# A Night Of Tears.



## LongfangFenrika93 (Jan 22, 2012)

*A Night of Tears*

'Why are we even waiting here, sir? This place is empty.' The younger man said, sighing in his heavy camouflaged jumpsuit. His lasgun hung loosely off his right shoulder, and his left arm whizzed mechanically as he straightened his right cuff. 

'Primarch's orders, Garen, shut up and keep you're eyes open.' Replied the old veteran as he wiped away blemishes on his own rifle. They had been ordered by the Great Khan to watch the open fields._ Terra knows why. There was fug all out there but shrubs and flies._ More men were posted along along the line, a ten mile stretch of bored Kalerians. Their regiment had been with the Vth Legion for the better part of a century. The glorious Kalerian 104th. 

Adem Perison was a sergeant in the 15th Cohort, collectively known as the Devil's Bastards. He had been with this sorry bunch for as long as he could actually remember. He felt a quick chill as he turned away from the sun's glaring light... and faced a behemoth. The warrior standing before him was covered in intimidatingly large ceramite plate, as thick as armour glass. It was painted a dull white that had been sprayed with dust from a hundred worlds and the crimson rims of his armour reminded Adem of drying blood.

Chattering horsehair braids and metal chains and xenos skulls spoke enough to Perison. Stay on the fugging good side of this thing. The White Scars were famed for their ferocity, and this Son of Jaghatai was no exception. His armour sigils marked him out as a captain in the First Brotherhood. _One of the Khan's elite then_. The warrior's arm extended out slightly. Adem hadn't a fugging clue what to do. Garen was speechless as well, his fists opening and closing in quick succession. Adem nearly spurted out a laugh it was so ridiculous.

'My lord Primarch brings his word.' The killer droned. He handed Adem a small piece of parchment. 

'Thank you, sir.' Adem opened it:

*Our Mechanicum magi have discovered Xenos (type; Eldar) undercodes laced deep within the subroutines in our forward operating command sections and terminals. Your forces are to remain under extreme battle readiness conditions. Battle pattern Alpha. Authorisation; mark; Jaghatai Khan, Primarch of Vth Legion. *​
'Eldar? Sir, I ha-.' The space marine was gone. Garen stared at him in confusion.

'What are you fugging staring at. Bring the men up.' Adem voxed his counterparts along the line, confirming that they received the orders as well. He stared for a while into the deep sunset in front of him. It was red, like the blaze of a burning building, and it coloured the parched ground a faint orange. He shivered. His collar didn't reach any higher than his jaw line. 

'Ah, shit.' Garen had stumbled on a small rock. _The idiot. How did he even find his way into this damn unit._ Just for a second, as the soldier's jumpsuit opened at the side where he had stretched to get up, did Adem notice a small, faded green, three-headed dragon-like tattoo on the man's back. He chuckled to himself, wondering in what shithole the boy had that done.

**


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## Dave T Hobbit (Dec 3, 2009)

Interesting beginning.

The single sentence paragraphs make it a little disjointed; it might flow better if the paragraphs only started with a new actor or even. For example:

_"...Adem Perison was a sergeant in the 15th Cohort, collectively known as the Devil's Bastards. He had been with this sorry bunch for as long as he could actually remember.

He felt a quick chill as he turned... and faced a behemoth. The warrior standing before him was covered in intimidatingly large ceramite plate, as thick as armour glass. It was painted a dull white that had been sprayed with dust from a hundred worlds and the crimson rims of his armour reminded Adem of drying blood. Chattering horsehair braids and metal chains and xenos skulls spoke enough to Perison. Stay on the fugging good side of this thing. The White Scars were famed for their ferocity, and this Son of Jaghatai was no exception. His armour sigils marked him out as a captain in the First Brotherhood. One of the Khan's elite then. The warrior's arm extended out slightly. Adem hadn't a fugging clue what to do.

Garen was speechless as well, his fists opening and closing in quick succession. Adem nearly spurted out a laugh it was so ridiculous...."_​


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## LongfangFenrika93 (Jan 22, 2012)

Ah okay thanks mate, adrian was sayiing on some of my earlier posts that it was better to split them but I've always felt comfortable making larger more descriptive paragraphs. Cheers.


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## LongfangFenrika93 (Jan 22, 2012)

Garen made his way back to the Forward Operating base where Adem's superiors stood in discussion. The minuscule tattoo etched on his back burned like nothing else. It had been work for the mysterious warriors or face some unnamed gruesome ending. Garen wasn't ready to die yet. Not a chance in hell of that. He touched his worn necklace for some otherworldly support. He had been Catheric since he was a fresh faced child, and wasn't going to stop believing any time soon. 

