# Ancient Ties chapter 1



## gothik (May 29, 2010)

Ancient Ties


1.


He stirred
He was hungry.

Pratis Majoris was a world of ice and snow and was not only a harsh world to live on, its harshness and its unpredictable elements had caused it to be classed as a Death World by the Imperium and as such went largely unnoticed by the great machine that was the Imperium of Man.

Deep under the mountain peaks that had been his prison for over eight thousand years he began to stir. He didn’t know where he was or who he was or indeed how he had even got here all he knew was he needed to feed.


The B’arlar had traversed the Ice roads of Pratis Majoris for centuries. The hunt for food would always bring them along these migration routes where the Great Snow Bears and Ice Whales met at the channel of Souls that would lead out into the Frozen Ocean.

The fur of the Bears would keep many warm in the long cold winter nights and the Blubber and meat of the Ice Whales would keep many a tribes peoples bellies warm.

The winter of this world was a harsh and unforgiving mistress and this time of year only the strong ever survived.

Manan’tha, the lead hunter and chief of his tribe caught the scent of the Great Snow Bear they had been hunting for over three weeks. The Snow Wolves had led them to the Valley of The White Peaks. Mountains that jutted into the skies like great kings of old. The snows on these mountains were so deep that they were virtually unassailable and the Chieftain knew better then to trespass on the mountains of the gods.

Superstitions have surrounded this valley for generations. Legend had it that a great dark god fell from the sky and landed with such force on the valley floor that he drove the rock surrounding him upwards and created the White Peaks however disaster and bad luck followed those that had entered this accursed place and no tribe in their right mind came this far off the hunting trails. 

However, there had been poor hunting and fishing in recent months and it called for desperate measures and Manan’tha was painfully aware that he had to feed his people as that was his duty and he knew that a trip through the valley would bring his hunting party to the bears migration grounds a lot quicker then if they went around. 

He had to make a decision and he made it. He spoke in the harsh nasal language of his tribe and let the Snow Wolves lead them on and through to the valley pass. His hunters exchanged nervous glances with each other but their chiefs’ temper was just as fearful as any bad spirits and so, making ancient symbols of warding with their hands they followed him in.



He watched the group enter this domain. 

There was enough food there to slate his hunger and thirst. He had forgotten how long he had been asleep but the need to feed overpowered all other logical reasoning that he might otherwise have had.

Carefully despite his sheer gigantic bulk he stalked his prey watching them and determining the weakest and strongest members, his brain working out suitable attack points and when best to strike. 

He flexed his hands, giant hands that ended in mighty talons and as he carried on stalking his prey a feral grin crossed his face.
He wanted to taste their blood.


The first Manan’tha knew that anything was wrong was when his Snow Wolves started whining and pulling away from their leash. Something had spooked them and the hair on the snow-white fur stood up on end. Snow Wolves were known to be fearless and their savagery on the hunt was legendary but right now they were acting like young cubs presented with the Alpha of their pack and told to submit to his rule.

Manan’tha was beginning to rue his choice of action and realised that perhaps taking the long route round might not have been so bad after all.
The first scream came from the back and the second came from the middle mere moments after the first. Manan’tha was aware of something warm and wet hitting the back of his neck. He pressed his fingers to the spot and then looked at them, his eyes widening as he saw the blood that was there spreading on his fingers.

He raised his axe and roared at his hunters to stand ready, it was a beast of the legends of that much he was certain, the foul creatures that were said to stalk these lands looking for a nice morsel of man to feed on.
His Snow Wolves pulled so hard that they broke their Leash and ran. Manan’tha cursed loudly at the unusual cowardice of his prized Wolves and turned to face their attacker only to see a blur of red and grey flying amongst his hunters. 

No one had the chance to react quick enough against their supernatural attacker, heads and limbs landed in a gory mess that turned the virgin snow red with their landing and mere feet from where Manan’tha stood, paralyzed with fear.

It seemed to him that the attack lasted for long minutes but in reality it was seconds and as he watched he saw headless bodies fall to the snow, their life flowing in the white and the stench of death was really quite overpowering and that galvanised his terrified limbs into action.

His fear giving way to anger and grief and one almighty warrior rage.
He uttered a war cry and ran at the beast. Praying to the gods he swung his axe at the beast feeling the satisfying thud as his axe connected with the armour. 

