Intro: Night Of A Thousand Gifts Current: Two hundred years before the Badab crusade.

“…And through the brave sacrifice of our loyal brothers, we finally saw the tyrant of Badab removed from his ill-gotten seat of power” Lugft Huron smiled and looked around at the warriors and diplomats assembled before him with intense pride. A few moments later he sat down to a rapacious applause from the assembled collection. The hall was a huge antique building that had been standing for thousands of years. Its towering ceiling had intricate carvings depicting the coming of the angels thousands of years previous and who freed them from the hold of daemons.

After the clapping had begun to die down, the man who had patiently sat next to the leviathan lord throughout his speech rose to his feet. He was a haggard old man with haunted eyes who was garbed in robes of the finest quality, imported from the far-off desert world of Tallern. On one shoulder of his robe was a small symbol of rebirth, the one of the snake swallowing its own tail, the ruling continents emblem and he other contained the solid ‘I’ that was the symbol of the inquisition. As the old man spoke his deep, lyrical voice began to fill the room in which they were located, and all eyes were focused intently on him.

“I am immensely pleased to be here in the wake of the heretic’s removal from my office. We are also here to commend you on the completion of your glorious one hundred year penitence crusade, captain, but we have a purpose far exceeding mere congratulations and fairy tales. The extremely honourable high lords of Terra have bestowed upon me the power to grant you all a very prestigious honour indeed. Should you wish it this system and all the worlds within it will belong to you and come under your rule? What say you?”

Lugft stood up again, his beautifully ornate crimson robes flowing around his feet. He bowed down on one knee in front of the aging hierophant, even was Lugft still towered above the other. This entire ceremony had been better choreographed than any of the finest operas and the chapter master prepared to play his part. The anticipation was physically tangible.

“This is indeed a great and noble award milord, truly worthy of these triumphant warriors and conquerors. We would gladly accept the gift you have offered to bestow upon us.”

The crowd stood up and began to cheer uncontrollably.

*

One hundred and twenty years previous to the current date.

Machales’ gore-stained face twisted into a sadistic sneer as he prepared to return himself to the swirling melee ahead. He revved up the engine to his blood-stained chainsword, and with a quick prayer to the changer took a violent and surprisingly agile lunge towards the nearest group of men cackling with barely disguised glee as he swung his blade repeatedly into the poor men and it slice through the bone and flesh of the innocent whilst soaking his face and skin with their viscera.

As he freed himself from the first tangle of detached limbs huge black viscous tears began to slide slowly sown his still laughing blood soaked face, creating a truly bizarre contrast far more fearsome to the enemies than even the size or ferocity of the brutes bearing down on them.

As he moved to continue the advance, he felt an all-consuming, all-too -familiar black shroud beginning to descend upon him and he knew as he reached the next group of weeping people that the monster inside was winning the battle and would soon have full access.

After a relatively short period the daemon that had seized control returned it to his unwilling host. Machales urge to maim and slay began to ebb slowly from his exhausted and pain wracked body as the influence of the beast began to recede. The battle had been a surprisingly swift and brutal one; the defenders had fought the giant invaders with honour and dignity to the very last. They had refused to yield even in the face of this insurmountable foe; however they had still fallen in the end.

He’d had to physically drag his body to his tent. The agony that wracked his body was so great that the trip back was a blur. As he reached the entrance a warm fuzzy feeling began to emanate from the back off his eyes, his vision blurred, his balance completely deserted him and he collapsed in a crumpled convulsing heap.

Hours later Machales awoke completely disorientated. He violently shook his head in an attempt to clear the remaining daze from his brain. As soon as his head had cleared enough for conscious thought, he stormed out of the tent with the intent to forcibly restore his status and power amongst these brutal and desperate men. As he stepped out though, he felt a heavy gauntleted hand club him in the back of the head. He was thrown headfirst into a puddle of filth that had collected in front of the small tent. the unfaithful began to laugh as they watched him pick himself up off the floor. A quick yet fierce glance from the champion hushed the braying crowd.

“Who dares challenge Machales the Unforgiven, who dares risk my unholy wrath?” he bellowed at the slowly growing crowd.

