# Dust to Dust



## Gree (Jun 13, 2010)

Hello, this was something I had floating around my computer I decided to post. It's a Thousand Sons short story set Post-Heresy. This fic contains references to the Horus Heresy novel A Thousand Sons, although reading that book is not required to understand this fanfic. The original idea for this fic was born from a forum discussion I participated in. Namely ''How do Thousand Sons recruit?''

Note: *Bolded* is when Khosaru is using his telepathy,


*Dust to Dust*​
Flames crackled in the distance, along with the screams of the dying.

A world died around Nekhet squad of the Thousand Sons.

''Bakari?'' Ishkor questioned. Flames whipped and curled around his fists. Aetheric energies chanelled up around his blade as he searched wildly around for his brother. Bakari's armor-clad form entered through the flames and the smoke.

''Insanity brother'' Bakari's voice responded over the vox link in Ishkor's gorget. The Thousand Sons had long since lost his helmet during the fighting.

_The fighting….._

It was inconceivable. Utterly shocking and inconceivable that something could happen like this. Never had Ishkor thought that another Astartes Legion would war upon another. It was inconceivable, ridiculous in its scope and thought.

_Inconceivable._ 

Yet here the impossible was happening right before his eyes. From the skies descended the drop ships and Stormbirds of the VI's Legion. Russ's Wolves descended upon their world in a storm of blades and fire.

Ishkor kept casting his eyes back to the blackened corpses on the ground. A pack of Space Wolves had forged ahead into these streets, only to be cut apart by Nekhet Squad in a sudden assault. Dimly he could remember their bodies frying under his warpfire.

_Inconceivable. Impossible._

Even now, after killing his fellow Astartes, Ishkor could not accept the fact.

''Nekhet? Is everyone present?'' Aktar, the squad commander called over the vox. He moved out among the flaming wreckage of a house. Behind him came Ishum Nassor, Seron Khosaru, Kald Talek, and Borbas Tair.

Three others of their squad lay dead in the streets. All slain by Astartes bolters.

''What is happening? This is impossible, it can't be happening.'' Ishkor felt himself sputter. Dimly he thought,_ Astartes don't sputter like that_. But he didn't care. His world was falling apart around him, literally.

''Calm yourself,'' Aktar told him, as he looked around. ''Captain T'kar has ordered us to reform, more of the enemy are coming down the streets.'' He said.

''Enemy? Our comrades are our enemy? What madness is this?'' Ishkor demanded.

''I don't know.'' Aktar admitted. ''I know Russ hates us, but this is going too far, even for him.''

''We'll have our vengeance. There is no way the Emperor is going to allow this to slide,'' Khosaru mentally chimed in. ''Russ has gone too far this time. Even if he kills us all, the Emperor will come down upon him like a hammer.''

The thought was cold comfort to Ishkor.

Ten minutes later hell came again.

Fifty Thousand Sons Astartes, Nekhet among them, fought in the middle of a Prosperite street. In the skies Space Wolf gunships flittered through the skies and rockets blasted overhead. For the umpteenth time Ishkor wondered how they got orbital control. Where was the fleet?

Grey-armored warriors came, savage and bellicose in their stride, yet skillful and determined in their assault. Crimson-armored Thousand Sons and grey-armored Wolves decorated the streets. Astartes blood mixed and mingled.

A Space Wolf warrior fell back, head blown off by a timed shot from Bakari. Tair grunted in effort as bolter rounds impacted off his kine shields. Aktar supported him, shields of pure thoughts supporting the Thousand Sons behind the barricades.

Then more Wolves came through the walls of a nearby street, frag missiles corkscrewing overhead. Thousand Sons died as the Wolves closed in, chainblades revving as they did so. Multi-colored flame whipped from Ishkor hands as he turned a Space Wolf into a walking pyre, the unnatural flames incinerating even the hardened ceramite. Nassor fought while wreathed in lighting, using his own powers to supercharge his own synapses, carving wounds into his attackers with serpentine speed. Aktar crushed enemy Astartes with hammers of pure thought as the others fought more mundanely.

