# For the Emperor



## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Howdy folks!

Those who occasionally hit the RP forums may recognize some of this as part of a thread there. Unfortunately, it died and I was left with this great idea needing an outlet. So here I shall post the ongoing story that started in that RP thread! It might not flesh out properly story-wise as I haven't had a chance to really go over it with a fine-toothed comb and change it over to a more traditional story archetype. However, it's mildly passable. Be forewarned... On word it comes up to nineteen pages so you might be reading for a while. On the bright side, I plan on breaking it up into sections and only posting a section every day or so to cut down on the reading lol.

Good luck and good gaming,

Nate

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*Prologue-* 

None would have thought it possible but it had happened. Under the leadership of the Warmaster Horus, legions of astartes had spit on their oaths and turned against the Emperor. Upon the walls of the Imperial Palace, Chaplain Agmemnus of the Imperial Fists stares in horror at what he sees. 

It is the beginning of the end. It is war that none would have dared thought possible. Terra finds itself besieged by those once sworn to protect it... 

It is the beginning of the grimmest of times...the darkest of times. What the future holds, none know save that it will be filled with war... 

*I* 

Agmemnus looked to the heavens through the shimmering void fields as storm birds and other unidentifiable landing craft made their way through the atmosphere. His heart ached at the sight for he knew deep down what it meant. His brothers were his brothers no more. They had turned from the Emperor and trod the path of heresy...the path of the traitor. Such words would have been scoffed at in better times. None would dare think that the mighty astartes cast in their primarch and their Emperor's image would have sunk to such levels of treachery. 

The thunder of the many defense cannons filled the air with their rumbling roar. Standing near the gate of the first wall of the Imperial Palace, Agmemnus could feel the massive energies being unleashed by the powerful weapons of war even through his terminator armor. The ground shook with each fiery report of their massive maws. He watched many of the flying craft obliterated by the cannonade, turning those hit into flaming comets burning their way to the ground. Even he could see it was not enough. 

Hovering in orbit over the planet of Terra, the cradle of mankind, were multitudes of warships crewed by the most powerful weapons of war created by the Emperor... That his own sons had turned against the Emperor filled Agmemnus with a vile and twisting hatred. The thought turned his stomach as more and more of the landing craft made it to the ground. Staring on helplessly, he wished that he could see the end of this through will alone… If he had such power, Agmemnus knew that he would use it. 

Waving his war hammer at the skies, he snarled "Die!" As if hearing his command, the sky lit with fire as the massive defense guns fired again, vaporizing a small clutch of inbound ships. 

Turning, he looked to those warriors who held the walls with him. Clad in their golden yellow armor, their banners unfurled whipping in the gale storm brought up by the thundering guns, the gathered Imperial Fists looked like ancient gods of war. Each knew what would happen if the walls should fall. Each knew the price that would be paid should they fail. They stood shoulder to shoulder, unmoving, a thin yellow line stretching down the length of the great wall. He knew deep down in his soul they would hold to the last…that each would die before letting these traitors step one foot into the Imperial Palace. The thought filled his heart with pride. Unconsciously he stroked the scar running down the side of his face. To those that knew the old chaplain it was a sign. He was preparing to speak and when he spoke mountains moved and the heavens fell from the skies...but more importantly hearts were swayed, souls were steeled, and minds were prepared. 

Reaching to his belt, he removed his battered and scarred helmet. Turning it, he looked into the grim rictus-death mask searching for what he must say. How did one such as he ask his brothers to do the unthinkable…to raise arms against those they counted as equal…as brother. In the brief moments it took to lock the helm down, Agmemnus found his answer. He who would turn against his brother was brother no more. He was the vilest of vile. He who would do such a thing had no honor and in having no honor was damned to reap the consequences of his actions. 

Taking up his shield, he marched down the line, heading towards the great armored gate that protected the palace. As he passed, those astartes holding the wall turned and knelt. When he reached his destination, he faced the gathered warriors. Raising his voice, he began... 

"BROTHERS! Today we stand at the crossroads! A great and terrible path lies before us..." 

Over the sound of his sermon, the great guns roared again.....

II 

Chaplain Agmemnus studied the coming horde with a practiced eye. While he had been elevated to the rank of chaplain he was still first and foremost an Imperial Fist. His training in siege-craft had been an important part of his life before he had been honored with the task of seeing to the morale of the legion. He watched the ebb and flow of the traitorous Army and astartes as they made their way towards the walls and the Imperial Palace. Not everything was going their way, he could see. Several Imperial army regiments stood between the traitors and their final destination and they seemed to be giving the rebels hell. He wished he could be there. Part of him rumbled at being posted to the walls. He knew the importance of holding the ramparts but his heart yearned to be in the thick of the fighting, swinging his ancient hammer, the Iron Fist, and bringing justice to those who had turned their hearts from the Emperor's will. 

His eyes followed the line of Horus' followers as they made ready mortars and cannons to lay siege to the Emperor's greatest monument in the distance. Word had already reached Agmemnus of the fall of the star port to the east. While it could be said Horus was mad to turn against his father and his fellow primarchs, few could argue with the precision at which he waged war. Horus was known as a shrewd tactician and this fight would see his terrible genius stretched to its limits. Agmemnus himself would make sure of that if he had anything to say about it but the loss of the star port was a major setback. There would be no reinforcements from that quarter and in the coming days its loss would be felt. 

Deep in thought, Agmemnus had failed to notice the runner that had been sent for him. A polite cough roused him from his reverie. Turning, he found himself face to face with another Imperial Fist; his helmet slung under one arm and his head bowed in deference to the old chaplain. "Yes?" Agmemnus asked. 

"Master Chaplain, Captain Malloc requests the honor of your presence at the headquarters on parapet seventeen." 

Nodding, Agmemnus shouldered his shield and locked his hammer into place. "Lead on Sergeant", he replied. He knew it had to be important for the captain to send an astartes to call on him rather than one of the many Imperial army runners who passed orders up and down the walls. Undoubtedly the request had required someone whose trust was above reproach which made Agmemnus wary. 

As the two made their way down the length of wall, Agmemnus found himself deep in thought once again. While he believed those who remained in the Imperial Palace were loyal, one could never be too sure in these dark times. The depth of the betrayal was known to have reached even the techno-magi of mars with many of the ancient titan legions battling amongst themselves on the barren, rust-stained fields of Mars herself. The Imperial Navy and Army were not immune to treachery either. Reports had flooded into Terra upon the revelation of Horus as traitor. Long had he held sway as Warmaster in the Emperor's absence during the long, great crusade to unify mankind under the banner of his father and many had foolishly followed him in his descent into heresy. 

It still mystified the old chaplain that in this age of reason and enlightenment that those who had witnessed the awe-inspiring will and might of the Emperor would turn against him and bring down all the triumphs he had given mankind. There had even been whispers of heathen god-worship and daemomancy. Such things had no place in the Imperium of Man the Emperor had forged with his blood, his sweat and his tears. 

He found himself looking to the massed regiments of Imperial Army arrayed before the walls in serried ranks. He knew that even their numbers could not hold back the oncoming tide of heretics that made their way towards the palace. Heretic...the word was strange to him. He knew of it. Years spent in training had opened his eyes and his mind to many new things including the ancient works of man from their darker, benighted times, when man had foolishly believed in gods and such things. Words like heretic and daemon still felt wrong when he voiced them...sometimes when he even thought them. It was odd that such trivial things as words could be so consternating. Agmemnus knew the reason of course. In the wake of the Emperor's grand crusade, such irrational notions had been quashed and replaced with the cold reasoning of science and fact. 

He soon found himself standing in the bustling command post of the palace's defenders, captains Malloc and Tarsion nodding as he entered. It was a scene of controlled anarchy. He likened it to an ant hill or a bee hive. Imperial commanders, the gathered captains of the Imperial Fists and those of the White Scars and Blood Angels all passing orders back and forth over holomaps and charts as they discussed how to prepare to repel the invaders. From an adjoining room came a booming welcome. "Hail Agmemnus! It is good to see you my son!" Agmemnus turned to face the direction the voice had come from and immediately removed his helm and knelt. "My lord Dorn." 

"Bah…stand. There is no need for bowing and scraping with times such as they are." Feeling sheepish, Agmemnus rose and made his way towards his beckoning master. 

"Now that we are all here, I will begin. The Imperial Army stands at the base of the wall ready to repel the traitors." Agmemnus could hear the controlled rage as Dorn spoke the last word. The word was thick with contempt and vitriol. As the briefing went on, Agmemnus soon found his primarch had plans for him and upon hearing them; a smile crossed his scarred face. 

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The sound of las and bolter fire filled the plains with their raucous squeals and booming reports before the Imperial Palace as Agmemnus made his way through the Imperial lines to the front. Accompanying him were the warriors under the command of Captain Malloc, two hundred of the finest warriors to bear the proud clenched fist of the Imperial Fists. The air was thick with the stench of blood and cordite as men and astartes bled and died under the watchful gaze of the Emperor's fortress. 

His shield held at his side in his left hand, he stopped and aimed the combi-bolter he had been granted with his right hand and fired. The weapon roared as the bolter round found its mark, ripping a rebel army trooper in two as the explosive shell detonated inside him. After a short march Agmemnus found himself at the forefront of the Imperial lines. Captain Malloc began issuing orders to his men and with the practiced precision that only astartes could accomplish they fanned out taking up a firing line. Dorn himself had seen the same thing Agmemnus and the rest of the Fists had seen. There would be no holding the enemy back. Reports had stated that titans from the Legio Mortis has landed and were making their way to the front. The Imperial Army for all its might could not stop those ancient mechanical war gods. Dorn had put forth a plan of a strategic retreat, the combined forces fighting their way back to the walls making the traitors pay in blood for every inch they took. 