His father had given his axe to him and he always kept its edge clean, it had cleaved many an enemies head from shoulders in his day but now the ancient weapon merely shattered into shards of metal.
He got his first look at the beast.

It was a man but not a man. He must have been at least 10 feet tall, his dark hair stood out the more because it was blood coated and his pale face was not out of place in a place such as this. 

His armour was a brutal red with grey trim and his hands, oh his hands were monstrous. This giant uttered a laugh that seemed to come from deep within another part of him and grabbed Manan’tha by his arms. 

He was still laughing when he pulled Manan’thas arms from their sockets. Raising the severed limbs to the heaven a name entered his fog-clouded mind and he shouted it to the heavens.
“Lorgar!!”


The Diabolus Infernos sailed the stormy seas of the Eye without a care in the world. Its ancient hull rang with the cries of the enslaved and the tortured working in its lower decks.

Once she had been known by another name The Emperor’s Fire but that was long gone now. Now she truly was vessel of war and a war that would last forever or until the Corpse Emperor was finally cast out whichever came first.
Her crew had been with her since she cast herself into the Warp but only those of strong enough faith had survived the transition from real space to warp space. 

Her battle marked Hull was host to little flying daemons like small fish that fed off the titbits left on a shark when it had finished feeding. The prow lance had long ago been changed into a snarling living demons head that spat demon fire at the enemy.

As she made her way through the Warp chattering entities went to attack the vessel then moved back as they recognised the souls within and let her go on her way.

Dark Apostle Felan smiled to himself as he watched his vessel through the viewing window in his quarters. He felt the fury of the Ships Spirit, ever hungry to attack more of her sister vessels no matter who they belonged to. He could feel the palatable fear of every slave on the ship and it tasted divine.

He ran his hand along her metal skin and could feel her react to his touch. She had looked after him for centuries and he had looked after her. Whenever they had been badly attacked and she had been hurt he had executed the bridge crew and got more. All who guided this mighty carrier of the Urizens warriors knew better then to let her get in any harm through negligence or stupidity.

On this mighty vessel he and his brothers had conquered worlds in the name of the Great Crusade now they conquered those same worlds in the name of gods more worthy of his respect.

For Ten Thousand years they had brought terror and fear to the realms of man. He cast his mind back to the days when things had seemed so much simpler.

He had been ready to become a full Chaplin when Blessed Lorgar had steered his sons in the new direction and brought his holy book for them all to read. When the attack on the Carrion Crow had failed he had been named Dark Acolyte to the Dark Apostle Bar Kran.

He had worshipped the man like a living god and had studied so much under him that the man had become like a father to him. When his Anointed had failed to save his life against the depraved Emperors Children he killed every single one of them and their Coryphaus for failing in their duty to protect the Dark Apostle. 

That action alone has stopped his host being dissolved into other Hosts. He had been elevated to become the Dark Apostle of the 47th Host.
He had held that post for five centuries now and he knew that his host would never question him and would follow him no matter where he ordered them to go. 

Their loyalty to him was sacrament. He was the chosen of Lorgar; he spoke with the authority of the Dark Council. The only others to deserve more loyalty then him was The honoured Master of the Dark Faith, Blessed Erebus the first of them all and Holy Lorgar that went without question. 
He glanced at his reflection in the mirror. 

His dark hair, eyes and pale patrician feature the image of Blessed Holy Lorgar. His entire face was covered in scripture from the mighty Book of Lorgar in fact his entire body was covered in the holy scriptures of the favoured son of chaos that is all except his right arm.

That was covered in deep knife cuts that had scared 

Every warrior that he had lost and had died in honour to their Primarch he made a cut in his arm so as to remind himself of how they had died for the Word and he remembered their names.

He had acquired some new warriors from the Master of the Faith when he had aided blessed Kor Phaeron against the accursed Ultramarines. Six of his Anointed had died saving the Master of the Faith and he had rewarded Felan with six of his own Anointed, a rare gift but Mar Felan was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He could feel his vessel move with the grace of a Queen through the seas that she was so much part off he just hoped that something would happen soon to quell the blood lust in her heart. 

The priests of the Dark Mechanicum could not always pacify his vessels hungry spirit no matter what they said. He pulled his robe around him and continued to gaze out the window, comforted by the myriad of differences in the Warp.