And then Tair died.

The movement was quick, almost like a blur as the figure stepped through a raging inferno that took up much of the street. Flames licked off the golden armor uselessly as the being looked around coldly with its visor.

For a moment Ishkor's heart stropped as he recognized the being. There was only one force in the galaxy that used that armor and heraldry. There was only one force in the galaxy with that kind of skill. Ishkor looked, horrified upon the lightning bolt and eagle breastplate.

Then he understood the truth.

The only reason why the Adeptus Custodes would be here is because they were ordered to. The Custodes were loyal to one being and one being only. Russ would have never gotten them to follow them. _Never._

Which meant….

Cold shock at the sudden betrayal flooded in his veins as his powers sputtered and failed. Aktar shouted his name as a Space Wolf wielding a broad-bladed axe moved forward and decapitated Talek in a quick swung and then buried the power axe into the breastplate of another Son. Bakari moved forward, his shot knocking the wolf-champion back. Ishkor responded again, his powers flaring into existence once again, egged on by his tutelary, familiar, Baltain. The Wolf barely had time to react before a wave of fire incinerated him.

The Custodes moved forward with lethal grace. Armored limbs and heads fell to the ground as the warrior moved. His skill was ungodly, each stroke perfectly conducted and made. Quickly the solitary perfect warrior advanced on the Sons in the middle of the melee, his blade seeking Aktar.

The Librarian turned around, a shield of pure thought blocking the blade. The Custodes struck again and again, the Guardian Spear flaring against the invisible shield Aktar brought up his heqa staff to parry, but was hurled back. The Custodes moved again, as Bakari came charging in, bolter spitting out shells. With an almost lazy twist of its halberd-like spear, the Custodes severed one arm before gutting the Astartes with ease.

Ishkor watched for a moment as his oldest friend was cut down before his eyes. Bakari Xalphia, his oldest comrade, fell to the ground.

Ishkor screamed. Blood came from his eyes and nose as he channeled his powers. In his Baltain fed his rage, gleefully supercharging his hate. Fire coalesced into existence, first multi-colored and then black flames appeared and shot forward. The Custodes turned around, helmet inclined in surprise. It had no time to do anything else as black fire consumed it. Within seconds the burnt skeleton of the Custodes fell to the ground, flesh and armor alike stripped away in a second by the unnatural fire.

Pain ripped up his right arm as Astartes flesh and muscle twisted, the underlying flaws in Ishkor's genetic code coming to light. Spines and tentacles emerged from the ceramite plate as they came out twisting and writhing.

Baltain, his once-friend, now his destruction, came into him, attempting to seize control of everything that he was. Warpstuff effused his flesh and flames came alive, licking at his armor and scorching his body through the breaches in his armor.

Ishkor screamed as pain like he had never felt before engulfed him. His tentacle arm writhed and lashed about as his primary heart hammered and burst in his chest. Blood and fire filled his vision as he sank on his knees.

Before him Bakari's body looked up.

_''Brother.''_ the Astartes choked out, before his head fell back on the blood-soaked ground below.

*Ten Millennia Later*​
_''Brother…''_

''…..Wake up Brother.'' Seron Khosaru said.

Grannus Ishkor opened his eye. Data streamed across his vision from his bionic eye as he slowly got up. Armor servos whined and wheezed as he looked around. His brother was clad in blue and silver plate, marked with the symbols of the XV Legion. Ishkor himself was clad in similar war plate.

But that is where their similarities ended. Seron Khosaru had handsome, friendly features. His skin was tanned and his black hair was cut short. Above him hovered his familiar Devis, a floating serpentine daemon that floated about. Devis flickered like bad lighting, phasing in and out of reality.

Ishkor's body was far different. Once Ishkor was handsome and young.