Agmemnus took his place in the center of the line along with captain Malloc. Activating the improved external vox mounted in his suit's helm his thundering voice roared over the din of battle. 

"Brothers! Aye brothers! Be you astartes or army conscript you who stand here are my brother! Look before you at the gathering hordes! See how they call and scream and blaspheme! They call upon the Warmaster in the place of their Emperor! Such foolishness cannot be allowed to continue! We will give them no succor! We will give them no mercy! We will take from them everything and leave them to lie dying on the soil of this world they have come to conquer! STAND! HOLD! Remember that you do this not for glory! Nay, nor for honor! You do this not for personal gain! You do this to protect the cradle of mankind and the Light of reason the Emperor has brought to these benighted times! Aye brothers, STAND! HOLD! FOR DORN! FOR THE EMPEROR!" 

From the line came an answer. At first those hundreds who had been in earshot of the chaplain's fiery oratory took up his cry. Then thousands, then tens of thousands. Each man raised his voice until every warrior’s voice roared the same cry. Those upon the walls began as well as the cry reached them. 

As the heretic's force reached the lines the found themselves greeted with the words roared over and over. Over the sounds of bolter fire and lasfire, through the fog of cordite and fyceline and promethium, through the roars of massive defense cannons and siege-craft the chant could be heard over and over. 

"FOR THE EMPEROR!" 

And man and astarte, loyal and traitor, died as the forces smashed into each other under the watchful gaze of the Emperor...


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

*III* 

Agmemnus' job was only beginning. He had steeled their hearts and bolstered their courage but it would take more…so much more to defeat the foe that they found themselves facing. Captain Malloc's steady voice could be heard through the sounds of the raging fire fight as he led the Imperial Fists into battle. The sound of weapons firing in unison each marked by his order to fire beat a stataco tempo. They were Fists and their training in the rites of battle gave them an advantage over many. Imperial Fists were not given to brazenly firing away at the enemy…oh no. Each warrior knew that volley fire could break even the most intractable enemy and they were using it to a gruesome effect. The bodies of hundreds of rebel soldiers exploded as bolt and missile and lasbeam burst them like ripe melons. It was a glorious sight. 

The earthen bulwarks that had been placed to give the defenders cover were working well for now. Agmemnus knew soon it would not be the case. As if to make a point, the screeching sound of incoming artillery rounds could be heard. The first shells fell well short of the Imperial line, wreaking havoc amongst the heretics' own forces. The second volley came closer as those manning the fell horde's artillery corrected their aim and began walking their explosive charges closer and closer in an attempt to break the solid line of loyalists. He'd wished there had been more time to prepare a better defense. "My armor for some rockcrete", he found himself thinking. 

Out of the corner of his eye through the raining mud and smoke he could see the Emperor's personal guard, the mighty custodes marching into battle against the now hated World Eaters. Motioning to the devastators behind him, Agmemnus ordered them to cover the advancing warriors. Captain Malloc nodded in ascent, deferring to the older chaplain's wisdom. The great weapons thundered, sending high explosive rounds into the charging World Eater line. Bodies corkscrewed into the air as they detonated amongst the traitors. It would be all they could do to aid their custode brethren as the main heretic line had reached their position. 

With a great surge, the heretics pushed their way to the top of the bulwark…only to find themselves greeted with massed bolter fire. Raising himself from the improvised firing step, Agmemnus stormed into the traitors, those warriors who had been granted the honor of guarding him following close at his heels. The remaining Fists held their ground supporting the chaplain's headlong charge with practiced ease, sending round after round into the swirling melee that had formed around Agmemnus and his bodyguard. 

His hammer smashed left and right, pulping those fools who found themselves too close to the raging chaplain. He raised his voice in contempt, the improved external vox turning his shouts of retribution and vengeance into mighty roars. Agmemnus called upon those who stood before him to stop this madness before it was too late. To the surprise of many of the heretics some did turn their weapons on their fellow traitors, the fog that had infected their minds burned away by the chaplain's oratory. 

The respite was short-lived as a warrior in armor the shade of blackest night strode amongst their ranks, reinstating order amongst the traitors. "SILENCE FOOL!" the ebon armored beast roared. "The time of the Warmaster is at hand!" 

Charging, the Sons of Horus chaplain crashed into Agmemnus, raining blows from his powered mace over and over. Anger filled Agmemnus at the sight of a fellow chaplain supporting the cause of the rebellious warmaster as he attempted to regain his footing against the repeated blows. Snarling, Agmemnus brought his shield around in a shimmering arc and slammed it into the brow of the death-masked traitor. The ceramite shattered under the force of the enhanced strength behind the blow. Bringing his hammer down, Agmemnus smashed the weapon's glowing head into the squirming traitor, the resulting release of energies tearing him nearly in two. The battle ebbed as the rebels fell back before this mighty warrior who had killed one of their traitorous champions. Agmemnus knew he could break their spirit now. What he could not do with hammer and bolter he could do with but a casual gesture. 

Agmemnus turned, waving for one of his guards. He passed his hammer and shield over. In full view of the traitorous horde, he reached down and grasped the broken body of the Sons of Horus chaplain. With a great heave he raised the trophy above his head and roared. 

"See now the power of the EMPEROR! Quail in fear traitors! For even the mightiest of your champions will fall before the Emperor's might!" 

As he finished his call, Agmemnus tossed the body into the milling heretics. It was all that was needed to send them rushing back into their lines. The Imperial Fists lined the defense point, firing their bolters into the backs of the retreating traitors, reaping more confusion and death amongst them. 

Taking up his shield and hammer, Agmemnus took up the chant once more, punctuating each cry with a clanging report of his hammer's haft against the shield, the blows ringing with the clarion tone of a bell.


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## Unknown Soldier (Oct 24, 2008)

Beautiful job as always Nate, I really enjoy and admire your writing style.


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## waltzmelancholy_07 (Sep 30, 2008)

This is beautiful Nate... I can perfectly picture the battle in my mind... WOW!!!!... MORE....


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

*IV* 

Static filled Agmemnus' vox bead. Between the pops and squeals he could make out little. Something about a Salamander techmarine and daemons. Daemon... The word made him start. Such things had been spoken of in whispers but Agmemnus had yet to see one. His eyes caught a terrible sight as he took in the battle. He stared in disbelief at the ugly purple bruise that had formed from nowhere. He had never seen anything like it before. A rift of dark, coruscating energy had ripped its way into the material plane. More startling were the things coming from it. Malformed and misshapen things they were. Agmemnus knew in an instant that these must be daemons. 

Calling for his bodyguard and two more squads of Fists, Agmemnus marched with haste towards the beleaguered Salamander. For the first time he cursed the bulky nature of his armor. Pushing the armor's fibro-bundled muscles to their limit he found his pace quickening as he pounded off towards the hapless techmarine. Would he reach the Salamander in time? He hoped so. "It would be a pity for such a brave warrior to meet his end", Agmemnus thought. He was glad for one thing. The sight of a hulking black-armored behemoth with three squads of astartes in tow was enough to make anyone in his path clear out of the way. 

Locking his great hammer to his side, Agmemnus unholstered his combi-bolter and took aim. The range counter on his HUD counted down the distance between his men and the daemons pouring from the open rift. There was a soft chime alerting him that he was in range. It was all he needed. Depressing the trigger, both barrel spat round after explosive round into the churning melee of daemons that surrounded the Salamander. As the distance closed, he slammed the smoking combi-bolter back into his holster and unslung his hammer. With a mighty roar, he smashed into the daemons' flank, the momentum from his charge sending some reeling to the ground. Agmemnus' glowing hammer flicked left and right as he set into the daemons. He was rewarded with the stench of sulphur with each banished daemon as their bodies were destroyed by his powerful blows. 

"BROTHER!" he shouted, "You are not alone!" 

Bulling his way through the daemon horde, he found himself standing side by side with the Salamander. He could see that even with his reinforcements, the ever-growing tide of daemons would eventually wear them down. Something had to be done to close this terrible thing but he did not know how to do it. 

"Headquarters! We are faced with some form of vile witchery. It is a portal of sorts, a gateway from which the malefic pour through! Can we close it? Wait! I see something coming....By the Emperor!" 

Two great blood-covered hands came from out of the portal, grasping each side of it. A bestial snarl could be heard as a massive, horned head pushed its way through the glowing gateway. Powerful wings and a muscular, bronze-plated chest followed as the terrible creature from the warp stepped out onto the ground for the first time in millennia. The golden aquila on his armor began to glow fiercely as the beast made its way from the gate. 

Wasting no time the ancient bloodthirster stretched its wings and took flight. It ignored daemon and astartes alike as it left them behind to search for more fitting prey. "Agmemnus to all units. Something has emerged from the portal...it…it is huge. Be wary!" 

The vox channel was filled with chatter as more and more rifts ripped their way into existence. Agmemnus prayed that someone could find a way to close the damnedable things soon or all would be in peril…

*V* 

Agmemnus was weary. The unending tides of daemons were taking their toll on even his super human constitution and as the time went on more and more of his brothers fell. He marveled at the prowess of the Salamander techmarine. He, like all of his brethren, was dauntless. It was said that a Salamander was slow to act but when he did it was done with great resolution and strength. From what Agmemnus had seen so far he could only agree. The stoic astarte burned his way through wave after wave of hellish daemon until his flamers were empty and then he set into them with power fists. With each passing moment, though, they found themselves forced farther and farther back from the purplish gaping sore that continued to pour forth more and more daemons. 