Out of the crowd stepped a truly monstrous man, he clad in stolen and almost ruined tactical dreadnought armour older than this entire civilization. It was rent with large gashes and huge holes were in many places all over the armour. Even without this gift that been granted by the arch traitor himself he stood a good two heads over Machales. He was armed with a huge honour blade as big as the average guardsman. The armour had been given to reward their exemplary service. At they time they had been Luna wolves and only escaped the newly formed inquisition and the assassins wrath by devoting them selves to Guilliman's cause and borrowing some Ultramarines gene seed. He and a small group of dedicated men had been there to witness had been there to watch as their former master had been smote by the emperor and their chapters second fall back into the arms of chaos. As his carrion lord had before him he would cast down this usurper and return his chapter to the service of his lord.

“I, L’kay Mira shall challenge you, you weak, pathetic excuse of a man.” The challenger spat out words laced with contempt for his former friend. “Believe me when say I know what’s best for our Chapter, please reconsider this decision. I will save you from damnation you just have to trust me brother. I don’t want to have to kill you.” Machales voice had a pleading tone to it.

“Brother” he spat the word “I am not your brother, not anymore and your arrogance astounds even me. I outmatch you in all manners and you’re expecting me to plead for mercy. Out of my respect for what you once were I didn’t cut you down in your sleep; however that’s as far as my goodwill extends. You’re leading my chapter into the embrace of oblivion itself. I will destroy you and lead the chapter into the light. You are far beyond my ability to save you decadent witch and I’m finished with words, my actions will speak for themselves.”

With a blood chilling war-cry spilling from his lips the hulking beast threw himself towards his leader. L’kay’s blade sliced through the air so close that Machales felt pass. Taking advantage of the small opening given to him Machales made a quick stab for his chest and was dismayed to see his blow glance off.

Another blow sung past his face leaving another useless opening. He made a swing for an opening in the mans armour but was forced to jump out of the way before his blow managed to hit home. Dodging to the side he swung a blow at his chest. He was forced to avoid yet another shot as it flew towards his head. In normal circumstances he would have easily defeated his unskilled opponent. But the righteous religious fury that L’kay burnt with lent him power and speed. Between the sheer number and ferocity of the blows, he was forced to keep constantly on the defensive.

As the battle wore on the daemon began to force its way back into his body in fear for its host’s life. The sudden flood of power surprised him and he stopped moving for a second. .his favoured follower drove him to his knees and placed his long sword on Machales neck. Machales felt the blade slice slowly into the flesh on his neck a thin trickle of blood to pour down his neck. It was prepared in the coup de grace position.

“Drop the blade or die now.” The victor demanded of his downed foe. He watched as his defeated adversary dropped his sword on the ground nest to him.

“I’ll give you this one last chance to save your soul. Repent now and the emperor will save you from the clutches of the changer.”

Machales bowed his head down and slid a blade down from his arm into his hand. He welcomed the daemons unholy power and used his unnatural speed to plunge the blade into L’kays chest through a ragged hole in his armour. As the stricken and surprised body of his foe slipped down onto its knees, Machales embraced him and rammed the blade in deeper. He leant closer and whispered softly into the dying mans ear.

"I’m sorry, old friend, I’m truly sorry, but I asked you not to challenge me, I asked you to wait and to trust my judgement. I will lead us into the light even if I have to damn everyone else to do it.”

After a while he released his tight grip on the juggernaut and allowed him to fall to the floor whilst his lifeblood drained out into the earth. He stood and screamed at the crowd.

“This filthy traitor was not alone in his betrayal of me. I know he had allies and friends. I will hunt out those cowardly acolytes of his and kill them all. So if they want to die with honour I recommend they challenge me right now in front of all of us or else they will die a painful death in their sleep. Is you feel he was right, speak up now.”

He waved the dagger around as if to cut the Tension that had filled the air.

“I didn’t think so, you pathetic spineless scum. Take his armour and bring it to me in my tent later, I must decide on someone else who is worthy of the right to wear our chapters honour.”

He threw his small dagger into the crowd and watched as another man fell with it embedded in his forehead. He began to giggle like a small child as he retreated back into his tent.