Now?

Nobody would call Ishkor handsome.

His features where a mass of healed burn scars and bionics. One eye stared out in a crimson slit while one organic orb looked out amidst a sea of blackened flesh. His right bionic arm pushed the ground beneath him as he lifted himself up.

Half of his body was made of bionics. It was the legacy of his ruination at Prospero. Baltain had tried to take control of his flesh, and turn that power against him. Instead Ishkor burned himself in both body and soul. Baltain had been forced from his soul and body. But Ishkor was never the same again. His right arm was severed by his own battle brothers and he had lost both his primary heart and left eye. His brothers had dragged his broken and blasted body in time to the Pyramid of Photep in time to be transported.

He had endured for weeks in agony, his Astartes enhancements keeping him alive. If he were a normal man he would have died long ago. But through sheer bloody minded will he survived long enough to be looked over by the few surviving Apothecaries and Techmarines of the Legion.

That was ten millennia ago, before the Rubric, before more scars of war had been added.

His new familiar, Natari, flapped its wings near him, before perching on the shoulder of the Thousand Son. Its ethereal claws found purchase on Ishkor's shoulder guard as the Thousand Son lifted himself up and replaced his helm.

The Nekhet Coven, as his former squad had called themselves after the Rubric had been cast, cast aside their tutelaries when they learned of the betrayal. Instead they sought out new daemons, and bound them ever tighter with wards, in order to serve as servants and power sources. The sorcerers' familiars where somewhat less powerful than their former Tutelaries, but they benefited from better control.

No more would they be betrayed.

''We are ready to move out. What where you doing anyway?'' Seron Khosaru asked. They were in some sort of deep underground cavern. Lights flickered above from lamps. Peratis II was a mining world, one that churned ore to many different Imperial worlds.

The Sons had arrived here for a different reason however. It was something of theirs that they had lost. Khosaru's sorceries had made infiltration easy, the power of the warp confounding sensors and befuddling the minds of the PDF. Once they had reached a certain point they stopped as the world's military suddenly went into a frenzy of activity around them.

So Ishkor stopped to mediate.

''Mediating, nothing you need to be worried about.'' Ishkor rumbled.

Khosaru nodded and the two Sons walked into a nearby side tunnel. Thirty Rubrics stood in perfect formation, holding their bolters at ready. Their armor was ornate, with various scrolls of warding and protection on their bodies.

A brief pang sorrow came over Ishkor as he spotted the former form of his friend Bakari standing in perfect attention. His squadmate's sprit was present but otherwise he was effectively dead to the world. Bakari was nothing but dust in armor now.

''Ishkor, Khosaru.'' Aktar nodded. He was clad in the blue armor that had replaced their old loyalist crimson warplate. He carried the same blue heqa staff as before. He wore red robes, a concession to their Primarch. Ten millennia ago he had been squad sergeant. Now he was the Coven leader.

Ishkor nodded as he came to a stop. Ishum Nassor was still there; his features moulded using his power into a vision of pure perfection. The former Pavoni was typically vain after all. Nearby was Sald Morden with his beaked helmet.

''The Necrontyr have awakened seven hours ago and have moved out in force two hours ago. The PDF are attempting to hold them off, but they have little chance.'' Aktar said. Ishkor nodded. He and the rest of his coven knew much of the Necrontyr from their studies of Eldar ruins and prophecies. He had fought them occasionally before, while searching their tombs. They would be a foe that would be utterly beyond any normal human. Even Astartes would be hard-pressed fighting them.

Normal Astartes however. The Sons of Magnus had greater powers to command.

''And of our objectives?'' Nassor asked.

''We are close to the site. We should move there and finish our search before we teleport out.''

''After all this time could it really be here?'' Ishkor caught a note of hope in his own voice.

''I believe so. Morden's visions would not lie,'' Aktar nodded. ''But we won't know until we get there.''

''Are we splitting up?'' Ishkor asked.