Above him, Agmemnus could hear the forces of the Imperial Navy battling it out for dominion of the skies. Sparing a brief glance, he saw them corkscrewing through the air, weaving a terrible dance of fire and death. Just as he felt his strength finally giving in explosions lit the ground around him. By some miracle of chance the navy bombers flying support dropped their deadly payload on the hell-spawned portal, obliterating it. The respite was welcomed as Agmemnus and his fellow astartes tore into the remaining daemons with all the strength they could muster. 

A voice cut through the vox chatter. "BACK TO THE WALL! BACK TO THE WALL! DEFEND THE EMPEROR WITH ALL YOU CAN!" The retreat had been ordered. It was worrying that it had been called so early but Agmemnus understood. Even as his weary forces made their way back to the Imperial lines he could see that it had not gone well for them. More and more, the heretics poured from the skies and the daemonic portals had only exacerbated the situation as those that still remained continued to vomit forth more warp-spawn. Once there had been a time in his younger days that such a call would have been greeted with ire and spite. Years of war had forged the hot-headed youth that had been Agmemnus into a warrior that realized battle was not for glory but for duty and sometimes that duty required retreat. 

Agmemnus hooked the ancient hammer to his belt and slapped the shoulder pauldron of the Salamander in a friendly fashion. "Brother! That was most magnificent! What is your name Salamander? I am Agmemnus of the Fists. Would you care to accompany us brother? We would be most honored to have such a great warrior with us." 

Before the Salamander could answer, another portal ripped its way into existence high in the air. From it came another of the winged terrors they had seen before. A shudder passed down his spine as the great beast roared. He could see that in its coming it had destroyed those bombers that had saved him and those with him. He watched as a fighter, smoke pouring from its cockpit and engines heading for the ground. His heart ached at the sight of such brave warriors dying in such a manner. He vowed that such courageous acts would not go unknown. 

In the distance he could see his fellow Imperial Fists making their way back to the gates with the precision only they could achieve. He watched as they covered the retreat of the army forces, holding back the traitors so they could make good their escape. Agmemnus realized they would need to move quickly to keep from being cut off. His fears were soon allayed as the legion of Sanguinius entered the fray. Agmemnus raised his fist into the air and roared a greeting to those who had moved to relieve them. Through the smoky haze, Agmemnus could make out a Blood Angel captain making his way towards their position. 

"Hail brother!" came the call from the Blood Angel. "Emperor be praised!" 

"Hail indeed brother!" replied Agmemnus with a relieved laugh, "It is good to see you!" 

The Blood Angel stepped forward and extended his hand. Agmemnus took it in a warrior's grasp, taking his forearm and shaking it heartily. "I am Agmemnus of the Fists. By thunder I thought that we were surely doomed." The Blood Angel laughed. "Not quite yet brother! I am Captain Calisartes and my men and I have come to render what aid we can. What is the situation?" 

With a sweeping gesture encompassing the field, Agmemnus nodded to him. "As you can see brother, all is not well. They have called upon malefic creatures of the warp. Their forces have increased incrementally with the addition of these daemons. It took the power of a bomb to close the one we found ourselves faced against." 

Captain Malloc's stern voice came over the vox, stopping Agmemnus from continuing, "Lord Chaplain, we make for the gates as ordered. We wish that you lead us." 

"Aye brother. I am coming and I bring with me a friend. Prepare the brothers for I shall be there soon!" 

Agmemnus faced Calisartes. "Luck to you brother! The Emperor's will be done." 

"Aye, for the Emperor! Fare you well Agmemnus of the Fists", replied the Blood Angel. 

Turning to those who had survived the battle with the daemons, he motioned them forward. "Onward brothers. We must make all haste to rejoin our comrades!"


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## Luciferi (Mar 2, 2008)

Moar dude, moar o__o!


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

*VI* 

As they prepared to move on, Agmemnus and his party found themselves interrupted as one of the pilots providing cover for the loyalists slowly descended from the sky on his grav-chute. Reaching down, Agmemnus gingerly lifted the pilot from the ground by the cords attached to his grav-chute. "What have we here brothers?" he noted as he helped the pilot to his feet. "One of our brave pilots it seems. Come little brother! We must make for the gate before they close it on us!" Agmemnus roared with laughter as he and the remainder of his small force began to make their way towards the gates. "It seems that I find reinforcements falling from the sky now!" 

Where it had come from, he did not know. With the world trying to end around him, the sight of the Blood Angels had improved his choler. The battle still raged, the Imperial Palace was still beset by the minions of the Warmaster Horus, and daemons were still clawing their way into the material plain by the minute but he could not help himself. Maybe it was because he and his warriors were no longer alone in the fight. Maybe he was suffering from battle fatigue… He dismissed the latter with a snort. He was an astartes and more to the point, an Imperial Fist. Such things did not affect him. Agmemnus merely nodded and went on. Terrible days lay ahead. Soon there would be a proper siege and he knew that there would be little joy to find when those times came. 

The sound of rattling armor and weapons made the old chaplain turn. The custodes seemed to be heading in their direction and Agmemnus called for the gathered warriors to wait for them. Waving his hammer, he greeted the golden-clad warriors. "Hail Brothers! Would you care to join us as we make for the gates?" 

"Come lads! Let us be done with this place. We must find our place on the walls lest these traitors find it unguarded! We can't have that, now can we!" 

Agmemnus knew that if they chose to the custodes would join them. Without waiting to see if they did, he and wards made for the gate. He paused long enough to watch as the Blood Angels primarch, Sanguinius took to the skies on mighty white pinions. The sight made his heart swell. Pointing, he said, "Truly if there were ever such things as angels, he would be one!" 

Continuing on, Agmemnus found his way to the Imperial Fists who had bolstered the Imperial line. Of the two hundred, barely half remained. The battle had taken its toll on them. None had escaped unscathed. Apothecary Damos moved through the survivors, checking each in turn. Agmemnus noted the apothecary carried a full complement of gene seed in his pouches. That the seed would be returned to the legion was a poor substitution for those warriors they had come from but it was still a small victory for the Imperial Fists. Those warriors that had fallen would be remembered and their seed would be passed on to a new generation once the time came. If the time came, Agmemnus thought. 

He could feel melancholic thoughts leeching their way back into his mind. "No", he muttered. He would not succumb to such dark thoughts. They would win. There could be no other outcome. Even if the heavens tumbled and the rock on which Terra had been founded was sundered they would win. 

And like a summer storm that wells up and then dissipates, Agmemnus found his clouded mind clearing as the thoughts were driven away by the welcoming sight of his fellow Fists. It was good to be back amongst his brothers. Though they were battered and beaten they were unbroken. That was the way of the Imperial Fist. Stubborn and tenacious, and to Agmemnus, the true children of the Emperor. As he thought the words, Agmemnus rebuffed himself for the arrogance and pride that filled them. Such things were acceptable for another astartes but not a chaplain. No, pride and arrogance led down the path of damnation. The evidence of such folly could be seen all around him as he took in the battlefield. 

His reverie was broken when Captain Malloc greeted him. "Welcome back Lord Chaplain. I see that you did indeed bring friends. An eclectic group to be sure." 

"Aye brother Malloc!" Agmemnus called, "Would that these brave souls were Imperial Fists! We would truly be blessed with such mighty warriors!" 

Turning, Agmemnus called out, "BROTHERS! We have done the impossible! We have faced the horrors that would have broken others! Though we have relinquished the field of battle to our honored Blood Angel brethren, there is no shame in our retreat! Brothers, I call upon you once again! Give honor to those who have fallen! Give it to those who have relieved us! Raise your voices in praise of he who pulled humanity from the darkness! FOR THE EMPEROR!" 

With that, Agmemnus marched through the gates and into the Imperial Palace...

*VII *

Agmemnus accompanied Fierizard and Captain Malloc into the Imperial Palace. Captain Malloc had accepted the Salamander's words and had led them to the staging area where their Lord Dorn was said to be. As they made their way through the milling throng of Imperial Army soldiers and astartes, Agmemnus found himself mulling over Fierizard's words. The Salamander's plea seemed genuine and Agmemnus had had no doubts when he vouched for the warrior. Any one who would sacrifice himself to protect his brothers could not be touched by the madness that had seemingly infected those who followed the Warmaster. 

Agmemnus' mind wandered as they continued on. Snippets of conversations wormed their way into his subconscious and he found himself stopping. "We can't win…there are too many", came one Imperial soldier to another. "What were those things?" "Where did they come from?" These words and more were echoed by others as they voiced their worries and discontent. They had been battered and beaten, their spirits sapped by fatigue and fear and their morale was waning. They had faced things that they had never dreamed possible and were the worse for it. 

In the age of enlightenment the Emperor had brought to the struggling vestiges of humanity scattered across the cosmos, things like gods and daemons were seen as foolish superstitions best quashed so that mankind could move forward in it's mastery of the galaxy. There was no place for religion and its rainments. Once man had clung to ancient spirit worship and cult-like devotion to various deities but had suffered only strife and discord in doing so. Beliefs clashed with beliefs as man made war against those who did not follow the same religious path he did. It was the height of ignorance and the Emperor had seen this. He had known that in order to unite humanity in one great cause he had to break the oppressive shackles of religion and show mankind the true path of wisdom and science. Only through mastering these could man find harmony and peace. Then the Warmaster had turned against his father and called upon devilish creatures to aid him in his battle for rulership over mankind. Daemons and gods had become as real as men and they were found to be terrible beasts of incomprehensible evil. 

Agmemnus could not fault the Imperial soldiers as he too had been taken aback by the events that fate had set into motion. He, himself, had found such things to be beyond belief and yet he had seen them with his own eyes. Looking to the Imperial survivors, he knew they were but men. They had fought with fire in their bellies and the Emperor's name on their lips but in the end they lacked force of will that drove an astartes on even when the odds were against them but he still could not bring himself to look down upon them. "Fear is a great enemy and has to be faced head on with the sword of Duty and the armor of Honor", the chaplain Ezekhi had once told Agmemnus. "It must be defeated...crushed. It must be rooted out and purged. If it is not, it will take root in men's hearts and bear poison fruit." 

