashtad stood and looked at his squad-mate who he should’ve killed outright and hoisted his powermaul.

‘Brother Ameretat, if you do not stand down and submit to my authority, by Magnus’ rule as divine leader of this Legion I will have your head.’ Ashtad took a lumbering step towards Ameretat.

‘Brother Ashtad, I have seniority and therefore authority in all matters. With the wolves at our doorstep I will kill you where you stand.’ Ameretat took a lumbering step towards Ashtad, and they were at one another’s throat. Mithra was panicking as Azhyr, Sarosh, and Zhavastra also stood as the five Terminator-rubrics all had ammo feeds loading and weapon systems were identifying weak points in one another’s armour.

‘You fools, I am the best choice I am best at the pyrokinetic principles.’ Said Azhyr, his reaper autocannon had its belts pumping bolts in.

‘Lies Azhyr! I have been commended by Kalophis himself!’ Sarosh was screaming through his vox-grille, luckily Mithra was able to tune down the volume.

‘ENOUGH. I am the only one who knows how to lead’ said Mithra, showing a parlor trick with black flame which was the insignia of the Dark Legion.

The five Terminator-rubrics turned to Mithra with downcast looks of hate and anger, forgot about their feud. Zhavastras’ eyes were burning with a magical red fire; His warp-heart was receding into his chest and the warp-ichor that pumped through his veins as blood. Completely free of the damning spell cast by the Rubric, Zhavastra realized the bastard who’d controlled his every move for ten thousand years. Uttering a single word.

‘You…’ Ashtad shot his plasma gun at Mithra and they charged the sorcerer who attempted all in his power to keep them at bay but it was ultimately futile, one against five. Sarosh slammed his thunder hammer into Mithras’ chest knocking him to the floor of the thunderhawk. Zhavastra placed his heavy boot onto Mithras’ chest and reached down grabbing his head.

‘No.. damn you Zhavastra! Tzeentch take you!’ The sorcerer was cursing as he died his head and spine pulled out, less than cleanly.

Zhavastra ordered a servant to skin Mithra and demanded it to be hung on his trophy rack. The four terminators moved back to their seating, while Zhavastra tried establishing a vox channel with someone else. His vox hadn’t been used in ten thousand years so he found it puzzling when no one answered. He walked to his seat and tried again at his vox, a familiar voice answered him.

+‘This is Kurshid of the thousand sons, 4th fellowship pyrae cult. We have awoken and all is dust.’+

‘Brother Kurshid this is Zhavastra. We have awoken and all is dust. Where are you being held?’

+‘I am on the Iss brother, How many are you?’+ Kurshid spoke slowly as if becoming accustomed to his own voice again.

‘We number only five, what is the Iss?’ –queried Zhavastra.

+‘Simple transport ship of the fleet, all the rest of our brothers are being kept in separate holds or on the flagship.’+

‘What Flagship?’ –said Zhavastra.

+‘The despoiler class battleship, Asha’s breath. Lord Arash controls this fleet and we are under his thumb.’+

‘Arash? As in Haurvatat Arash? He died on Prospero, I saw that with my own eyes!’

+‘Well he’s alive and he has a Daemon prince under his banner. What do you suggest Zhavastra?’+

‘We must find our brothers who have been trapped. We’re heading to the Dread Clouds LZ hopefully we’ll find someone who can help us. Awake as many as you can in the meantime Kurshid.’

+’Aye, Lord Zhavastra.’+

Zhavastra smiled at being called Lord, he walked to his brothers. Sitting down Sarosh looked at him, an unspoken understanding passed between the two and Sarosh stood.

‘Hail Lord Zhavastra the Witch-Flayer!’ he said hoisting his Thunderhammer to the ceiling, the others rose too and shouted out the praise also. The Thunderhawk began to rattle as the descent onto the platform began. The floodlights shut off and the bay of the thunderhawk slid down revealing the five Cataphractii Terminators to the hot sulphurous winds.

Zhavastra stood and pushed past his men, and walked down the ramp to the invitation party, the skin of the late Mithra swaying in the wind. The one’s to receive them were hardly as clean cut. A Chaos Lord stood in front of the group the heads of all other warlords to have come to the Dread Clouds hung from chains. Zhavastra counted about 12 heads. The Chaos Lord was marked in the colors of the World Eaters holding aloft two mighty chainaxes, the beast roared at Zhavastra. Its voice was hoarse and scratchy, while its face was devoid of any skin and had the markings of Khorne burnt onto its skull. Taking a deep bow the World Eater backed off and stormed away, leaving the attendants to talk with Zhavastra. A second World Eater stepped forward and introduced himself.

‘Excuse my Lord Halza, I’m Maken and you are?’

‘Lord Zhavastra, of the Dark Legion.’ Zhavastra wasn’t sure if they were the only ones who were here yet, or if the World Eater could see through his rouse. Maken licked his lips and smiled.

‘I wasn’t aware there were two lords of the Dark Legion?’ Zhavastra moved his gauntlets to the twin Power Axes at his waist. Maken was drooling and had already pressed the activation rune on his chainsword; he began moving slowly towards Zhavastra, and stopped when he noticed the reaper autocannon of Azhyr staring him down. Maken backed away.

‘I’ll find you a place to stay Lord Zhavastra; however I do want to kill you on the battle field someday soon.’

‘Good enough for me. Move along World Eater.’