''Correct, Ishkor, you come with Khosaru. Nassor, Morden, you take another squad, and I will take the last.'' Aktar said.

Ishkor looked around. Thirty Rubrics split three ways; it seemed simple enough for him.

''Alright then, let's go.''

***


The Ghosts of Prospero moved among the PDF like their namesakes. Khosaru's illusions made it so that even the warrior-giants of the Thousand Sons could walk mere feet from a PDF trooper and not be noticed. Of course even that sorcery had limits. If they opened fire they would quickly be noticed.

Khosaru chatted animatedly during their long walk, wondering what the place would look like over ten thousand years ago Ishkor ignored him, talking occasionally with his own familiar for fluctuations in the Great Ocean. On occasion Ishkor would stop himself and give him some information on the movements of the PDF commanders. The telepath read their minds like a book and sent it to the rest of the blue-armored sorcerers.

The local PDF responded quickly and competently, deploying armor where they could, but the emerging armies of Necrons where so far destroying them. From Ishkor's studies the Necrons where far from a full awakening, but that fact just made the Thousand Sons hurry.

Of course it was not long before they encountered some Necrons themselves.

Metal-skinned killers merged eventually from the darkness. Gauss weapons lighting up. Green rays stripped armor and warpstuff from Rubric armor before one of the leading ghost-Astartes fell to the ground in a pile of dust.

Then the Rubrics opened fire.

The bodies of the Necrons where resilient and repaired themselves quickly. They would walk through las-fire like it was nothing, and even then it took a large amount of bolter fire to truly put one down before they started to repair themselves. However the Rubrics fired no normal shells. Each round was warded and consecrated by the sorceries of the Thousand Sons. As a result they punched through the metal hides of the Necrons to bury themselves in the bodies before exploding in bursts of warpstuff.

Metallic skeletons fell down, their regeneration interrupted and halted by the sorcerous compounds each bolter round halted. Bits of metal and limbs crawled about as they attempted to recover from being blasted apart. A metallic skull looked upon again as an Inferno round took it in the forehead.

*''Alright, you know what? I'm getting tired of this. Ishkor? Would you do the honors?*'' Khosaru said telepathically.

Ishkor extended his hand and let out a wave of blue fire. The inferno quickly covered the Necrons. Normally the xenos would have shrugged off normal flames easily. However these where no normal flames, instead they were the fires of the warp itself. Necrons melted and warped under the fire, the flames eating away at metallic bones and destroying most of the downed attackers. Under the protection of the firestorm the Rubrics added more fire in, the roar of their bolters filling the cavern.

In moments there were no more Necrons.

Khosaru kicked away a flaming arm as it phased out. *''You do realize there will be more? And they can see through my sorceries? Right?''* Khosaru mentioned.

''Then we'll destroy them at all. What about the PDF?''

*''Some of them have noticed, but Aktar's had taken his group to head them off while we move in deeper. The good thing about the Necrons here is that the PDF will be too busy focusing on them in order to properly track us down.''*

''I see- do you sense that?'' Ishkor suddenly halted. Khosaru looked up.

*''Yes, yes I do. Do you want to investigate or should I?''*

''No, it will be me.''

***

Ishkor stalked through the darkness of the tunnels. He and his brother had felt a strong presence further. There was some sort of psyker down here. A psyker that even their senses had noticed. It was something that intrigued Ishkor.

Natari squeaked and flapped behind him, the fiery hawk trailing bits of flame behind it. It provided a source of light, but Ishkor hardly needed it with his bionic eye and gene boosted vision in addition to his own psychic senses.

He felt the presence come closer and close, but he remained still, not moving until it was almost upon him.

Some sort of spike of light came hurling at him. But Ishkor seized it with his own power and blocked it, shattering it into bits of energy.

''Impressive, for a mortal.'' Ishkor looked in the darkness then extended a hand. A figure flew struggling and cursing into his hands.