"Lord Chaplain. Is something wrong?" Malloc asked, noticing the chaplain had stopped. Agmemnus waved them on. "No brother. Continue to Lord Dorn. I believe that I am needed here." Malloc gave a short bow and continued on with Fierizard to find the Imperial Fist's primarch. 

Removing his helm, Agmemnus took a deep breath of fresh air. Here inside the walls the stench of battle held less sway and the air was purer. He turned to the gathered warriors. "Who here will fight with me on the walls when the time comes?!" he roared. The shout startled many as those able scrambled to attention. "Well? Answer me! Where is the steel I witnessed not but moments ago on the fields before the walls? Where is the courage? You have stood against terrors most men would be hard pressed to even believe and you live! WELL?! Each of you has fought with honor for our Emperor! Will you sit here bemoaning your fate, cringing and crying for mercy? Or will you stand with me upon the walls?!" 

On and on the ancient chaplain cried, his voice rising as the crowd of soldiers grew larger and larger. He did not fault them…no. He did not blame them. But, he would be damned if he let the seeds of fear find fertile soil in the hearts of brave men such as these.


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Thanks for all the kind words folks! Here's the next part :biggrin:.

Good luck and good gaming,

Nate

*VIII *

Agmemnus found his dreams troubled. Instead of heading back to the wall, he decided that rest was needed. He was exhausted from his battle and he knew that he would do no good if he were to falter in his duties because of weakness. An astartes was a tireless foe but even he realized he needed to sleep in order to maintain his health and there were others who could keep the troops' morale up while he rested. 

He had made his way to the billet set aside for the Imperial Fist contingent and once there found his cell. Upon entering, he was greeted by his personal servant who saw to his needs. Bowing, the young man stepped aside so Agmemnus could enter. The room was sparsely furnished. Save for a desk, a stool, a book shelf that bowed under the weight of the many tomes, his armor rack and his cot there was little to be seen. The walls were a dull gray rockcrete with a single slit of a window that allowed the sun's light in to chase away the gloom. The floor was tiled in the pattern of the Imperial Aquila; its wings outspread to encompass the whole of the room. Making his way to the armor rack on the wall, Agmemnus set his hammer and shield into their recesses. Once that was done, he took a seat on the stool and looked to his serf. "Trius, please help me remove my armor." 

Agmemnus placed his helm on the sturdy desk and with the help of Trius, began the process of taking off his armor. While the terminator armor offered it's wearer near-invulnerability, Agmemnus found it stifling. He wondered idly why he had accepted the heavy suit in favor of his Mk V powered armor. He chuckled to himself, the sound making Trius raise his head in question. "Nothing lad", Agmemnus said, "Just an old man pondering the folly of accepting certain 'gifts'." 

Once the armor had been removed, each piece was laid out before him on the floor with care. From the desk, Trius removed a rag, unguents, and oils. He handed each in turn to Agmemnus who began the tasking of cleaning. The blows he had received from the traitor chaplain would need seeing to soon. The armor was still solid but he would take no chances. Fate had a way of making the inane into the complicated. "Trius, please see that these are taken to the forge while I rest." The young servant nodded, leaving with the damaged pieces of armor in tow. 

As the serf left, Agmemnus moved to his cot and began the process of clearing his mind in preparation of sleep. He allowed his body's metabolism to slow, his twin hearts winding down until there were several seconds between each beat. He entered a deep, restorative sleep. 

It was rare for an astartes to dream, or at least it was in the case of Agmemnus. When he did, he found them to be fleeting memories of his past, long before he had been granted the honor of fighting for the Emperor's crusading legions. This time, however, he found himself standing on the walls surrounding the Imperial Palace. He could see traitors as they stretched far into the distance. Massive titans in service to the Warmaster strode across the plain before the walls, their mighty weapons belching smoke and plasma as they tried to break their way through the Imperium's defenses. Each bore marks of corruption, from fierce bestial heads that roared the praises of dark gods to boils and pustules which wept pus and infected blood. The sight was terrifying. Agmemnus found the sun blotted out as a great shadow crossed before it. Looking up, he believed he saw the great primarch Sanguinius once again, flying over the battle, exhorting his legion to take the fight to the heretics. Realization hit him like a hammer blow as the thing came closer. What had been the noble primarch was now some terrible parody. On multi-colored wings, the beast descended, its serpentine neck ending in a bird-like face with glowing eyes and a wickedly sharp beak. As it landed the daemon let forth a booming screech, shattering the walls around Agmemnus with coruscating bolts of lightning and flame. He found himself falling, pieces of the wall surrounding him as he plummeted towards the ground. He smashed into the ground, the beast landing on his chest. Agmemnus looked into its eyes and found only madness. It leaned its avian head in close to the chaplain and from its mouth a whisper came. "My master has sent me to tell you this. The wall will fall and the Warmaster will be triumphant. When it comes down you will die, on your knees, begging for my Lord's mercy!" 

Agmemnus bolted upright, his body covered with a thick sheen of sweat. Wiping it from his face, he rose from his cot and made his way to the desk. He plunged his hands into the bowl of cold water that sat there and washed his face. Looking into the rippling vessel the beast's words slipped into his mind once again. "When it comes down you will die, on your knees, begging for my Lord's mercy!" 

Rage filled the old chaplain. He lashed out, sending the pewter bowl crashing into the wall with a ringing clatter. Turning, he reached for the golden aquila that adorned this armor. It was said the sigil was a ward against warpcraft. Deep inside, he found himself hoping such was the case. He returned it to its resting place and picked up his hammer. He turned the weapon over and over, taking in the craftsmanship that had been worked into relic. "Never..." he found himself whispering. Agmemnus raised his head, looking to the ceiling. "NEVER! DO YOU HEAR ME? NEVER!" he roared as he lifted the hammer higher....


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## Unknown Soldier (Oct 24, 2008)

"NEVER! DO YOU HEAR ME? NEVER!" - absolutely love it. 

It's rare to see stories centered around a Chaplin and I'm glad you've embraced him as a character. Though for some weird reason, I read his name as Agymemnus (like Agymemnon) and it makes it easier for me to scan - apologies for not getting his name correct in my imaginings.

Aside from myself, you are my favourite writer on these forums.:grin:

Keep up the very solid work my friend.


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Eh...I did the same thing when I first wrote this. Many times I had to go back and respell his name as I would type it as that instead of the bastardized version I'm using. A bit of background over why I wrote it from the point of view of a chaplain is in order I guess. As I said in the first post, this is actually story bits from a roleplaying thread. When I read the premise, the only thing that came to mind was 'Imperial Fist chaplain'. The heretics were lining up with their characters and I felt that given the dark nature of what was happening there should be someone to counter their heretical machinations. 

On top of that, I thought that writing a chaplain would be more difficult. The function of chaplains is pretty much the same as it was in the Heresy minus the fact that they were orginally there to keep morale up. As time has passed and most astartes chapters have degenerated into something akin to spirit worship(as in imbuing their weapons and armor with spirits of battle), chaplains now also cover the 'spiritual' side of being a space marine. That kind of superstition mumbo-jumbo wasn't around during the Heresy as the 'light of reason and science' was spread to quash such things as religion.

There-in lies the challenge. To write a chaplain that falls into line with the background of the time period has been enjoyable. I'll have to start writing more parts soon as I'm quickly running out of the previously written story LOL. Because of this, after part 10, there may be periods of several days that I don't update it as I'm working out how it will go. I've got my beginning and my end (which I won't ruin LOL). Now I'm working to connect them. I don't know how many more parts there will be before the end. It all depends on what comes to mind heh heh heh.

Again, thanks for the kind words bud!

Good luck and good gaming,

Nate


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

IX 

Agmemnus had returned to the walls and found himself a good spot in the center of the Imperial Fist line. It would be here that his oratory would have the greatest effect. He watched as the Fist captains led his brothers in litanies of hate and rites of firing. The heretics were taking the worst of it now. The walls were over 30 meters high and nearly as thick. This was where the traitors' numbers would hinder more than help. Until they breeched the wall, they would be forced to push forward into the waiting guns of the loyalists. Of course that was moot. The traitors had yet to break through the red line now manning the forward defensive positions. The Blood Angels acquitted themselves well, cutting down swathes of heretics with each measured blast of their bolters. 

Once again, Agmemnus found himself wishing he was down there in the thick of the fighting. His choler had darkened since his nightmarish dream. The effect could easily be seen as his face was caught in a constant scowl. His eyes searched for the beast that had promised his death and the defeat of his Emperor. He had yet to find the damnedable creature. He wondered if the creature had been sent to break his will, its words only lies to spread the seed of discontent. It had failed, of course. Agmemnus had never known fear since becoming an astartes. He had no reason for it. He knew full well that few things in this galaxy could match the fearsome power of one of the Emperor's crusaders. If he died, he did so in service to humanity and the Emperor. 

From below came a mounting cry of alarm from amongst the Blood Angels, snapping him back to the present. One of the great, winged daemons that had come from the portals smashed into the Blood Angel line with a furious charge. Its mighty axe swung left and right, carving a bloody path through the loyal astartes who fought to hold the line. Agmemnus knew that it would take a miracle to stop such a powerful foe and he hoped that the Blood Angels could find a way to defeat the beast. As he stood watching the carnage below a great golden bolt with snowy wings fell from the skies heading for the bloodthirster. Awe filled the old chaplain. It was Sanguinius himself, his silvery sword held high above his head; praises to the Emperor on his lips. Thunder reverberated across the battlefield as the Blood Angels primarch slammed into the roaring daemon. Agmemnus knew that what he witnessed now would never be forgotten. The power of Horus' daemonic champions warred with one of the Emperor's greatest sons. 