Xenith was a shithole to be sure. A blasted wasteland with nothing but a few dotted cities filled with sour folk. News of Horus' rebellion had reached even here, though the people had more or less got on with their tedious lives. Eldar Reavers had drawn the Khan's merciless attention, and reports concluded that the wretched xenos waited just over the horizon. 

'First Colonel of the 5th reporting, sir.' The vox cackled as he waited for a reply. The FO guards were tireless men, meticulously sifting through every detail that came their way. The Commander's lives were at stake, and if anything befell them, well their lives were forfeit, Garen supposed. As he approached the main gate, swivelling defence turrets rounded on him while they awaited confirmation. 

'First Colonel Garen Mahud, you're late,' the entrance voice rasped. Garen passed through and under the hastily assembled fortifications. Bitter old men practiced drills in the main yard, and hoarse laughter drifted from some of the barracks. Gold cloaked Tullians wandered towards the main bunker in a pack of eight, a small delegation from orbit. Four White Scars stood at attention near the far wall, still as statues and no doubt eyeing every single being that walked in the yard. Two Land speeders, camouflaged in the traditional blue-black of the Kalerian Regiments, lay humming, with their pilots joking with each other on board. The hum of the antigrav machinery gave the place a never-ending whisper.

Garen walked into the main arena where the Commander's and their aides were consorting with a senior Astartes. Plastered in the heraldry of the Vth Legion the warrior spoke in low drumming tones, and his top knot of black hair swayed slightly as he gave commands.

'Horus and his allies have smashed the force that the Emperor has sent to bring him to Terra in chains. Ferrus Manus is feared dead, as is Vulkan of the Salamanders and Corax of the Raven Guard. The Ultramarine's under Primarch Guilliman lie at Calth waiting to strike at the Greenskin menace nearby. The Lion fights near the Shield World, and knows naught of the Warmaster's deception. The Imperial Fists and Blood Angels Legions are en route to Terra as we speak.' The transhuman spoke with a certain authority in his voice, and the command arena stood in complete silence. He let the words sink in. 

'What is our destination, my Lord?' one of the Commander asked, Flavio something-or-other, Garen mused. 'And who has sided with the Warmaster?' This caused an avalanche of questions to be hurled at the White Scar. Garen flinched. _Shut up you imbeciles, and let him speak_.

The Astartes raised his gauntleted fist, and silence fell again across the room. 'We have preliminary reports indicated that initially only four of the Emperor's Legions infact sided with the Warmaster, including his own' the warrior growled. 'The World Eater's Legion, The Death Guard and the Emperor's Children.' The horror emanating from the Army Commanders was palpable. How could they turn from the Emperor's vision? On their brothers? A few where doubting the Scar's words. 

'What we know at this point, is that the Emperor sent seven of my Primarch's brother Legions to bring Horus down. They failed.' The room took a collective gasp, it was rumoured as much... but to hear it from the mouth of one of the Emperor's warriors was unbelievable. 'The Salamanders, the Raven Guard and the Iron Hands were slaughtered on Isstvaan V. It is widely believed that the other four Legions, Lorgar's Word Bearers, the Night Lords, the Alpha Legion and Perturabo's Iron Warriors are in fact in league with the Warmaster.' 

The hopelessness of the situation was daunting. Garen crept back outside as the Commander's discussed the tragedy unfolding. He was in the yard, that was good. He flicked on his small tracker, to let his masters know he was en route to his mission. A small munitions shed was situated near the left wall, away from the laughing barracks and there were patrols walking on the metal overpasses. Gun Servitor's guarded the metal shack, and Garen subcutaneously side stepped out of their kill-zone.

His little metal receiver chimed with binary codes as he grew closer to the machines. They quietly shut down as Garen put in the passcode for the shack's protected door. It hissed as it slid open, and Garen stepped inside as the generator lights beamed up and powered on. He plugged in a smaller, knife-shaped device into his receiver and it shone with a green luminosity. 

The air went so cold that Garen could see his breath misting. A faint outline began to shimmer into place before him, dark at first, blurry but slowly congealing together to produce the very image of war. A huge, nightmarish man, armoured in the same thick ceramite of the White Scars, stood before him. But it wasn't a man, it was a beast of war. A chained predator waiting for release. It wore the same colours as the Space Marines in the courtyard, but if you looked closely enough, dark green paint showed through, so deep it was like a bottomless timeless lake. The heraldry was a mockery of the Vth, and the smile that Astartes wore was nothing like the Khan's sons. 

'You have done superbly, Garen,' said the giant as more of his brothers shimmered into the space behind him. He carried a menacing bolter, with tallies of his numerous kills scraped onto the side in white. The bolter was covered in them. Garen dropped to one knee, the pride was overwhelming. _I belong_. 