''Interesting.'' It was a mortal child. A male, young and dirty from the mines. His hair was long and scraggly, falling over his blue eyes.

''Let me go you-'' what followed was a series of local curses and insults. Ishkor watched impassively as the child struggled in his great armored grip. He himself could see warp energy surrounding and shrouding him.

''Stop struggling and look at me.'' Ishkor said. The child glared at him through the hair.

''Do you know what you are?'' Ishkor asked.

''Do you know what you are?'' the child mimicked.

''Do not play games with me. The only reason why I have not killed you is because I am intrigued by your power. You are a psyker are you not?'' Ishkor said.

The boy fell silent.

''The fact that you live in isolation is obvious. Are you so cut off from the rest of this world that you do not know what an Astartes is?'' Ishkor asked.

The boy laughed.

''The Space Marines are just myths, they don't exist.''

''Then what am I?'' Ishkor asked. Natari flapped nearby, illuminating Ishkor more properly.

The boy's eyes widened as he took in the great blue and silver form of Ishkor, cloaked in red robes. One shoulder pad depicted the serpentine star icon of the Thousand Sons, while the other was cast in the image of flickering flames.

''What am I?'' Ishkor repeated.

''I don't know. But I want to learn.'' The boy said.

Ishkor smiled underneath his helmet. That was what he wanted to hear.

''Good'' then he looked up and tossed the boy to the side roughly. The child hit the ground hard, but did not cry out. Blades flashed where his head had been as a tall skeletal form materialized out of the shadows in front of Ishkor.

The Thousand Son drew his force khopesh, the blade bursting into blue fires. The Necron was inhumanly tall, it's lower body replaced by a long spine-like body, like a snake. Its hands were long bladed claws and it lunged forward.

A shield of flames burst from Ishkor's form to block the claws as the force sword flashed. The head of the wraith-thing fell back, flames licking over its metallic form as it lit up the darkness around it.

Another wraith-thing came from behind Ishkor. The force khopesh passed harmlessly through it as it flickered out of reality briefly. Then the claws tore through his breastplate as Ishkor fell back. Natari's form suddenly flew at the wraith-thing, forcing it back.

Spears of multi-colored fire suddenly shimmered into existence, covering the wraith-thing and making it real again. The khopesh descended again, hacking through the body of the wraith thing before him. The halves fell away burning.

The boy sat, shocked as the blue-armored sorcerer turned to him. A spear of fire shimmered into existence as he hurled it at him. The boy fell back as the spear headed nearer…..

…..And impaled another wraith-thing coming out of the darkness. The wraith-thing fell back, fading out of existence.

''Did you think I was going to kill you?'' Ishkor asked.

''Well it did look like it.'' The boy admitted.

Ishkor walked over to him.

''I'm going to offer you a choice. You have great potential as a psyker. I'm surprised the Black Ships have not come for you yet. You can stay here, and die by the hands of the Necrons when they inevitably overrun this backwater world, or…'' he leaned in closer.

''-Or you can come with me and gain great power and understanding. Perhaps if you are great enough you may become one of the Legion thralls and aid me in my rituals. Perhaps if you are extremely capable, you might become like me. Which shall it be?''

The boy was silent for a moment before replying.

''Did the Emperor send you?'' he asked.

More silence.

''No, the Emperor hates me and my brothers.'' Ishkor answered truthfully.

The child smiled in the darkness.

''The Emperor hates me too.'' he whispered.

Ishkor touched the boy's shoulder.

''Do you have a name?'' he asked.

''Once, a long time ago.'' The child admitted.

Ishkor was silent for a moment.

''I'll call you Xanan.''

***

*''Did you pick up a pet brother?''* the voice echoed in the mind of the boy as he followed the blue giant.

''My name is Xanan.'' The child said angrily. He followed the giant who had introduced himself as Grannus Ishkor. Xanan wasn't allowed to call him that. He had to call him Master instead.