Raising his voice, he called upon all around him to take up the chant, "SANGUINIUS!"

The word "Sanguinius" echoed up and down the length of the great wall as the call was taken up in turn by all who stood witness to the titanic conflict below. Agmemnus felt pride swell in his heart at the sight. They had called upon their daemons and now, the Emperor answered with his avenging angel, his most perfect of sons. Sanguinius' white wings seemed to shimmer in the harsh light that filtered through the billowing smoke covering the battlefield. He was a shining beacon of purity amongst the muck and the filth, his golden armor ablaze in the wan light. The words were blasphemously close to being something akin to god-worship, but Agmemnus did not care. For now, on the plains below, the traitorous whelps would finally be witness to the true power of one of the Emperor's children. 

All watched as the Blood Angels primarch rained blow after blow down upon the mighty bloodthirster, forcing the warp-spawned monster back. If Agmemnus had been down there he would have heard the Blood Angels primarch condemning the daemon and exhorting his children to fight on. The Blood Angels surged forward, cutting a path through the traitors who made to aid the bloodthirster. This fight would be decided between primarch and daemon and the astartes were going to make sure of it. The cry from the watching warriors grew louder as Sanguinius darted in under the beast's great axe and landed a devilish blow to its midsection. Black smoke stinking of sulphur poured from the open wound, causing those close to stagger back from its hellish stench. The daemon roared in pain as Sanguinius, giving his foe no time to recover, swept in once again; his movements like quicksilver as he carved one of creature's mighty wings off. 

With a striding leap, the Blood Angels primarch took to the skies once more. He circled over daemon, almost as if taunting it. The bloodthirster spit curses in its black language as it tried in vain to strike the swooping Sanguinius as he flew around it, cutting deep wounds around the daemon's head and shoulders. Beating his wings, Sanguinius rose higher and higher into the sky. He paused, looking to the baying daemon below. He had played with the beast enough. Agmemnus found himself holding his breath as with one more mighty surge of his wings, Sanguinius descended towards the earth. He was a blazing golden comet, his armor shimmering in the setting sun. At once, Agmemnus knew what those benighted souls must have thought when they told their tales of angels and daemons so long ago, before the Emperor and the light of reason. 

Thunder boomed across the field again as the Blood Angels primarch smashed into his daemonic foe. His sword held before him like a lance, Sanguinius skewered the greater daemon through its chest; the momentum sending them both sprawling to the ground. Shouts of surprise followed as the beast stood once more, bellowing its rage to skies. It ripped the silver sword from its chest and contemptuously tossed it aside as it made its way towards the fallen primarch. Disbelief warred with rage as Agmemnus looked on, unable to do anything. 

The greater daemon stood over the prone form of Sanguinius, its dark booming laughter filling the darkening skies. Many on the wall turned away, unable to watch the primarch's death. It would be a terrible blow. Not only to morale but to the Emperor, himself. It raised its axe high, the blood-colored runes scrawled across the ancient weapon's head glowing molten red. The bloodthirster snarled praises to its dark master as it brought the hell-forged weapon down, preparing to send another skull to his throne. Its victory was short-lived however as the descending blade stopped well before reaching its target. Before the beast Sanguinius stood, his white wings and golden armor stained with the muddy soil of Terra herself. He had not the mighty strength of his brother Russ; he lacked the superhuman fortitude of his traitorous brother Mortarion; he was, however, his father's avenging angel. He would allow no dark creature, mortal or immortal to set foot into his father's palace as long as he drew breath. 

The greater daemon, using its great physical power, pressed with all its warp-fueled might. It would see the end of Sanguinius yet if it had its chance and the primarch knew this. For all of his short comings, what he lacked in strength he had in agility. As the beast pushed harder, Sanguinius simply stepped aside, allowing it's momentum to carry it toppling to the ground. Striding to the fallen daemon, he pulled a short sword from his waist and plunged it deep into the bloodthirster's back, eliciting a scream of pain from its fanged maw. He sawed blade back and forth through blood-red muscles and tendons. This was a butcher's work, not the refined art of sword fighting many knew Sanguinius excelled at. No…he was making an example; a cruel and vicious one for all to see. Dropping the weapon, he reached down and pulled the broken daemon up for all to see. With a roar, he hefted the bloodthister and snapped its spine. He lowered it to the ground and then fighting through the exhaustion and pain, he took to the skies again, the daemon clutched in his hands. Upwards he flew until he could bear the beast's weight no more. He looked down on the swirling melee taking place below and smiled. Sanguinius let the bloodthirster go; its flailing body hit the ground in a spray of black ichor and gore. 

On the wall Agmemnus cheered until he lost his voice and then continued to rasp on afterwards. All along the wall, across the line of Blood Angels still holding the plains before the wall, in the palace itself; the roar could be heard over and over... 

"SANGUINIUS!"


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## Farseer Beltiac (Jul 11, 2008)

these are awesome!!! Keep it uo dude!!! Rep!!!


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

X 

Agmemnus looked to his wards with weary eyes. It had seemed like a lifetime since Sanguinius had defeated the bloodthirster but it had only been a matter of hours. Now, a new dawn was slowly sliding its way across the horizon, tinting the sky the color of freshly spilt blood. With it came the news the loyalist commanders had been dreading. In the distance, all along the wall could see and hear them; their terrific gait, the thunderous boom accompanying each great foot-fall. 

_Titans.... _

The traitors of the _Legio Mortis_ were finally making their presence known. At their head the once noble Imperator-class titan, _Dies Irae_, strode across the battlefield with slow, measured steps. Where once banners dedicated to the Imperium and the machine cult of Mars flew, now ragged sheets of rotten flesh and gristle flapped in the updraft created by the monstrous stomping beast. Signs of corruption and rot could be seen festering across the fallen machine's greasy, bloated hide. With each foot-fall, showers of rust and pus fell amongst those troops milling around the mighty bastions that made its legs. The sight of such corruption taking hold of the avatars of the Mars machine cult had driven the many techmarines of the Imperial Fists to heights of fury previously unknown to the normally taciturn and silent warriors. Their voices squealed back and forth in binary as they spat curses in the strange language of the machine at the abomination making its way towards the Imperial Palace. 

Would that it was one titan legion only, Agmemnus thought to himself as watched the traitor line surge forward in the wake of the ponderous titans. Their bestial roars could be heard ringing in the distance as corrupted machine spirits snarled out their praises for their new dark master, Horus. 

In the confusion following the titans’ appearance, all who had held the plains before the walls retreated back into the palace proper as the great defense cannons were prepared to take the fight to this new foe. Here the true siege would begin. Cut off and surrounded, those who still stood in defense of the Emperor knew that now there would be no other recourse. Fight or die... 

Agmemnus could feel hope burning away like fog before the dawning sun at the sight of the great machines that now made their way to the walls of the Imperial Palace. The fervor birthed by Sanguinius' defeat of one of Horus' daemonic minions had withered away as those within the palace witnessed the coming of the traitorous titans for many had fought alongside the mighty machines of war and knew full well the power contained in their awesome frames. For the first time in his long years, he found himself with nothing to say. Years of impassioned speeches that had bolstered many to fight on against unprecedented odds withered away as he watched the monstrous beasts edge closer and closer to the wall. He despaired. 

As if to add to the anguish eating away at his resolve, word had come from the walls of yet another group legion of titans making its way towards the Emperor's last fortress from the opposite direction. "Truly we are luckless this day" he uttered to himself. 

Turning, he spoke to captain Malloc. "Brother, I go to see what new hell the traitor has set upon us." 

Malloc nodded. There was nothing more that could be said. The captain knew that something was wrong. He could see it written across the old chaplain's face but he kept his apprehension to himself. He knew that whatever troubled Agmemnus, the chaplain would sort it out himself. He always had. Malloc watched as Agmemnus strode down the stairs off in the direction of the palace ground. He turned to face the coming horde once again and voiced a silent prayer to the heavens. 

Making his way to the palace grounds, Agmemnus called for a transport vehicle to take him to the opposite wall so he could see for himself this new foe. An auxiliary drove up in a non-descript ammunition hauler, sliding to a stop in front of the chaplain. Gingerly, Agmemnus stepped onto the vehicle's crowded bed, making sure not to turn over any of the crates of ammunition held there. Once he was situated, he nodded to the driver to continue on. 

The trip was a short one given the driver's predilection for speed and innate ability to squeeze the hauler through obstructions with beguiling ease. Stepping from the back of the hauler, Agmemnus thanked the trooper and made his way to the wall. As he reached the top, he found himself greeted by crimson-stained armor of Blood Angels. "Hail brothers!" he said, mustering as much conviction as he could. It would be unseemly for a chaplain to be seen as less than zealous, much less the blow to morale if someone such as he was seen to be despairing. 

"What news?" he asked to the sergeant holding the wall section. Turning the marine bowed slightly and responded. "We have spotted another legion of titans inbound, lord Chaplain. We are unsure of their designation at this moment. The smoke obscures them at this distance." Striding to the wall, Agmemnus had a look for himself. The Blood Angel joined him, offering the chaplain the pair of magnocs he had been using. 

Agmemnus took the proffered glasses and peered out into the plains surrounding the wall. He could see the traitors had dug in there as well, preparing for the first true assault against the Palace's walls. "So many" he noted aloud. "Aye. And they seem to grow with each passing moment" the sergeant replied. Sweeping the magnocs from the gathered forces below, he looked to the distance, hoping to discern the identity of the legion hidden in the swirling fog of battle. 