'My Lords, it is an honour.' Garen spoke as he knelt. He knew there were other operatives but across the courtyard, performing similar rituals, and allowing the mysterious warriors to materialise around them. The deception was beautiful. 'May I ask my master's name, sir?' 

The Legionnaire smiled again, as if laughing inside. 'Why, my dear Garen, of course. I am Alpharius.' Garen fainted as the other Marines roared. 


***

second part  didnt space it out as much hope it flows a bit better. ta.


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## Dave T Hobbit (Dec 3, 2009)

LongfangFenrika93 said:


> didnt space it out as much hope it flows a bit better.


That seems much better to me.


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## LongfangFenrika93 (Jan 22, 2012)

Server Callus studied the terminal before him. Readings were suggesting that energy spikes were being registered across the complex. _There must be something interrupting the code_. Server Callus' post-biological brain ticked as he processed the possible explanations for the spikes. They matched the teleportation signatures that usually followed the arrival of the Emperor's Astartes, but the only White Scars contingent within thirteen kilometres was based but a few yards away outside. As far as he knew, Brother-captain Batu of the First Brotherhood was still in the command arena, conversing with the senior commanders.

Server Callus wasn't going to frown. That was a biological expression, beneath him. He ticked. His spidery metallic fingers flew over buttons and initiated protocols- 

-the terminal fried. Literally _fried._ Server Callus shook violently as internal spasms racked his mechanically-altered frame. Data and venomous scrapcode racked his mind, filling his conscious with xenos language and three-headed hydras. As he burned with the terminal, his mouthpiece emitted a whine. He was screaming. As he was screaming, the logical, Mechanicum-derived part of his subroutines noticed something as he spasmed in his death-throws. The Eldar weren't upon them, it was something far more insidious. Server Callus' receivers registered one last confusing sound as they powered down forever. 

'For Alpharius.'

***

Adem wondered where Garen was. _What the fug is he doing?_ The rest of his cohort stood around him in hastily constructed trenches. The mud wasblack, and cold. It was getting colder, night was approaching. _And so were the damn Eldar_. His men had set up turrets and lascannon positions overlooking the vast plain. Similarly, the 1st and 4th Cohorts had prepared to his immediate left and right. No one could catch them out here. Heavy artillery was being rolled in from Casium Artiolis at that very minute, and Imperial landers were bringing thousands more troops as they waited. The Commander had decreed that the Eldar weren't to take them by surprise, and that had been reinforced by the Primarch. Let them come, Adem thought. 

A shout went up from behind the lines. One of the younger boys. He pointed back, his blue-black covered arm raising wildly. Adem looked to where he pointed; White Scars, fifty of them, jogging to their position in full battle-gear. The men gave a cheer. _Fug the Eldar, they don't have a chance._ 

He stepped down from the raised ground where he was standing, passing the delighted men under his command. All their eyes where on the Marines. He snapped at them to keep their eyes front. He marched briskly towards the Astartes, straightening the few creases on his flakjacket, and sorting his stripes. 

'My Lords! This is delightfully unexpected!' Adem shouted jubilantly. He stopped as he noticed something was wrong. _They don't look right._ Adem wasn't well versed in the customs and markings of the Legiones Astartes, but they didn't look right. They hadn't stopped jogging either. He looked along to the other Cohorts, but couldn't make them out. Stranely, he heard barks of gunfire erupting from their positions. _Someone must have dropped their rifle, idiots_.

The leading Marine was smiling as he continued to move at pace towards Adem. Then he raised his bolter and fired. The shot echoed across the fields and the growing darkness. Adem doubled over, his world a myriad of pain and confusion. He put his hand to his stomach, but only a gaping hole greeted him. Blood soaked his lower body generously, and he found he was staring into the sky. It was beautiful, the fading sun had finally faded, and a purple hue filled the air above him. 

Beside him the other Marines unleashed their bolters upon his men, and unnatural screams of pain filled the coming night. The warrior stood over Adem, and his massive form expanded until it became his only sight. The Marine's armour was bone-white, but it was off. Darker paint flickered through near his shins and the joints of his armour. It was green and black. 

The shooting finally stopped, and the Astartes drew their knives and moved away. The lone warrior knelt beside him, a curved blade in his left arm, an enormous gauntleted fist. A scar snaked along his face, and his right eye was replaced by a mechanical one. It was whirring and hissing as it focused on him. 

'Who...?' was all Adem Perison could croak, as blood leaked from his ruptured body. 

'Who am I, mortal? Why, I am Alpharius.' The warrior laughed as he removed the dying man's head.


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