He had grown up knowing of the light within him, of the light that he could shape into weapons or use to tear into the minds of other people. That power was what made him feared among his people. It was that kind of power that led his own father attempting to kill him out of fear of mutants.

When Xanan mentioned this to Ishkor in the walk back he merely said.

''My family tried to kill me too.'' And then the sorcerer told him to say no more of it.

Xanan looked around in wonder at the blue-armored giants that stood in perfect ranks. Another blue giant stood, cloaked in red robes and carrying a halbred of some kind. He wore the same kind of crested ornate helm as Ishkor did.

''Who are you?'' he asked.

*''I am Seron Khosaru. The brother of the man beside you. Ishkor, why have you taken him?''* Khosaru asked mentally. Xanan recoiled in surprise.

''He has potential. I figured we might as well grab as much as we can from this useless rock before he leave with the real prize.'' Ishkor said. Khosaru seemed to accept this.

''What prize?'' Xanan asked.

Ishkor looked at him. ''You will find out soon enough, if you manage to survive this.''

*''Don't be intimidated by him child. We're all a happy family here.''* Khosaru laughed sarcastically.

Then, the other blue giants began to move out quickly, one of them picking up Xanan.

''Hey!''

''You will be carried it our destination.'' Ishkor told him. ''Otherwise you will be unable to pick up the pace.'' he informed.

''Oh'' Xanan stopped struggling. He looked at the impassive green lenses of the giant. ''Do you have a name?''

*''He can't respond beyond any kind of simple command, and only to a member of the XV Legion. He's not like you or I.''* Khosaru told him.

''I see.'' Xanan looked at the giant and felt the soul within but nothing else.

''The XV Legion?'' he asked.

''That is what we are.'' Ishkor's voice grew darker.

*''The XV Legion of the Astartes, the Thousand Sons. Boy, forget your Emperor. He has no love for us and we none for him.''* Khosaru said.

****

Aktar knelt in the pit, his gauntlets moving aside soft earth. Before him he spotted the form of a metallic hull. The hide was dim and scarred from the rust of millennia. But it was unmistakably a ship's hull. This was there prize.

*''Brothers! We come bearing gifts.''* Khosaru said as he walked in.

*''Or a gift would be more accurate.''* Khosaru chuckled. Aktar floated up, pulled by pure telekinesis. He spotted the form of a child riding on the shoulder of a Rubric. After a few moments he looked at the two new arrivals.

''Which one of you picked him up?''

''That would be me.'' Nodded Ishkor.

''When are you going to take me away from this place?'' asked Xanan.

''Silence boy.'' A invisible fist seized Xanan's throat. ''We will leave here soon, but you must curb your tongue.'' Aktar said.

''He is mine. Unhand him brother.'' Ishkor said, walking forward. Aktar shrugged and complied.

''We'll be talking about this later. We are almost at our prize. Let's go. Nassor?'' he asked.

The sorcerer complied, drawing his staff. Lightning ran up it as he carved a doorway into the starship's hull. Despite the millennia of neglect it took a near full ten minutes to properly remove it. Once that was done Aktar dropped with, Nassor, Khosaru and Morden dropped in.

The hallway below was filled with darkness. The blue sorcerers walked through it fine however. Their senses where far sharper than a normal humans. They also knew this place well, for they had been aboard it many millennia ago.

Before the Space Wolves had attacked Prospero, Magnus the Red had ordered his fleet away. One of the ships in the Thousand Sons fleet, the Lightbringer, had disappeared in a miscalculated warp jump. It was only millennia that had the Thousand Sons tracked it down.

It has crash landed here, on Peratis II. A minor backwater world that rested on the farthest edges of Imperial control in this sector. Its loss would barley be noticed and not be mourned by the larger Imperium.

The Thousand Sons came here for only one thing, and it was what the ship carried in its stasis vaults.