The first of the titans broke through the churning miasma. "Warhounds" he said to the Blood Angel standing beside him. The small scout titans sped ahead of the others, their job to spot any potential ambushes or problems for larger machines following behind. Their hulls were marked with black and orange flames. Gunmetal marked the trim of their armor and weapons. Dark shapes coalesced from the thinning smoke as more and more titans made their way across the crater-pocked plain. "Who are you?" Agmemnus found himself snarling. His choler darkened as rage filled his heart at the despair he felt. That more of these traitors reared their heads angered the old chaplain. It wasn't enough that they were outnumbered by those astartes and soldiers who had fallen under the Warmaster's sway; now they faced the might of the mighty war machines of Mars. 

As they closed, he found he could make out more details. With the aid of the magnocs, he could see their hulls marred by the scars of battle. Great gouges carved their way across the titans' armor in places. In others he could make out hastily-patched armor still coated with primer. Whoever they were, they had seen combat and it had been recent. He watched in silence as the scout titans stopped a short distance from the line of heretics below and waited. Once again he could make out the sound of booming foot falls as the remaining titans joined with their scouts. They were close enough now that he could see them clearly without the aid of the magnocs. He could make out another damned Imperator hiding behind the screen of warlords standing before it. "A coward it seems" he thought to himself. From below, a loud clamor could be heard. 

The venom Agmemnus felt disappeared the instant he saw the reason for it. Over the din of shouting traitors he could hear the sound of a tolling bell. Turning, he looked to the bell tower far above the Imperial Palace. The noise was not coming from there. "Where?" he thought as the rolling notes became louder and louder. Facing the titans once again, Agmemnus watched as the gathered titanic war machines shifted, allowing one of the Warlords to stride forward. Its armor, though blackened with soot and scarred deeply from battle, shone bright white. Atop its insect-like carapace the tolling bell could be seen, chiming with each mighty step. Disbelief warred with despair as titan came to a stop. It was no ordinary Warlord. It was one of the fabled Castellans... They were the wardens of the titan legions. 

Hope returned to Agmemnus as he took up the magnocs. He trained them on the machine and roared with joy. "Lord Chaplain! What is it?" the Blood Angel sergeant cried in surprise. "We are not alone brother!" he replied, raising his fist in salute of the titans ranked before them. 

Scrolled across the warden's sloping armor below the outspread wings of the mighty aquila, Agmemnus could make out one word... _Ignatum_. Pennants flew from each titan bearing the Imperial Eagle and the symbol of Mars. As one, the ancient titans opened fire. The sound of their mighty weapons was matched only by the bestial roars of vengeance coming from the enraged machine spirits of the monstrous war machines; the air filling with their thundering reports. The plains before the wall were covered with flame and death as the Fire Wasps unleashed their hellish fury on those who had turned from the Emperor...


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## waltzmelancholy_07 (Sep 30, 2008)

SHOGUN-NATE!!!!... I will bow to you for your excellence in writing this story... I WANT MORE!!!!!!!...


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

I've been quiet too damned long. Here are two parts I've done in the interim. 

Good luck and good gaming,

Nate

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
XI

The sound of battle reverberated through the halls of the Imperial Palace, shaking even the mighty foundations of the Emperor's hold. Bits of masonry and rockcrete dust came down in a stuttering shower as the siege weapons of Horus' forces continued to batter the ancient edifice. Agmemnus wandered through the great halls caught up in the swelling tide of humanity and astarte as they meandered here and there, each fulfilling their own tasks and duties; worry written on their passing faces. He had received word from his lord Dorn that he should be present for the tactical meeting that would be taking place soon and hastened to reach his destination. Those who saw the black-armored giant quickly shuffled out of the way, hugging the walls they best they could so that he might pass unhindered as he made his way deeper into the confusing maze of the palace. 

Agmemnus knew that something was afoot but he was unsure what was happening. There had been whispers that the thick walls surrounding the palace had begun to crack under the unending assault of the heretics' guns and titans. With each passing day the traitors had continued to march closer to the walls. The titans of the Legio Ignatum made sure each centimeter they gained came at a terrible cost but even they were hard-pressed to keep the growing legions of traitors at bay for very long. The legion fought tooth and nail with their heretical counterparts. Some said the battles between the two forces were as brutal as those being fought by the armies who warred at their feet. 

It became more apparent that the battle for Terra would soon be over, one way or the other as the days ticked on. Agmemnus found himself ferverntly hoping that it would find the Emperor and those loyal to him victor. Agmemnus was a Fist and the art of siege-craft was something he understoond. He knew that the wall would fall but it was a guessing game as to when. Horus' attempts had been blunted so far but only at the cost of many lives. His latest had seen the death of several of his best engineers while they attempted to sap the walls using massive, daemonic tunneling machines. The things chewed through the earth with great maws ringed with adamantine teeth and flesh-like throats. Dorn had anticipated that the traitors would try to undermine the wall's integrity though sapper tunnels and had countered with their own plan. The screams of the dying had been heard even under the tons of earth as the Fists flooded the tunnels with poisonous acidic gasses. That had been the last of the traitors attempts at going under the walls. It had not stopped them from implementing other measures though. Horus had ordered his forces forward into the blazing cannonade of the loyalists, pressing against the walls with the full weight of his massive armies. 

More and more daemons had also been reported. It was as if they flocked to the scent of blood and death. The sight of them stirred rage in the old chaplain's heart. The stuff of legends they were. Beasts of the abyss who sought to steal the souls of the unwary and the ignorant. That was what men once believed. Agmemnus found himself seeking out the blighted creatures as they assaulted the walls. They had no need for cracks or tunnels. The dark creatures could appear from thin air, carving their way into the mortal realm wherever they pleased. Many times in the dark and winding corridors of the palace the old chaplain had taken the battle to them. Stories of his unleashed rage on the foul denizens of the warp filled the ears of many; bringing hope to those who had little to hope for. 

As the days went on Agmemnus spent many hours holding a vigil, waiting for the beast that had promised his death to show itself. Had Dorn not called him, Agmemnus would still be on the wall; seeking the sign of his promised doom...

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

The End Part I 

The stench of blood and death weighed heavily on the smoke-filled air; warring with the acrid smell of promethium and fycelene brought by the steady breeze from across the pock-marked battlefield that had once been the green, rolling gardens of the Imperial Palace. The mighty edifices wrought under the Emperor’s reign created a man-made canyon from where the winds were funneled through their blackened, fire-blasted walls towards the final resting place of so many brave men. Rogal Dorn, primarch of the Imperial Fists, stood before the shattered gates, his body weary and his heart broken. Despondent, he felt neither the steady gusts nor smelled the heady scents of battle. His mind wandered deep in the halls of the palace where his father lay dying, trapped in an arcane machine waging a war of his own; a war of survival. Dorn had no doubts that history would say he spent countless days by his father’s side, taking neither rest nor repast as the hours turned into days and then into weeks. Though true, he snorted. He had sat by his father’s side until he could no longer stand the sight. There was much sadness in his father‘s eyes. His great crusade, his mighty achievements, even his most precious sons… All of these things had been sullied by the traitorous acts of Horus. Blighted fate had rendered even Dorn’s phenomenal powers moot as there was little he could do but wait. To see his father in such a state had taken him aback. The look of agony on his face had seen Dorn’s cheeks stained with tears; something that he would have never thought to see. To endure such a gut-wrenching sight had sent his world reeling. He had wept until the tears would come no more. Though, by some small miracle, the golden throne had held back the cold hands of death, keeping the Emperor alive even with the grievous wounds he had suffered at the hands of his traitorous son, Horus. 

There would be much mourning still. Though his father held on to life as desperately as a man would to a life raft in a surging storm, his brother Sanguinius, primarch of the Blood Angels legion, lay battered and broken on a cold stone slab far beneath the palace, his handsome features marred with pain, locked forever in the grim-rictus mask of death. “Dearest brother. Perfection amongst the perfect” he thought to himself. He, too, had fallen under the dark talons of Horus onboard the floating battle barge as it hovered above Terra. “So many….” This terrible war…no, not a war…rebellion had cost the Imperium dearly and it was not over. Even now the last vestiges of the heretics were being chased from the system by the combined fleets of the Loyalist Astartes and the Imperial Navy. Even as the Emperor lay cocooned in the life-sustaining archaeo-tech His children and His soldiers wreaked a bloody vengeance on those who had turned against Him. Dorn wondered how such a terrible thing could have happened. In the deepest recesses of his mind he knew. Pride and hubris. Such things had seen many great men toppled, their vainglorious attempts at greatness laid waste by their own arrogance. 

He wondered what future generations would see when they looked back on this dark time. Silently Dorn mouthed a prayer that the Imperium would see a future. In the face of such upheaval and turmoil there were no certainties. As he mulled over the future he thought of the silvery-tongued nature of history. Historians had a tendency to make vain men into mighty heroes and scoundrels into saviors. He had read the ancient texts of times gone by, their wars and their strife. There was an ancient Terran maxim put down in darker times so far in the distant past that none knew where it came from. “History is written by the victorious”. The words rang hollow through his soul as he watched the milling lines of soldiers and wounded slowly making their way though the portal into the palace, warriors of his own legion amongst them. He wished that he could weep for them, that he could feel some sympathy or sorrow at their plight but nothing remained in him. “How can a man weep so much for his father that he has nothing for his own beloved sons?” The thought dug into his mind and poisoned his heart. Their sacrifice was no less great than that of his father. They, who had bled and died for their lord and their Imperium, were no less deserving but he could give no more. 