That was the thing about this place. You might see a planet of blue one minute and the next it might be purple with a leering face in it such was the way of the warp.

He heard his door chime and without breaking his gaze ordered whomever it was to come in. 

The Warrior came in and immediately fell to one knee, his head bowed. The ancient Power Armour once gunmetal grey was now brazen red with grey trim and one of the pauldrons was the face of a snarling dragon. 

His armour like all other Word Bearer armour was ensconced with the scriptures of Lorgar and like all true sons of Colchis his features were a likeness of their lord and spiritual father.

He rested a hand on the kneeling warriors shoulder “Rise Tor Panarl, what brings you here?” His tone was warm and genuine.

The Coryphaus like his master was a native of Colchis but his hair whilst most of it had been shaved a single stripe remained flowing across his scalp and to the back of his head like some old plume of antiquities armies.

His eyes swirled with the barely contained zealotry of a devout follower and his battle prowess left none in any doubt why he was the War Commander and Mar Felan had every faith in the man that had been his battle brother at the siege of Terra.

After he had executed the former Coryphaus he had elevated Tor Panarl without hesitation. He trusted his judgement and he knew how deep his loyalty lay.

“Our Astropathic choir received a message from the Warp My Dark Apostle” 

Tor Panarl growled but whilst his voice seemed to be a perpetual growl the subtle pitch showed that he was being respectful to his master 

“It was so powerful Lord that it killed the master of Astropaths and six of his choir”

“Indeed?” The Dark Apostle arched a surprised eyebrow “That powerful? Where did it originate?”

“We believe a world of the Corpse god My Lord Pratis Majoris”

Mar Felan tapped his jaw a little bit. The name of that world seemed strangely familiar to him.

“Was there anything else?” He asked still trying to remember where he has heard the name before.

“Apparently it was just the mention of our Holiest father My Dark Apostle”

“Have the Captain take us to this world My Coryphaus by the time we get there I might have worked out why that world is familiar to me.”

The war commander bowed his head low and left to complete his master wish. In the meantime his master prepared himself and hoped the gods would answer his questions, it was going to be a long meditation.


The warrior made his way through the great corridors of the vessel, its vaulted walls covered in scripture from Lorgars Book and the arched ceilings made from the bones of the sacrificed so that whilst their souls served the masters of the warp for all eternity their earthly remains would continue to serve their masters. 

Chapter Serfs and lower ratings fell to their knees and kept their heads bowed and eyes cast down as a blessed warrior of Lorgar strode passed them, not worthy of his gaze and their eyes not worthy to look upon such a blessed son. 

The punishment for looking at him would have been to have their eyes cut out so that they would not commit the same act again.

He entered the Chapel and his breath was stolen away. The Warriors of the Chapter, initiates and fully fledged sons had painstakingly and in great detail adorned the walls with the history of their father from his discovery on long dead Colchis to his discovery of the powers that truly deserved his worship.

He took a deep breath and with a hiss removed his demonic shaped helm and tucked it under his arm. Then with purpose strode to the alter of Chaos Undivided behind which stood a gold effigy of their spiritual father in all his glory as the Demonic Prince of their Order. 

In his left hand was the eternal flame that was kept lit no matter where they were and in his right hand was the sacred Book of Lorgar, his arms wide to encompass his sons.

He fell to his knee and bowing his head began to whisper the entries that he had been taught before he fell silent and closed his eyes in prayer. It had been four centuries since he had become a son of Lorgar and he had never regretted a day of it.

Jubal Sunscreamer opened his soul to the gods who had taken him to the service of one who had moulded him and made him so much more then the fate that would have befallen him had the carrion lord got his hands on him.

He had been tutored by Blessed Erebus in the use of his powers and had endured all the pain and the soul rebuilding that was needed to become a warrior of Lorgar. He had welcomed his indoctrination into the Word, others had not been strong enough and in fact of his group only five made it. 

The Holy Dark Apostle had taken his gift and turned it into a weapon of pure hate for the Emperors forces and he relished every chance he had of using it. When and only when he had been ready was he then transferred into the host of the Master of the Dark Faith himself and there he had carved a name for himself. 

It had not been easy, Kor Phaeron was a notoriously hard master to please but he had proved himself with honour time and time again and now for the last twenty years he had been serving a new master.