They walked through more darkness. They found dust and vermin on most of the rooms. None of the automated ships controls worked, they had to cut their way through with blazing sorcery. Many minutes passed before they got to their designation.

The ship's Apothecarion.

On the walls was a faded symbol, that of a pair of entwined snakes and a staff. The Thousand Sons where well aware of the ancient symbols of healing that the mystics of Terra once employed in their use. Abandoned medical tanks and operating tables lined the silent chamber as Aktar and his brethren walked through it.

*'Such nostalgia.''* Khosaru muttered.

''I was sent there once, after the war against the orks on Ferred remember?'' Nassor said.

''Don't get wrapped up on it. We won't be here long.'' Aktar replied. The Thousand Sons stopped in front of a large set of metallic doors. Aktar extended his mind and found the nestle of psycho-receptive circuits that would respond only to someone with warp power.

He activated it, causing the doors to suddenly flare into life for the first time in ten thousand years. The doors creaked open and suddenly the room was filled with white light as Aktar disengaged the stasis device inside the vault.

''Go, quickly.'' Aktar instructed. Nassor nodded and moved in quickly, looking over the various dials before finally taking out a large white case marked with Prosperite script on it. Quickly Nassor checked its vitals.

''It's intact, it's amazing, after ten thousand years. It's intact.'' Nassor breathe din amazement.

*''It's ours again brothers-'' *Khosaru began.

''The geneseed.'' Aktar finished.

***

''What is that? An axe?'' Xanan asked.

Many minutes had passed, with Ishkor standing silently with the boy. Eventually Xanan had gotten so bored he now wanted to pester his new guardian.

''No, it's not an axe. Only ignorant barbarians use axes. This is a khopesh.'' Ishkor indicated.

''Khopesh?''

''The name of a weapon from my homeworld, Prospero. Many in the Legion use them.'' Ishkor informed him.

''Are you going to take me to Prospero?'' Xanan asked curiously. He wanted to know where these people came from.

''No, Prospero was destroyed long ago. I would have loved to show you it though. It was beautiful, crystal blue oceans, green mountains, white pyramids. I was born there, in the capital, Tizca.'' Ishkor mentioned.

''How was it destroyed?'' Xanan asked suddenly. Ishkor stiffened.

''I'll tell you that later. It's a tale that brings out much bitterness in me.'' Xanan could practically feel the hate rolling off Ishkor now. Faint flames flickered on his khopesh as he hefted it once more.

The boy decided it was wise not to press Ishkor.

''Where do you live now?'' he said, hoping to change the subject.

''A ship, we have a permanent home, a place called the Planet of Sorcerers, but we don't visit it often.'' Ishkor answered.

''And what is this ship's name? I've heard of it, but I've never actually been on one.'' Xanan responded. Why didn't they visit their home more often? If he had a permanent home where he was accepted he would gladly be there.

''It's called-'' then Ishkor's helmet snapped around. ''They're here.'' He suddenly said.

''Whose here?'' Xanan asked.

In the distant shadows the forms of metallic skeletons emerged. An entire phalanx of them. Immediately the Rubrics shuffled around and opened fire. Sorcery-empowered bolts punched many of the skeletons off their feet as beams of green energy returned fire.

Immediately Ishkor shoved Xanan down with a light push.

''Stay down and don' t get back up'' he commanded. Xanan shut his eyes as Ishkor summoned blue fire that shrouded his frame. He whipped his khopesh out and a wave of flames engulfed the leading Necrons, melting them into lifeless hulks of metal.

Rubrics where destroyed by beams of green that stripped away armor until only the souls survived. Necrons where chopped down by relentless bolter fire. Warp flames destroyed Necron after Necron as Ishkor reached out telepathically for support.

Then in the darkness a new form came into existence. It wore a strange crown and carried a glowing blade-staff. Its burnished golden skin was inscribed with strange symbols and a billowing ghostly cape surrounded it.