Even as darkness threatened to overwhelm his broken heart a disturbance brought him from his bleak reverie. From the gathered host came cries of dismay as a throng of warriors made their way through the lines of those sought sanctuary amongst the broken walls of the palace. From his vantage point Dorn could make out a motley collection of astartes from the White Scars, Blood Angels and even his own Fists as they marched towards the open gates, their pace slow and purposeful. They surrounded what seemed to be a battered artillery ammunition wagon pulled by a ragged band of Imperial Army soldiers. At their head, a soldier bearing the marks of a corporal staggered under the weight of a massive shield strapped across his back. In his blood-soaked hands he bore a great two-handed hammer nearly as long as he was tall. The man grunted under the load but kept on, accepting no aid as he made his way. 

A cold stab tore its way through his heart as Dorn looked on the fallen warrior they bore in their funeral cart. His armor shattered and covered in blood, the pale face of Agmemnus stared into the sky with dead eyes. Terrible wounds crisscrossed their way across his ebon terminator armor but on his face there was a look. There was no agony, no remorse. There was no look of defeat; only that of a man who completed his duty. Dorn found them coming towards him as they noticed him standing watch over those who moved through the open gates… Stepping out, he strode forward to meet them, his honor guard moving from the shadows in unison behind him. The gathered warriors came to a stop before the primarch. From the sides of the ammunition wagon a single Blood Angel and a single White Scar moved to either side of the corporal, dwarfing the man with their great size. Dorn took them in with sweep of his steely gaze before continuing on to the cart. None spoke as the Fist’s primarch looked on his son. Carefully, Dorn removed one of his gauntlets and reached down to close Agmemnus’ eyes. He did not think that he could despair more but this cut him deep. 

The silence was broken by the gravelly sound of Dorn’s voice. “Who amongst you saw my son fall?” 

The Blood Angel spoke first. “It was upon the walls, Lord Dorn, as he battled with a great winged daemon.” Dorn nodded, turning to face his son once more. He was surprised when he heard the sound of the White Scar clearing his throat. “I saw him fall before the walls, great Primarch. He fought like a lion! His hammer rose and fell sending many traitors to their doom but even he could not hold the breech!” Dorn rounded on them, his choler darkening. “And you little man… How did my son die?” he snarled in rage as each man told him a different story. 

Dorn felt his anger ebb as he looked into the bloodshot, weary eyes of the Imperial soldier. They were the eyes of a man who had seen such terrible things, things no mortal man should see in his lifetime. But, in those dark-ringed eyes, Dorn saw something. Steel and fire. The man did not shirk nor skulk before the primarch. He stood taller, straightening his back, as he returned Dorn’s stern gaze. He coughed up a gob of bloody phlegm and spoke. His voice was a croaked whisper but even Dorn could hear the strength in them even as the wounded man shuffled forward. 

“It was glorious…”


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## waltzmelancholy_07 (Sep 30, 2008)

Bravo... A word that praises the magnificence of your story Nate... BRAVO!:victory:


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## Gore Hunter (Nov 5, 2007)

good stuff i always love a good read well done:good:


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## Gambit14 (Aug 30, 2008)

absolutely fantastic, loved all of it


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Part II

Agmemnus returned to the walls a short time later. All could see a visible change in him. He stood taller and when he spoke his voice carried with it a note strength that had been missing for so long. Those around him noticed his humor had returned as well. It was a well-timed change for soon they would need it. 

As fire and death fell around him, Agmemnus stood atop the wall unmoving; taking no cover. He weathered it all, his voice never wavering as it warred with the sounds of war that filled the air. Those around him would say later that he was a mountain, a wall unto himself, as he spoke his sermons of vengeance and duty. It was there, where he made his stand that the wall finally surrendered to the unending barrage of the great enemy’s guns.

***

Explosions bloomed around Agmemnus as the titans and the great siege engines of the traitor Horus pounded the walls of the Imperial Palace. The bodies of those loyal Fists who held the against the coming hordes were thrown about like rag dolls; the battlements offering little protection from the air bursts as they blasted above brave warriors who sought shelter in their shadows. Great rumblings could be felt as the walls shook with each powerful blow. Rockcrete and armorplas fell in sheets of crumbling rain and dust as the walls finally began to crack under the strain of the repeated abuse laid on their sheer faces by the heretic forces facing them. Agmemnus could feel it. “Soon” he thought to himself. Aye, soon the wall would fall and then it would be over. He no longer despaired though. He thought back to the meeting in the palace and the honor bestowed upon him. To be allowed to stand in the presence of the Emperor himself had bolstered his flagging faith. 

Agmemnus had seen the Emperor many times but never so close as he was those blessed hours ago. He felt something…something deep and powerful flow through him. Even as the Emperor spoke to each present, outlaying his plans, Agmemnus could hear Him; his voice soft but commanding. The Emperor’s voice filled the chamber with its calming strength. He told each of them that the war would end soon and that they would be victorious. His fears had been allayed in that singular moment; soothed by six simple words that entered his mind. It was if the room stood still, time and space having no meaning in the presence of humanity‘s savior. It was in that small span of time the voice entered his mind. _“You will see your duty done.” _Nothing else. That so few words could take him from the depths of despair filled him with wonder. The war that took place outside the walls, the dark promises burned into his brain by the daemon-spawned nightmares; these things no longer mattered. That his duty would be done sparked a fire in the old chaplain’s heart. 

Now, as he faced the coming tides of the traitorous forces of Horus and his fellow fallen primarchs, Agmemnus felt anger boiling his blood and filling his heart with rage. A cruel smile crossed his face, hidden by the skull-mask of his armored helm. There would be no respite, no surrender, no mercy. He would see them pay, all of them. They had been found wanting, without courage and honor, and he was the tally master. No amount of atonement would suffice. Even death would not grant those who stood against the Emperor forgiveness for their betrayal. “Yes, there would be a reckoning and it would come soon” he thought to himself as he eyed traitors below.

The sound of cracking stone and tearing adamantium brought him from his reverie. It was finally time. The wall groaned, sounding like the death howl of some great beast as it finally began to give way. Agmemnus shouted for those around him to fall back, away from the crumbling edifice as it slowly fell in on itself. Many made it but some were still lost, taken by surprise or unable to reach safety in time. As it tore itself apart Agmemnus found himself facing that which he had been waiting for all these many days. There, before the breech, the creature hovered; it‘s multi-colored wings holding it aloft. It shimmered like oil slicked across water, greasy and constantly shifting. Its long serpentine neck moved like a snake, jerking and striking left and right as it took in all around it. Its cackle was maddening. The sound of a thousand thousand voices whispered through the air sending many to their knees as the beast’s voice wormed it’s way into their brains. Agmemnus watched helplessly as men and astarte went mad, turning on each other or themselves. He could see the Blood Angels moving to reinforce the hole in the wall, hoping they could contain what came through. With a wave of its staff, the bird-like daemon sent waves of coruscating energies burning through those who stood before it, reducing them to little more than ash and cinder. It was if it playing with them.

Agmemnus snarled, his hatred taking over. Turning, he spoke. “Hold the walls my brothers! I shall return soon!” With that, Agmemnus took a short running leap from the walls towards the daemon below. It’s only warning was the sound of his voice screaming and even then it was too late. The beast looked up to see the black form falling towards it; a shining shield held before him, a blazing hammer held above his head. Daemonic screeches filled the air as the monster cast spell after spell at the chaplain only to have them fizzle out as they reached him. The sound was cut short Agmemnus smashed into the squealing daemon, the two falling to the earth before the broken walls, obscured by thick clouds of dust and roiling smoke.


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Gral'ahl'thazen, first chosen of the Keeper of the Holy Word of the God of Fates scanned the mortals that stood before him, warring against their forsaken bothers. The irony pleased him. It had taken little to turn the one known as Horus to the path of darkness. "Mortals are all the same" he mused to himself silently as the Warmaster's army vied for victory against the forces of his father. It was a delicious irony, and one Tzeentch approved of greatly. 

It had been so long since he had set foot in the mortal realm and the feeling was unmatched. "Soo, soo loong" the creature hissed to itself, stretching its shimmering wings out to catch the warmth spilling through the hazy-clouded sun. Thousands of hissing mouths covering his feathered hide cooed and gurgled their pleasure at once as they spoke the ancient prophecies of Tzeentch to all and sundry. Their maddening gibbering filled the air as Gral'ahl'thazen basked in the glorious chaos that surrounded him. Truly he had been blessed by his lord that he could be the first of his kin to stride across the crater-pocked blackened earth of this world. Across the blasted field of slaughter, the ancient daemon could see the scarred alabaster walls of those who stood against his most magnificent lord's twisting skeins of fate. A chuckle issued from his long, sinuous serpentine throat. 

"Such foolllisssh things" he hissed, fully enjoying his freedom from the dark swirling morass of the warp. Had it been centuries? No...millennia... The greater daemon knew not how the flow of time had passed since he last stood below the skies of a world of the mortal realm. What mattered was that now he could once again bring the word of his lord Tzeentch to those who were but waiting for the glorious 'truths' to passed on to them.

Taking to the skies, Gral'ahl'thazen flew with haste to the fire-scorched walls behind which his master's enemies vainly held on to their last vestiges of hope. He would make them understand that only in Tzeentch would they be saved; that only by accepting the holy blessings of chaotic change could they hope to survive the fates his lord had in store for them. "Such will be their gratitude" he roared aloud, the myriad of squealing mouths shouting his words of joy as the greater daemon surged across the field of battle.

From below came fire and shell, as astarte and soldier alike attempted to bring Gral'ahl'thazen down. He laughed at their pitiful weapons, responding with the great powers given to him by his master. Coruscating flames the color of the rainbow vomited from his curved, avian beak as he called to those below. 