He recalled the day he had been told of his new appointment. 
He had not been with the Masters Host and the Host of the 47th Coterie when they had made planet fall on Dearness Prime. A Hive world that was ripe for the picking and to gain access to a dark prize of the Pleasure God himself. 

The souls of the Sororitas themselves and it had been successful turning the sisterhood into a sisterhood for the dark prince. 

They had been attacked by the hated Ultramarines and the Dark Apostle had lost six of his anointed as they protected the Master of the Faith.

He had been summoned to the Dark Lords chamber and told that he was to transfer to the Diabolus Infernos he was to understand that this was not a punishment, just a change in duty and that he had served the Dark Lord with honour and distinction and it was time that he carved a name for himself within another host.

He had not questioned the order; it was not his place to question the order just do as he was commanded. 

He replaced the Sergeant that had died on Dearness Prime and as such his reputation preceded him. Everyone it seemed knew who he was and there were whispers that one day he would command his own vessel and that he was a favoured son of Kor Phaeron himself. Jubal was happy where he was and paid no heed to whispers and rumours they were not part of his understanding.

He had no desire for command just to be a warrior that his master could count on. Yes he had come a long way since Torsons reach.

He was a powerhouse of a warrior. His muscle even after the changes wrought on him by the blessed Primarchs gene seed had been implanted were greater then the average battle brother and he had to have a specially made suit of Terminator Armour made just for his bulk and size.

Right now he prayed that his battle prowess was enough to keep his Lord Dark Apostle in favour and that he and all his battle brothers continued to serve their dark master with fervour, devotion and honour.

He opened his eyes as he became aware of another presence and turned to see the Coryphaus kneel beside him and mutter a prayer to the Holy Primarch and the gods. 

The War Commander took a look at the helmet that belonged to his sergeant. It was different to the standard helmet of a warrior. The eyes were joined making it look like a visor of some description. 

Tor Panarl knew that this would allow the Gods blessed power of his sergeant to be unleashed against the heathens of the Corpse Gods and he had seen it at work often enough to know how deadly and brutal such a power was and not for the first time was glad that their Legion had found him first. He set it down and waited for Jubal to finish his prayers then rose with him.

Once again the Sergeant took in the frescos around him and Tor Panarl allowed himself a rare smile.

“Did the Dark Master not have the same frescos Jubal?”

“They were different in some ways my Coryphaus” Jubal respectfully answered “Battles alongside our blessed father and the war against the accursed inhabitants of Ultramar”

Tor Panarl nodded a little and the two men, bowing again to the icon of their father walked away, the serfs and slaves abasing themselves once more as they walked past. 

“I wish my lord that I had known the days when our father walked amongst us” Jubal sighed.

The Coryphaus slapped his hand on his sergeants’ pauldron “Your name is known to him Jubal as are us all. Learn from me brother and our master and you will feel as if you have walked with him all your life.” 

Jubal inclined his head a little, pride flowing through him, it was a known fact that Tor Panarl rarely had time for the brothers that had not been part of the ancient brotherhood that had laid siege to the Emperor’s palace but he had proved himself and saved the Coryphaus’s life on more then one occasion and had earnt his respect.

“Have the Anointed prepared Jubal I want them all ready when we are called to war they are to be at their fittest I will not have it said that my Anointed are lacking in their duties to our master”

“Yes my lord” Jubal bowed his head and went to see to his War Commanders orders. Tor Panarl nodded to himself as he watched the sergeant stride away and continued on his way.


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## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

This will be a bit harsh, but should be helpful.

Check this out.

Pay special attention to 4 and 5.

Before you post a giant 10,000 word blurb of story, give the readers (forumites) time to get into it first. I know that if I open something by a writer whose works I have never read, and it is epically long, I tend to just say "screw it" and move on.

I also know that if someone else has commented, either publicly or privately on one of my own pieces, I'm roughly 100% more likely to read what they've written as well.

Also, your chapters 4, 5, and 6 didn't properly post, it is a blank thread.

I'll try to get to reading this in the next few days, but in the meantime, check out some of the shorts other authors have written and take a minute or two to comment. That should help you in drawing a crowd to your own works.

Write on!

-Cheers


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## gothik (May 29, 2010)

thanks for the tip will remember that one thanks and yeah i got told oit hadn't posted just not had time to get round to it but i will sort it thanks for the advice.


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