It had a skull like face. Twin soulless green pits stared back at Ishkor as the sorcerer hurled a spear of flame at the being. The golden Necron simply raised a hand and reality flickered around it. The next moment the spear of fire was gone.

It then raised a hand and summoned a silver orb. Immediately the lifeless husks of the Necrons began to peirce themselves together again, even with the sorcerous flames bathing their frames. One by one the Necrons came back to life.

Ishkor snapped his fingers as the Rubrics closed in further, increasing their rate of fire. Xanan peeked through his fingers to see more Necrons come in out of the shadows while the lord raised its glowing staff and beckoned them on.

''Need help?'' Khosaru's voice echoed through Xanan's head briefly before Xanan realized that Khosaru was speaking telepathically. Blue armored sorcerers rose out from the wreckage below. Aktar raised his staff and the silver orb shot across the air to land in his hand. With a burst of telekinesis the orb exploded in his gauntlet.

The golden Necron's green eyes merely glowed briefly before it raised its own staff and send the resurrected Necrons shuffling forward. Scythe-like cannons where pointed at the sorcerers, but the rubrics moved in front of them, taking the fire.

''Prepare the spell.'' Aktar instructed Morden, who nodded.

''What's happening?'' Xanan asked. Nobody answered them.

Then, one moment there was the roar of bolters that almost deafened Xanan, and then there was a flash of light. Xanan's senses where engulfed in a torrent of light and sound as he was lifted bodily off his feet and everything seemed to converge at once…

…then he was dumped gasping onto something cold and metallic. He sputtered and looked up into a blue-armored shin. Ishkor hauled him to his feet.

''Where am I?'' Xanan asked. He was in some sort of hanger. Various equipment lined the walls and some sort of incense wafted through the air. The room was lit by some sort of dull red glow that hurt his eyes.

''This is the _Hawk of Tizca_. Welcome to your new home.''


----------



## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*real cool*

Man I really did like this thread. It is original and kept me reading from the first word to the last. I can't wait for more.

Adrian
:shok:


----------



## Todeswind (Mar 2, 2010)

The storyline is a bit generic as of yet. The Space Marine recruitment stories seem to all follow something of a formula, even if it is an interesting one. 

The feel of your Rhrubric sorcerers feels a bit too "tragic hero" for my taste and not really bitter enough.

On a technical note so far but there are no issues of grammar but it keep using the work "ask" over and over again. There are better alternatives to that word that mean the same thing in the same situation. I'd suggest avoiding the use of "to be" verbs, "said" and "asked" as much as is possible. If you can use an alternative to them, do so. 

Bolding the text to show shouting looks awkward in the same way that using the caps-lock key would. Just say that "person X yelled" and its more than sufficent for us to get the point.


----------



## Gree (Jun 13, 2010)

Todeswind said:


> The storyline is a bit generic as of yet. The Space Marine recruitment stories seem to all follow something of a formula, even if it is an interesting one.


Actually this is it for the moment. I tend to write one-shots. I decided to write this after reading Nightfall in Heroes of the Space Marines. You have Xanan's introduction into the warband, but I don't have any plans for further stories in the future. I al already writing other short ficition at the moment. This is just an old peice I decided to post up.



Todeswind said:


> The feel of your Rhrubric sorcerers feels a bit too "tragic hero" for my taste and not really bitter enough.


How would you have handled them then?



Todeswind said:


> On a technical note so far but there are no issues of grammar but it keep using the work "ask" over and over again. There are better alternatives to that word that mean the same thing in the same situation. I'd suggest avoiding the use of "to be" verbs, "said" and "asked" as much as is possible. If you can use an alternative to them, do so.


Thanks, I know I have a problem with using one word over and over again.



Todeswind said:


> Bolding the text to show shouting looks awkward in the same way that using the caps-lock key would. Just say that "person X yelled" and its more than sufficent for us to get the point.


Are you talking about Khosaru? He's not shouting. He's using telepathy.


----------