"Feel the blessings of my most gracious father! Let them bring an end to your peace and a beginning to your most joyous of sufferings!"

Where the hellish flames touched, hideous change took place. Men and astarte alike writhed in agony as their bodies felt the insidious touch of the daemon's power, mutated and twisted in to mewling parodies of life. "Glorious children! Go forth and bring the word!" the greater daemon cried to the mindless spawns created by his dark spell as they rampaged through their fellow brothers bringing agony and death. 

"Such beauty! Such change! Look how you have become one with your new lord!"

Gral'ahl'thazen stretched his downed face to the heavens and let forth a screeching plea. "Father of fathers, changer of ways and twister of fate, grant me but one boon! Let me sunder these walls so that those who find sanctuary behind this cage of ignorance be brought to the mutli-fold path you have foreseen!"

Taking his gnarled staff in both hands, Gral'ahl'thazen chanted the words of ancient chaos, their power filling him as he spun the ancient weapon around, carving runes of arcane fire that rent the very air itself. Gral'ahl'thazen placed a hand on the rockcrete of the walls; the feeling of the rough texture bringing him pleasure as his fingers made their way across their cracking face. "Where are you?" he hissed absent-mindedly to himself as he probed and groped his way across the mighty bastion. He stopped suddenly as he found what he looked for. Deep inside there was the smallest of cracks...infinitesimal but there. Pouring his power into the small fault, he began to melt and reshape the stone around it, weakening it so that it would falter under the weight of fire from Horus' siege masters and their warp-endowed weapons of war. As if directed by the hand of fate itself, the air was filled with the shriek of incoming artillery, tearing its way across the battlefield. Gral'ahl'thazen fluttered back as the rounds found their mark. The moaning sound of shifting rockcrete could be heard by all on the walls as the section slowly began to give way to the constant barrage.

As the last piece fell to the ground, Gral'ahl'thazen entered, his shrill voice worming it's way into the minds of those who stood at the base of the fallen wall, driving them insane. Lightning leapt from his fingers, burning its way through those who dared bar his way. He looked down and smiled benevolently. Now was the time of Chaos and his lord Tzeentch would usher in an age of madness and glory the likes the mortal realm had never seen.

"Soooooo glorious!" he roared, bringing mayhem and death as he floated forward. "For the Lord of Change! Come forward and be blessed by his most unworthy servant's touch!"

His words were cut short a primal roar from the walls above. Looking to the sky above him, Gral'ahl'thazen could make out a black shape speeding towards him. His curiosity peaked as the creature came closer and closer. He cackled as he loosed a ball of fluorescent flame towards the foolish thing, watching as the fire consumed the mortal in black armor. Turning back to the slaughter unfolding before him, Gral'ahl'thazen began once again to conjure the powers of his lord. Realization came to him swiftly. Something was wrong. The flow of the warp around him was bending. It was as if something inimical to his hell-spawned power was forcing it away. His eyes searched amongst those arrayed before him for someone or something that could cause such a thing. In the span of a single fraction of a second the beast understood. Craning his neck upwards he could see the black shape still came for him. Its roar filled the air, warring with the constant gibbered howls of the many mouths covering the ancient daemon. Lighting and fire flashed from Gral'ahl'thazen's finger tips as he sought to destroy the snarling chaplain only to find his powers fizzled and sputtered out as they caressed the astarte's armor. For the first time in ages the greater daemon felt something... What it was he couldn't not remember. Time flowed so strangely and emotions could easily be forgotten in the endless mire of the warp. As the warrior slammed into him, Gral'ahl'thazen remembered what it was... 

Fear...


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## Dirge Eterna (Apr 30, 2007)

I do like to skim this forum once in a while, and I am quite pleased this has been updated again. Excellent work.


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## waltzmelancholy_07 (Sep 30, 2008)

All I can say Nate is this... "Thank the Emperor, you've returned!":victory:... Hahaha...


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

Dude this is awesome!! i love it! plus rep:victory:


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

Thanks to all and sundry. It means a lot coming from you folks! Really..it does! Especially so from fellow writers. It warms the cockles of my cold, black heart !

Good luck and good gaming,

Nate

Edit:

Silly me..I forgot to mention the next installment should be up this weekend or early next week! Again, many thanks to you fine folks and your kind, yet undeserved, words!


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## Sniper (Mar 9, 2008)

now you see Nate your wrong there. The praise in mho is well deserved and this is a great story so far. :grin:

Sniper


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## Shogun_Nate (Aug 2, 2008)

“So this is it,” Agmemnus whispered to himself as he looked down on the screeching creature below. The time had finally come for him to take the fight to the foe he had so long kept a vigil for. Inside he raged, the hatred he felt boiling over, filling him with purpose. Taking in the beast, he could see it was indeed the thing that plagued his dreams. The multi-colored wings on which light fell like a fetid rainbow, cursed by some darkness beyond the ken of mortal man, beat as they held the blighted creature of the warp aloft. Its long, serpentine, feathered neck ending in the cruel parody of an avian beak from where the creature had foretold his doom snapped and bobbed as it scourged those souls below with fire and lightning. Breathing deeply, Agmemnus made for the edge, flinging himself out into the open space created between the blasted ramparts. He slammed the scrolled haft of his ancient hammer against the filigreed edge of the shield he bore as he fell, bringing forth sparks as the weapon made contact with the power field surrounding the relic. The clarion, bell-like tone made a stark contrast to the guttural roar that poured from his open mouth.  

Around him, geysers of rockcrete dust and debris filled the air like the great gray clouds of an angry thunderhead; the sundered walls throwing up a hazy veil from finally losing their battle against the traitor’s massive guns. Visibility was next to nothing in the swirling morass created by the up flow from the falling bulwark. Through it all he could make out the creature. The daemon’s released magics made it easy to spot him; the flotsam and jetsam left in the wake of the terrible destruction that had been wrought gave the beast no cover. Chunks of stone and ash fell like a rain, crushing those below under their tremendous weight. Along the walls, men and astarte screamed as gravity took hold, their luck running out as they made for the safety more solid ground upon the walls. Some cart wheeled through the air, the force released from the titanic siege guns sending them sprawling to their dooms. Their deaths galvanized the chaplain’s resolve, granting him strength of mind and purpose.

Agmemnus felt the impact through the thick slabs of his ebon terminator armor as he crashed head long into the greater daemon. For the briefest of moments the old chaplain thought of the madness which had sent him flying over the crumbling, ragged edge of the broken walls towards the creature of his nightmares. He knew that this was what must be done but the fervor that gripped him had seen his sanity stripped away in a heated moment of rage. Beneath the skull visage of his helm, he smiled. No… This was not rage. This was so much more. The beast had tainted his dreams, twisting them so that he would despair. It had assailed his mind with sights so terrible that a normal man would have broken. He was no normal man though. He was the Emperor’s will made flesh; a weapon forged in battle, wetted in the blood of the enemies of humanity on a thousand worlds, steeped in the knowledge that his cause was righteous. He had seen things, both wondrous and horrendous. Yet at the end of it, he had taken one thing from them all; his undying belief in the Emperor‘s glorious vision. Humanity would be reborn from the fires of His crusade, brought together in kinship, reunited into one great empire what would stand for eternity. Agmemnus looked deeply into the daemon’s eyes, those fathomless pits of fire in which madness swirled with multicolored flame, and roared. No…not rage….this was revenge.

With his shield hand he grasped the beast's feathered neck in a vice-like grip, his armored fingers digging deep into the swirling miasma of flesh, seeking to keep hold of the monster as they fell. The two foes tumbled through the air towards the ground, plummeting with all the grace of a stone. The daemon lashed out, its wiry arms smashing against his armored hide as it sought in vain to dislodge him. Agmemnus held on, his mighty hammer rising and falling over and over as battle psalms spilled from his hoary lips. The daemon returned his attacks, blow for blow with its cursed staff. Arcs of lighting flew from each weapon as each made contact with hell-formed flesh and ceramite. Pain flared like an exploding sun where the daemon’s staff carved its way into the chaplain but he fought through the pain; his own blows sending gobs of pulped flesh flying from the creature. 

Seeing it was rushing ever closer towards the ground, Gral'ahl'thazen tried to right itself. The sound of its thrashing wings filled the air with a cacophony of futile flaps. Curses spewed from the multitude of mouths covering the daemon‘s body, their voices seeking to unhinge the fanatical chaplain and save their master. Their cries fell on deaf ears. With each simpering squeal, Agmemnus laid into the daemon. The flesh from which he held began to tear, unable to bear the great weight of the terminator armor the chaplain wore. Gore the color of an oil slick spilled across the night black ceramite encasing his hand, eliciting a scream of pain from the beast. The ichor’s stench sent Agmemnus retching, the filters in his armor unable to cleanse the foulness from the air. 

Steadily the creature made its way higher into the air. Snarling, Agmemnus swung his terminator-armored form around; finding himself a better purchase on one of the creature’s flailing arms. With great effort, Agmemnus brought his hammer around and smashed the weapon into the joint where the daemon’s wing met its shoulder. The thunder hammer’s capacitors whined loudly; the release of pent up energies blasting through the daemon, the full charge making a mockery of warp-birthed flesh and bone. 

Below in the tumble of rockcrete and twisted steel, the defenders cheered Agmemnus on. Their words could not reach him over the sounds of battle but they shouted their approval none the less. They took heart from the chaplain‘s apparent act of sacrifice. Even as they waged their own war against the hordes of the Warmaster spilling through the breech, their cries still came.

No longer able to keep itself aloft, Gral'ahl'thazen spun downward, taking Agmemnus with him. Agmemnus turned, frantically grasping for the daemon’s back as they spiraled erratically. At this height he knew being the first to the ground would sign his death warrant.


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